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-The Project Gutenberg eBook of Emma, by Jane Austen
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
-most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
-whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
-of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
-www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you
-will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before
-using this eBook.
-
-Title: Emma
-
-Author: Jane Austen
-
-Release Date: August, 1994 [eBook #158]
-[Most recently updated: December 14, 2021]
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: UTF-8
-
-Produced by: An Anonymous Volunteer and David Widger
-
-*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EMMA ***
-
-
-
-
-Emma
-
-by Jane Austen
-
-
-Contents
-
- VOLUME I.
- CHAPTER I.
- CHAPTER II.
- CHAPTER III.
- CHAPTER IV.
- CHAPTER V.
- CHAPTER VI.
- CHAPTER VII.
- CHAPTER VIII.
- CHAPTER IX.
- CHAPTER X.
- CHAPTER XI.
- CHAPTER XII.
- CHAPTER XIII.
- CHAPTER XIV.
- CHAPTER XV.
- CHAPTER XVI.
- CHAPTER XVII.
- CHAPTER XVIII.
-
- VOLUME II.
- CHAPTER I.
- CHAPTER II.
- CHAPTER III.
- CHAPTER IV.
- CHAPTER V.
- CHAPTER VI.
- CHAPTER VII.
- CHAPTER VIII.
- CHAPTER IX.
- CHAPTER X.
- CHAPTER XI.
- CHAPTER XII.
- CHAPTER XIII.
- CHAPTER XIV.
- CHAPTER XV.
- CHAPTER XVI.
- CHAPTER XVII.
- CHAPTER XVIII.
-
- VOLUME III.
- CHAPTER I.
- CHAPTER II.
- CHAPTER III.
- CHAPTER IV.
- CHAPTER V.
- CHAPTER VI.
- CHAPTER VII.
- CHAPTER VIII.
- CHAPTER IX.
- CHAPTER X.
- CHAPTER XI.
- CHAPTER XII.
- CHAPTER XIII.
- CHAPTER XIV.
- CHAPTER XV.
- CHAPTER XVI.
- CHAPTER XVII.
- CHAPTER XVIII.
- CHAPTER XIX.
-
-
-
-
-VOLUME I
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER I
-
-
-Emma Woodhouse, handsome, clever, and rich, with a comfortable home and
-happy disposition, seemed to unite some of the best blessings of
-existence; and had lived nearly twenty-one years in the world with very
-little to distress or vex her.
-
-She was the youngest of the two daughters of a most affectionate,
-indulgent father; and had, in consequence of her sister’s marriage,
-been mistress of his house from a very early period. Her mother had
-died too long ago for her to have more than an indistinct remembrance
-of her caresses; and her place had been supplied by an excellent woman
-as governess, who had fallen little short of a mother in affection.
-
-Sixteen years had Miss Taylor been in Mr. Woodhouse’s family, less as a
-governess than a friend, very fond of both daughters, but particularly
-of Emma. Between _them_ it was more the intimacy of sisters. Even
-before Miss Taylor had ceased to hold the nominal office of governess,
-the mildness of her temper had hardly allowed her to impose any
-restraint; and the shadow of authority being now long passed away, they
-had been living together as friend and friend very mutually attached,
-and Emma doing just what she liked; highly esteeming Miss Taylor’s
-judgment, but directed chiefly by her own.
-
-The real evils, indeed, of Emma’s situation were the power of having
-rather too much her own way, and a disposition to think a little too
-well of herself; these were the disadvantages which threatened alloy to
-her many enjoyments. The danger, however, was at present so
-unperceived, that they did not by any means rank as misfortunes with
-her.
-
-Sorrow came—a gentle sorrow—but not at all in the shape of any
-disagreeable consciousness.—Miss Taylor married. It was Miss Taylor’s
-loss which first brought grief. It was on the wedding-day of this
-beloved friend that Emma first sat in mournful thought of any
-continuance. The wedding over, and the bride-people gone, her father
-and herself were left to dine together, with no prospect of a third to
-cheer a long evening. Her father composed himself to sleep after
-dinner, as usual, and she had then only to sit and think of what she
-had lost.
-
-The event had every promise of happiness for her friend. Mr. Weston was
-a man of unexceptionable character, easy fortune, suitable age, and
-pleasant manners; and there was some satisfaction in considering with
-what self-denying, generous friendship she had always wished and
-promoted the match; but it was a black morning’s work for her. The want
-of Miss Taylor would be felt every hour of every day. She recalled her
-past kindness—the kindness, the affection of sixteen years—how she had
-taught and how she had played with her from five years old—how she had
-devoted all her powers to attach and amuse her in health—and how nursed
-her through the various illnesses of childhood. A large debt of
-gratitude was owing here; but the intercourse of the last seven years,
-the equal footing and perfect unreserve which had soon followed
-Isabella’s marriage, on their being left to each other, was yet a
-dearer, tenderer recollection. She had been a friend and companion such
-as few possessed: intelligent, well-informed, useful, gentle, knowing
-all the ways of the family, interested in all its concerns, and
-peculiarly interested in herself, in every pleasure, every scheme of
-hers—one to whom she could speak every thought as it arose, and who had
-such an affection for her as could never find fault.
-
-How was she to bear the change?—It was true that her friend was going
-only half a mile from them; but Emma was aware that great must be the
-difference between a Mrs. Weston, only half a mile from them, and a
-Miss Taylor in the house; and with all her advantages, natural and
-domestic, she was now in great danger of suffering from intellectual
-solitude. She dearly loved her father, but he was no companion for her.
-He could not meet her in conversation, rational or playful.
-
-The evil of the actual disparity in their ages (and Mr. Woodhouse had
-not married early) was much increased by his constitution and habits;
-for having been a valetudinarian all his life, without activity of mind
-or body, he was a much older man in ways than in years; and though
-everywhere beloved for the friendliness of his heart and his amiable
-temper, his talents could not have recommended him at any time.
-
-Her sister, though comparatively but little removed by matrimony, being
-settled in London, only sixteen miles off, was much beyond her daily
-reach; and many a long October and November evening must be struggled
-through at Hartfield, before Christmas brought the next visit from
-Isabella and her husband, and their little children, to fill the house,
-and give her pleasant society again.
-
-Highbury, the large and populous village, almost amounting to a town,
-to which Hartfield, in spite of its separate lawn, and shrubberies, and
-name, did really belong, afforded her no equals. The Woodhouses were
-first in consequence there. All looked up to them. She had many
-acquaintance in the place, for her father was universally civil, but
-not one among them who could be accepted in lieu of Miss Taylor for
-even half a day. It was a melancholy change; and Emma could not but
-sigh over it, and wish for impossible things, till her father awoke,
-and made it necessary to be cheerful. His spirits required support. He
-was a nervous man, easily depressed; fond of every body that he was
-used to, and hating to part with them; hating change of every kind.
-Matrimony, as the origin of change, was always disagreeable; and he was
-by no means yet reconciled to his own daughter’s marrying, nor could
-ever speak of her but with compassion, though it had been entirely a
-match of affection, when he was now obliged to part with Miss Taylor
-too; and from his habits of gentle selfishness, and of being never able
-to suppose that other people could feel differently from himself, he
-was very much disposed to think Miss Taylor had done as sad a thing for
-herself as for them, and would have been a great deal happier if she
-had spent all the rest of her life at Hartfield. Emma smiled and
-chatted as cheerfully as she could, to keep him from such thoughts; but
-when tea came, it was impossible for him not to say exactly as he had
-said at dinner,
-
-“Poor Miss Taylor!—I wish she were here again. What a pity it is that
-Mr. Weston ever thought of her!”
-
-“I cannot agree with you, papa; you know I cannot. Mr. Weston is such a
-good-humoured, pleasant, excellent man, that he thoroughly deserves a
-good wife;—and you would not have had Miss Taylor live with us for
-ever, and bear all my odd humours, when she might have a house of her
-own?”
-
-“A house of her own!—But where is the advantage of a house of her own?
-This is three times as large.—And you have never any odd humours, my
-dear.”
-
-“How often we shall be going to see them, and they coming to see us!—We
-shall be always meeting! _We_ must begin; we must go and pay wedding
-visit very soon.”
-
-“My dear, how am I to get so far? Randalls is such a distance. I could
-not walk half so far.”
-
-“No, papa, nobody thought of your walking. We must go in the carriage,
-to be sure.”
-
-“The carriage! But James will not like to put the horses to for such a
-little way;—and where are the poor horses to be while we are paying our
-visit?”
-
-“They are to be put into Mr. Weston’s stable, papa. You know we have
-settled all that already. We talked it all over with Mr. Weston last
-night. And as for James, you may be very sure he will always like going
-to Randalls, because of his daughter’s being housemaid there. I only
-doubt whether he will ever take us anywhere else. That was your doing,
-papa. You got Hannah that good place. Nobody thought of Hannah till you
-mentioned her—James is so obliged to you!”
-
-“I am very glad I did think of her. It was very lucky, for I would not
-have had poor James think himself slighted upon any account; and I am
-sure she will make a very good servant: she is a civil, pretty-spoken
-girl; I have a great opinion of her. Whenever I see her, she always
-curtseys and asks me how I do, in a very pretty manner; and when you
-have had her here to do needlework, I observe she always turns the lock
-of the door the right way and never bangs it. I am sure she will be an
-excellent servant; and it will be a great comfort to poor Miss Taylor
-to have somebody about her that she is used to see. Whenever James goes
-over to see his daughter, you know, she will be hearing of us. He will
-be able to tell her how we all are.”
-
-Emma spared no exertions to maintain this happier flow of ideas, and
-hoped, by the help of backgammon, to get her father tolerably through
-the evening, and be attacked by no regrets but her own. The
-backgammon-table was placed; but a visitor immediately afterwards
-walked in and made it unnecessary.
-
-Mr. Knightley, a sensible man about seven or eight-and-thirty, was not
-only a very old and intimate friend of the family, but particularly
-connected with it, as the elder brother of Isabella’s husband. He lived
-about a mile from Highbury, was a frequent visitor, and always welcome,
-and at this time more welcome than usual, as coming directly from their
-mutual connexions in London. He had returned to a late dinner, after
-some days’ absence, and now walked up to Hartfield to say that all were
-well in Brunswick Square. It was a happy circumstance, and animated Mr.
-Woodhouse for some time. Mr. Knightley had a cheerful manner, which
-always did him good; and his many inquiries after “poor Isabella” and
-her children were answered most satisfactorily. When this was over, Mr.
-Woodhouse gratefully observed, “It is very kind of you, Mr. Knightley,
-to come out at this late hour to call upon us. I am afraid you must
-have had a shocking walk.”
-
-“Not at all, sir. It is a beautiful moonlight night; and so mild that I
-must draw back from your great fire.”
-
-“But you must have found it very damp and dirty. I wish you may not
-catch cold.”
-
-“Dirty, sir! Look at my shoes. Not a speck on them.”
-
-“Well! that is quite surprising, for we have had a vast deal of rain
-here. It rained dreadfully hard for half an hour while we were at
-breakfast. I wanted them to put off the wedding.”
-
-“By the bye—I have not wished you joy. Being pretty well aware of what
-sort of joy you must both be feeling, I have been in no hurry with my
-congratulations; but I hope it all went off tolerably well. How did you
-all behave? Who cried most?”
-
-“Ah! poor Miss Taylor! ’Tis a sad business.”
-
-“Poor Mr. and Miss Woodhouse, if you please; but I cannot possibly say
-‘poor Miss Taylor.’ I have a great regard for you and Emma; but when it
-comes to the question of dependence or independence!—At any rate, it
-must be better to have only one to please than two.”
-
-“Especially when _one_ of those two is such a fanciful, troublesome
-creature!” said Emma playfully. “That is what you have in your head, I
-know—and what you would certainly say if my father were not by.”
-
-“I believe it is very true, my dear, indeed,” said Mr. Woodhouse, with
-a sigh. “I am afraid I am sometimes very fanciful and troublesome.”
-
-“My dearest papa! You do not think I could mean _you_, or suppose Mr.
-Knightley to mean _you_. What a horrible idea! Oh no! I meant only
-myself. Mr. Knightley loves to find fault with me, you know—in a
-joke—it is all a joke. We always say what we like to one another.”
-
-Mr. Knightley, in fact, was one of the few people who could see faults
-in Emma Woodhouse, and the only one who ever told her of them: and
-though this was not particularly agreeable to Emma herself, she knew it
-would be so much less so to her father, that she would not have him
-really suspect such a circumstance as her not being thought perfect by
-every body.
-
-“Emma knows I never flatter her,” said Mr. Knightley, “but I meant no
-reflection on any body. Miss Taylor has been used to have two persons
-to please; she will now have but one. The chances are that she must be
-a gainer.”
-
-“Well,” said Emma, willing to let it pass—“you want to hear about the
-wedding; and I shall be happy to tell you, for we all behaved
-charmingly. Every body was punctual, every body in their best looks:
-not a tear, and hardly a long face to be seen. Oh no; we all felt that
-we were going to be only half a mile apart, and were sure of meeting
-every day.”
-
-“Dear Emma bears every thing so well,” said her father. “But, Mr.
-Knightley, she is really very sorry to lose poor Miss Taylor, and I am
-sure she _will_ miss her more than she thinks for.”
-
-Emma turned away her head, divided between tears and smiles. “It is
-impossible that Emma should not miss such a companion,” said Mr.
-Knightley. “We should not like her so well as we do, sir, if we could
-suppose it; but she knows how much the marriage is to Miss Taylor’s
-advantage; she knows how very acceptable it must be, at Miss Taylor’s
-time of life, to be settled in a home of her own, and how important to
-her to be secure of a comfortable provision, and therefore cannot allow
-herself to feel so much pain as pleasure. Every friend of Miss Taylor
-must be glad to have her so happily married.”
-
-“And you have forgotten one matter of joy to me,” said Emma, “and a
-very considerable one—that I made the match myself. I made the match,
-you know, four years ago; and to have it take place, and be proved in
-the right, when so many people said Mr. Weston would never marry again,
-may comfort me for any thing.”
-
-Mr. Knightley shook his head at her. Her father fondly replied, “Ah! my
-dear, I wish you would not make matches and foretell things, for
-whatever you say always comes to pass. Pray do not make any more
-matches.”
-
-“I promise you to make none for myself, papa; but I must, indeed, for
-other people. It is the greatest amusement in the world! And after such
-success, you know!—Every body said that Mr. Weston would never marry
-again. Oh dear, no! Mr. Weston, who had been a widower so long, and who
-seemed so perfectly comfortable without a wife, so constantly occupied
-either in his business in town or among his friends here, always
-acceptable wherever he went, always cheerful—Mr. Weston need not spend
-a single evening in the year alone if he did not like it. Oh no! Mr.
-Weston certainly would never marry again. Some people even talked of a
-promise to his wife on her deathbed, and others of the son and the
-uncle not letting him. All manner of solemn nonsense was talked on the
-subject, but I believed none of it.
-
-“Ever since the day—about four years ago—that Miss Taylor and I met
-with him in Broadway Lane, when, because it began to drizzle, he darted
-away with so much gallantry, and borrowed two umbrellas for us from
-Farmer Mitchell’s, I made up my mind on the subject. I planned the
-match from that hour; and when such success has blessed me in this
-instance, dear papa, you cannot think that I shall leave off
-match-making.”
-
-“I do not understand what you mean by ‘success,’” said Mr. Knightley.
-“Success supposes endeavour. Your time has been properly and delicately
-spent, if you have been endeavouring for the last four years to bring
-about this marriage. A worthy employment for a young lady’s mind! But
-if, which I rather imagine, your making the match, as you call it,
-means only your planning it, your saying to yourself one idle day, ‘I
-think it would be a very good thing for Miss Taylor if Mr. Weston were
-to marry her,’ and saying it again to yourself every now and then
-afterwards, why do you talk of success? Where is your merit? What are
-you proud of? You made a lucky guess; and _that_ is all that can be
-said.”
-
-“And have you never known the pleasure and triumph of a lucky guess?—I
-pity you.—I thought you cleverer—for, depend upon it a lucky guess is
-never merely luck. There is always some talent in it. And as to my poor
-word ‘success,’ which you quarrel with, I do not know that I am so
-entirely without any claim to it. You have drawn two pretty pictures;
-but I think there may be a third—a something between the do-nothing and
-the do-all. If I had not promoted Mr. Weston’s visits here, and given
-many little encouragements, and smoothed many little matters, it might
-not have come to any thing after all. I think you must know Hartfield
-enough to comprehend that.”
-
-“A straightforward, open-hearted man like Weston, and a rational,
-unaffected woman like Miss Taylor, may be safely left to manage their
-own concerns. You are more likely to have done harm to yourself, than
-good to them, by interference.”
-
-“Emma never thinks of herself, if she can do good to others,” rejoined
-Mr. Woodhouse, understanding but in part. “But, my dear, pray do not
-make any more matches; they are silly things, and break up one’s family
-circle grievously.”
-
-“Only one more, papa; only for Mr. Elton. Poor Mr. Elton! You like Mr.
-Elton, papa,—I must look about for a wife for him. There is nobody in
-Highbury who deserves him—and he has been here a whole year, and has
-fitted up his house so comfortably, that it would be a shame to have
-him single any longer—and I thought when he was joining their hands
-to-day, he looked so very much as if he would like to have the same
-kind office done for him! I think very well of Mr. Elton, and this is
-the only way I have of doing him a service.”
-
-“Mr. Elton is a very pretty young man, to be sure, and a very good
-young man, and I have a great regard for him. But if you want to shew
-him any attention, my dear, ask him to come and dine with us some day.
-That will be a much better thing. I dare say Mr. Knightley will be so
-kind as to meet him.”
-
-“With a great deal of pleasure, sir, at any time,” said Mr. Knightley,
-laughing, “and I agree with you entirely, that it will be a much better
-thing. Invite him to dinner, Emma, and help him to the best of the fish
-and the chicken, but leave him to chuse his own wife. Depend upon it, a
-man of six or seven-and-twenty can take care of himself.”
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER II
-
-
-Mr. Weston was a native of Highbury, and born of a respectable family,
-which for the last two or three generations had been rising into
-gentility and property. He had received a good education, but, on
-succeeding early in life to a small independence, had become indisposed
-for any of the more homely pursuits in which his brothers were engaged,
-and had satisfied an active, cheerful mind and social temper by
-entering into the militia of his county, then embodied.
-
-Captain Weston was a general favourite; and when the chances of his
-military life had introduced him to Miss Churchill, of a great
-Yorkshire family, and Miss Churchill fell in love with him, nobody was
-surprized, except her brother and his wife, who had never seen him, and
-who were full of pride and importance, which the connexion would
-offend.
-
-Miss Churchill, however, being of age, and with the full command of her
-fortune—though her fortune bore no proportion to the family-estate—was
-not to be dissuaded from the marriage, and it took place, to the
-infinite mortification of Mr. and Mrs. Churchill, who threw her off
-with due decorum. It was an unsuitable connexion, and did not produce
-much happiness. Mrs. Weston ought to have found more in it, for she had
-a husband whose warm heart and sweet temper made him think every thing
-due to her in return for the great goodness of being in love with him;
-but though she had one sort of spirit, she had not the best. She had
-resolution enough to pursue her own will in spite of her brother, but
-not enough to refrain from unreasonable regrets at that brother’s
-unreasonable anger, nor from missing the luxuries of her former home.
-They lived beyond their income, but still it was nothing in comparison
-of Enscombe: she did not cease to love her husband, but she wanted at
-once to be the wife of Captain Weston, and Miss Churchill of Enscombe.
-
-Captain Weston, who had been considered, especially by the Churchills,
-as making such an amazing match, was proved to have much the worst of
-the bargain; for when his wife died, after a three years’ marriage, he
-was rather a poorer man than at first, and with a child to maintain.
-From the expense of the child, however, he was soon relieved. The boy
-had, with the additional softening claim of a lingering illness of his
-mother’s, been the means of a sort of reconciliation; and Mr. and Mrs.
-Churchill, having no children of their own, nor any other young
-creature of equal kindred to care for, offered to take the whole charge
-of the little Frank soon after her decease. Some scruples and some
-reluctance the widower-father may be supposed to have felt; but as they
-were overcome by other considerations, the child was given up to the
-care and the wealth of the Churchills, and he had only his own comfort
-to seek, and his own situation to improve as he could.
-
-A complete change of life became desirable. He quitted the militia and
-engaged in trade, having brothers already established in a good way in
-London, which afforded him a favourable opening. It was a concern which
-brought just employment enough. He had still a small house in Highbury,
-where most of his leisure days were spent; and between useful
-occupation and the pleasures of society, the next eighteen or twenty
-years of his life passed cheerfully away. He had, by that time,
-realised an easy competence—enough to secure the purchase of a little
-estate adjoining Highbury, which he had always longed for—enough to
-marry a woman as portionless even as Miss Taylor, and to live according
-to the wishes of his own friendly and social disposition.
-
-It was now some time since Miss Taylor had begun to influence his
-schemes; but as it was not the tyrannic influence of youth on youth, it
-had not shaken his determination of never settling till he could
-purchase Randalls, and the sale of Randalls was long looked forward to;
-but he had gone steadily on, with these objects in view, till they were
-accomplished. He had made his fortune, bought his house, and obtained
-his wife; and was beginning a new period of existence, with every
-probability of greater happiness than in any yet passed through. He had
-never been an unhappy man; his own temper had secured him from that,
-even in his first marriage; but his second must shew him how delightful
-a well-judging and truly amiable woman could be, and must give him the
-pleasantest proof of its being a great deal better to choose than to be
-chosen, to excite gratitude than to feel it.
-
-He had only himself to please in his choice: his fortune was his own;
-for as to Frank, it was more than being tacitly brought up as his
-uncle’s heir, it had become so avowed an adoption as to have him assume
-the name of Churchill on coming of age. It was most unlikely,
-therefore, that he should ever want his father’s assistance. His father
-had no apprehension of it. The aunt was a capricious woman, and
-governed her husband entirely; but it was not in Mr. Weston’s nature to
-imagine that any caprice could be strong enough to affect one so dear,
-and, as he believed, so deservedly dear. He saw his son every year in
-London, and was proud of him; and his fond report of him as a very fine
-young man had made Highbury feel a sort of pride in him too. He was
-looked on as sufficiently belonging to the place to make his merits and
-prospects a kind of common concern.
-
-Mr. Frank Churchill was one of the boasts of Highbury, and a lively
-curiosity to see him prevailed, though the compliment was so little
-returned that he had never been there in his life. His coming to visit
-his father had been often talked of but never achieved.
-
-Now, upon his father’s marriage, it was very generally proposed, as a
-most proper attention, that the visit should take place. There was not
-a dissentient voice on the subject, either when Mrs. Perry drank tea
-with Mrs. and Miss Bates, or when Mrs. and Miss Bates returned the
-visit. Now was the time for Mr. Frank Churchill to come among them; and
-the hope strengthened when it was understood that he had written to his
-new mother on the occasion. For a few days, every morning visit in
-Highbury included some mention of the handsome letter Mrs. Weston had
-received. “I suppose you have heard of the handsome letter Mr. Frank
-Churchill has written to Mrs. Weston? I understand it was a very
-handsome letter, indeed. Mr. Woodhouse told me of it. Mr. Woodhouse saw
-the letter, and he says he never saw such a handsome letter in his
-life.”
-
-It was, indeed, a highly prized letter. Mrs. Weston had, of course,
-formed a very favourable idea of the young man; and such a pleasing
-attention was an irresistible proof of his great good sense, and a most
-welcome addition to every source and every expression of congratulation
-which her marriage had already secured. She felt herself a most
-fortunate woman; and she had lived long enough to know how fortunate
-she might well be thought, where the only regret was for a partial
-separation from friends whose friendship for her had never cooled, and
-who could ill bear to part with her.
-
-She knew that at times she must be missed; and could not think, without
-pain, of Emma’s losing a single pleasure, or suffering an hour’s ennui,
-from the want of her companionableness: but dear Emma was of no feeble
-character; she was more equal to her situation than most girls would
-have been, and had sense, and energy, and spirits that might be hoped
-would bear her well and happily through its little difficulties and
-privations. And then there was such comfort in the very easy distance
-of Randalls from Hartfield, so convenient for even solitary female
-walking, and in Mr. Weston’s disposition and circumstances, which would
-make the approaching season no hindrance to their spending half the
-evenings in the week together.
-
-Her situation was altogether the subject of hours of gratitude to Mrs.
-Weston, and of moments only of regret; and her satisfaction—her more
-than satisfaction—her cheerful enjoyment, was so just and so apparent,
-that Emma, well as she knew her father, was sometimes taken by surprize
-at his being still able to pity ‘poor Miss Taylor,’ when they left her
-at Randalls in the centre of every domestic comfort, or saw her go away
-in the evening attended by her pleasant husband to a carriage of her
-own. But never did she go without Mr. Woodhouse’s giving a gentle sigh,
-and saying, “Ah, poor Miss Taylor! She would be very glad to stay.”
-
-There was no recovering Miss Taylor—nor much likelihood of ceasing to
-pity her; but a few weeks brought some alleviation to Mr. Woodhouse.
-The compliments of his neighbours were over; he was no longer teased by
-being wished joy of so sorrowful an event; and the wedding-cake, which
-had been a great distress to him, was all eat up. His own stomach could
-bear nothing rich, and he could never believe other people to be
-different from himself. What was unwholesome to him he regarded as
-unfit for any body; and he had, therefore, earnestly tried to dissuade
-them from having any wedding-cake at all, and when that proved vain, as
-earnestly tried to prevent any body’s eating it. He had been at the
-pains of consulting Mr. Perry, the apothecary, on the subject. Mr.
-Perry was an intelligent, gentlemanlike man, whose frequent visits were
-one of the comforts of Mr. Woodhouse’s life; and upon being applied to,
-he could not but acknowledge (though it seemed rather against the bias
-of inclination) that wedding-cake might certainly disagree with
-many—perhaps with most people, unless taken moderately. With such an
-opinion, in confirmation of his own, Mr. Woodhouse hoped to influence
-every visitor of the newly married pair; but still the cake was eaten;
-and there was no rest for his benevolent nerves till it was all gone.
-
-There was a strange rumour in Highbury of all the little Perrys being
-seen with a slice of Mrs. Weston’s wedding-cake in their hands: but Mr.
-Woodhouse would never believe it.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER III
-
-
-Mr. Woodhouse was fond of society in his own way. He liked very much to
-have his friends come and see him; and from various united causes, from
-his long residence at Hartfield, and his good nature, from his fortune,
-his house, and his daughter, he could command the visits of his own
-little circle, in a great measure, as he liked. He had not much
-intercourse with any families beyond that circle; his horror of late
-hours, and large dinner-parties, made him unfit for any acquaintance
-but such as would visit him on his own terms. Fortunately for him,
-Highbury, including Randalls in the same parish, and Donwell Abbey in
-the parish adjoining, the seat of Mr. Knightley, comprehended many
-such. Not unfrequently, through Emma’s persuasion, he had some of the
-chosen and the best to dine with him: but evening parties were what he
-preferred; and, unless he fancied himself at any time unequal to
-company, there was scarcely an evening in the week in which Emma could
-not make up a card-table for him.
-
-Real, long-standing regard brought the Westons and Mr. Knightley; and
-by Mr. Elton, a young man living alone without liking it, the privilege
-of exchanging any vacant evening of his own blank solitude for the
-elegancies and society of Mr. Woodhouse’s drawing-room, and the smiles
-of his lovely daughter, was in no danger of being thrown away.
-
-After these came a second set; among the most come-at-able of whom were
-Mrs. and Miss Bates, and Mrs. Goddard, three ladies almost always at
-the service of an invitation from Hartfield, and who were fetched and
-carried home so often, that Mr. Woodhouse thought it no hardship for
-either James or the horses. Had it taken place only once a year, it
-would have been a grievance.
-
-Mrs. Bates, the widow of a former vicar of Highbury, was a very old
-lady, almost past every thing but tea and quadrille. She lived with her
-single daughter in a very small way, and was considered with all the
-regard and respect which a harmless old lady, under such untoward
-circumstances, can excite. Her daughter enjoyed a most uncommon degree
-of popularity for a woman neither young, handsome, rich, nor married.
-Miss Bates stood in the very worst predicament in the world for having
-much of the public favour; and she had no intellectual superiority to
-make atonement to herself, or frighten those who might hate her into
-outward respect. She had never boasted either beauty or cleverness. Her
-youth had passed without distinction, and her middle of life was
-devoted to the care of a failing mother, and the endeavour to make a
-small income go as far as possible. And yet she was a happy woman, and
-a woman whom no one named without good-will. It was her own universal
-good-will and contented temper which worked such wonders. She loved
-every body, was interested in every body’s happiness, quicksighted to
-every body’s merits; thought herself a most fortunate creature, and
-surrounded with blessings in such an excellent mother, and so many good
-neighbours and friends, and a home that wanted for nothing. The
-simplicity and cheerfulness of her nature, her contented and grateful
-spirit, were a recommendation to every body, and a mine of felicity to
-herself. She was a great talker upon little matters, which exactly
-suited Mr. Woodhouse, full of trivial communications and harmless
-gossip.
-
-Mrs. Goddard was the mistress of a School—not of a seminary, or an
-establishment, or any thing which professed, in long sentences of
-refined nonsense, to combine liberal acquirements with elegant
-morality, upon new principles and new systems—and where young ladies
-for enormous pay might be screwed out of health and into vanity—but a
-real, honest, old-fashioned Boarding-school, where a reasonable
-quantity of accomplishments were sold at a reasonable price, and where
-girls might be sent to be out of the way, and scramble themselves into
-a little education, without any danger of coming back prodigies. Mrs.
-Goddard’s school was in high repute—and very deservedly; for Highbury
-was reckoned a particularly healthy spot: she had an ample house and
-garden, gave the children plenty of wholesome food, let them run about
-a great deal in the summer, and in winter dressed their chilblains with
-her own hands. It was no wonder that a train of twenty young couple now
-walked after her to church. She was a plain, motherly kind of woman,
-who had worked hard in her youth, and now thought herself entitled to
-the occasional holiday of a tea-visit; and having formerly owed much to
-Mr. Woodhouse’s kindness, felt his particular claim on her to leave her
-neat parlour, hung round with fancy-work, whenever she could, and win
-or lose a few sixpences by his fireside.
-
-These were the ladies whom Emma found herself very frequently able to
-collect; and happy was she, for her father’s sake, in the power;
-though, as far as she was herself concerned, it was no remedy for the
-absence of Mrs. Weston. She was delighted to see her father look
-comfortable, and very much pleased with herself for contriving things
-so well; but the quiet prosings of three such women made her feel that
-every evening so spent was indeed one of the long evenings she had
-fearfully anticipated.
-
-As she sat one morning, looking forward to exactly such a close of the
-present day, a note was brought from Mrs. Goddard, requesting, in most
-respectful terms, to be allowed to bring Miss Smith with her; a most
-welcome request: for Miss Smith was a girl of seventeen, whom Emma knew
-very well by sight, and had long felt an interest in, on account of her
-beauty. A very gracious invitation was returned, and the evening no
-longer dreaded by the fair mistress of the mansion.
-
-Harriet Smith was the natural daughter of somebody. Somebody had placed
-her, several years back, at Mrs. Goddard’s school, and somebody had
-lately raised her from the condition of scholar to that of
-parlour-boarder. This was all that was generally known of her history.
-She had no visible friends but what had been acquired at Highbury, and
-was now just returned from a long visit in the country to some young
-ladies who had been at school there with her.
-
-She was a very pretty girl, and her beauty happened to be of a sort
-which Emma particularly admired. She was short, plump, and fair, with a
-fine bloom, blue eyes, light hair, regular features, and a look of
-great sweetness, and, before the end of the evening, Emma was as much
-pleased with her manners as her person, and quite determined to
-continue the acquaintance.
-
-She was not struck by any thing remarkably clever in Miss Smith’s
-conversation, but she found her altogether very engaging—not
-inconveniently shy, not unwilling to talk—and yet so far from pushing,
-shewing so proper and becoming a deference, seeming so pleasantly
-grateful for being admitted to Hartfield, and so artlessly impressed by
-the appearance of every thing in so superior a style to what she had
-been used to, that she must have good sense, and deserve encouragement.
-Encouragement should be given. Those soft blue eyes, and all those
-natural graces, should not be wasted on the inferior society of
-Highbury and its connexions. The acquaintance she had already formed
-were unworthy of her. The friends from whom she had just parted, though
-very good sort of people, must be doing her harm. They were a family of
-the name of Martin, whom Emma well knew by character, as renting a
-large farm of Mr. Knightley, and residing in the parish of Donwell—very
-creditably, she believed—she knew Mr. Knightley thought highly of
-them—but they must be coarse and unpolished, and very unfit to be the
-intimates of a girl who wanted only a little more knowledge and
-elegance to be quite perfect. _She_ would notice her; she would improve
-her; she would detach her from her bad acquaintance, and introduce her
-into good society; she would form her opinions and her manners. It
-would be an interesting, and certainly a very kind undertaking; highly
-becoming her own situation in life, her leisure, and powers.
-
-She was so busy in admiring those soft blue eyes, in talking and
-listening, and forming all these schemes in the in-betweens, that the
-evening flew away at a very unusual rate; and the supper-table, which
-always closed such parties, and for which she had been used to sit and
-watch the due time, was all set out and ready, and moved forwards to
-the fire, before she was aware. With an alacrity beyond the common
-impulse of a spirit which yet was never indifferent to the credit of
-doing every thing well and attentively, with the real good-will of a
-mind delighted with its own ideas, did she then do all the honours of
-the meal, and help and recommend the minced chicken and scalloped
-oysters, with an urgency which she knew would be acceptable to the
-early hours and civil scruples of their guests.
-
-Upon such occasions poor Mr. Woodhouse’s feelings were in sad warfare.
-He loved to have the cloth laid, because it had been the fashion of his
-youth, but his conviction of suppers being very unwholesome made him
-rather sorry to see any thing put on it; and while his hospitality
-would have welcomed his visitors to every thing, his care for their
-health made him grieve that they would eat.
-
-Such another small basin of thin gruel as his own was all that he
-could, with thorough self-approbation, recommend; though he might
-constrain himself, while the ladies were comfortably clearing the nicer
-things, to say:
-
-“Mrs. Bates, let me propose your venturing on one of these eggs. An egg
-boiled very soft is not unwholesome. Serle understands boiling an egg
-better than any body. I would not recommend an egg boiled by any body
-else; but you need not be afraid, they are very small, you see—one of
-our small eggs will not hurt you. Miss Bates, let Emma help you to a
-_little_ bit of tart—a _very_ little bit. Ours are all apple-tarts. You
-need not be afraid of unwholesome preserves here. I do not advise the
-custard. Mrs. Goddard, what say you to _half_ a glass of wine? A
-_small_ half-glass, put into a tumbler of water? I do not think it
-could disagree with you.”
-
-Emma allowed her father to talk—but supplied her visitors in a much
-more satisfactory style, and on the present evening had particular
-pleasure in sending them away happy. The happiness of Miss Smith was
-quite equal to her intentions. Miss Woodhouse was so great a personage
-in Highbury, that the prospect of the introduction had given as much
-panic as pleasure; but the humble, grateful little girl went off with
-highly gratified feelings, delighted with the affability with which
-Miss Woodhouse had treated her all the evening, and actually shaken
-hands with her at last!
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER IV
-
-
-Harriet Smith’s intimacy at Hartfield was soon a settled thing. Quick
-and decided in her ways, Emma lost no time in inviting, encouraging,
-and telling her to come very often; and as their acquaintance
-increased, so did their satisfaction in each other. As a walking
-companion, Emma had very early foreseen how useful she might find her.
-In that respect Mrs. Weston’s loss had been important. Her father never
-went beyond the shrubbery, where two divisions of the ground sufficed
-him for his long walk, or his short, as the year varied; and since Mrs.
-Weston’s marriage her exercise had been too much confined. She had
-ventured once alone to Randalls, but it was not pleasant; and a Harriet
-Smith, therefore, one whom she could summon at any time to a walk,
-would be a valuable addition to her privileges. But in every respect,
-as she saw more of her, she approved her, and was confirmed in all her
-kind designs.
-
-Harriet certainly was not clever, but she had a sweet, docile, grateful
-disposition, was totally free from conceit, and only desiring to be
-guided by any one she looked up to. Her early attachment to herself was
-very amiable; and her inclination for good company, and power of
-appreciating what was elegant and clever, shewed that there was no want
-of taste, though strength of understanding must not be expected.
-Altogether she was quite convinced of Harriet Smith’s being exactly the
-young friend she wanted—exactly the something which her home required.
-Such a friend as Mrs. Weston was out of the question. Two such could
-never be granted. Two such she did not want. It was quite a different
-sort of thing, a sentiment distinct and independent. Mrs. Weston was
-the object of a regard which had its basis in gratitude and esteem.
-Harriet would be loved as one to whom she could be useful. For Mrs.
-Weston there was nothing to be done; for Harriet every thing.
-
-Her first attempts at usefulness were in an endeavour to find out who
-were the parents, but Harriet could not tell. She was ready to tell
-every thing in her power, but on this subject questions were vain. Emma
-was obliged to fancy what she liked—but she could never believe that in
-the same situation _she_ should not have discovered the truth. Harriet
-had no penetration. She had been satisfied to hear and believe just
-what Mrs. Goddard chose to tell her; and looked no farther.
-
-Mrs. Goddard, and the teachers, and the girls and the affairs of the
-school in general, formed naturally a great part of the
-conversation—and but for her acquaintance with the Martins of
-Abbey-Mill Farm, it must have been the whole. But the Martins occupied
-her thoughts a good deal; she had spent two very happy months with
-them, and now loved to talk of the pleasures of her visit, and describe
-the many comforts and wonders of the place. Emma encouraged her
-talkativeness—amused by such a picture of another set of beings, and
-enjoying the youthful simplicity which could speak with so much
-exultation of Mrs. Martin’s having “_two_ parlours, two very good
-parlours, indeed; one of them quite as large as Mrs. Goddard’s
-drawing-room; and of her having an upper maid who had lived
-five-and-twenty years with her; and of their having eight cows, two of
-them Alderneys, and one a little Welch cow, a very pretty little Welch
-cow indeed; and of Mrs. Martin’s saying as she was so fond of it, it
-should be called _her_ cow; and of their having a very handsome
-summer-house in their garden, where some day next year they were all to
-drink tea:—a very handsome summer-house, large enough to hold a dozen
-people.”
-
-For some time she was amused, without thinking beyond the immediate
-cause; but as she came to understand the family better, other feelings
-arose. She had taken up a wrong idea, fancying it was a mother and
-daughter, a son and son’s wife, who all lived together; but when it
-appeared that the Mr. Martin, who bore a part in the narrative, and was
-always mentioned with approbation for his great good-nature in doing
-something or other, was a single man; that there was no young Mrs.
-Martin, no wife in the case; she did suspect danger to her poor little
-friend from all this hospitality and kindness, and that, if she were
-not taken care of, she might be required to sink herself forever.
-
-With this inspiriting notion, her questions increased in number and
-meaning; and she particularly led Harriet to talk more of Mr. Martin,
-and there was evidently no dislike to it. Harriet was very ready to
-speak of the share he had had in their moonlight walks and merry
-evening games; and dwelt a good deal upon his being so very
-good-humoured and obliging. He had gone three miles round one day in
-order to bring her some walnuts, because she had said how fond she was
-of them, and in every thing else he was so very obliging. He had his
-shepherd’s son into the parlour one night on purpose to sing to her.
-She was very fond of singing. He could sing a little himself. She
-believed he was very clever, and understood every thing. He had a very
-fine flock, and, while she was with them, he had been bid more for his
-wool than any body in the country. She believed every body spoke well
-of him. His mother and sisters were very fond of him. Mrs. Martin had
-told her one day (and there was a blush as she said it,) that it was
-impossible for any body to be a better son, and therefore she was sure,
-whenever he married, he would make a good husband. Not that she
-_wanted_ him to marry. She was in no hurry at all.
-
-“Well done, Mrs. Martin!” thought Emma. “You know what you are about.”
-
-“And when she had come away, Mrs. Martin was so very kind as to send
-Mrs. Goddard a beautiful goose—the finest goose Mrs. Goddard had ever
-seen. Mrs. Goddard had dressed it on a Sunday, and asked all the three
-teachers, Miss Nash, and Miss Prince, and Miss Richardson, to sup with
-her.”
-
-“Mr. Martin, I suppose, is not a man of information beyond the line of
-his own business? He does not read?”
-
-“Oh yes!—that is, no—I do not know—but I believe he has read a good
-deal—but not what you would think any thing of. He reads the
-Agricultural Reports, and some other books that lay in one of the
-window seats—but he reads all _them_ to himself. But sometimes of an
-evening, before we went to cards, he would read something aloud out of
-the Elegant Extracts, very entertaining. And I know he has read the
-Vicar of Wakefield. He never read the Romance of the Forest, nor The
-Children of the Abbey. He had never heard of such books before I
-mentioned them, but he is determined to get them now as soon as ever he
-can.”
-
-The next question was—
-
-“What sort of looking man is Mr. Martin?”
-
-“Oh! not handsome—not at all handsome. I thought him very plain at
-first, but I do not think him so plain now. One does not, you know,
-after a time. But did you never see him? He is in Highbury every now
-and then, and he is sure to ride through every week in his way to
-Kingston. He has passed you very often.”
-
-“That may be, and I may have seen him fifty times, but without having
-any idea of his name. A young farmer, whether on horseback or on foot,
-is the very last sort of person to raise my curiosity. The yeomanry are
-precisely the order of people with whom I feel I can have nothing to
-do. A degree or two lower, and a creditable appearance might interest
-me; I might hope to be useful to their families in some way or other.
-But a farmer can need none of my help, and is, therefore, in one sense,
-as much above my notice as in every other he is below it.”
-
-“To be sure. Oh yes! It is not likely you should ever have observed
-him; but he knows you very well indeed—I mean by sight.”
-
-“I have no doubt of his being a very respectable young man. I know,
-indeed, that he is so, and, as such, wish him well. What do you imagine
-his age to be?”
-
-“He was four-and-twenty the 8th of last June, and my birthday is the
-23rd just a fortnight and a day’s difference—which is very odd.”
-
-“Only four-and-twenty. That is too young to settle. His mother is
-perfectly right not to be in a hurry. They seem very comfortable as
-they are, and if she were to take any pains to marry him, she would
-probably repent it. Six years hence, if he could meet with a good sort
-of young woman in the same rank as his own, with a little money, it
-might be very desirable.”
-
-“Six years hence! Dear Miss Woodhouse, he would be thirty years old!”
-
-“Well, and that is as early as most men can afford to marry, who are
-not born to an independence. Mr. Martin, I imagine, has his fortune
-entirely to make—cannot be at all beforehand with the world. Whatever
-money he might come into when his father died, whatever his share of
-the family property, it is, I dare say, all afloat, all employed in his
-stock, and so forth; and though, with diligence and good luck, he may
-be rich in time, it is next to impossible that he should have realised
-any thing yet.”
-
-“To be sure, so it is. But they live very comfortably. They have no
-indoors man, else they do not want for any thing; and Mrs. Martin talks
-of taking a boy another year.”
-
-“I wish you may not get into a scrape, Harriet, whenever he does
-marry;—I mean, as to being acquainted with his wife—for though his
-sisters, from a superior education, are not to be altogether objected
-to, it does not follow that he might marry any body at all fit for you
-to notice. The misfortune of your birth ought to make you particularly
-careful as to your associates. There can be no doubt of your being a
-gentleman’s daughter, and you must support your claim to that station
-by every thing within your own power, or there will be plenty of people
-who would take pleasure in degrading you.”
-
-“Yes, to be sure, I suppose there are. But while I visit at Hartfield,
-and you are so kind to me, Miss Woodhouse, I am not afraid of what any
-body can do.”
-
-“You understand the force of influence pretty well, Harriet; but I
-would have you so firmly established in good society, as to be
-independent even of Hartfield and Miss Woodhouse. I want to see you
-permanently well connected, and to that end it will be advisable to
-have as few odd acquaintance as may be; and, therefore, I say that if
-you should still be in this country when Mr. Martin marries, I wish you
-may not be drawn in by your intimacy with the sisters, to be acquainted
-with the wife, who will probably be some mere farmer’s daughter,
-without education.”
-
-“To be sure. Yes. Not that I think Mr. Martin would ever marry any body
-but what had had some education—and been very well brought up. However,
-I do not mean to set up my opinion against yours—and I am sure I shall
-not wish for the acquaintance of his wife. I shall always have a great
-regard for the Miss Martins, especially Elizabeth, and should be very
-sorry to give them up, for they are quite as well educated as me. But
-if he marries a very ignorant, vulgar woman, certainly I had better not
-visit her, if I can help it.”
-
-Emma watched her through the fluctuations of this speech, and saw no
-alarming symptoms of love. The young man had been the first admirer,
-but she trusted there was no other hold, and that there would be no
-serious difficulty, on Harriet’s side, to oppose any friendly
-arrangement of her own.
-
-They met Mr. Martin the very next day, as they were walking on the
-Donwell road. He was on foot, and after looking very respectfully at
-her, looked with most unfeigned satisfaction at her companion. Emma was
-not sorry to have such an opportunity of survey; and walking a few
-yards forward, while they talked together, soon made her quick eye
-sufficiently acquainted with Mr. Robert Martin. His appearance was very
-neat, and he looked like a sensible young man, but his person had no
-other advantage; and when he came to be contrasted with gentlemen, she
-thought he must lose all the ground he had gained in Harriet’s
-inclination. Harriet was not insensible of manner; she had voluntarily
-noticed her father’s gentleness with admiration as well as wonder. Mr.
-Martin looked as if he did not know what manner was.
-
-They remained but a few minutes together, as Miss Woodhouse must not be
-kept waiting; and Harriet then came running to her with a smiling face,
-and in a flutter of spirits, which Miss Woodhouse hoped very soon to
-compose.
-
-“Only think of our happening to meet him!—How very odd! It was quite a
-chance, he said, that he had not gone round by Randalls. He did not
-think we ever walked this road. He thought we walked towards Randalls
-most days. He has not been able to get the Romance of the Forest yet.
-He was so busy the last time he was at Kingston that he quite forgot
-it, but he goes again to-morrow. So very odd we should happen to meet!
-Well, Miss Woodhouse, is he like what you expected? What do you think
-of him? Do you think him so very plain?”
-
-“He is very plain, undoubtedly—remarkably plain:—but that is nothing
-compared with his entire want of gentility. I had no right to expect
-much, and I did not expect much; but I had no idea that he could be so
-very clownish, so totally without air. I had imagined him, I confess, a
-degree or two nearer gentility.”
-
-“To be sure,” said Harriet, in a mortified voice, “he is not so genteel
-as real gentlemen.”
-
-“I think, Harriet, since your acquaintance with us, you have been
-repeatedly in the company of some such very real gentlemen, that you
-must yourself be struck with the difference in Mr. Martin. At
-Hartfield, you have had very good specimens of well educated, well bred
-men. I should be surprized if, after seeing them, you could be in
-company with Mr. Martin again without perceiving him to be a very
-inferior creature—and rather wondering at yourself for having ever
-thought him at all agreeable before. Do not you begin to feel that now?
-Were not you struck? I am sure you must have been struck by his awkward
-look and abrupt manner, and the uncouthness of a voice which I heard to
-be wholly unmodulated as I stood here.”
-
-“Certainly, he is not like Mr. Knightley. He has not such a fine air
-and way of walking as Mr. Knightley. I see the difference plain enough.
-But Mr. Knightley is so very fine a man!”
-
-“Mr. Knightley’s air is so remarkably good that it is not fair to
-compare Mr. Martin with _him_. You might not see one in a hundred with
-_gentleman_ so plainly written as in Mr. Knightley. But he is not the
-only gentleman you have been lately used to. What say you to Mr. Weston
-and Mr. Elton? Compare Mr. Martin with either of _them_. Compare their
-manner of carrying themselves; of walking; of speaking; of being
-silent. You must see the difference.”
-
-“Oh yes!—there is a great difference. But Mr. Weston is almost an old
-man. Mr. Weston must be between forty and fifty.”
-
-“Which makes his good manners the more valuable. The older a person
-grows, Harriet, the more important it is that their manners should not
-be bad; the more glaring and disgusting any loudness, or coarseness, or
-awkwardness becomes. What is passable in youth is detestable in later
-age. Mr. Martin is now awkward and abrupt; what will he be at Mr.
-Weston’s time of life?”
-
-“There is no saying, indeed,” replied Harriet rather solemnly.
-
-“But there may be pretty good guessing. He will be a completely gross,
-vulgar farmer, totally inattentive to appearances, and thinking of
-nothing but profit and loss.”
-
-“Will he, indeed? That will be very bad.”
-
-“How much his business engrosses him already is very plain from the
-circumstance of his forgetting to inquire for the book you recommended.
-He was a great deal too full of the market to think of any thing
-else—which is just as it should be, for a thriving man. What has he to
-do with books? And I have no doubt that he _will_ thrive, and be a very
-rich man in time—and his being illiterate and coarse need not disturb
-_us_.”
-
-“I wonder he did not remember the book”—was all Harriet’s answer, and
-spoken with a degree of grave displeasure which Emma thought might be
-safely left to itself. She, therefore, said no more for some time. Her
-next beginning was,
-
-“In one respect, perhaps, Mr. Elton’s manners are superior to Mr.
-Knightley’s or Mr. Weston’s. They have more gentleness. They might be
-more safely held up as a pattern. There is an openness, a quickness,
-almost a bluntness in Mr. Weston, which every body likes in _him_,
-because there is so much good-humour with it—but that would not do to
-be copied. Neither would Mr. Knightley’s downright, decided, commanding
-sort of manner, though it suits _him_ very well; his figure, and look,
-and situation in life seem to allow it; but if any young man were to
-set about copying him, he would not be sufferable. On the contrary, I
-think a young man might be very safely recommended to take Mr. Elton as
-a model. Mr. Elton is good-humoured, cheerful, obliging, and gentle. He
-seems to me to be grown particularly gentle of late. I do not know
-whether he has any design of ingratiating himself with either of us,
-Harriet, by additional softness, but it strikes me that his manners are
-softer than they used to be. If he means any thing, it must be to
-please you. Did not I tell you what he said of you the other day?”
-
-She then repeated some warm personal praise which she had drawn from
-Mr. Elton, and now did full justice to; and Harriet blushed and smiled,
-and said she had always thought Mr. Elton very agreeable.
-
-Mr. Elton was the very person fixed on by Emma for driving the young
-farmer out of Harriet’s head. She thought it would be an excellent
-match; and only too palpably desirable, natural, and probable, for her
-to have much merit in planning it. She feared it was what every body
-else must think of and predict. It was not likely, however, that any
-body should have equalled her in the date of the plan, as it had
-entered her brain during the very first evening of Harriet’s coming to
-Hartfield. The longer she considered it, the greater was her sense of
-its expediency. Mr. Elton’s situation was most suitable, quite the
-gentleman himself, and without low connexions; at the same time, not of
-any family that could fairly object to the doubtful birth of Harriet.
-He had a comfortable home for her, and Emma imagined a very sufficient
-income; for though the vicarage of Highbury was not large, he was known
-to have some independent property; and she thought very highly of him
-as a good-humoured, well-meaning, respectable young man, without any
-deficiency of useful understanding or knowledge of the world.
-
-She had already satisfied herself that he thought Harriet a beautiful
-girl, which she trusted, with such frequent meetings at Hartfield, was
-foundation enough on his side; and on Harriet’s there could be little
-doubt that the idea of being preferred by him would have all the usual
-weight and efficacy. And he was really a very pleasing young man, a
-young man whom any woman not fastidious might like. He was reckoned
-very handsome; his person much admired in general, though not by her,
-there being a want of elegance of feature which she could not dispense
-with:—but the girl who could be gratified by a Robert Martin’s riding
-about the country to get walnuts for her might very well be conquered
-by Mr. Elton’s admiration.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER V
-
-
-“I do not know what your opinion may be, Mrs. Weston,” said Mr.
-Knightley, “of this great intimacy between Emma and Harriet Smith, but
-I think it a bad thing.”
-
-“A bad thing! Do you really think it a bad thing?—why so?”
-
-“I think they will neither of them do the other any good.”
-
-“You surprize me! Emma must do Harriet good: and by supplying her with
-a new object of interest, Harriet may be said to do Emma good. I have
-been seeing their intimacy with the greatest pleasure. How very
-differently we feel!—Not think they will do each other any good! This
-will certainly be the beginning of one of our quarrels about Emma, Mr.
-Knightley.”
-
-“Perhaps you think I am come on purpose to quarrel with you, knowing
-Weston to be out, and that you must still fight your own battle.”
-
-“Mr. Weston would undoubtedly support me, if he were here, for he
-thinks exactly as I do on the subject. We were speaking of it only
-yesterday, and agreeing how fortunate it was for Emma, that there
-should be such a girl in Highbury for her to associate with. Mr.
-Knightley, I shall not allow you to be a fair judge in this case. You
-are so much used to live alone, that you do not know the value of a
-companion; and, perhaps no man can be a good judge of the comfort a
-woman feels in the society of one of her own sex, after being used to
-it all her life. I can imagine your objection to Harriet Smith. She is
-not the superior young woman which Emma’s friend ought to be. But on
-the other hand, as Emma wants to see her better informed, it will be an
-inducement to her to read more herself. They will read together. She
-means it, I know.”
-
-“Emma has been meaning to read more ever since she was twelve years
-old. I have seen a great many lists of her drawing-up at various times
-of books that she meant to read regularly through—and very good lists
-they were—very well chosen, and very neatly arranged—sometimes
-alphabetically, and sometimes by some other rule. The list she drew up
-when only fourteen—I remember thinking it did her judgment so much
-credit, that I preserved it some time; and I dare say she may have made
-out a very good list now. But I have done with expecting any course of
-steady reading from Emma. She will never submit to any thing requiring
-industry and patience, and a subjection of the fancy to the
-understanding. Where Miss Taylor failed to stimulate, I may safely
-affirm that Harriet Smith will do nothing.—You never could persuade her
-to read half so much as you wished.—You know you could not.”
-
-“I dare say,” replied Mrs. Weston, smiling, “that I thought so
-_then_;—but since we have parted, I can never remember Emma’s omitting
-to do any thing I wished.”
-
-“There is hardly any desiring to refresh such a memory as _that_,”—said
-Mr. Knightley, feelingly; and for a moment or two he had done. “But I,”
-he soon added, “who have had no such charm thrown over my senses, must
-still see, hear, and remember. Emma is spoiled by being the cleverest
-of her family. At ten years old, she had the misfortune of being able
-to answer questions which puzzled her sister at seventeen. She was
-always quick and assured: Isabella slow and diffident. And ever since
-she was twelve, Emma has been mistress of the house and of you all. In
-her mother she lost the only person able to cope with her. She inherits
-her mother’s talents, and must have been under subjection to her.”
-
-“I should have been sorry, Mr. Knightley, to be dependent on _your_
-recommendation, had I quitted Mr. Woodhouse’s family and wanted another
-situation; I do not think you would have spoken a good word for me to
-any body. I am sure you always thought me unfit for the office I held.”
-
-“Yes,” said he, smiling. “You are better placed _here_; very fit for a
-wife, but not at all for a governess. But you were preparing yourself
-to be an excellent wife all the time you were at Hartfield. You might
-not give Emma such a complete education as your powers would seem to
-promise; but you were receiving a very good education from _her_, on
-the very material matrimonial point of submitting your own will, and
-doing as you were bid; and if Weston had asked me to recommend him a
-wife, I should certainly have named Miss Taylor.”
-
-“Thank you. There will be very little merit in making a good wife to
-such a man as Mr. Weston.”
-
-“Why, to own the truth, I am afraid you are rather thrown away, and
-that with every disposition to bear, there will be nothing to be borne.
-We will not despair, however. Weston may grow cross from the wantonness
-of comfort, or his son may plague him.”
-
-“I hope not _that_.—It is not likely. No, Mr. Knightley, do not
-foretell vexation from that quarter.”
-
-“Not I, indeed. I only name possibilities. I do not pretend to Emma’s
-genius for foretelling and guessing. I hope, with all my heart, the
-young man may be a Weston in merit, and a Churchill in fortune.—But
-Harriet Smith—I have not half done about Harriet Smith. I think her the
-very worst sort of companion that Emma could possibly have. She knows
-nothing herself, and looks upon Emma as knowing every thing. She is a
-flatterer in all her ways; and so much the worse, because undesigned.
-Her ignorance is hourly flattery. How can Emma imagine she has any
-thing to learn herself, while Harriet is presenting such a delightful
-inferiority? And as for Harriet, I will venture to say that _she_
-cannot gain by the acquaintance. Hartfield will only put her out of
-conceit with all the other places she belongs to. She will grow just
-refined enough to be uncomfortable with those among whom birth and
-circumstances have placed her home. I am much mistaken if Emma’s
-doctrines give any strength of mind, or tend at all to make a girl
-adapt herself rationally to the varieties of her situation in
-life.—They only give a little polish.”
-
-“I either depend more upon Emma’s good sense than you do, or am more
-anxious for her present comfort; for I cannot lament the acquaintance.
-How well she looked last night!”
-
-“Oh! you would rather talk of her person than her mind, would you? Very
-well; I shall not attempt to deny Emma’s being pretty.”
-
-“Pretty! say beautiful rather. Can you imagine any thing nearer perfect
-beauty than Emma altogether—face and figure?”
-
-“I do not know what I could imagine, but I confess that I have seldom
-seen a face or figure more pleasing to me than hers. But I am a partial
-old friend.”
-
-“Such an eye!—the true hazle eye—and so brilliant! regular features,
-open countenance, with a complexion! oh! what a bloom of full health,
-and such a pretty height and size; such a firm and upright figure!
-There is health, not merely in her bloom, but in her air, her head, her
-glance. One hears sometimes of a child being ‘the picture of health;’
-now, Emma always gives me the idea of being the complete picture of
-grown-up health. She is loveliness itself. Mr. Knightley, is not she?”
-
-“I have not a fault to find with her person,” he replied. “I think her
-all you describe. I love to look at her; and I will add this praise,
-that I do not think her personally vain. Considering how very handsome
-she is, she appears to be little occupied with it; her vanity lies
-another way. Mrs. Weston, I am not to be talked out of my dislike of
-Harriet Smith, or my dread of its doing them both harm.”
-
-“And I, Mr. Knightley, am equally stout in my confidence of its not
-doing them any harm. With all dear Emma’s little faults, she is an
-excellent creature. Where shall we see a better daughter, or a kinder
-sister, or a truer friend? No, no; she has qualities which may be
-trusted; she will never lead any one really wrong; she will make no
-lasting blunder; where Emma errs once, she is in the right a hundred
-times.”
-
-“Very well; I will not plague you any more. Emma shall be an angel, and
-I will keep my spleen to myself till Christmas brings John and
-Isabella. John loves Emma with a reasonable and therefore not a blind
-affection, and Isabella always thinks as he does; except when he is not
-quite frightened enough about the children. I am sure of having their
-opinions with me.”
-
-“I know that you all love her really too well to be unjust or unkind;
-but excuse me, Mr. Knightley, if I take the liberty (I consider myself,
-you know, as having somewhat of the privilege of speech that Emma’s
-mother might have had) the liberty of hinting that I do not think any
-possible good can arise from Harriet Smith’s intimacy being made a
-matter of much discussion among you. Pray excuse me; but supposing any
-little inconvenience may be apprehended from the intimacy, it cannot be
-expected that Emma, accountable to nobody but her father, who perfectly
-approves the acquaintance, should put an end to it, so long as it is a
-source of pleasure to herself. It has been so many years my province to
-give advice, that you cannot be surprized, Mr. Knightley, at this
-little remains of office.”
-
-“Not at all,” cried he; “I am much obliged to you for it. It is very
-good advice, and it shall have a better fate than your advice has often
-found; for it shall be attended to.”
-
-“Mrs. John Knightley is easily alarmed, and might be made unhappy about
-her sister.”
-
-“Be satisfied,” said he, “I will not raise any outcry. I will keep my
-ill-humour to myself. I have a very sincere interest in Emma. Isabella
-does not seem more my sister; has never excited a greater interest;
-perhaps hardly so great. There is an anxiety, a curiosity in what one
-feels for Emma. I wonder what will become of her!”
-
-“So do I,” said Mrs. Weston gently, “very much.”
-
-“She always declares she will never marry, which, of course, means just
-nothing at all. But I have no idea that she has yet ever seen a man she
-cared for. It would not be a bad thing for her to be very much in love
-with a proper object. I should like to see Emma in love, and in some
-doubt of a return; it would do her good. But there is nobody hereabouts
-to attach her; and she goes so seldom from home.”
-
-“There does, indeed, seem as little to tempt her to break her
-resolution at present,” said Mrs. Weston, “as can well be; and while
-she is so happy at Hartfield, I cannot wish her to be forming any
-attachment which would be creating such difficulties on poor Mr.
-Woodhouse’s account. I do not recommend matrimony at present to Emma,
-though I mean no slight to the state, I assure you.”
-
-Part of her meaning was to conceal some favourite thoughts of her own
-and Mr. Weston’s on the subject, as much as possible. There were wishes
-at Randalls respecting Emma’s destiny, but it was not desirable to have
-them suspected; and the quiet transition which Mr. Knightley soon
-afterwards made to “What does Weston think of the weather; shall we
-have rain?” convinced her that he had nothing more to say or surmise
-about Hartfield.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER VI
-
-
-Emma could not feel a doubt of having given Harriet’s fancy a proper
-direction and raised the gratitude of her young vanity to a very good
-purpose, for she found her decidedly more sensible than before of Mr.
-Elton’s being a remarkably handsome man, with most agreeable manners;
-and as she had no hesitation in following up the assurance of his
-admiration by agreeable hints, she was soon pretty confident of
-creating as much liking on Harriet’s side, as there could be any
-occasion for. She was quite convinced of Mr. Elton’s being in the
-fairest way of falling in love, if not in love already. She had no
-scruple with regard to him. He talked of Harriet, and praised her so
-warmly, that she could not suppose any thing wanting which a little
-time would not add. His perception of the striking improvement of
-Harriet’s manner, since her introduction at Hartfield, was not one of
-the least agreeable proofs of his growing attachment.
-
-“You have given Miss Smith all that she required,” said he; “you have
-made her graceful and easy. She was a beautiful creature when she came
-to you, but, in my opinion, the attractions you have added are
-infinitely superior to what she received from nature.”
-
-“I am glad you think I have been useful to her; but Harriet only wanted
-drawing out, and receiving a few, very few hints. She had all the
-natural grace of sweetness of temper and artlessness in herself. I have
-done very little.”
-
-“If it were admissible to contradict a lady,” said the gallant Mr.
-Elton—
-
-“I have perhaps given her a little more decision of character, have
-taught her to think on points which had not fallen in her way before.”
-
-“Exactly so; that is what principally strikes me. So much superadded
-decision of character! Skilful has been the hand!”
-
-“Great has been the pleasure, I am sure. I never met with a disposition
-more truly amiable.”
-
-“I have no doubt of it.” And it was spoken with a sort of sighing
-animation, which had a vast deal of the lover. She was not less pleased
-another day with the manner in which he seconded a sudden wish of hers,
-to have Harriet’s picture.
-
-“Did you ever have your likeness taken, Harriet?” said she: “did you
-ever sit for your picture?”
-
-Harriet was on the point of leaving the room, and only stopt to say,
-with a very interesting naïveté,
-
-“Oh! dear, no, never.”
-
-No sooner was she out of sight, than Emma exclaimed,
-
-“What an exquisite possession a good picture of her would be! I would
-give any money for it. I almost long to attempt her likeness myself.
-You do not know it I dare say, but two or three years ago I had a great
-passion for taking likenesses, and attempted several of my friends, and
-was thought to have a tolerable eye in general. But from one cause or
-another, I gave it up in disgust. But really, I could almost venture,
-if Harriet would sit to me. It would be such a delight to have her
-picture!”
-
-“Let me entreat you,” cried Mr. Elton; “it would indeed be a delight!
-Let me entreat you, Miss Woodhouse, to exercise so charming a talent in
-favour of your friend. I know what your drawings are. How could you
-suppose me ignorant? Is not this room rich in specimens of your
-landscapes and flowers; and has not Mrs. Weston some inimitable
-figure-pieces in her drawing-room, at Randalls?”
-
-Yes, good man!—thought Emma—but what has all that to do with taking
-likenesses? You know nothing of drawing. Don’t pretend to be in
-raptures about mine. Keep your raptures for Harriet’s face. “Well, if
-you give me such kind encouragement, Mr. Elton, I believe I shall try
-what I can do. Harriet’s features are very delicate, which makes a
-likeness difficult; and yet there is a peculiarity in the shape of the
-eye and the lines about the mouth which one ought to catch.”
-
-“Exactly so—The shape of the eye and the lines about the mouth—I have
-not a doubt of your success. Pray, pray attempt it. As you will do it,
-it will indeed, to use your own words, be an exquisite possession.”
-
-“But I am afraid, Mr. Elton, Harriet will not like to sit. She thinks
-so little of her own beauty. Did not you observe her manner of
-answering me? How completely it meant, ‘why should my picture be
-drawn?’”
-
-“Oh! yes, I observed it, I assure you. It was not lost on me. But still
-I cannot imagine she would not be persuaded.”
-
-Harriet was soon back again, and the proposal almost immediately made;
-and she had no scruples which could stand many minutes against the
-earnest pressing of both the others. Emma wished to go to work
-directly, and therefore produced the portfolio containing her various
-attempts at portraits, for not one of them had ever been finished, that
-they might decide together on the best size for Harriet. Her many
-beginnings were displayed. Miniatures, half-lengths, whole-lengths,
-pencil, crayon, and water-colours had been all tried in turn. She had
-always wanted to do every thing, and had made more progress both in
-drawing and music than many might have done with so little labour as
-she would ever submit to. She played and sang;—and drew in almost every
-style; but steadiness had always been wanting; and in nothing had she
-approached the degree of excellence which she would have been glad to
-command, and ought not to have failed of. She was not much deceived as
-to her own skill either as an artist or a musician, but she was not
-unwilling to have others deceived, or sorry to know her reputation for
-accomplishment often higher than it deserved.
-
-There was merit in every drawing—in the least finished, perhaps the
-most; her style was spirited; but had there been much less, or had
-there been ten times more, the delight and admiration of her two
-companions would have been the same. They were both in ecstasies. A
-likeness pleases every body; and Miss Woodhouse’s performances must be
-capital.
-
-“No great variety of faces for you,” said Emma. “I had only my own
-family to study from. There is my father—another of my father—but the
-idea of sitting for his picture made him so nervous, that I could only
-take him by stealth; neither of them very like therefore. Mrs. Weston
-again, and again, and again, you see. Dear Mrs. Weston! always my
-kindest friend on every occasion. She would sit whenever I asked her.
-There is my sister; and really quite her own little elegant figure!—and
-the face not unlike. I should have made a good likeness of her, if she
-would have sat longer, but she was in such a hurry to have me draw her
-four children that she would not be quiet. Then, here come all my
-attempts at three of those four children;—there they are, Henry and
-John and Bella, from one end of the sheet to the other, and any one of
-them might do for any one of the rest. She was so eager to have them
-drawn that I could not refuse; but there is no making children of three
-or four years old stand still you know; nor can it be very easy to take
-any likeness of them, beyond the air and complexion, unless they are
-coarser featured than any of mama’s children ever were. Here is my
-sketch of the fourth, who was a baby. I took him as he was sleeping on
-the sofa, and it is as strong a likeness of his cockade as you would
-wish to see. He had nestled down his head most conveniently. That’s
-very like. I am rather proud of little George. The corner of the sofa
-is very good. Then here is my last,”—unclosing a pretty sketch of a
-gentleman in small size, whole-length—“my last and my best—my brother,
-Mr. John Knightley.—This did not want much of being finished, when I
-put it away in a pet, and vowed I would never take another likeness. I
-could not help being provoked; for after all my pains, and when I had
-really made a very good likeness of it—(Mrs. Weston and I were quite
-agreed in thinking it _very_ like)—only too handsome—too flattering—but
-that was a fault on the right side”—after all this, came poor dear
-Isabella’s cold approbation of—“Yes, it was a little like—but to be
-sure it did not do him justice. We had had a great deal of trouble in
-persuading him to sit at all. It was made a great favour of; and
-altogether it was more than I could bear; and so I never would finish
-it, to have it apologised over as an unfavourable likeness, to every
-morning visitor in Brunswick Square;—and, as I said, I did then
-forswear ever drawing any body again. But for Harriet’s sake, or rather
-for my own, and as there are no husbands and wives in the case _at_
-_present_, I will break my resolution now.”
-
-Mr. Elton seemed very properly struck and delighted by the idea, and
-was repeating, “No husbands and wives in the case at present indeed, as
-you observe. Exactly so. No husbands and wives,” with so interesting a
-consciousness, that Emma began to consider whether she had not better
-leave them together at once. But as she wanted to be drawing, the
-declaration must wait a little longer.
-
-She had soon fixed on the size and sort of portrait. It was to be a
-whole-length in water-colours, like Mr. John Knightley’s, and was
-destined, if she could please herself, to hold a very honourable
-station over the mantelpiece.
-
-The sitting began; and Harriet, smiling and blushing, and afraid of not
-keeping her attitude and countenance, presented a very sweet mixture of
-youthful expression to the steady eyes of the artist. But there was no
-doing any thing, with Mr. Elton fidgeting behind her and watching every
-touch. She gave him credit for stationing himself where he might gaze
-and gaze again without offence; but was really obliged to put an end to
-it, and request him to place himself elsewhere. It then occurred to her
-to employ him in reading.
-
-“If he would be so good as to read to them, it would be a kindness
-indeed! It would amuse away the difficulties of her part, and lessen
-the irksomeness of Miss Smith’s.”
-
-Mr. Elton was only too happy. Harriet listened, and Emma drew in peace.
-She must allow him to be still frequently coming to look; any thing
-less would certainly have been too little in a lover; and he was ready
-at the smallest intermission of the pencil, to jump up and see the
-progress, and be charmed.—There was no being displeased with such an
-encourager, for his admiration made him discern a likeness almost
-before it was possible. She could not respect his eye, but his love and
-his complaisance were unexceptionable.
-
-The sitting was altogether very satisfactory; she was quite enough
-pleased with the first day’s sketch to wish to go on. There was no want
-of likeness, she had been fortunate in the attitude, and as she meant
-to throw in a little improvement to the figure, to give a little more
-height, and considerably more elegance, she had great confidence of its
-being in every way a pretty drawing at last, and of its filling its
-destined place with credit to them both—a standing memorial of the
-beauty of one, the skill of the other, and the friendship of both; with
-as many other agreeable associations as Mr. Elton’s very promising
-attachment was likely to add.
-
-Harriet was to sit again the next day; and Mr. Elton, just as he ought,
-entreated for the permission of attending and reading to them again.
-
-“By all means. We shall be most happy to consider you as one of the
-party.”
-
-The same civilities and courtesies, the same success and satisfaction,
-took place on the morrow, and accompanied the whole progress of the
-picture, which was rapid and happy. Every body who saw it was pleased,
-but Mr. Elton was in continual raptures, and defended it through every
-criticism.
-
-“Miss Woodhouse has given her friend the only beauty she
-wanted,”—observed Mrs. Weston to him—not in the least suspecting that
-she was addressing a lover.—“The expression of the eye is most correct,
-but Miss Smith has not those eyebrows and eyelashes. It is the fault of
-her face that she has them not.”
-
-“Do you think so?” replied he. “I cannot agree with you. It appears to
-me a most perfect resemblance in every feature. I never saw such a
-likeness in my life. We must allow for the effect of shade, you know.”
-
-“You have made her too tall, Emma,” said Mr. Knightley.
-
-Emma knew that she had, but would not own it; and Mr. Elton warmly
-added,
-
-“Oh no! certainly not too tall; not in the least too tall. Consider,
-she is sitting down—which naturally presents a different—which in short
-gives exactly the idea—and the proportions must be preserved, you know.
-Proportions, fore-shortening.—Oh no! it gives one exactly the idea of
-such a height as Miss Smith’s. Exactly so indeed!”
-
-“It is very pretty,” said Mr. Woodhouse. “So prettily done! Just as
-your drawings always are, my dear. I do not know any body who draws so
-well as you do. The only thing I do not thoroughly like is, that she
-seems to be sitting out of doors, with only a little shawl over her
-shoulders—and it makes one think she must catch cold.”
-
-“But, my dear papa, it is supposed to be summer; a warm day in summer.
-Look at the tree.”
-
-“But it is never safe to sit out of doors, my dear.”
-
-“You, sir, may say any thing,” cried Mr. Elton, “but I must confess
-that I regard it as a most happy thought, the placing of Miss Smith out
-of doors; and the tree is touched with such inimitable spirit! Any
-other situation would have been much less in character. The naïveté of
-Miss Smith’s manners—and altogether—Oh, it is most admirable! I cannot
-keep my eyes from it. I never saw such a likeness.”
-
-The next thing wanted was to get the picture framed; and here were a
-few difficulties. It must be done directly; it must be done in London;
-the order must go through the hands of some intelligent person whose
-taste could be depended on; and Isabella, the usual doer of all
-commissions, must not be applied to, because it was December, and Mr.
-Woodhouse could not bear the idea of her stirring out of her house in
-the fogs of December. But no sooner was the distress known to Mr.
-Elton, than it was removed. His gallantry was always on the alert.
-“Might he be trusted with the commission, what infinite pleasure should
-he have in executing it! he could ride to London at any time. It was
-impossible to say how much he should be gratified by being employed on
-such an errand.”
-
-“He was too good!—she could not endure the thought!—she would not give
-him such a troublesome office for the world,”—brought on the desired
-repetition of entreaties and assurances,—and a very few minutes settled
-the business.
-
-Mr. Elton was to take the drawing to London, chuse the frame, and give
-the directions; and Emma thought she could so pack it as to ensure its
-safety without much incommoding him, while he seemed mostly fearful of
-not being incommoded enough.
-
-“What a precious deposit!” said he with a tender sigh, as he received
-it.
-
-“This man is almost too gallant to be in love,” thought Emma. “I should
-say so, but that I suppose there may be a hundred different ways of
-being in love. He is an excellent young man, and will suit Harriet
-exactly; it will be an ‘Exactly so,’ as he says himself; but he does
-sigh and languish, and study for compliments rather more than I could
-endure as a principal. I come in for a pretty good share as a second.
-But it is his gratitude on Harriet’s account.”
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER VII
-
-
-The very day of Mr. Elton’s going to London produced a fresh occasion
-for Emma’s services towards her friend. Harriet had been at Hartfield,
-as usual, soon after breakfast; and, after a time, had gone home to
-return again to dinner: she returned, and sooner than had been talked
-of, and with an agitated, hurried look, announcing something
-extraordinary to have happened which she was longing to tell. Half a
-minute brought it all out. She had heard, as soon as she got back to
-Mrs. Goddard’s, that Mr. Martin had been there an hour before, and
-finding she was not at home, nor particularly expected, had left a
-little parcel for her from one of his sisters, and gone away; and on
-opening this parcel, she had actually found, besides the two songs
-which she had lent Elizabeth to copy, a letter to herself; and this
-letter was from him, from Mr. Martin, and contained a direct proposal
-of marriage. “Who could have thought it? She was so surprized she did
-not know what to do. Yes, quite a proposal of marriage; and a very good
-letter, at least she thought so. And he wrote as if he really loved her
-very much—but she did not know—and so, she was come as fast as she
-could to ask Miss Woodhouse what she should do.—” Emma was half-ashamed
-of her friend for seeming so pleased and so doubtful.
-
-“Upon my word,” she cried, “the young man is determined not to lose any
-thing for want of asking. He will connect himself well if he can.”
-
-“Will you read the letter?” cried Harriet. “Pray do. II’d rather you
-would.”
-
-Emma was not sorry to be pressed. She read, and was surprized. The
-style of the letter was much above her expectation. There were not
-merely no grammatical errors, but as a composition it would not have
-disgraced a gentleman; the language, though plain, was strong and
-unaffected, and the sentiments it conveyed very much to the credit of
-the writer. It was short, but expressed good sense, warm attachment,
-liberality, propriety, even delicacy of feeling. She paused over it,
-while Harriet stood anxiously watching for her opinion, with a “Well,
-well,” and was at last forced to add, “Is it a good letter? or is it
-too short?”
-
-“Yes, indeed, a very good letter,” replied Emma rather slowly—“so good
-a letter, Harriet, that every thing considered, I think one of his
-sisters must have helped him. I can hardly imagine the young man whom I
-saw talking with you the other day could express himself so well, if
-left quite to his own powers, and yet it is not the style of a woman;
-no, certainly, it is too strong and concise; not diffuse enough for a
-woman. No doubt he is a sensible man, and I suppose may have a natural
-talent for—thinks strongly and clearly—and when he takes a pen in hand,
-his thoughts naturally find proper words. It is so with some men. Yes,
-I understand the sort of mind. Vigorous, decided, with sentiments to a
-certain point, not coarse. A better written letter, Harriet (returning
-it,) than I had expected.”
-
-“Well,” said the still waiting Harriet;—“well—and—and what shall I do?”
-
-“What shall you do! In what respect? Do you mean with regard to this
-letter?”
-
-“Yes.”
-
-“But what are you in doubt of? You must answer it of course—and
-speedily.”
-
-“Yes. But what shall I say? Dear Miss Woodhouse, do advise me.”
-
-“Oh no, no! the letter had much better be all your own. You will
-express yourself very properly, I am sure. There is no danger of your
-not being intelligible, which is the first thing. Your meaning must be
-unequivocal; no doubts or demurs: and such expressions of gratitude and
-concern for the pain you are inflicting as propriety requires, will
-present themselves unbidden to _your_ mind, I am persuaded. You need
-not be prompted to write with the appearance of sorrow for his
-disappointment.”
-
-“You think I ought to refuse him then,” said Harriet, looking down.
-
-“Ought to refuse him! My dear Harriet, what do you mean? Are you in any
-doubt as to that? I thought—but I beg your pardon, perhaps I have been
-under a mistake. I certainly have been misunderstanding you, if you
-feel in doubt as to the _purport_ of your answer. I had imagined you
-were consulting me only as to the wording of it.”
-
-Harriet was silent. With a little reserve of manner, Emma continued:
-
-“You mean to return a favourable answer, I collect.”
-
-“No, I do not; that is, I do not mean—What shall I do? What would you
-advise me to do? Pray, dear Miss Woodhouse, tell me what I ought to
-do.”
-
-“I shall not give you any advice, Harriet. I will have nothing to do
-with it. This is a point which you must settle with your feelings.”
-
-“I had no notion that he liked me so very much,” said Harriet,
-contemplating the letter. For a little while Emma persevered in her
-silence; but beginning to apprehend the bewitching flattery of that
-letter might be too powerful, she thought it best to say,
-
-“I lay it down as a general rule, Harriet, that if a woman _doubts_ as
-to whether she should accept a man or not, she certainly ought to
-refuse him. If she can hesitate as to ‘Yes,’ she ought to say ‘No’
-directly. It is not a state to be safely entered into with doubtful
-feelings, with half a heart. I thought it my duty as a friend, and
-older than yourself, to say thus much to you. But do not imagine that I
-want to influence you.”
-
-“Oh! no, I am sure you are a great deal too kind to—but if you would
-just advise me what I had best do—No, no, I do not mean that—As you
-say, one’s mind ought to be quite made up—One should not be
-hesitating—It is a very serious thing.—It will be safer to say ‘No,’
-perhaps.—Do you think I had better say ‘No?’”
-
-“Not for the world,” said Emma, smiling graciously, “would I advise you
-either way. You must be the best judge of your own happiness. If you
-prefer Mr. Martin to every other person; if you think him the most
-agreeable man you have ever been in company with, why should you
-hesitate? You blush, Harriet.—Does any body else occur to you at this
-moment under such a definition? Harriet, Harriet, do not deceive
-yourself; do not be run away with by gratitude and compassion. At this
-moment whom are you thinking of?”
-
-The symptoms were favourable.—Instead of answering, Harriet turned away
-confused, and stood thoughtfully by the fire; and though the letter was
-still in her hand, it was now mechanically twisted about without
-regard. Emma waited the result with impatience, but not without strong
-hopes. At last, with some hesitation, Harriet said—
-
-“Miss Woodhouse, as you will not give me your opinion, I must do as
-well as I can by myself; and I have now quite determined, and really
-almost made up my mind—to refuse Mr. Martin. Do you think I am right?”
-
-“Perfectly, perfectly right, my dearest Harriet; you are doing just
-what you ought. While you were at all in suspense I kept my feelings to
-myself, but now that you are so completely decided I have no hesitation
-in approving. Dear Harriet, I give myself joy of this. It would have
-grieved me to lose your acquaintance, which must have been the
-consequence of your marrying Mr. Martin. While you were in the smallest
-degree wavering, I said nothing about it, because I would not
-influence; but it would have been the loss of a friend to me. I could
-not have visited Mrs. Robert Martin, of Abbey-Mill Farm. Now I am
-secure of you for ever.”
-
-Harriet had not surmised her own danger, but the idea of it struck her
-forcibly.
-
-“You could not have visited me!” she cried, looking aghast. “No, to be
-sure you could not; but I never thought of that before. That would have
-been too dreadful!—What an escape!—Dear Miss Woodhouse, I would not
-give up the pleasure and honour of being intimate with you for any
-thing in the world.”
-
-“Indeed, Harriet, it would have been a severe pang to lose you; but it
-must have been. You would have thrown yourself out of all good society.
-I must have given you up.”
-
-“Dear me!—How should I ever have borne it! It would have killed me
-never to come to Hartfield any more!”
-
-“Dear affectionate creature!—_You_ banished to Abbey-Mill Farm!—_You_
-confined to the society of the illiterate and vulgar all your life! I
-wonder how the young man could have the assurance to ask it. He must
-have a pretty good opinion of himself.”
-
-“I do not think he is conceited either, in general,” said Harriet, her
-conscience opposing such censure; “at least, he is very good natured,
-and I shall always feel much obliged to him, and have a great regard
-for—but that is quite a different thing from—and you know, though he
-may like me, it does not follow that I should—and certainly I must
-confess that since my visiting here I have seen people—and if one comes
-to compare them, person and manners, there is no comparison at all,
-_one_ is so very handsome and agreeable. However, I do really think Mr.
-Martin a very amiable young man, and have a great opinion of him; and
-his being so much attached to me—and his writing such a letter—but as
-to leaving you, it is what I would not do upon any consideration.”
-
-“Thank you, thank you, my own sweet little friend. We will not be
-parted. A woman is not to marry a man merely because she is asked, or
-because he is attached to her, and can write a tolerable letter.”
-
-“Oh no;—and it is but a short letter too.”
-
-Emma felt the bad taste of her friend, but let it pass with a “very
-true; and it would be a small consolation to her, for the clownish
-manner which might be offending her every hour of the day, to know that
-her husband could write a good letter.”
-
-“Oh! yes, very. Nobody cares for a letter; the thing is, to be always
-happy with pleasant companions. I am quite determined to refuse him.
-But how shall I do? What shall I say?”
-
-Emma assured her there would be no difficulty in the answer, and
-advised its being written directly, which was agreed to, in the hope of
-her assistance; and though Emma continued to protest against any
-assistance being wanted, it was in fact given in the formation of every
-sentence. The looking over his letter again, in replying to it, had
-such a softening tendency, that it was particularly necessary to brace
-her up with a few decisive expressions; and she was so very much
-concerned at the idea of making him unhappy, and thought so much of
-what his mother and sisters would think and say, and was so anxious
-that they should not fancy her ungrateful, that Emma believed if the
-young man had come in her way at that moment, he would have been
-accepted after all.
-
-This letter, however, was written, and sealed, and sent. The business
-was finished, and Harriet safe. She was rather low all the evening, but
-Emma could allow for her amiable regrets, and sometimes relieved them
-by speaking of her own affection, sometimes by bringing forward the
-idea of Mr. Elton.
-
-“I shall never be invited to Abbey-Mill again,” was said in rather a
-sorrowful tone.
-
-“Nor, if you were, could I ever bear to part with you, my Harriet. You
-are a great deal too necessary at Hartfield to be spared to
-Abbey-Mill.”
-
-“And I am sure I should never want to go there; for I am never happy
-but at Hartfield.”
-
-Some time afterwards it was, “I think Mrs. Goddard would be very much
-surprized if she knew what had happened. I am sure Miss Nash would—for
-Miss Nash thinks her own sister very well married, and it is only a
-linen-draper.”
-
-“One should be sorry to see greater pride or refinement in the teacher
-of a school, Harriet. I dare say Miss Nash would envy you such an
-opportunity as this of being married. Even this conquest would appear
-valuable in her eyes. As to any thing superior for you, I suppose she
-is quite in the dark. The attentions of a certain person can hardly be
-among the tittle-tattle of Highbury yet. Hitherto I fancy you and I are
-the only people to whom his looks and manners have explained
-themselves.”
-
-Harriet blushed and smiled, and said something about wondering that
-people should like her so much. The idea of Mr. Elton was certainly
-cheering; but still, after a time, she was tender-hearted again towards
-the rejected Mr. Martin.
-
-“Now he has got my letter,” said she softly. “I wonder what they are
-all doing—whether his sisters know—if he is unhappy, they will be
-unhappy too. I hope he will not mind it so very much.”
-
-“Let us think of those among our absent friends who are more cheerfully
-employed,” cried Emma. “At this moment, perhaps, Mr. Elton is shewing
-your picture to his mother and sisters, telling how much more beautiful
-is the original, and after being asked for it five or six times,
-allowing them to hear your name, your own dear name.”
-
-“My picture!—But he has left my picture in Bond-street.”
-
-“Has he so!—Then I know nothing of Mr. Elton. No, my dear little modest
-Harriet, depend upon it the picture will not be in Bond-street till
-just before he mounts his horse to-morrow. It is his companion all this
-evening, his solace, his delight. It opens his designs to his family,
-it introduces you among them, it diffuses through the party those
-pleasantest feelings of our nature, eager curiosity and warm
-prepossession. How cheerful, how animated, how suspicious, how busy
-their imaginations all are!”
-
-Harriet smiled again, and her smiles grew stronger.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER VIII
-
-
-Harriet slept at Hartfield that night. For some weeks past she had been
-spending more than half her time there, and gradually getting to have a
-bed-room appropriated to herself; and Emma judged it best in every
-respect, safest and kindest, to keep her with them as much as possible
-just at present. She was obliged to go the next morning for an hour or
-two to Mrs. Goddard’s, but it was then to be settled that she should
-return to Hartfield, to make a regular visit of some days.
-
-While she was gone, Mr. Knightley called, and sat some time with Mr.
-Woodhouse and Emma, till Mr. Woodhouse, who had previously made up his
-mind to walk out, was persuaded by his daughter not to defer it, and
-was induced by the entreaties of both, though against the scruples of
-his own civility, to leave Mr. Knightley for that purpose. Mr.
-Knightley, who had nothing of ceremony about him, was offering by his
-short, decided answers, an amusing contrast to the protracted apologies
-and civil hesitations of the other.
-
-“Well, I believe, if you will excuse me, Mr. Knightley, if you will not
-consider me as doing a very rude thing, I shall take Emma’s advice and
-go out for a quarter of an hour. As the sun is out, I believe I had
-better take my three turns while I can. I treat you without ceremony,
-Mr. Knightley. We invalids think we are privileged people.”
-
-“My dear sir, do not make a stranger of me.”
-
-“I leave an excellent substitute in my daughter. Emma will be happy to
-entertain you. And therefore I think I will beg your excuse and take my
-three turns—my winter walk.”
-
-“You cannot do better, sir.”
-
-“I would ask for the pleasure of your company, Mr. Knightley, but I am
-a very slow walker, and my pace would be tedious to you; and, besides,
-you have another long walk before you, to Donwell Abbey.”
-
-“Thank you, sir, thank you; I am going this moment myself; and I think
-the sooner _you_ go the better. I will fetch your greatcoat and open
-the garden door for you.”
-
-Mr. Woodhouse at last was off; but Mr. Knightley, instead of being
-immediately off likewise, sat down again, seemingly inclined for more
-chat. He began speaking of Harriet, and speaking of her with more
-voluntary praise than Emma had ever heard before.
-
-“I cannot rate her beauty as you do,” said he; “but she is a pretty
-little creature, and I am inclined to think very well of her
-disposition. Her character depends upon those she is with; but in good
-hands she will turn out a valuable woman.”
-
-“I am glad you think so; and the good hands, I hope, may not be
-wanting.”
-
-“Come,” said he, “you are anxious for a compliment, so I will tell you
-that you have improved her. You have cured her of her school-girl’s
-giggle; she really does you credit.”
-
-“Thank you. I should be mortified indeed if I did not believe I had
-been of some use; but it is not every body who will bestow praise where
-they may. _You_ do not often overpower me with it.”
-
-“You are expecting her again, you say, this morning?”
-
-“Almost every moment. She has been gone longer already than she
-intended.”
-
-“Something has happened to delay her; some visitors perhaps.”
-
-“Highbury gossips!—Tiresome wretches!”
-
-“Harriet may not consider every body tiresome that you would.”
-
-Emma knew this was too true for contradiction, and therefore said
-nothing. He presently added, with a smile,
-
-“I do not pretend to fix on times or places, but I must tell you that I
-have good reason to believe your little friend will soon hear of
-something to her advantage.”
-
-“Indeed! how so? of what sort?”
-
-“A very serious sort, I assure you;” still smiling.
-
-“Very serious! I can think of but one thing—Who is in love with her?
-Who makes you their confidant?”
-
-Emma was more than half in hopes of Mr. Elton’s having dropt a hint.
-Mr. Knightley was a sort of general friend and adviser, and she knew
-Mr. Elton looked up to him.
-
-“I have reason to think,” he replied, “that Harriet Smith will soon
-have an offer of marriage, and from a most unexceptionable
-quarter:—Robert Martin is the man. Her visit to Abbey-Mill, this
-summer, seems to have done his business. He is desperately in love and
-means to marry her.”
-
-“He is very obliging,” said Emma; “but is he sure that Harriet means to
-marry him?”
-
-“Well, well, means to make her an offer then. Will that do? He came to
-the Abbey two evenings ago, on purpose to consult me about it. He knows
-I have a thorough regard for him and all his family, and, I believe,
-considers me as one of his best friends. He came to ask me whether I
-thought it would be imprudent in him to settle so early; whether I
-thought her too young: in short, whether I approved his choice
-altogether; having some apprehension perhaps of her being considered
-(especially since _your_ making so much of her) as in a line of society
-above him. I was very much pleased with all that he said. I never hear
-better sense from any one than Robert Martin. He always speaks to the
-purpose; open, straightforward, and very well judging. He told me every
-thing; his circumstances and plans, and what they all proposed doing in
-the event of his marriage. He is an excellent young man, both as son
-and brother. I had no hesitation in advising him to marry. He proved to
-me that he could afford it; and that being the case, I was convinced he
-could not do better. I praised the fair lady too, and altogether sent
-him away very happy. If he had never esteemed my opinion before, he
-would have thought highly of me then; and, I dare say, left the house
-thinking me the best friend and counsellor man ever had. This happened
-the night before last. Now, as we may fairly suppose, he would not
-allow much time to pass before he spoke to the lady, and as he does not
-appear to have spoken yesterday, it is not unlikely that he should be
-at Mrs. Goddard’s to-day; and she may be detained by a visitor, without
-thinking him at all a tiresome wretch.”
-
-“Pray, Mr. Knightley,” said Emma, who had been smiling to herself
-through a great part of this speech, “how do you know that Mr. Martin
-did not speak yesterday?”
-
-“Certainly,” replied he, surprized, “I do not absolutely know it; but
-it may be inferred. Was not she the whole day with you?”
-
-“Come,” said she, “I will tell you something, in return for what you
-have told me. He did speak yesterday—that is, he wrote, and was
-refused.”
-
-This was obliged to be repeated before it could be believed; and Mr.
-Knightley actually looked red with surprize and displeasure, as he
-stood up, in tall indignation, and said,
-
-“Then she is a greater simpleton than I ever believed her. What is the
-foolish girl about?”
-
-“Oh! to be sure,” cried Emma, “it is always incomprehensible to a man
-that a woman should ever refuse an offer of marriage. A man always
-imagines a woman to be ready for any body who asks her.”
-
-“Nonsense! a man does not imagine any such thing. But what is the
-meaning of this? Harriet Smith refuse Robert Martin? madness, if it is
-so; but I hope you are mistaken.”
-
-“I saw her answer!—nothing could be clearer.”
-
-“You saw her answer!—you wrote her answer too. Emma, this is your
-doing. You persuaded her to refuse him.”
-
-“And if I did, (which, however, I am far from allowing) I should not
-feel that I had done wrong. Mr. Martin is a very respectable young man,
-but I cannot admit him to be Harriet’s equal; and am rather surprized
-indeed that he should have ventured to address her. By your account, he
-does seem to have had some scruples. It is a pity that they were ever
-got over.”
-
-“Not Harriet’s equal!” exclaimed Mr. Knightley loudly and warmly; and
-with calmer asperity, added, a few moments afterwards, “No, he is not
-her equal indeed, for he is as much her superior in sense as in
-situation. Emma, your infatuation about that girl blinds you. What are
-Harriet Smith’s claims, either of birth, nature or education, to any
-connexion higher than Robert Martin? She is the natural daughter of
-nobody knows whom, with probably no settled provision at all, and
-certainly no respectable relations. She is known only as
-parlour-boarder at a common school. She is not a sensible girl, nor a
-girl of any information. She has been taught nothing useful, and is too
-young and too simple to have acquired any thing herself. At her age she
-can have no experience, and with her little wit, is not very likely
-ever to have any that can avail her. She is pretty, and she is good
-tempered, and that is all. My only scruple in advising the match was on
-his account, as being beneath his deserts, and a bad connexion for him.
-I felt that, as to fortune, in all probability he might do much better;
-and that as to a rational companion or useful helpmate, he could not do
-worse. But I could not reason so to a man in love, and was willing to
-trust to there being no harm in her, to her having that sort of
-disposition, which, in good hands, like his, might be easily led aright
-and turn out very well. The advantage of the match I felt to be all on
-her side; and had not the smallest doubt (nor have I now) that there
-would be a general cry-out upon her extreme good luck. Even _your_
-satisfaction I made sure of. It crossed my mind immediately that you
-would not regret your friend’s leaving Highbury, for the sake of her
-being settled so well. I remember saying to myself, ‘Even Emma, with
-all her partiality for Harriet, will think this a good match.’”
-
-“I cannot help wondering at your knowing so little of Emma as to say
-any such thing. What! think a farmer, (and with all his sense and all
-his merit Mr. Martin is nothing more,) a good match for my intimate
-friend! Not regret her leaving Highbury for the sake of marrying a man
-whom I could never admit as an acquaintance of my own! I wonder you
-should think it possible for me to have such feelings. I assure you
-mine are very different. I must think your statement by no means fair.
-You are not just to Harriet’s claims. They would be estimated very
-differently by others as well as myself; Mr. Martin may be the richest
-of the two, but he is undoubtedly her inferior as to rank in
-society.—The sphere in which she moves is much above his.—It would be a
-degradation.”
-
-“A degradation to illegitimacy and ignorance, to be married to a
-respectable, intelligent gentleman-farmer!”
-
-“As to the circumstances of her birth, though in a legal sense she may
-be called Nobody, it will not hold in common sense. She is not to pay
-for the offence of others, by being held below the level of those with
-whom she is brought up.—There can scarcely be a doubt that her father
-is a gentleman—and a gentleman of fortune.—Her allowance is very
-liberal; nothing has ever been grudged for her improvement or
-comfort.—That she is a gentleman’s daughter, is indubitable to me; that
-she associates with gentlemen’s daughters, no one, I apprehend, will
-deny.—She is superior to Mr. Robert Martin.”
-
-“Whoever might be her parents,” said Mr. Knightley, “whoever may have
-had the charge of her, it does not appear to have been any part of
-their plan to introduce her into what you would call good society.
-After receiving a very indifferent education she is left in Mrs.
-Goddard’s hands to shift as she can;—to move, in short, in Mrs.
-Goddard’s line, to have Mrs. Goddard��€™s acquaintance. Her friends
-evidently thought this good enough for her; and it _was_ good enough.
-She desired nothing better herself. Till you chose to turn her into a
-friend, her mind had no distaste for her own set, nor any ambition
-beyond it. She was as happy as possible with the Martins in the summer.
-She had no sense of superiority then. If she has it now, you have given
-it. You have been no friend to Harriet Smith, Emma. Robert Martin would
-never have proceeded so far, if he had not felt persuaded of her not
-being disinclined to him. I know him well. He has too much real feeling
-to address any woman on the haphazard of selfish passion. And as to
-conceit, he is the farthest from it of any man I know. Depend upon it
-he had encouragement.”
-
-It was most convenient to Emma not to make a direct reply to this
-assertion; she chose rather to take up her own line of the subject
-again.
-
-“You are a very warm friend to Mr. Martin; but, as I said before, are
-unjust to Harriet. Harriet’s claims to marry well are not so
-contemptible as you represent them. She is not a clever girl, but she
-has better sense than you are aware of, and does not deserve to have
-her understanding spoken of so slightingly. Waiving that point,
-however, and supposing her to be, as you describe her, only pretty and
-good-natured, let me tell you, that in the degree she possesses them,
-they are not trivial recommendations to the world in general, for she
-is, in fact, a beautiful girl, and must be thought so by ninety-nine
-people out of an hundred; and till it appears that men are much more
-philosophic on the subject of beauty than they are generally supposed;
-till they do fall in love with well-informed minds instead of handsome
-faces, a girl, with such loveliness as Harriet, has a certainty of
-being admired and sought after, of having the power of chusing from
-among many, consequently a claim to be nice. Her good-nature, too, is
-not so very slight a claim, comprehending, as it does, real, thorough
-sweetness of temper and manner, a very humble opinion of herself, and a
-great readiness to be pleased with other people. I am very much
-mistaken if your sex in general would not think such beauty, and such
-temper, the highest claims a woman could possess.”
-
-“Upon my word, Emma, to hear you abusing the reason you have, is almost
-enough to make me think so too. Better be without sense, than misapply
-it as you do.”
-
-“To be sure!” cried she playfully. “I know _that_ is the feeling of you
-all. I know that such a girl as Harriet is exactly what every man
-delights in—what at once bewitches his senses and satisfies his
-judgment. Oh! Harriet may pick and chuse. Were you, yourself, ever to
-marry, she is the very woman for you. And is she, at seventeen, just
-entering into life, just beginning to be known, to be wondered at
-because she does not accept the first offer she receives? No—pray let
-her have time to look about her.”
-
-“I have always thought it a very foolish intimacy,” said Mr. Knightley
-presently, “though I have kept my thoughts to myself; but I now
-perceive that it will be a very unfortunate one for Harriet. You will
-puff her up with such ideas of her own beauty, and of what she has a
-claim to, that, in a little while, nobody within her reach will be good
-enough for her. Vanity working on a weak head, produces every sort of
-mischief. Nothing so easy as for a young lady to raise her expectations
-too high. Miss Harriet Smith may not find offers of marriage flow in so
-fast, though she is a very pretty girl. Men of sense, whatever you may
-chuse to say, do not want silly wives. Men of family would not be very
-fond of connecting themselves with a girl of such obscurity—and most
-prudent men would be afraid of the inconvenience and disgrace they
-might be involved in, when the mystery of her parentage came to be
-revealed. Let her marry Robert Martin, and she is safe, respectable,
-and happy for ever; but if you encourage her to expect to marry
-greatly, and teach her to be satisfied with nothing less than a man of
-consequence and large fortune, she may be a parlour-boarder at Mrs.
-Goddard’s all the rest of her life—or, at least, (for Harriet Smith is
-a girl who will marry somebody or other,) till she grow desperate, and
-is glad to catch at the old writing-master’s son.”
-
-“We think so very differently on this point, Mr. Knightley, that there
-can be no use in canvassing it. We shall only be making each other more
-angry. But as to my _letting_ her marry Robert Martin, it is
-impossible; she has refused him, and so decidedly, I think, as must
-prevent any second application. She must abide by the evil of having
-refused him, whatever it may be; and as to the refusal itself, I will
-not pretend to say that I might not influence her a little; but I
-assure you there was very little for me or for any body to do. His
-appearance is so much against him, and his manner so bad, that if she
-ever were disposed to favour him, she is not now. I can imagine, that
-before she had seen any body superior, she might tolerate him. He was
-the brother of her friends, and he took pains to please her; and
-altogether, having seen nobody better (that must have been his great
-assistant) she might not, while she was at Abbey-Mill, find him
-disagreeable. But the case is altered now. She knows now what gentlemen
-are; and nothing but a gentleman in education and manner has any chance
-with Harriet.”
-
-“Nonsense, errant nonsense, as ever was talked!” cried Mr.
-Knightley.—“Robert Martin’s manners have sense, sincerity, and
-good-humour to recommend them; and his mind has more true gentility
-than Harriet Smith could understand.”
-
-Emma made no answer, and tried to look cheerfully unconcerned, but was
-really feeling uncomfortable and wanting him very much to be gone. She
-did not repent what she had done; she still thought herself a better
-judge of such a point of female right and refinement than he could be;
-but yet she had a sort of habitual respect for his judgment in general,
-which made her dislike having it so loudly against her; and to have him
-sitting just opposite to her in angry state, was very disagreeable.
-Some minutes passed in this unpleasant silence, with only one attempt
-on Emma’s side to talk of the weather, but he made no answer. He was
-thinking. The result of his thoughts appeared at last in these words.
-
-“Robert Martin has no great loss—if he can but think so; and I hope it
-will not be long before he does. Your views for Harriet are best known
-to yourself; but as you make no secret of your love of match-making, it
-is fair to suppose that views, and plans, and projects you have;—and as
-a friend I shall just hint to you that if Elton is the man, I think it
-will be all labour in vain.”
-
-Emma laughed and disclaimed. He continued,
-
-“Depend upon it, Elton will not do. Elton is a very good sort of man,
-and a very respectable vicar of Highbury, but not at all likely to make
-an imprudent match. He knows the value of a good income as well as any
-body. Elton may talk sentimentally, but he will act rationally. He is
-as well acquainted with his own claims, as you can be with Harriet’s.
-He knows that he is a very handsome young man, and a great favourite
-wherever he goes; and from his general way of talking in unreserved
-moments, when there are only men present, I am convinced that he does
-not mean to throw himself away. I have heard him speak with great
-animation of a large family of young ladies that his sisters are
-intimate with, who have all twenty thousand pounds apiece.”
-
-“I am very much obliged to you,” said Emma, laughing again. “If I had
-set my heart on Mr. Elton’s marrying Harriet, it would have been very
-kind to open my eyes; but at present I only want to keep Harriet to
-myself. I have done with match-making indeed. I could never hope to
-equal my own doings at Randalls. I shall leave off while I am well.”
-
-“Good morning to you,”—said he, rising and walking off abruptly. He was
-very much vexed. He felt the disappointment of the young man, and was
-mortified to have been the means of promoting it, by the sanction he
-had given; and the part which he was persuaded Emma had taken in the
-affair, was provoking him exceedingly.
-
-Emma remained in a state of vexation too; but there was more
-indistinctness in the causes of her’s, than in his. She did not always
-feel so absolutely satisfied with herself, so entirely convinced that
-her opinions were right and her adversary’s wrong, as Mr. Knightley. He
-walked off in more complete self-approbation than he left for her. She
-was not so materially cast down, however, but that a little time and
-the return of Harriet were very adequate restoratives. Harriet’s
-staying away so long was beginning to make her uneasy. The possibility
-of the young man’s coming to Mrs. Goddard’s that morning, and meeting
-with Harriet and pleading his own cause, gave alarming ideas. The dread
-of such a failure after all became the prominent uneasiness; and when
-Harriet appeared, and in very good spirits, and without having any such
-reason to give for her long absence, she felt a satisfaction which
-settled her with her own mind, and convinced her, that let Mr.
-Knightley think or say what he would, she had done nothing which
-woman’s friendship and woman’s feelings would not justify.
-
-He had frightened her a little about Mr. Elton; but when she considered
-that Mr. Knightley could not have observed him as she had done, neither
-with the interest, nor (she must be allowed to tell herself, in spite
-of Mr. Knightley’s pretensions) with the skill of such an observer on
-such a question as herself, that he had spoken it hastily and in anger,
-she was able to believe, that he had rather said what he wished
-resentfully to be true, than what he knew any thing about. He certainly
-might have heard Mr. Elton speak with more unreserve than she had ever
-done, and Mr. Elton might not be of an imprudent, inconsiderate
-disposition as to money matters; he might naturally be rather attentive
-than otherwise to them; but then, Mr. Knightley did not make due
-allowance for the influence of a strong passion at war with all
-interested motives. Mr. Knightley saw no such passion, and of course
-thought nothing of its effects; but she saw too much of it to feel a
-doubt of its overcoming any hesitations that a reasonable prudence
-might originally suggest; and more than a reasonable, becoming degree
-of prudence, she was very sure did not belong to Mr. Elton.
-
-Harriet’s cheerful look and manner established hers: she came back, not
-to think of Mr. Martin, but to talk of Mr. Elton. Miss Nash had been
-telling her something, which she repeated immediately with great
-delight. Mr. Perry had been to Mrs. Goddard’s to attend a sick child,
-and Miss Nash had seen him, and he had told Miss Nash, that as he was
-coming back yesterday from Clayton Park, he had met Mr. Elton, and
-found to his great surprize, that Mr. Elton was actually on his road to
-London, and not meaning to return till the morrow, though it was the
-whist-club night, which he had been never known to miss before; and Mr.
-Perry had remonstrated with him about it, and told him how shabby it
-was in him, their best player, to absent himself, and tried very much
-to persuade him to put off his journey only one day; but it would not
-do; Mr. Elton had been determined to go on, and had said in a _very_
-_particular_ way indeed, that he was going on business which he would
-not put off for any inducement in the world; and something about a very
-enviable commission, and being the bearer of something exceedingly
-precious. Mr. Perry could not quite understand him, but he was very
-sure there must be a _lady_ in the case, and he told him so; and Mr.
-Elton only looked very conscious and smiling, and rode off in great
-spirits. Miss Nash had told her all this, and had talked a great deal
-more about Mr. Elton; and said, looking so very significantly at her,
-“that she did not pretend to understand what his business might be, but
-she only knew that any woman whom Mr. Elton could prefer, she should
-think the luckiest woman in the world; for, beyond a doubt, Mr. Elton
-had not his equal for beauty or agreeableness.”
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER IX
-
-
-Mr. Knightley might quarrel with her, but Emma could not quarrel with
-herself. He was so much displeased, that it was longer than usual
-before he came to Hartfield again; and when they did meet, his grave
-looks shewed that she was not forgiven. She was sorry, but could not
-repent. On the contrary, her plans and proceedings were more and more
-justified and endeared to her by the general appearances of the next
-few days.
-
-The Picture, elegantly framed, came safely to hand soon after Mr.
-Elton’s return, and being hung over the mantelpiece of the common
-sitting-room, he got up to look at it, and sighed out his half
-sentences of admiration just as he ought; and as for Harriet’s
-feelings, they were visibly forming themselves into as strong and
-steady an attachment as her youth and sort of mind admitted. Emma was
-soon perfectly satisfied of Mr. Martin’s being no otherwise remembered,
-than as he furnished a contrast with Mr. Elton, of the utmost advantage
-to the latter.
-
-Her views of improving her little friend’s mind, by a great deal of
-useful reading and conversation, had never yet led to more than a few
-first chapters, and the intention of going on to-morrow. It was much
-easier to chat than to study; much pleasanter to let her imagination
-range and work at Harriet’s fortune, than to be labouring to enlarge
-her comprehension or exercise it on sober facts; and the only literary
-pursuit which engaged Harriet at present, the only mental provision she
-was making for the evening of life, was the collecting and transcribing
-all the riddles of every sort that she could meet with, into a thin
-quarto of hot-pressed paper, made up by her friend, and ornamented with
-ciphers and trophies.
-
-In this age of literature, such collections on a very grand scale are
-not uncommon. Miss Nash, head-teacher at Mrs. Goddard’s, had written
-out at least three hundred; and Harriet, who had taken the first hint
-of it from her, hoped, with Miss Woodhouse’s help, to get a great many
-more. Emma assisted with her invention, memory and taste; and as
-Harriet wrote a very pretty hand, it was likely to be an arrangement of
-the first order, in form as well as quantity.
-
-Mr. Woodhouse was almost as much interested in the business as the
-girls, and tried very often to recollect something worth their putting
-in. “So many clever riddles as there used to be when he was young—he
-wondered he could not remember them! but he hoped he should in time.”
-And it always ended in “Kitty, a fair but frozen maid.”
-
-His good friend Perry, too, whom he had spoken to on the subject, did
-not at present recollect any thing of the riddle kind; but he had
-desired Perry to be upon the watch, and as he went about so much,
-something, he thought, might come from that quarter.
-
-It was by no means his daughter’s wish that the intellects of Highbury
-in general should be put under requisition. Mr. Elton was the only one
-whose assistance she asked. He was invited to contribute any really
-good enigmas, charades, or conundrums that he might recollect; and she
-had the pleasure of seeing him most intently at work with his
-recollections; and at the same time, as she could perceive, most
-earnestly careful that nothing ungallant, nothing that did not breathe
-a compliment to the sex should pass his lips. They owed to him their
-two or three politest puzzles; and the joy and exultation with which at
-last he recalled, and rather sentimentally recited, that well-known
-charade,
-
-My first doth affliction denote,
-    Which my second is destin’d to feel
-And my whole is the best antidote
-    That affliction to soften and heal.—
-
-
-made her quite sorry to acknowledge that they had transcribed it some
-pages ago already.
-
-“Why will not you write one yourself for us, Mr. Elton?” said she;
-“that is the only security for its freshness; and nothing could be
-easier to you.”
-
-“Oh no! he had never written, hardly ever, any thing of the kind in his
-life. The stupidest fellow! He was afraid not even Miss Woodhouse”—he
-stopt a moment—“or Miss Smith could inspire him.”
-
-The very next day however produced some proof of inspiration. He called
-for a few moments, just to leave a piece of paper on the table
-containing, as he said, a charade, which a friend of his had addressed
-to a young lady, the object of his admiration, but which, from his
-manner, Emma was immediately convinced must be his own.
-
-“I do not offer it for Miss Smith’s collection,” said he. “Being my
-friend’s, I have no right to expose it in any degree to the public eye,
-but perhaps you may not dislike looking at it.”
-
-The speech was more to Emma than to Harriet, which Emma could
-understand. There was deep consciousness about him, and he found it
-easier to meet her eye than her friend’s. He was gone the next
-moment:—after another moment’s pause,
-
-“Take it,” said Emma, smiling, and pushing the paper towards
-Harriet—“it is for you. Take your own.”
-
-But Harriet was in a tremor, and could not touch it; and Emma, never
-loth to be first, was obliged to examine it herself.
-
-To Miss——
-
-
-CHARADE.
-
-
-My first displays the wealth and pomp of kings,
-    Lords of the earth! their luxury and ease.
-Another view of man, my second brings,
-    Behold him there, the monarch of the seas!
-
-But ah! united, what reverse we have!
-    Man’s boasted power and freedom, all are flown;
-Lord of the earth and sea, he bends a slave,
-    And woman, lovely woman, reigns alone.
-
-    Thy ready wit the word will soon supply,
-    May its approval beam in that soft eye!
-
-
-She cast her eye over it, pondered, caught the meaning, read it through
-again to be quite certain, and quite mistress of the lines, and then
-passing it to Harriet, sat happily smiling, and saying to herself,
-while Harriet was puzzling over the paper in all the confusion of hope
-and dulness, “Very well, Mr. Elton, very well indeed. I have read worse
-charades. _Courtship_—a very good hint. I give you credit for it. This
-is feeling your way. This is saying very plainly—‘Pray, Miss Smith,
-give me leave to pay my addresses to you. Approve my charade and my
-intentions in the same glance.’
-
-May its approval beam in that soft eye!
-
-
-Harriet exactly. Soft is the very word for her eye—of all epithets, the
-justest that could be given.
-
-Thy ready wit the word will soon supply.
-
-
-Humph—Harriet’s ready wit! All the better. A man must be very much in
-love, indeed, to describe her so. Ah! Mr. Knightley, I wish you had the
-benefit of this; I think this would convince you. For once in your life
-you would be obliged to own yourself mistaken. An excellent charade
-indeed! and very much to the purpose. Things must come to a crisis soon
-now.”
-
-She was obliged to break off from these very pleasant observations,
-which were otherwise of a sort to run into great length, by the
-eagerness of Harriet’s wondering questions.
-
-“What can it be, Miss Woodhouse?—what can it be? I have not an idea—I
-cannot guess it in the least. What can it possibly be? Do try to find
-it out, Miss Woodhouse. Do help me. I never saw any thing so hard. Is
-it kingdom? I wonder who the friend was—and who could be the young
-lady. Do you think it is a good one? Can it be woman?
-
-And woman, lovely woman, reigns alone.
-
-
-Can it be Neptune?
-
-Behold him there, the monarch of the seas!
-
-
-Or a trident? or a mermaid? or a shark? Oh, no! shark is only one
-syllable. It must be very clever, or he would not have brought it. Oh!
-Miss Woodhouse, do you think we shall ever find it out?”
-
-“Mermaids and sharks! Nonsense! My dear Harriet, what are you thinking
-of? Where would be the use of his bringing us a charade made by a
-friend upon a mermaid or a shark? Give me the paper and listen.
-
-For Miss ———, read Miss Smith.
-
-My first displays the wealth and pomp of kings,
-    Lords of the earth! their luxury and ease.
-
-
-That is _court_.
-
-Another view of man, my second brings;
-    Behold him there, the monarch of the seas!
-
-
-That is _ship_;—plain as it can be.—Now for the cream.
-
-But ah! united, (_courtship_, you know,) what reverse we have!
-    Man’s boasted power and freedom, all are flown.
-Lord of the earth and sea, he bends a slave,
-    And woman, lovely woman, reigns alone.
-
-
-A very proper compliment!—and then follows the application, which I
-think, my dear Harriet, you cannot find much difficulty in
-comprehending. Read it in comfort to yourself. There can be no doubt of
-its being written for you and to you.”
-
-Harriet could not long resist so delightful a persuasion. She read the
-concluding lines, and was all flutter and happiness. She could not
-speak. But she was not wanted to speak. It was enough for her to feel.
-Emma spoke for her.
-
-“There is so pointed, and so particular a meaning in this compliment,”
-said she, “that I cannot have a doubt as to Mr. Elton’s intentions. You
-are his object—and you will soon receive the completest proof of it. I
-thought it must be so. I thought I could not be so deceived; but now,
-it is clear; the state of his mind is as clear and decided, as my
-wishes on the subject have been ever since I knew you. Yes, Harriet,
-just so long have I been wanting the very circumstance to happen that
-has happened. I could never tell whether an attachment between you and
-Mr. Elton were most desirable or most natural. Its probability and its
-eligibility have really so equalled each other! I am very happy. I
-congratulate you, my dear Harriet, with all my heart. This is an
-attachment which a woman may well feel pride in creating. This is a
-connexion which offers nothing but good. It will give you every thing
-that you want—consideration, independence, a proper home—it will fix
-you in the centre of all your real friends, close to Hartfield and to
-me, and confirm our intimacy for ever. This, Harriet, is an alliance
-which can never raise a blush in either of us.”
-
-“Dear Miss Woodhouse!”—and “Dear Miss Woodhouse,” was all that Harriet,
-with many tender embraces could articulate at first; but when they did
-arrive at something more like conversation, it was sufficiently clear
-to her friend that she saw, felt, anticipated, and remembered just as
-she ought. Mr. Elton’s superiority had very ample acknowledgment.
-
-“Whatever you say is always right,” cried Harriet, “and therefore I
-suppose, and believe, and hope it must be so; but otherwise I could not
-have imagined it. It is so much beyond any thing I deserve. Mr. Elton,
-who might marry any body! There cannot be two opinions about _him_. He
-is so very superior. Only think of those sweet verses—‘To Miss ———.’
-Dear me, how clever!—Could it really be meant for me?”
-
-“I cannot make a question, or listen to a question about that. It is a
-certainty. Receive it on my judgment. It is a sort of prologue to the
-play, a motto to the chapter; and will be soon followed by
-matter-of-fact prose.”
-
-“It is a sort of thing which nobody could have expected. I am sure, a
-month ago, I had no more idea myself!—The strangest things do take
-place!”
-
-“When Miss Smiths and Mr. Eltons get acquainted—they do indeed—and
-really it is strange; it is out of the common course that what is so
-evidently, so palpably desirable—what courts the pre-arrangement of
-other people, should so immediately shape itself into the proper form.
-You and Mr. Elton are by situation called together; you belong to one
-another by every circumstance of your respective homes. Your marrying
-will be equal to the match at Randalls. There does seem to be a
-something in the air of Hartfield which gives love exactly the right
-direction, and sends it into the very channel where it ought to flow.
-
-The course of true love never did run smooth—
-
-
-A Hartfield edition of Shakespeare would have a long note on that
-passage.”
-
-“That Mr. Elton should really be in love with me,—me, of all people,
-who did not know him, to speak to him, at Michaelmas! And he, the very
-handsomest man that ever was, and a man that every body looks up to,
-quite like Mr. Knightley! His company so sought after, that every body
-says he need not eat a single meal by himself if he does not chuse it;
-that he has more invitations than there are days in the week. And so
-excellent in the Church! Miss Nash has put down all the texts he has
-ever preached from since he came to Highbury. Dear me! When I look back
-to the first time I saw him! How little did I think!—The two Abbots and
-I ran into the front room and peeped through the blind when we heard he
-was going by, and Miss Nash came and scolded us away, and staid to look
-through herself; however, she called me back presently, and let me look
-too, which was very good-natured. And how beautiful we thought he
-looked! He was arm-in-arm with Mr. Cole.”
-
-“This is an alliance which, whoever—whatever your friends may be, must
-be agreeable to them, provided at least they have common sense; and we
-are not to be addressing our conduct to fools. If they are anxious to
-see you _happily_ married, here is a man whose amiable character gives
-every assurance of it;—if they wish to have you settled in the same
-country and circle which they have chosen to place you in, here it will
-be accomplished; and if their only object is that you should, in the
-common phrase, be _well_ married, here is the comfortable fortune, the
-respectable establishment, the rise in the world which must satisfy
-them.”
-
-“Yes, very true. How nicely you talk; I love to hear you. You
-understand every thing. You and Mr. Elton are one as clever as the
-other. This charade!—If I had studied a twelvemonth, I could never have
-made any thing like it.”
-
-“I thought he meant to try his skill, by his manner of declining it
-yesterday.”
-
-“I do think it is, without exception, the best charade I ever read.”
-
-“I never read one more to the purpose, certainly.”
-
-“It is as long again as almost all we have had before.”
-
-“I do not consider its length as particularly in its favour. Such
-things in general cannot be too short.”
-
-Harriet was too intent on the lines to hear. The most satisfactory
-comparisons were rising in her mind.
-
-“It is one thing,” said she, presently—her cheeks in a glow—“to have
-very good sense in a common way, like every body else, and if there is
-any thing to say, to sit down and write a letter, and say just what you
-must, in a short way; and another, to write verses and charades like
-this.”
-
-Emma could not have desired a more spirited rejection of Mr. Martin’s
-prose.
-
-“Such sweet lines!” continued Harriet—“these two last!—But how shall I
-ever be able to return the paper, or say I have found it out?—Oh! Miss
-Woodhouse, what can we do about that?”
-
-“Leave it to me. You do nothing. He will be here this evening, I dare
-say, and then I will give it him back, and some nonsense or other will
-pass between us, and you shall not be committed.—Your soft eyes shall
-chuse their own time for beaming. Trust to me.”
-
-“Oh! Miss Woodhouse, what a pity that I must not write this beautiful
-charade into my book! I am sure I have not got one half so good.”
-
-“Leave out the two last lines, and there is no reason why you should
-not write it into your book.”
-
-“Oh! but those two lines are”—
-
-—“The best of all. Granted;—for private enjoyment; and for private
-enjoyment keep them. They are not at all the less written you know,
-because you divide them. The couplet does not cease to be, nor does its
-meaning change. But take it away, and all _appropriation_ ceases, and a
-very pretty gallant charade remains, fit for any collection. Depend
-upon it, he would not like to have his charade slighted, much better
-than his passion. A poet in love must be encouraged in both capacities,
-or neither. Give me the book, I will write it down, and then there can
-be no possible reflection on you.”
-
-Harriet submitted, though her mind could hardly separate the parts, so
-as to feel quite sure that her friend were not writing down a
-declaration of love. It seemed too precious an offering for any degree
-of publicity.
-
-“I shall never let that book go out of my own hands,” said she.
-
-“Very well,” replied Emma; “a most natural feeling; and the longer it
-lasts, the better I shall be pleased. But here is my father coming: you
-will not object to my reading the charade to him. It will be giving him
-so much pleasure! He loves any thing of the sort, and especially any
-thing that pays woman a compliment. He has the tenderest spirit of
-gallantry towards us all!—You must let me read it to him.”
-
-Harriet looked grave.
-
-“My dear Harriet, you must not refine too much upon this charade.—You
-will betray your feelings improperly, if you are too conscious and too
-quick, and appear to affix more meaning, or even quite all the meaning
-which may be affixed to it. Do not be overpowered by such a little
-tribute of admiration. If he had been anxious for secrecy, he would not
-have left the paper while I was by; but he rather pushed it towards me
-than towards you. Do not let us be too solemn on the business. He has
-encouragement enough to proceed, without our sighing out our souls over
-this charade.”
-
-“Oh! no—I hope I shall not be ridiculous about it. Do as you please.”
-
-Mr. Woodhouse came in, and very soon led to the subject again, by the
-recurrence of his very frequent inquiry of “Well, my dears, how does
-your book go on?—Have you got any thing fresh?”
-
-“Yes, papa; we have something to read you, something quite fresh. A
-piece of paper was found on the table this morning—(dropt, we suppose,
-by a fairy)—containing a very pretty charade, and we have just copied
-it in.”
-
-She read it to him, just as he liked to have any thing read, slowly and
-distinctly, and two or three times over, with explanations of every
-part as she proceeded—and he was very much pleased, and, as she had
-foreseen, especially struck with the complimentary conclusion.
-
-“Aye, that’s very just, indeed, that’s very properly said. Very true.
-‘Woman, lovely woman.’ It is such a pretty charade, my dear, that I can
-easily guess what fairy brought it.—Nobody could have written so
-prettily, but you, Emma.”
-
-Emma only nodded, and smiled.—After a little thinking, and a very
-tender sigh, he added,
-
-“Ah! it is no difficulty to see who you take after! Your dear mother
-was so clever at all those things! If I had but her memory! But I can
-remember nothing;—not even that particular riddle which you have heard
-me mention; I can only recollect the first stanza; and there are
-several.
-
-Kitty, a fair but frozen maid,
-    Kindled a flame I yet deplore,
-The hood-wink’d boy I called to aid,
-Though of his near approach afraid,
-    So fatal to my suit before.
-
-
-And that is all that I can recollect of it—but it is very clever all
-the way through. But I think, my dear, you said you had got it.”
-
-“Yes, papa, it is written out in our second page. We copied it from the
-Elegant Extracts. It was Garrick’s, you know.”
-
-“Aye, very true.—I wish I could recollect more of it.
-
-Kitty, a fair but frozen maid.
-
-
-The name makes me think of poor Isabella; for she was very near being
-christened Catherine after her grandmama. I hope we shall have her here
-next week. Have you thought, my dear, where you shall put her—and what
-room there will be for the children?”
-
-“Oh! yes—she will have her own room, of course; the room she always
-has;—and there is the nursery for the children,—just as usual, you
-know. Why should there be any change?”
-
-“I do not know, my dear—but it is so long since she was here!—not since
-last Easter, and then only for a few days.—Mr. John Knightley’s being a
-lawyer is very inconvenient.—Poor Isabella!—she is sadly taken away
-from us all!—and how sorry she will be when she comes, not to see Miss
-Taylor here!”
-
-“She will not be surprized, papa, at least.”
-
-“I do not know, my dear. I am sure I was very much surprized when I
-first heard she was going to be married.”
-
-“We must ask Mr. and Mrs. Weston to dine with us, while Isabella is
-here.”
-
-“Yes, my dear, if there is time.—But—(in a very depressed tone)—she is
-coming for only one week. There will not be time for any thing.”
-
-“It is unfortunate that they cannot stay longer—but it seems a case of
-necessity. Mr. John Knightley must be in town again on the 28th, and we
-ought to be thankful, papa, that we are to have the whole of the time
-they can give to the country, that two or three days are not to be
-taken out for the Abbey. Mr. Knightley promises to give up his claim
-this Christmas—though you know it is longer since they were with him,
-than with us.”
-
-“It would be very hard, indeed, my dear, if poor Isabella were to be
-anywhere but at Hartfield.”
-
-Mr. Woodhouse could never allow for Mr. Knightley’s claims on his
-brother, or any body’s claims on Isabella, except his own. He sat
-musing a little while, and then said,
-
-“But I do not see why poor Isabella should be obliged to go back so
-soon, though he does. I think, Emma, I shall try and persuade her to
-stay longer with us. She and the children might stay very well.”
-
-“Ah! papa—that is what you never have been able to accomplish, and I do
-not think you ever will. Isabella cannot bear to stay behind her
-husband.”
-
-This was too true for contradiction. Unwelcome as it was, Mr. Woodhouse
-could only give a submissive sigh; and as Emma saw his spirits affected
-by the idea of his daughter’s attachment to her husband, she
-immediately led to such a branch of the subject as must raise them.
-
-“Harriet must give us as much of her company as she can while my
-brother and sister are here. I am sure she will be pleased with the
-children. We are very proud of the children, are not we, papa? I wonder
-which she will think the handsomest, Henry or John?”
-
-“Aye, I wonder which she will. Poor little dears, how glad they will be
-to come. They are very fond of being at Hartfield, Harriet.”
-
-“I dare say they are, sir. I am sure I do not know who is not.”
-
-“Henry is a fine boy, but John is very like his mama. Henry is the
-eldest, he was named after me, not after his father. John, the second,
-is named after his father. Some people are surprized, I believe, that
-the eldest was not, but Isabella would have him called Henry, which I
-thought very pretty of her. And he is a very clever boy, indeed. They
-are all remarkably clever; and they have so many pretty ways. They will
-come and stand by my chair, and say, ‘Grandpapa, can you give me a bit
-of string?’ and once Henry asked me for a knife, but I told him knives
-were only made for grandpapas. I think their father is too rough with
-them very often.”
-
-“He appears rough to you,” said Emma, “because you are so very gentle
-yourself; but if you could compare him with other papas, you would not
-think him rough. He wishes his boys to be active and hardy; and if they
-misbehave, can give them a sharp word now and then; but he is an
-affectionate father—certainly Mr. John Knightley is an affectionate
-father. The children are all fond of him.”
-
-“And then their uncle comes in, and tosses them up to the ceiling in a
-very frightful way!”
-
-“But they like it, papa; there is nothing they like so much. It is such
-enjoyment to them, that if their uncle did not lay down the rule of
-their taking turns, whichever began would never give way to the other.”
-
-“Well, I cannot understand it.”
-
-“That is the case with us all, papa. One half of the world cannot
-understand the pleasures of the other.”
-
-Later in the morning, and just as the girls were going to separate in
-preparation for the regular four o’clock dinner, the hero of this
-inimitable charade walked in again. Harriet turned away; but Emma could
-receive him with the usual smile, and her quick eye soon discerned in
-his the consciousness of having made a push—of having thrown a die; and
-she imagined he was come to see how it might turn up. His ostensible
-reason, however, was to ask whether Mr. Woodhouse’s party could be made
-up in the evening without him, or whether he should be in the smallest
-degree necessary at Hartfield. If he were, every thing else must give
-way; but otherwise his friend Cole had been saying so much about his
-dining with him—had made such a point of it, that he had promised him
-conditionally to come.
-
-Emma thanked him, but could not allow of his disappointing his friend
-on their account; her father was sure of his rubber. He re-urged—she
-re-declined; and he seemed then about to make his bow, when taking the
-paper from the table, she returned it—
-
-“Oh! here is the charade you were so obliging as to leave with us;
-thank you for the sight of it. We admired it so much, that I have
-ventured to write it into Miss Smith’s collection. Your friend will not
-take it amiss I hope. Of course I have not transcribed beyond the first
-eight lines.”
-
-Mr. Elton certainly did not very well know what to say. He looked
-rather doubtingly—rather confused; said something about
-“honour,”—glanced at Emma and at Harriet, and then seeing the book open
-on the table, took it up, and examined it very attentively. With the
-view of passing off an awkward moment, Emma smilingly said,
-
-“You must make my apologies to your friend; but so good a charade must
-not be confined to one or two. He may be sure of every woman’s
-approbation while he writes with such gallantry.”
-
-“I have no hesitation in saying,” replied Mr. Elton, though hesitating
-a good deal while he spoke; “I have no hesitation in saying—at least if
-my friend feels at all as _I_ do—I have not the smallest doubt that,
-could he see his little effusion honoured as _I_ see it, (looking at
-the book again, and replacing it on the table), he would consider it as
-the proudest moment of his life.”
-
-After this speech he was gone as soon as possible. Emma could not think
-it too soon; for with all his good and agreeable qualities, there was a
-sort of parade in his speeches which was very apt to incline her to
-laugh. She ran away to indulge the inclination, leaving the tender and
-the sublime of pleasure to Harriet’s share.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER X
-
-
-Though now the middle of December, there had yet been no weather to
-prevent the young ladies from tolerably regular exercise; and on the
-morrow, Emma had a charitable visit to pay to a poor sick family, who
-lived a little way out of Highbury.
-
-Their road to this detached cottage was down Vicarage Lane, a lane
-leading at right angles from the broad, though irregular, main street
-of the place; and, as may be inferred, containing the blessed abode of
-Mr. Elton. A few inferior dwellings were first to be passed, and then,
-about a quarter of a mile down the lane rose the Vicarage, an old and
-not very good house, almost as close to the road as it could be. It had
-no advantage of situation; but had been very much smartened up by the
-present proprietor; and, such as it was, there could be no possibility
-of the two friends passing it without a slackened pace and observing
-eyes.—Emma’s remark was—
-
-“There it is. There go you and your riddle-book one of these
-days.”—Harriet’s was—
-
-“Oh, what a sweet house!—How very beautiful!—There are the yellow
-curtains that Miss Nash admires so much.”
-
-“I do not often walk this way _now_,” said Emma, as they proceeded,
-“but _then_ there will be an inducement, and I shall gradually get
-intimately acquainted with all the hedges, gates, pools and pollards of
-this part of Highbury.”
-
-Harriet, she found, had never in her life been inside the Vicarage, and
-her curiosity to see it was so extreme, that, considering exteriors and
-probabilities, Emma could only class it, as a proof of love, with Mr.
-Elton’s seeing ready wit in her.
-
-“I wish we could contrive it,” said she; “but I cannot think of any
-tolerable pretence for going in;—no servant that I want to inquire
-about of his housekeeper—no message from my father.”
-
-She pondered, but could think of nothing. After a mutual silence of
-some minutes, Harriet thus began again—
-
-“I do so wonder, Miss Woodhouse, that you should not be married, or
-going to be married! so charming as you are!”—
-
-Emma laughed, and replied,
-
-“My being charming, Harriet, is not quite enough to induce me to marry;
-I must find other people charming—one other person at least. And I am
-not only, not going to be married, at present, but have very little
-intention of ever marrying at all.”
-
-“Ah!—so you say; but I cannot believe it.”
-
-“I must see somebody very superior to any one I have seen yet, to be
-tempted; Mr. Elton, you know, (recollecting herself,) is out of the
-question: and I do _not_ wish to see any such person. I would rather
-not be tempted. I cannot really change for the better. If I were to
-marry, I must expect to repent it.”
-
-“Dear me!—it is so odd to hear a woman talk so!”—
-
-“I have none of the usual inducements of women to marry. Were I to fall
-in love, indeed, it would be a different thing! but I never have been
-in love; it is not my way, or my nature; and I do not think I ever
-shall. And, without love, I am sure I should be a fool to change such a
-situation as mine. Fortune I do not want; employment I do not want;
-consequence I do not want: I believe few married women are half as much
-mistress of their husband’s house as I am of Hartfield; and never,
-never could I expect to be so truly beloved and important; so always
-first and always right in any man’s eyes as I am in my father’s.”
-
-“But then, to be an old maid at last, like Miss Bates!”
-
-“That is as formidable an image as you could present, Harriet; and if I
-thought I should ever be like Miss Bates! so silly—so satisfied—so
-smiling—so prosing—so undistinguishing and unfastidious—and so apt to
-tell every thing relative to every body about me, I would marry
-to-morrow. But between _us_, I am convinced there never can be any
-likeness, except in being unmarried.”
-
-“But still, you will be an old maid! and that’s so dreadful!”
-
-“Never mind, Harriet, I shall not be a poor old maid; and it is poverty
-only which makes celibacy contemptible to a generous public! A single
-woman, with a very narrow income, must be a ridiculous, disagreeable
-old maid! the proper sport of boys and girls, but a single woman, of
-good fortune, is always respectable, and may be as sensible and
-pleasant as any body else. And the distinction is not quite so much
-against the candour and common sense of the world as appears at first;
-for a very narrow income has a tendency to contract the mind, and sour
-the temper. Those who can barely live, and who live perforce in a very
-small, and generally very inferior, society, may well be illiberal and
-cross. This does not apply, however, to Miss Bates; she is only too
-good natured and too silly to suit me; but, in general, she is very
-much to the taste of every body, though single and though poor. Poverty
-certainly has not contracted her mind: I really believe, if she had
-only a shilling in the world, she would be very likely to give away
-sixpence of it; and nobody is afraid of her: that is a great charm.”
-
-“Dear me! but what shall you do? how shall you employ yourself when you
-grow old?”
-
-“If I know myself, Harriet, mine is an active, busy mind, with a great
-many independent resources; and I do not perceive why I should be more
-in want of employment at forty or fifty than one-and-twenty. Woman’s
-usual occupations of hand and mind will be as open to me then as they
-are now; or with no important variation. If I draw less, I shall read
-more; if I give up music, I shall take to carpet-work. And as for
-objects of interest, objects for the affections, which is in truth the
-great point of inferiority, the want of which is really the great evil
-to be avoided in _not_ marrying, I shall be very well off, with all the
-children of a sister I love so much, to care about. There will be
-enough of them, in all probability, to supply every sort of sensation
-that declining life can need. There will be enough for every hope and
-every fear; and though my attachment to none can equal that of a
-parent, it suits my ideas of comfort better than what is warmer and
-blinder. My nephews and nieces!—I shall often have a niece with me.”
-
-“Do you know Miss Bates’s niece? That is, I know you must have seen her
-a hundred times—but are you acquainted?”
-
-“Oh! yes; we are always forced to be acquainted whenever she comes to
-Highbury. By the bye, _that_ is almost enough to put one out of conceit
-with a niece. Heaven forbid! at least, that I should ever bore people
-half so much about all the Knightleys together, as she does about Jane
-Fairfax. One is sick of the very name of Jane Fairfax. Every letter
-from her is read forty times over; her compliments to all friends go
-round and round again; and if she does but send her aunt the pattern of
-a stomacher, or knit a pair of garters for her grandmother, one hears
-of nothing else for a month. I wish Jane Fairfax very well; but she
-tires me to death.”
-
-They were now approaching the cottage, and all idle topics were
-superseded. Emma was very compassionate; and the distresses of the poor
-were as sure of relief from her personal attention and kindness, her
-counsel and her patience, as from her purse. She understood their ways,
-could allow for their ignorance and their temptations, had no romantic
-expectations of extraordinary virtue from those for whom education had
-done so little; entered into their troubles with ready sympathy, and
-always gave her assistance with as much intelligence as good-will. In
-the present instance, it was sickness and poverty together which she
-came to visit; and after remaining there as long as she could give
-comfort or advice, she quitted the cottage with such an impression of
-the scene as made her say to Harriet, as they walked away,
-
-“These are the sights, Harriet, to do one good. How trifling they make
-every thing else appear!—I feel now as if I could think of nothing but
-these poor creatures all the rest of the day; and yet, who can say how
-soon it may all vanish from my mind?”
-
-“Very true,” said Harriet. “Poor creatures! one can think of nothing
-else.”
-
-“And really, I do not think the impression will soon be over,” said
-Emma, as she crossed the low hedge, and tottering footstep which ended
-the narrow, slippery path through the cottage garden, and brought them
-into the lane again. “I do not think it will,” stopping to look once
-more at all the outward wretchedness of the place, and recall the still
-greater within.
-
-“Oh! dear, no,” said her companion.
-
-They walked on. The lane made a slight bend; and when that bend was
-passed, Mr. Elton was immediately in sight; and so near as to give Emma
-time only to say farther,
-
-“Ah! Harriet, here comes a very sudden trial of our stability in good
-thoughts. Well, (smiling,) I hope it may be allowed that if compassion
-has produced exertion and relief to the sufferers, it has done all that
-is truly important. If we feel for the wretched, enough to do all we
-can for them, the rest is empty sympathy, only distressing to
-ourselves.”
-
-Harriet could just answer, “Oh! dear, yes,” before the gentleman joined
-them. The wants and sufferings of the poor family, however, were the
-first subject on meeting. He had been going to call on them. His visit
-he would now defer; but they had a very interesting parley about what
-could be done and should be done. Mr. Elton then turned back to
-accompany them.
-
-“To fall in with each other on such an errand as this,” thought Emma;
-“to meet in a charitable scheme; this will bring a great increase of
-love on each side. I should not wonder if it were to bring on the
-declaration. It must, if I were not here. I wish I were anywhere else.”
-
-Anxious to separate herself from them as far as she could, she soon
-afterwards took possession of a narrow footpath, a little raised on one
-side of the lane, leaving them together in the main road. But she had
-not been there two minutes when she found that Harriet’s habits of
-dependence and imitation were bringing her up too, and that, in short,
-they would both be soon after her. This would not do; she immediately
-stopped, under pretence of having some alteration to make in the lacing
-of her half-boot, and stooping down in complete occupation of the
-footpath, begged them to have the goodness to walk on, and she would
-follow in half a minute. They did as they were desired; and by the time
-she judged it reasonable to have done with her boot, she had the
-comfort of farther delay in her power, being overtaken by a child from
-the cottage, setting out, according to orders, with her pitcher, to
-fetch broth from Hartfield. To walk by the side of this child, and talk
-to and question her, was the most natural thing in the world, or would
-have been the most natural, had she been acting just then without
-design; and by this means the others were still able to keep ahead,
-without any obligation of waiting for her. She gained on them, however,
-involuntarily: the child’s pace was quick, and theirs rather slow; and
-she was the more concerned at it, from their being evidently in a
-conversation which interested them. Mr. Elton was speaking with
-animation, Harriet listening with a very pleased attention; and Emma,
-having sent the child on, was beginning to think how she might draw
-back a little more, when they both looked around, and she was obliged
-to join them.
-
-Mr. Elton was still talking, still engaged in some interesting detail;
-and Emma experienced some disappointment when she found that he was
-only giving his fair companion an account of the yesterday’s party at
-his friend Cole’s, and that she was come in herself for the Stilton
-cheese, the north Wiltshire, the butter, the celery, the beet-root, and
-all the dessert.
-
-“This would soon have led to something better, of course,” was her
-consoling reflection; “any thing interests between those who love; and
-any thing will serve as introduction to what is near the heart. If I
-could but have kept longer away!”
-
-They now walked on together quietly, till within view of the vicarage
-pales, when a sudden resolution, of at least getting Harriet into the
-house, made her again find something very much amiss about her boot,
-and fall behind to arrange it once more. She then broke the lace off
-short, and dexterously throwing it into a ditch, was presently obliged
-to entreat them to stop, and acknowledged her inability to put herself
-to rights so as to be able to walk home in tolerable comfort.
-
-“Part of my lace is gone,” said she, “and I do not know how I am to
-contrive. I really am a most troublesome companion to you both, but I
-hope I am not often so ill-equipped. Mr. Elton, I must beg leave to
-stop at your house, and ask your housekeeper for a bit of ribband or
-string, or any thing just to keep my boot on.”
-
-Mr. Elton looked all happiness at this proposition; and nothing could
-exceed his alertness and attention in conducting them into his house
-and endeavouring to make every thing appear to advantage. The room they
-were taken into was the one he chiefly occupied, and looking forwards;
-behind it was another with which it immediately communicated; the door
-between them was open, and Emma passed into it with the housekeeper to
-receive her assistance in the most comfortable manner. She was obliged
-to leave the door ajar as she found it; but she fully intended that Mr.
-Elton should close it. It was not closed, however, it still remained
-ajar; but by engaging the housekeeper in incessant conversation, she
-hoped to make it practicable for him to chuse his own subject in the
-adjoining room. For ten minutes she could hear nothing but herself. It
-could be protracted no longer. She was then obliged to be finished, and
-make her appearance.
-
-The lovers were standing together at one of the windows. It had a most
-favourable aspect; and, for half a minute, Emma felt the glory of
-having schemed successfully. But it would not do; he had not come to
-the point. He had been most agreeable, most delightful; he had told
-Harriet that he had seen them go by, and had purposely followed them;
-other little gallantries and allusions had been dropt, but nothing
-serious.
-
-“Cautious, very cautious,” thought Emma; “he advances inch by inch, and
-will hazard nothing till he believes himself secure.”
-
-Still, however, though every thing had not been accomplished by her
-ingenious device, she could not but flatter herself that it had been
-the occasion of much present enjoyment to both, and must be leading
-them forward to the great event.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XI
-
-
-Mr. Elton must now be left to himself. It was no longer in Emma’s power
-to superintend his happiness or quicken his measures. The coming of her
-sister’s family was so very near at hand, that first in anticipation,
-and then in reality, it became henceforth her prime object of interest;
-and during the ten days of their stay at Hartfield it was not to be
-expected—she did not herself expect—that any thing beyond occasional,
-fortuitous assistance could be afforded by her to the lovers. They
-might advance rapidly if they would, however; they must advance somehow
-or other whether they would or no. She hardly wished to have more
-leisure for them. There are people, who the more you do for them, the
-less they will do for themselves.
-
-Mr. and Mrs. John Knightley, from having been longer than usual absent
-from Surry, were exciting of course rather more than the usual
-interest. Till this year, every long vacation since their marriage had
-been divided between Hartfield and Donwell Abbey; but all the holidays
-of this autumn had been given to sea-bathing for the children, and it
-was therefore many months since they had been seen in a regular way by
-their Surry connexions, or seen at all by Mr. Woodhouse, who could not
-be induced to get so far as London, even for poor Isabella’s sake; and
-who consequently was now most nervously and apprehensively happy in
-forestalling this too short visit.
-
-He thought much of the evils of the journey for her, and not a little
-of the fatigues of his own horses and coachman who were to bring some
-of the party the last half of the way; but his alarms were needless;
-the sixteen miles being happily accomplished, and Mr. and Mrs. John
-Knightley, their five children, and a competent number of
-nursery-maids, all reaching Hartfield in safety. The bustle and joy of
-such an arrival, the many to be talked to, welcomed, encouraged, and
-variously dispersed and disposed of, produced a noise and confusion
-which his nerves could not have borne under any other cause, nor have
-endured much longer even for this; but the ways of Hartfield and the
-feelings of her father were so respected by Mrs. John Knightley, that
-in spite of maternal solicitude for the immediate enjoyment of her
-little ones, and for their having instantly all the liberty and
-attendance, all the eating and drinking, and sleeping and playing,
-which they could possibly wish for, without the smallest delay, the
-children were never allowed to be long a disturbance to him, either in
-themselves or in any restless attendance on them.
-
-Mrs. John Knightley was a pretty, elegant little woman, of gentle,
-quiet manners, and a disposition remarkably amiable and affectionate;
-wrapt up in her family; a devoted wife, a doating mother, and so
-tenderly attached to her father and sister that, but for these higher
-ties, a warmer love might have seemed impossible. She could never see a
-fault in any of them. She was not a woman of strong understanding or
-any quickness; and with this resemblance of her father, she inherited
-also much of his constitution; was delicate in her own health,
-over-careful of that of her children, had many fears and many nerves,
-and was as fond of her own Mr. Wingfield in town as her father could be
-of Mr. Perry. They were alike too, in a general benevolence of temper,
-and a strong habit of regard for every old acquaintance.
-
-Mr. John Knightley was a tall, gentleman-like, and very clever man;
-rising in his profession, domestic, and respectable in his private
-character; but with reserved manners which prevented his being
-generally pleasing; and capable of being sometimes out of humour. He
-was not an ill-tempered man, not so often unreasonably cross as to
-deserve such a reproach; but his temper was not his great perfection;
-and, indeed, with such a worshipping wife, it was hardly possible that
-any natural defects in it should not be increased. The extreme
-sweetness of her temper must hurt his. He had all the clearness and
-quickness of mind which she wanted, and he could sometimes act an
-ungracious, or say a severe thing.
-
-He was not a great favourite with his fair sister-in-law. Nothing wrong
-in him escaped her. She was quick in feeling the little injuries to
-Isabella, which Isabella never felt herself. Perhaps she might have
-passed over more had his manners been flattering to Isabella’s sister,
-but they were only those of a calmly kind brother and friend, without
-praise and without blindness; but hardly any degree of personal
-compliment could have made her regardless of that greatest fault of all
-in her eyes which he sometimes fell into, the want of respectful
-forbearance towards her father. There he had not always the patience
-that could have been wished. Mr. Woodhouse’s peculiarities and
-fidgetiness were sometimes provoking him to a rational remonstrance or
-sharp retort equally ill-bestowed. It did not often happen; for Mr.
-John Knightley had really a great regard for his father-in-law, and
-generally a strong sense of what was due to him; but it was too often
-for Emma’s charity, especially as there was all the pain of
-apprehension frequently to be endured, though the offence came not. The
-beginning, however, of every visit displayed none but the properest
-feelings, and this being of necessity so short might be hoped to pass
-away in unsullied cordiality. They had not been long seated and
-composed when Mr. Woodhouse, with a melancholy shake of the head and a
-sigh, called his daughter’s attention to the sad change at Hartfield
-since she had been there last.
-
-“Ah, my dear,” said he, “poor Miss Taylor—It is a grievous business.”
-
-“Oh yes, sir,” cried she with ready sympathy, “how you must miss her!
-And dear Emma, too!—What a dreadful loss to you both!—I have been so
-grieved for you.—I could not imagine how you could possibly do without
-her.—It is a sad change indeed.—But I hope she is pretty well, sir.”
-
-“Pretty well, my dear—I hope—pretty well.—I do not know but that the
-place agrees with her tolerably.”
-
-Mr. John Knightley here asked Emma quietly whether there were any
-doubts of the air of Randalls.
-
-“Oh! no—none in the least. I never saw Mrs. Weston better in my
-life—never looking so well. Papa is only speaking his own regret.”
-
-“Very much to the honour of both,” was the handsome reply.
-
-“And do you see her, sir, tolerably often?” asked Isabella in the
-plaintive tone which just suited her father.
-
-Mr. Woodhouse hesitated.—“Not near so often, my dear, as I could wish.”
-
-“Oh! papa, we have missed seeing them but one entire day since they
-married. Either in the morning or evening of every day, excepting one,
-have we seen either Mr. Weston or Mrs. Weston, and generally both,
-either at Randalls or here—and as you may suppose, Isabella, most
-frequently here. They are very, very kind in their visits. Mr. Weston
-is really as kind as herself. Papa, if you speak in that melancholy
-way, you will be giving Isabella a false idea of us all. Every body
-must be aware that Miss Taylor must be missed, but every body ought
-also to be assured that Mr. and Mrs. Weston do really prevent our
-missing her by any means to the extent we ourselves anticipated—which
-is the exact truth.”
-
-“Just as it should be,” said Mr. John Knightley, “and just as I hoped
-it was from your letters. Her wish of shewing you attention could not
-be doubted, and his being a disengaged and social man makes it all
-easy. I have been always telling you, my love, that I had no idea of
-the change being so very material to Hartfield as you apprehended; and
-now you have Emma’s account, I hope you will be satisfied.”
-
-“Why, to be sure,” said Mr. Woodhouse—“yes, certainly—I cannot deny
-that Mrs. Weston, poor Mrs. Weston, does come and see us pretty
-often—but then—she is always obliged to go away again.”
-
-“It would be very hard upon Mr. Weston if she did not, papa.—You quite
-forget poor Mr. Weston.”
-
-“I think, indeed,” said John Knightley pleasantly, “that Mr. Weston has
-some little claim. You and I, Emma, will venture to take the part of
-the poor husband. I, being a husband, and you not being a wife, the
-claims of the man may very likely strike us with equal force. As for
-Isabella, she has been married long enough to see the convenience of
-putting all the Mr. Westons aside as much as she can.”
-
-“Me, my love,” cried his wife, hearing and understanding only in part.—
-“Are you talking about me?—I am sure nobody ought to be, or can be, a
-greater advocate for matrimony than I am; and if it had not been for
-the misery of her leaving Hartfield, I should never have thought of
-Miss Taylor but as the most fortunate woman in the world; and as to
-slighting Mr. Weston, that excellent Mr. Weston, I think there is
-nothing he does not deserve. I believe he is one of the very
-best-tempered men that ever existed. Excepting yourself and your
-brother, I do not know his equal for temper. I shall never forget his
-flying Henry’s kite for him that very windy day last Easter—and ever
-since his particular kindness last September twelvemonth in writing
-that note, at twelve o’clock at night, on purpose to assure me that
-there was no scarlet fever at Cobham, I have been convinced there could
-not be a more feeling heart nor a better man in existence.—If any body
-can deserve him, it must be Miss Taylor.”
-
-“Where is the young man?” said John Knightley. “Has he been here on
-this occasion—or has he not?”
-
-“He has not been here yet,” replied Emma. “There was a strong
-expectation of his coming soon after the marriage, but it ended in
-nothing; and I have not heard him mentioned lately.”
-
-“But you should tell them of the letter, my dear,” said her father. “He
-wrote a letter to poor Mrs. Weston, to congratulate her, and a very
-proper, handsome letter it was. She shewed it to me. I thought it very
-well done of him indeed. Whether it was his own idea you know, one
-cannot tell. He is but young, and his uncle, perhaps—”
-
-“My dear papa, he is three-and-twenty. You forget how time passes.”
-
-“Three-and-twenty!—is he indeed?—Well, I could not have thought it—and
-he was but two years old when he lost his poor mother! Well, time does
-fly indeed!—and my memory is very bad. However, it was an exceeding
-good, pretty letter, and gave Mr. and Mrs. Weston a great deal of
-pleasure. I remember it was written from Weymouth, and dated Sept.
-28th—and began, ‘My dear Madam,’ but I forget how it went on; and it
-was signed ‘F. C. Weston Churchill.’—I remember that perfectly.”
-
-“How very pleasing and proper of him!” cried the good-hearted Mrs. John
-Knightley. “I have no doubt of his being a most amiable young man. But
-how sad it is that he should not live at home with his father! There is
-something so shocking in a child’s being taken away from his parents
-and natural home! I never could comprehend how Mr. Weston could part
-with him. To give up one’s child! I really never could think well of
-any body who proposed such a thing to any body else.”
-
-“Nobody ever did think well of the Churchills, I fancy,” observed Mr.
-John Knightley coolly. “But you need not imagine Mr. Weston to have
-felt what you would feel in giving up Henry or John. Mr. Weston is
-rather an easy, cheerful-tempered man, than a man of strong feelings;
-he takes things as he finds them, and makes enjoyment of them somehow
-or other, depending, I suspect, much more upon what is called society
-for his comforts, that is, upon the power of eating and drinking, and
-playing whist with his neighbours five times a week, than upon family
-affection, or any thing that home affords.”
-
-Emma could not like what bordered on a reflection on Mr. Weston, and
-had half a mind to take it up; but she struggled, and let it pass. She
-would keep the peace if possible; and there was something honourable
-and valuable in the strong domestic habits, the all-sufficiency of home
-to himself, whence resulted her brother’s disposition to look down on
-the common rate of social intercourse, and those to whom it was
-important.—It had a high claim to forbearance.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XII
-
-
-Mr. Knightley was to dine with them—rather against the inclination of
-Mr. Woodhouse, who did not like that any one should share with him in
-Isabella’s first day. Emma’s sense of right however had decided it; and
-besides the consideration of what was due to each brother, she had
-particular pleasure, from the circumstance of the late disagreement
-between Mr. Knightley and herself, in procuring him the proper
-invitation.
-
-She hoped they might now become friends again. She thought it was time
-to make up. Making-up indeed would not do. _She_ certainly had not been
-in the wrong, and _he_ would never own that he had. Concession must be
-out of the question; but it was time to appear to forget that they had
-ever quarrelled; and she hoped it might rather assist the restoration
-of friendship, that when he came into the room she had one of the
-children with her—the youngest, a nice little girl about eight months
-old, who was now making her first visit to Hartfield, and very happy to
-be danced about in her aunt’s arms. It did assist; for though he began
-with grave looks and short questions, he was soon led on to talk of
-them all in the usual way, and to take the child out of her arms with
-all the unceremoniousness of perfect amity. Emma felt they were friends
-again; and the conviction giving her at first great satisfaction, and
-then a little sauciness, she could not help saying, as he was admiring
-the baby,
-
-“What a comfort it is, that we think alike about our nephews and
-nieces. As to men and women, our opinions are sometimes very different;
-but with regard to these children, I observe we never disagree.”
-
-“If you were as much guided by nature in your estimate of men and
-women, and as little under the power of fancy and whim in your dealings
-with them, as you are where these children are concerned, we might
-always think alike.”
-
-“To be sure—our discordancies must always arise from my being in the
-wrong.”
-
-“Yes,” said he, smiling—“and reason good. I was sixteen years old when
-you were born.”
-
-“A material difference then,” she replied—“and no doubt you were much
-my superior in judgment at that period of our lives; but does not the
-lapse of one-and-twenty years bring our understandings a good deal
-nearer?”
-
-“Yes—a good deal _nearer_.”
-
-“But still, not near enough to give me a chance of being right, if we
-think differently.”
-
-“I have still the advantage of you by sixteen years’ experience, and by
-not being a pretty young woman and a spoiled child. Come, my dear Emma,
-let us be friends, and say no more about it. Tell your aunt, little
-Emma, that she ought to set you a better example than to be renewing
-old grievances, and that if she were not wrong before, she is now.”
-
-“That’s true,” she cried—“very true. Little Emma, grow up a better
-woman than your aunt. Be infinitely cleverer and not half so conceited.
-Now, Mr. Knightley, a word or two more, and I have done. As far as good
-intentions went, we were _both_ right, and I must say that no effects
-on my side of the argument have yet proved wrong. I only want to know
-that Mr. Martin is not very, very bitterly disappointed.”
-
-“A man cannot be more so,” was his short, full answer.
-
-“Ah!—Indeed I am very sorry.—Come, shake hands with me.”
-
-This had just taken place and with great cordiality, when John
-Knightley made his appearance, and “How d’ye do, George?” and “John,
-how are you?” succeeded in the true English style, burying under a
-calmness that seemed all but indifference, the real attachment which
-would have led either of them, if requisite, to do every thing for the
-good of the other.
-
-The evening was quiet and conversable, as Mr. Woodhouse declined cards
-entirely for the sake of comfortable talk with his dear Isabella, and
-the little party made two natural divisions; on one side he and his
-daughter; on the other the two Mr. Knightleys; their subjects totally
-distinct, or very rarely mixing—and Emma only occasionally joining in
-one or the other.
-
-The brothers talked of their own concerns and pursuits, but principally
-of those of the elder, whose temper was by much the most communicative,
-and who was always the greater talker. As a magistrate, he had
-generally some point of law to consult John about, or, at least, some
-curious anecdote to give; and as a farmer, as keeping in hand the
-home-farm at Donwell, he had to tell what every field was to bear next
-year, and to give all such local information as could not fail of being
-interesting to a brother whose home it had equally been the longest
-part of his life, and whose attachments were strong. The plan of a
-drain, the change of a fence, the felling of a tree, and the
-destination of every acre for wheat, turnips, or spring corn, was
-entered into with as much equality of interest by John, as his cooler
-manners rendered possible; and if his willing brother ever left him any
-thing to inquire about, his inquiries even approached a tone of
-eagerness.
-
-While they were thus comfortably occupied, Mr. Woodhouse was enjoying a
-full flow of happy regrets and fearful affection with his daughter.
-
-“My poor dear Isabella,” said he, fondly taking her hand, and
-interrupting, for a few moments, her busy labours for some one of her
-five children—“How long it is, how terribly long since you were here!
-And how tired you must be after your journey! You must go to bed early,
-my dear—and I recommend a little gruel to you before you go.—You and I
-will have a nice basin of gruel together. My dear Emma, suppose we all
-have a little gruel.”
-
-Emma could not suppose any such thing, knowing as she did, that both
-the Mr. Knightleys were as unpersuadable on that article as
-herself;—and two basins only were ordered. After a little more
-discourse in praise of gruel, with some wondering at its not being
-taken every evening by every body, he proceeded to say, with an air of
-grave reflection,
-
-“It was an awkward business, my dear, your spending the autumn at South
-End instead of coming here. I never had much opinion of the sea air.”
-
-“Mr. Wingfield most strenuously recommended it, sir—or we should not
-have gone. He recommended it for all the children, but particularly for
-the weakness in little Bella’s throat,—both sea air and bathing.”
-
-“Ah! my dear, but Perry had many doubts about the sea doing her any
-good; and as to myself, I have been long perfectly convinced, though
-perhaps I never told you so before, that the sea is very rarely of use
-to any body. I am sure it almost killed me once.”
-
-“Come, come,” cried Emma, feeling this to be an unsafe subject, “I must
-beg you not to talk of the sea. It makes me envious and miserable;—I
-who have never seen it! South End is prohibited, if you please. My dear
-Isabella, I have not heard you make one inquiry about Mr. Perry yet;
-and he never forgets you.”
-
-“Oh! good Mr. Perry—how is he, sir?”
-
-“Why, pretty well; but not quite well. Poor Perry is bilious, and he
-has not time to take care of himself—he tells me he has not time to
-take care of himself—which is very sad—but he is always wanted all
-round the country. I suppose there is not a man in such practice
-anywhere. But then there is not so clever a man any where.”
-
-“And Mrs. Perry and the children, how are they? do the children grow? I
-have a great regard for Mr. Perry. I hope he will be calling soon. He
-will be so pleased to see my little ones.”
-
-“I hope he will be here to-morrow, for I have a question or two to ask
-him about myself of some consequence. And, my dear, whenever he comes,
-you had better let him look at little Bella’s throat.”
-
-“Oh! my dear sir, her throat is so much better that I have hardly any
-uneasiness about it. Either bathing has been of the greatest service to
-her, or else it is to be attributed to an excellent embrocation of Mr.
-Wingfield’s, which we have been applying at times ever since August.”
-
-“It is not very likely, my dear, that bathing should have been of use
-to her—and if I had known you were wanting an embrocation, I would have
-spoken to—
-
-“You seem to me to have forgotten Mrs. and Miss Bates,” said Emma, “I
-have not heard one inquiry after them.”
-
-“Oh! the good Bateses—I am quite ashamed of myself—but you mention them
-in most of your letters. I hope they are quite well. Good old Mrs.
-Bates—I will call upon her to-morrow, and take my children.—They are
-always so pleased to see my children.—And that excellent Miss
-Bates!—such thorough worthy people!—How are they, sir?”
-
-“Why, pretty well, my dear, upon the whole. But poor Mrs. Bates had a
-bad cold about a month ago.”
-
-“How sorry I am! But colds were never so prevalent as they have been
-this autumn. Mr. Wingfield told me that he has never known them more
-general or heavy—except when it has been quite an influenza.”
-
-“That has been a good deal the case, my dear; but not to the degree you
-mention. Perry says that colds have been very general, but not so heavy
-as he has very often known them in November. Perry does not call it
-altogether a sickly season.”
-
-“No, I do not know that Mr. Wingfield considers it _very_ sickly
-except—
-
-“Ah! my poor dear child, the truth is, that in London it is always a
-sickly season. Nobody is healthy in London, nobody can be. It is a
-dreadful thing to have you forced to live there! so far off!—and the
-air so bad!”
-
-“No, indeed—_we_ are not at all in a bad air. Our part of London is
-very superior to most others!—You must not confound us with London in
-general, my dear sir. The neighbourhood of Brunswick Square is very
-different from almost all the rest. We are so very airy! I should be
-unwilling, I own, to live in any other part of the town;—there is
-hardly any other that I could be satisfied to have my children in: but
-_we_ are so remarkably airy!—Mr. Wingfield thinks the vicinity of
-Brunswick Square decidedly the most favourable as to air.”
-
-“Ah! my dear, it is not like Hartfield. You make the best of it—but
-after you have been a week at Hartfield, you are all of you different
-creatures; you do not look like the same. Now I cannot say, that I
-think you are any of you looking well at present.”
-
-“I am sorry to hear you say so, sir; but I assure you, excepting those
-little nervous head-aches and palpitations which I am never entirely
-free from anywhere, I am quite well myself; and if the children were
-rather pale before they went to bed, it was only because they were a
-little more tired than usual, from their journey and the happiness of
-coming. I hope you will think better of their looks to-morrow; for I
-assure you Mr. Wingfield told me, that he did not believe he had ever
-sent us off altogether, in such good case. I trust, at least, that you
-do not think Mr. Knightley looking ill,” turning her eyes with
-affectionate anxiety towards her husband.
-
-“Middling, my dear; I cannot compliment you. I think Mr. John Knightley
-very far from looking well.”
-
-“What is the matter, sir?—Did you speak to me?” cried Mr. John
-Knightley, hearing his own name.
-
-“I am sorry to find, my love, that my father does not think you looking
-well—but I hope it is only from being a little fatigued. I could have
-wished, however, as you know, that you had seen Mr. Wingfield before
-you left home.”
-
-“My dear Isabella,”—exclaimed he hastily—“pray do not concern yourself
-about my looks. Be satisfied with doctoring and coddling yourself and
-the children, and let me look as I chuse.”
-
-“I did not thoroughly understand what you were telling your brother,”
-cried Emma, “about your friend Mr. Graham’s intending to have a bailiff
-from Scotland, to look after his new estate. What will it answer? Will
-not the old prejudice be too strong?”
-
-And she talked in this way so long and successfully that, when forced
-to give her attention again to her father and sister, she had nothing
-worse to hear than Isabella’s kind inquiry after Jane Fairfax; and Jane
-Fairfax, though no great favourite with her in general, she was at that
-moment very happy to assist in praising.
-
-“That sweet, amiable Jane Fairfax!” said Mrs. John Knightley.—“It is so
-long since I have seen her, except now and then for a moment
-accidentally in town! What happiness it must be to her good old
-grandmother and excellent aunt, when she comes to visit them! I always
-regret excessively on dear Emma’s account that she cannot be more at
-Highbury; but now their daughter is married, I suppose Colonel and Mrs.
-Campbell will not be able to part with her at all. She would be such a
-delightful companion for Emma.”
-
-Mr. Woodhouse agreed to it all, but added,
-
-“Our little friend Harriet Smith, however, is just such another pretty
-kind of young person. You will like Harriet. Emma could not have a
-better companion than Harriet.”
-
-“I am most happy to hear it—but only Jane Fairfax one knows to be so
-very accomplished and superior!—and exactly Emma’s age.”
-
-This topic was discussed very happily, and others succeeded of similar
-moment, and passed away with similar harmony; but the evening did not
-close without a little return of agitation. The gruel came and supplied
-a great deal to be said—much praise and many comments—undoubting
-decision of its wholesomeness for every constitution, and pretty severe
-Philippics upon the many houses where it was never met with
-tolerably;—but, unfortunately, among the failures which the daughter
-had to instance, the most recent, and therefore most prominent, was in
-her own cook at South End, a young woman hired for the time, who never
-had been able to understand what she meant by a basin of nice smooth
-gruel, thin, but not too thin. Often as she had wished for and ordered
-it, she had never been able to get any thing tolerable. Here was a
-dangerous opening.
-
-“Ah!” said Mr. Woodhouse, shaking his head and fixing his eyes on her
-with tender concern.—The ejaculation in Emma’s ear expressed, “Ah!
-there is no end of the sad consequences of your going to South End. It
-does not bear talking of.” And for a little while she hoped he would
-not talk of it, and that a silent rumination might suffice to restore
-him to the relish of his own smooth gruel. After an interval of some
-minutes, however, he began with,
-
-“I shall always be very sorry that you went to the sea this autumn,
-instead of coming here.”
-
-“But why should you be sorry, sir?—I assure you, it did the children a
-great deal of good.”
-
-“And, moreover, if you must go to the sea, it had better not have been
-to South End. South End is an unhealthy place. Perry was surprized to
-hear you had fixed upon South End.”
-
-“I know there is such an idea with many people, but indeed it is quite
-a mistake, sir.—We all had our health perfectly well there, never found
-the least inconvenience from the mud; and Mr. Wingfield says it is
-entirely a mistake to suppose the place unhealthy; and I am sure he may
-be depended on, for he thoroughly understands the nature of the air,
-and his own brother and family have been there repeatedly.”
-
-“You should have gone to Cromer, my dear, if you went anywhere.—Perry
-was a week at Cromer once, and he holds it to be the best of all the
-sea-bathing places. A fine open sea, he says, and very pure air. And,
-by what I understand, you might have had lodgings there quite away from
-the sea—a quarter of a mile off—very comfortable. You should have
-consulted Perry.”
-
-“But, my dear sir, the difference of the journey;—only consider how
-great it would have been.—An hundred miles, perhaps, instead of forty.”
-
-“Ah! my dear, as Perry says, where health is at stake, nothing else
-should be considered; and if one is to travel, there is not much to
-chuse between forty miles and an hundred.—Better not move at all,
-better stay in London altogether than travel forty miles to get into a
-worse air. This is just what Perry said. It seemed to him a very
-ill-judged measure.”
-
-Emma’s attempts to stop her father had been vain; and when he had
-reached such a point as this, she could not wonder at her
-brother-in-law’s breaking out.
-
-“Mr. Perry,” said he, in a voice of very strong displeasure, “would do
-as well to keep his opinion till it is asked for. Why does he make it
-any business of his, to wonder at what I do?—at my taking my family to
-one part of the coast or another?—I may be allowed, I hope, the use of
-my judgment as well as Mr. Perry.—I want his directions no more than
-his drugs.” He paused—and growing cooler in a moment, added, with only
-sarcastic dryness, “If Mr. Perry can tell me how to convey a wife and
-five children a distance of an hundred and thirty miles with no greater
-expense or inconvenience than a distance of forty, I should be as
-willing to prefer Cromer to South End as he could himself.”
-
-“True, true,” cried Mr. Knightley, with most ready interposition—“very
-true. That’s a consideration indeed.—But John, as to what I was telling
-you of my idea of moving the path to Langham, of turning it more to the
-right that it may not cut through the home meadows, I cannot conceive
-any difficulty. I should not attempt it, if it were to be the means of
-inconvenience to the Highbury people, but if you call to mind exactly
-the present line of the path.... The only way of proving it, however,
-will be to turn to our maps. I shall see you at the Abbey to-morrow
-morning I hope, and then we will look them over, and you shall give me
-your opinion.”
-
-Mr. Woodhouse was rather agitated by such harsh reflections on his
-friend Perry, to whom he had, in fact, though unconsciously, been
-attributing many of his own feelings and expressions;—but the soothing
-attentions of his daughters gradually removed the present evil, and the
-immediate alertness of one brother, and better recollections of the
-other, prevented any renewal of it.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XIII
-
-
-There could hardly be a happier creature in the world than Mrs. John
-Knightley, in this short visit to Hartfield, going about every morning
-among her old acquaintance with her five children, and talking over
-what she had done every evening with her father and sister. She had
-nothing to wish otherwise, but that the days did not pass so swiftly.
-It was a delightful visit;—perfect, in being much too short.
-
-In general their evenings were less engaged with friends than their
-mornings; but one complete dinner engagement, and out of the house too,
-there was no avoiding, though at Christmas. Mr. Weston would take no
-denial; they must all dine at Randalls one day;—even Mr. Woodhouse was
-persuaded to think it a possible thing in preference to a division of
-the party.
-
-How they were all to be conveyed, he would have made a difficulty if he
-could, but as his son and daughter’s carriage and horses were actually
-at Hartfield, he was not able to make more than a simple question on
-that head; it hardly amounted to a doubt; nor did it occupy Emma long
-to convince him that they might in one of the carriages find room for
-Harriet also.
-
-Harriet, Mr. Elton, and Mr. Knightley, their own especial set, were the
-only persons invited to meet them;—the hours were to be early, as well
-as the numbers few; Mr. Woodhouse’s habits and inclination being
-consulted in every thing.
-
-The evening before this great event (for it was a very great event that
-Mr. Woodhouse should dine out, on the 24th of December) had been spent
-by Harriet at Hartfield, and she had gone home so much indisposed with
-a cold, that, but for her own earnest wish of being nursed by Mrs.
-Goddard, Emma could not have allowed her to leave the house. Emma
-called on her the next day, and found her doom already signed with
-regard to Randalls. She was very feverish and had a bad sore throat:
-Mrs. Goddard was full of care and affection, Mr. Perry was talked of,
-and Harriet herself was too ill and low to resist the authority which
-excluded her from this delightful engagement, though she could not
-speak of her loss without many tears.
-
-Emma sat with her as long as she could, to attend her in Mrs. Goddard’s
-unavoidable absences, and raise her spirits by representing how much
-Mr. Elton’s would be depressed when he knew her state; and left her at
-last tolerably comfortable, in the sweet dependence of his having a
-most comfortless visit, and of their all missing her very much. She had
-not advanced many yards from Mrs. Goddard’s door, when she was met by
-Mr. Elton himself, evidently coming towards it, and as they walked on
-slowly together in conversation about the invalid—of whom he, on the
-rumour of considerable illness, had been going to inquire, that he
-might carry some report of her to Hartfield—they were overtaken by Mr.
-John Knightley returning from the daily visit to Donwell, with his two
-eldest boys, whose healthy, glowing faces shewed all the benefit of a
-country run, and seemed to ensure a quick despatch of the roast mutton
-and rice pudding they were hastening home for. They joined company and
-proceeded together. Emma was just describing the nature of her friend’s
-complaint;—“a throat very much inflamed, with a great deal of heat
-about her, a quick, low pulse, &c. and she was sorry to find from Mrs.
-Goddard that Harriet was liable to very bad sore-throats, and had often
-alarmed her with them.” Mr. Elton looked all alarm on the occasion, as
-he exclaimed,
-
-“A sore-throat!—I hope not infectious. I hope not of a putrid
-infectious sort. Has Perry seen her? Indeed you should take care of
-yourself as well as of your friend. Let me entreat you to run no risks.
-Why does not Perry see her?”
-
-Emma, who was not really at all frightened herself, tranquillised this
-excess of apprehension by assurances of Mrs. Goddard’s experience and
-care; but as there must still remain a degree of uneasiness which she
-could not wish to reason away, which she would rather feed and assist
-than not, she added soon afterwards—as if quite another subject,
-
-“It is so cold, so very cold—and looks and feels so very much like
-snow, that if it were to any other place or with any other party, I
-should really try not to go out to-day—and dissuade my father from
-venturing; but as he has made up his mind, and does not seem to feel
-the cold himself, I do not like to interfere, as I know it would be so
-great a disappointment to Mr. and Mrs. Weston. But, upon my word, Mr.
-Elton, in your case, I should certainly excuse myself. You appear to me
-a little hoarse already, and when you consider what demand of voice and
-what fatigues to-morrow will bring, I think it would be no more than
-common prudence to stay at home and take care of yourself to-night.”
-
-Mr. Elton looked as if he did not very well know what answer to make;
-which was exactly the case; for though very much gratified by the kind
-care of such a fair lady, and not liking to resist any advice of her’s,
-he had not really the least inclination to give up the visit;—but Emma,
-too eager and busy in her own previous conceptions and views to hear
-him impartially, or see him with clear vision, was very well satisfied
-with his muttering acknowledgment of its being “very cold, certainly
-very cold,” and walked on, rejoicing in having extricated him from
-Randalls, and secured him the power of sending to inquire after Harriet
-every hour of the evening.
-
-“You do quite right,” said she;—“we will make your apologies to Mr. and
-Mrs. Weston.”
-
-But hardly had she so spoken, when she found her brother was civilly
-offering a seat in his carriage, if the weather were Mr. Elton’s only
-objection, and Mr. Elton actually accepting the offer with much prompt
-satisfaction. It was a done thing; Mr. Elton was to go, and never had
-his broad handsome face expressed more pleasure than at this moment;
-never had his smile been stronger, nor his eyes more exulting than when
-he next looked at her.
-
-“Well,” said she to herself, “this is most strange!—After I had got him
-off so well, to chuse to go into company, and leave Harriet ill
-behind!—Most strange indeed!—But there is, I believe, in many men,
-especially single men, such an inclination—such a passion for dining
-out—a dinner engagement is so high in the class of their pleasures,
-their employments, their dignities, almost their duties, that any thing
-gives way to it—and this must be the case with Mr. Elton; a most
-valuable, amiable, pleasing young man undoubtedly, and very much in
-love with Harriet; but still, he cannot refuse an invitation, he must
-dine out wherever he is asked. What a strange thing love is! he can see
-ready wit in Harriet, but will not dine alone for her.”
-
-Soon afterwards Mr. Elton quitted them, and she could not but do him
-the justice of feeling that there was a great deal of sentiment in his
-manner of naming Harriet at parting; in the tone of his voice while
-assuring her that he should call at Mrs. Goddard’s for news of her fair
-friend, the last thing before he prepared for the happiness of meeting
-her again, when he hoped to be able to give a better report; and he
-sighed and smiled himself off in a way that left the balance of
-approbation much in his favour.
-
-After a few minutes of entire silence between them, John Knightley
-began with—
-
-“I never in my life saw a man more intent on being agreeable than Mr.
-Elton. It is downright labour to him where ladies are concerned. With
-men he can be rational and unaffected, but when he has ladies to
-please, every feature works.”
-
-“Mr. Elton’s manners are not perfect,” replied Emma; “but where there
-is a wish to please, one ought to overlook, and one does overlook a
-great deal. Where a man does his best with only moderate powers, he
-will have the advantage over negligent superiority. There is such
-perfect good-temper and good-will in Mr. Elton as one cannot but
-value.”
-
-“Yes,” said Mr. John Knightley presently, with some slyness, “he seems
-to have a great deal of good-will towards you.”
-
-“Me!” she replied with a smile of astonishment, “are you imagining me
-to be Mr. Elton’s object?”
-
-“Such an imagination has crossed me, I own, Emma; and if it never
-occurred to you before, you may as well take it into consideration
-now.”
-
-“Mr. Elton in love with me!—What an idea!”
-
-“I do not say it is so; but you will do well to consider whether it is
-so or not, and to regulate your behaviour accordingly. I think your
-manners to him encouraging. I speak as a friend, Emma. You had better
-look about you, and ascertain what you do, and what you mean to do.”
-
-“I thank you; but I assure you you are quite mistaken. Mr. Elton and I
-are very good friends, and nothing more;” and she walked on, amusing
-herself in the consideration of the blunders which often arise from a
-partial knowledge of circumstances, of the mistakes which people of
-high pretensions to judgment are for ever falling into; and not very
-well pleased with her brother for imagining her blind and ignorant, and
-in want of counsel. He said no more.
-
-Mr. Woodhouse had so completely made up his mind to the visit, that in
-spite of the increasing coldness, he seemed to have no idea of
-shrinking from it, and set forward at last most punctually with his
-eldest daughter in his own carriage, with less apparent consciousness
-of the weather than either of the others; too full of the wonder of his
-own going, and the pleasure it was to afford at Randalls to see that it
-was cold, and too well wrapt up to feel it. The cold, however, was
-severe; and by the time the second carriage was in motion, a few flakes
-of snow were finding their way down, and the sky had the appearance of
-being so overcharged as to want only a milder air to produce a very
-white world in a very short time.
-
-Emma soon saw that her companion was not in the happiest humour. The
-preparing and the going abroad in such weather, with the sacrifice of
-his children after dinner, were evils, were disagreeables at least,
-which Mr. John Knightley did not by any means like; he anticipated
-nothing in the visit that could be at all worth the purchase; and the
-whole of their drive to the vicarage was spent by him in expressing his
-discontent.
-
-“A man,” said he, “must have a very good opinion of himself when he
-asks people to leave their own fireside, and encounter such a day as
-this, for the sake of coming to see him. He must think himself a most
-agreeable fellow; I could not do such a thing. It is the greatest
-absurdity—Actually snowing at this moment!—The folly of not allowing
-people to be comfortable at home—and the folly of people’s not staying
-comfortably at home when they can! If we were obliged to go out such an
-evening as this, by any call of duty or business, what a hardship we
-should deem it;—and here are we, probably with rather thinner clothing
-than usual, setting forward voluntarily, without excuse, in defiance of
-the voice of nature, which tells man, in every thing given to his view
-or his feelings, to stay at home himself, and keep all under shelter
-that he can;—here are we setting forward to spend five dull hours in
-another man’s house, with nothing to say or to hear that was not said
-and heard yesterday, and may not be said and heard again to-morrow.
-Going in dismal weather, to return probably in worse;—four horses and
-four servants taken out for nothing but to convey five idle, shivering
-creatures into colder rooms and worse company than they might have had
-at home.”
-
-Emma did not find herself equal to give the pleased assent, which no
-doubt he was in the habit of receiving, to emulate the “Very true, my
-love,” which must have been usually administered by his travelling
-companion; but she had resolution enough to refrain from making any
-answer at all. She could not be complying, she dreaded being
-quarrelsome; her heroism reached only to silence. She allowed him to
-talk, and arranged the glasses, and wrapped herself up, without opening
-her lips.
-
-They arrived, the carriage turned, the step was let down, and Mr.
-Elton, spruce, black, and smiling, was with them instantly. Emma
-thought with pleasure of some change of subject. Mr. Elton was all
-obligation and cheerfulness; he was so very cheerful in his civilities
-indeed, that she began to think he must have received a different
-account of Harriet from what had reached her. She had sent while
-dressing, and the answer had been, “Much the same—not better.”
-
-“_My_ report from Mrs. Goddard’s,” said she presently, “was not so
-pleasant as I had hoped—‘Not better’ was _my_ answer.”
-
-His face lengthened immediately; and his voice was the voice of
-sentiment as he answered.
-
-“Oh! no—I am grieved to find—I was on the point of telling you that
-when I called at Mrs. Goddard’s door, which I did the very last thing
-before I returned to dress, I was told that Miss Smith was not better,
-by no means better, rather worse. Very much grieved and concerned—I had
-flattered myself that she must be better after such a cordial as I knew
-had been given her in the morning.”
-
-Emma smiled and answered—“My visit was of use to the nervous part of
-her complaint, I hope; but not even I can charm away a sore throat; it
-is a most severe cold indeed. Mr. Perry has been with her, as you
-probably heard.”
-
-“Yes—I imagined—that is—I did not—”
-
-“He has been used to her in these complaints, and I hope to-morrow
-morning will bring us both a more comfortable report. But it is
-impossible not to feel uneasiness. Such a sad loss to our party
-to-day!”
-
-“Dreadful!—Exactly so, indeed.—She will be missed every moment.”
-
-This was very proper; the sigh which accompanied it was really
-estimable; but it should have lasted longer. Emma was rather in dismay
-when only half a minute afterwards he began to speak of other things,
-and in a voice of the greatest alacrity and enjoyment.
-
-“What an excellent device,” said he, “the use of a sheepskin for
-carriages. How very comfortable they make it;—impossible to feel cold
-with such precautions. The contrivances of modern days indeed have
-rendered a gentleman’s carriage perfectly complete. One is so fenced
-and guarded from the weather, that not a breath of air can find its way
-unpermitted. Weather becomes absolutely of no consequence. It is a very
-cold afternoon—but in this carriage we know nothing of the matter.—Ha!
-snows a little I see.”
-
-“Yes,” said John Knightley, “and I think we shall have a good deal of
-it.”
-
-“Christmas weather,” observed Mr. Elton. “Quite seasonable; and
-extremely fortunate we may think ourselves that it did not begin
-yesterday, and prevent this day’s party, which it might very possibly
-have done, for Mr. Woodhouse would hardly have ventured had there been
-much snow on the ground; but now it is of no consequence. This is quite
-the season indeed for friendly meetings. At Christmas every body
-invites their friends about them, and people think little of even the
-worst weather. I was snowed up at a friend’s house once for a week.
-Nothing could be pleasanter. I went for only one night, and could not
-get away till that very day se’nnight.”
-
-Mr. John Knightley looked as if he did not comprehend the pleasure, but
-said only, coolly,
-
-“I cannot wish to be snowed up a week at Randalls.”
-
-At another time Emma might have been amused, but she was too much
-astonished now at Mr. Elton’s spirits for other feelings. Harriet
-seemed quite forgotten in the expectation of a pleasant party.
-
-“We are sure of excellent fires,” continued he, “and every thing in the
-greatest comfort. Charming people, Mr. and Mrs. Weston;—Mrs. Weston
-indeed is much beyond praise, and he is exactly what one values, so
-hospitable, and so fond of society;—it will be a small party, but where
-small parties are select, they are perhaps the most agreeable of any.
-Mr. Weston’s dining-room does not accommodate more than ten
-comfortably; and for my part, I would rather, under such circumstances,
-fall short by two than exceed by two. I think you will agree with me,
-(turning with a soft air to Emma,) I think I shall certainly have your
-approbation, though Mr. Knightley perhaps, from being used to the large
-parties of London, may not quite enter into our feelings.”
-
-“I know nothing of the large parties of London, sir—I never dine with
-any body.”
-
-“Indeed! (in a tone of wonder and pity,) I had no idea that the law had
-been so great a slavery. Well, sir, the time must come when you will be
-paid for all this, when you will have little labour and great
-enjoyment.”
-
-“My first enjoyment,” replied John Knightley, as they passed through
-the sweep-gate, “will be to find myself safe at Hartfield again.”
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XIV
-
-
-Some change of countenance was necessary for each gentleman as they
-walked into Mrs. Weston’s drawing-room;—Mr. Elton must compose his
-joyous looks, and Mr. John Knightley disperse his ill-humour. Mr. Elton
-must smile less, and Mr. John Knightley more, to fit them for the
-place.—Emma only might be as nature prompted, and shew herself just as
-happy as she was. To her it was real enjoyment to be with the Westons.
-Mr. Weston was a great favourite, and there was not a creature in the
-world to whom she spoke with such unreserve, as to his wife; not any
-one, to whom she related with such conviction of being listened to and
-understood, of being always interesting and always intelligible, the
-little affairs, arrangements, perplexities, and pleasures of her father
-and herself. She could tell nothing of Hartfield, in which Mrs. Weston
-had not a lively concern; and half an hour’s uninterrupted
-communication of all those little matters on which the daily happiness
-of private life depends, was one of the first gratifications of each.
-
-This was a pleasure which perhaps the whole day’s visit might not
-afford, which certainly did not belong to the present half-hour; but
-the very sight of Mrs. Weston, her smile, her touch, her voice was
-grateful to Emma, and she determined to think as little as possible of
-Mr. Elton’s oddities, or of any thing else unpleasant, and enjoy all
-that was enjoyable to the utmost.
-
-The misfortune of Harriet’s cold had been pretty well gone through
-before her arrival. Mr. Woodhouse had been safely seated long enough to
-give the history of it, besides all the history of his own and
-Isabella’s coming, and of Emma’s being to follow, and had indeed just
-got to the end of his satisfaction that James should come and see his
-daughter, when the others appeared, and Mrs. Weston, who had been
-almost wholly engrossed by her attentions to him, was able to turn away
-and welcome her dear Emma.
-
-Emma’s project of forgetting Mr. Elton for a while made her rather
-sorry to find, when they had all taken their places, that he was close
-to her. The difficulty was great of driving his strange insensibility
-towards Harriet, from her mind, while he not only sat at her elbow, but
-was continually obtruding his happy countenance on her notice, and
-solicitously addressing her upon every occasion. Instead of forgetting
-him, his behaviour was such that she could not avoid the internal
-suggestion of “Can it really be as my brother imagined? can it be
-possible for this man to be beginning to transfer his affections from
-Harriet to me?—Absurd and insufferable!”—Yet he would be so anxious for
-her being perfectly warm, would be so interested about her father, and
-so delighted with Mrs. Weston; and at last would begin admiring her
-drawings with so much zeal and so little knowledge as seemed terribly
-like a would-be lover, and made it some effort with her to preserve her
-good manners. For her own sake she could not be rude; and for
-Harriet’s, in the hope that all would yet turn out right, she was even
-positively civil; but it was an effort; especially as something was
-going on amongst the others, in the most overpowering period of Mr.
-Elton’s nonsense, which she particularly wished to listen to. She heard
-enough to know that Mr. Weston was giving some information about his
-son; she heard the words “my son,” and “Frank,” and “my son,” repeated
-several times over; and, from a few other half-syllables very much
-suspected that he was announcing an early visit from his son; but
-before she could quiet Mr. Elton, the subject was so completely past
-that any reviving question from her would have been awkward.
-
-Now, it so happened that in spite of Emma’s resolution of never
-marrying, there was something in the name, in the idea of Mr. Frank
-Churchill, which always interested her. She had frequently
-thought—especially since his father’s marriage with Miss Taylor—that if
-she _were_ to marry, he was the very person to suit her in age,
-character and condition. He seemed by this connexion between the
-families, quite to belong to her. She could not but suppose it to be a
-match that every body who knew them must think of. That Mr. and Mrs.
-Weston did think of it, she was very strongly persuaded; and though not
-meaning to be induced by him, or by any body else, to give up a
-situation which she believed more replete with good than any she could
-change it for, she had a great curiosity to see him, a decided
-intention of finding him pleasant, of being liked by him to a certain
-degree, and a sort of pleasure in the idea of their being coupled in
-their friends’ imaginations.
-
-With such sensations, Mr. Elton’s civilities were dreadfully ill-timed;
-but she had the comfort of appearing very polite, while feeling very
-cross—and of thinking that the rest of the visit could not possibly
-pass without bringing forward the same information again, or the
-substance of it, from the open-hearted Mr. Weston.—So it proved;—for
-when happily released from Mr. Elton, and seated by Mr. Weston, at
-dinner, he made use of the very first interval in the cares of
-hospitality, the very first leisure from the saddle of mutton, to say
-to her,
-
-“We want only two more to be just the right number. I should like to
-see two more here,—your pretty little friend, Miss Smith, and my
-son—and then I should say we were quite complete. I believe you did not
-hear me telling the others in the drawing-room that we are expecting
-Frank. I had a letter from him this morning, and he will be with us
-within a fortnight.”
-
-Emma spoke with a very proper degree of pleasure; and fully assented to
-his proposition of Mr. Frank Churchill and Miss Smith making their
-party quite complete.
-
-“He has been wanting to come to us,” continued Mr. Weston, “ever since
-September: every letter has been full of it; but he cannot command his
-own time. He has those to please who must be pleased, and who (between
-ourselves) are sometimes to be pleased only by a good many sacrifices.
-But now I have no doubt of seeing him here about the second week in
-January.”
-
-“What a very great pleasure it will be to you! and Mrs. Weston is so
-anxious to be acquainted with him, that she must be almost as happy as
-yourself.”
-
-“Yes, she would be, but that she thinks there will be another put-off.
-She does not depend upon his coming so much as I do: but she does not
-know the parties so well as I do. The case, you see, is—(but this is
-quite between ourselves: I did not mention a syllable of it in the
-other room. There are secrets in all families, you know)—The case is,
-that a party of friends are invited to pay a visit at Enscombe in
-January; and that Frank’s coming depends upon their being put off. If
-they are not put off, he cannot stir. But I know they will, because it
-is a family that a certain lady, of some consequence, at Enscombe, has
-a particular dislike to: and though it is thought necessary to invite
-them once in two or three years, they always are put off when it comes
-to the point. I have not the smallest doubt of the issue. I am as
-confident of seeing Frank here before the middle of January, as I am of
-being here myself: but your good friend there (nodding towards the
-upper end of the table) has so few vagaries herself, and has been so
-little used to them at Hartfield, that she cannot calculate on their
-effects, as I have been long in the practice of doing.”
-
-“I am sorry there should be any thing like doubt in the case,” replied
-Emma; “but am disposed to side with you, Mr. Weston. If you think he
-will come, I shall think so too; for you know Enscombe.”
-
-“Yes—I have some right to that knowledge; though I have never been at
-the place in my life.—She is an odd woman!—But I never allow myself to
-speak ill of her, on Frank’s account; for I do believe her to be very
-fond of him. I used to think she was not capable of being fond of any
-body, except herself: but she has always been kind to him (in her
-way—allowing for little whims and caprices, and expecting every thing
-to be as she likes). And it is no small credit, in my opinion, to him,
-that he should excite such an affection; for, though I would not say it
-to any body else, she has no more heart than a stone to people in
-general; and the devil of a temper.”
-
-Emma liked the subject so well, that she began upon it, to Mrs. Weston,
-very soon after their moving into the drawing-room: wishing her joy—yet
-observing, that she knew the first meeting must be rather alarming.—
-Mrs. Weston agreed to it; but added, that she should be very glad to be
-secure of undergoing the anxiety of a first meeting at the time talked
-of: “for I cannot depend upon his coming. I cannot be so sanguine as
-Mr. Weston. I am very much afraid that it will all end in nothing. Mr.
-Weston, I dare say, has been telling you exactly how the matter
-stands?”
-
-“Yes—it seems to depend upon nothing but the ill-humour of Mrs.
-Churchill, which I imagine to be the most certain thing in the world.”
-
-“My Emma!” replied Mrs. Weston, smiling, “what is the certainty of
-caprice?” Then turning to Isabella, who had not been attending
-before—“You must know, my dear Mrs. Knightley, that we are by no means
-so sure of seeing Mr. Frank Churchill, in my opinion, as his father
-thinks. It depends entirely upon his aunt’s spirits and pleasure; in
-short, upon her temper. To you—to my two daughters—I may venture on the
-truth. Mrs. Churchill rules at Enscombe, and is a very odd-tempered
-woman; and his coming now, depends upon her being willing to spare
-him.”
-
-“Oh, Mrs. Churchill; every body knows Mrs. Churchill,” replied
-Isabella: “and I am sure I never think of that poor young man without
-the greatest compassion. To be constantly living with an ill-tempered
-person, must be dreadful. It is what we happily have never known any
-thing of; but it must be a life of misery. What a blessing, that she
-never had any children! Poor little creatures, how unhappy she would
-have made them!”
-
-Emma wished she had been alone with Mrs. Weston. She should then have
-heard more: Mrs. Weston would speak to her, with a degree of unreserve
-which she would not hazard with Isabella; and, she really believed,
-would scarcely try to conceal any thing relative to the Churchills from
-her, excepting those views on the young man, of which her own
-imagination had already given her such instinctive knowledge. But at
-present there was nothing more to be said. Mr. Woodhouse very soon
-followed them into the drawing-room. To be sitting long after dinner,
-was a confinement that he could not endure. Neither wine nor
-conversation was any thing to him; and gladly did he move to those with
-whom he was always comfortable.
-
-While he talked to Isabella, however, Emma found an opportunity of
-saying,
-
-“And so you do not consider this visit from your son as by any means
-certain. I am sorry for it. The introduction must be unpleasant,
-whenever it takes place; and the sooner it could be over, the better.”
-
-“Yes; and every delay makes one more apprehensive of other delays. Even
-if this family, the Braithwaites, are put off, I am still afraid that
-some excuse may be found for disappointing us. I cannot bear to imagine
-any reluctance on his side; but I am sure there is a great wish on the
-Churchills’ to keep him to themselves. There is jealousy. They are
-jealous even of his regard for his father. In short, I can feel no
-dependence on his coming, and I wish Mr. Weston were less sanguine.”
-
-“He ought to come,” said Emma. “If he could stay only a couple of days,
-he ought to come; and one can hardly conceive a young man’s not having
-it in his power to do as much as that. A young _woman_, if she fall
-into bad hands, may be teased, and kept at a distance from those she
-wants to be with; but one cannot comprehend a young _man_’s being under
-such restraint, as not to be able to spend a week with his father, if
-he likes it.”
-
-“One ought to be at Enscombe, and know the ways of the family, before
-one decides upon what he can do,” replied Mrs. Weston. “One ought to
-use the same caution, perhaps, in judging of the conduct of any one
-individual of any one family; but Enscombe, I believe, certainly must
-not be judged by general rules: _she_ is so very unreasonable; and
-every thing gives way to her.”
-
-“But she is so fond of the nephew: he is so very great a favourite.
-Now, according to my idea of Mrs. Churchill, it would be most natural,
-that while she makes no sacrifice for the comfort of the husband, to
-whom she owes every thing, while she exercises incessant caprice
-towards _him_, she should frequently be governed by the nephew, to whom
-she owes nothing at all.”
-
-“My dearest Emma, do not pretend, with your sweet temper, to understand
-a bad one, or to lay down rules for it: you must let it go its own way.
-I have no doubt of his having, at times, considerable influence; but it
-may be perfectly impossible for him to know beforehand _when_ it will
-be.”
-
-Emma listened, and then coolly said, “I shall not be satisfied, unless
-he comes.”
-
-“He may have a great deal of influence on some points,” continued Mrs.
-Weston, “and on others, very little: and among those, on which she is
-beyond his reach, it is but too likely, may be this very circumstance
-of his coming away from them to visit us.”
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XV
-
-
-Mr. Woodhouse was soon ready for his tea; and when he had drank his tea
-he was quite ready to go home; and it was as much as his three
-companions could do, to entertain away his notice of the lateness of
-the hour, before the other gentlemen appeared. Mr. Weston was chatty
-and convivial, and no friend to early separations of any sort; but at
-last the drawing-room party did receive an augmentation. Mr. Elton, in
-very good spirits, was one of the first to walk in. Mrs. Weston and
-Emma were sitting together on a sofa. He joined them immediately, and,
-with scarcely an invitation, seated himself between them.
-
-Emma, in good spirits too, from the amusement afforded her mind by the
-expectation of Mr. Frank Churchill, was willing to forget his late
-improprieties, and be as well satisfied with him as before, and on his
-making Harriet his very first subject, was ready to listen with most
-friendly smiles.
-
-He professed himself extremely anxious about her fair friend—her fair,
-lovely, amiable friend. “Did she know?—had she heard any thing about
-her, since their being at Randalls?—he felt much anxiety—he must
-confess that the nature of her complaint alarmed him considerably.” And
-in this style he talked on for some time very properly, not much
-attending to any answer, but altogether sufficiently awake to the
-terror of a bad sore throat; and Emma was quite in charity with him.
-
-But at last there seemed a perverse turn; it seemed all at once as if
-he were more afraid of its being a bad sore throat on her account, than
-on Harriet’s—more anxious that she should escape the infection, than
-that there should be no infection in the complaint. He began with great
-earnestness to entreat her to refrain from visiting the sick-chamber
-again, for the present—to entreat her to _promise_ _him_ not to venture
-into such hazard till he had seen Mr. Perry and learnt his opinion; and
-though she tried to laugh it off and bring the subject back into its
-proper course, there was no putting an end to his extreme solicitude
-about her. She was vexed. It did appear—there was no concealing
-it—exactly like the pretence of being in love with her, instead of
-Harriet; an inconstancy, if real, the most contemptible and abominable!
-and she had difficulty in behaving with temper. He turned to Mrs.
-Weston to implore her assistance, “Would not she give him her
-support?—would not she add her persuasions to his, to induce Miss
-Woodhouse not to go to Mrs. Goddard’s till it were certain that Miss
-Smith’s disorder had no infection? He could not be satisfied without a
-promise—would not she give him her influence in procuring it?”
-
-“So scrupulous for others,” he continued, “and yet so careless for
-herself! She wanted me to nurse my cold by staying at home to-day, and
-yet will not promise to avoid the danger of catching an ulcerated sore
-throat herself. Is this fair, Mrs. Weston?—Judge between us. Have not I
-some right to complain? I am sure of your kind support and aid.”
-
-Emma saw Mrs. Weston’s surprize, and felt that it must be great, at an
-address which, in words and manner, was assuming to himself the right
-of first interest in her; and as for herself, she was too much provoked
-and offended to have the power of directly saying any thing to the
-purpose. She could only give him a look; but it was such a look as she
-thought must restore him to his senses, and then left the sofa,
-removing to a seat by her sister, and giving her all her attention.
-
-She had not time to know how Mr. Elton took the reproof, so rapidly did
-another subject succeed; for Mr. John Knightley now came into the room
-from examining the weather, and opened on them all with the information
-of the ground being covered with snow, and of its still snowing fast,
-with a strong drifting wind; concluding with these words to Mr.
-Woodhouse:
-
-“This will prove a spirited beginning of your winter engagements, sir.
-Something new for your coachman and horses to be making their way
-through a storm of snow.”
-
-Poor Mr. Woodhouse was silent from consternation; but every body else
-had something to say; every body was either surprized or not surprized,
-and had some question to ask, or some comfort to offer. Mrs. Weston and
-Emma tried earnestly to cheer him and turn his attention from his
-son-in-law, who was pursuing his triumph rather unfeelingly.
-
-“I admired your resolution very much, sir,” said he, “in venturing out
-in such weather, for of course you saw there would be snow very soon.
-Every body must have seen the snow coming on. I admired your spirit;
-and I dare say we shall get home very well. Another hour or two’s snow
-can hardly make the road impassable; and we are two carriages; if one
-is blown over in the bleak part of the common field there will be the
-other at hand. I dare say we shall be all safe at Hartfield before
-midnight.”
-
-Mr. Weston, with triumph of a different sort, was confessing that he
-had known it to be snowing some time, but had not said a word, lest it
-should make Mr. Woodhouse uncomfortable, and be an excuse for his
-hurrying away. As to there being any quantity of snow fallen or likely
-to fall to impede their return, that was a mere joke; he was afraid
-they would find no difficulty. He wished the road might be impassable,
-that he might be able to keep them all at Randalls; and with the utmost
-good-will was sure that accommodation might be found for every body,
-calling on his wife to agree with him, that with a little contrivance,
-every body might be lodged, which she hardly knew how to do, from the
-consciousness of there being but two spare rooms in the house.
-
-“What is to be done, my dear Emma?—what is to be done?” was Mr.
-Woodhouse’s first exclamation, and all that he could say for some time.
-To her he looked for comfort; and her assurances of safety, her
-representation of the excellence of the horses, and of James, and of
-their having so many friends about them, revived him a little.
-
-His eldest daughter’s alarm was equal to his own. The horror of being
-blocked up at Randalls, while her children were at Hartfield, was full
-in her imagination; and fancying the road to be now just passable for
-adventurous people, but in a state that admitted no delay, she was
-eager to have it settled, that her father and Emma should remain at
-Randalls, while she and her husband set forward instantly through all
-the possible accumulations of drifted snow that might impede them.
-
-“You had better order the carriage directly, my love,” said she; “I
-dare say we shall be able to get along, if we set off directly; and if
-we do come to any thing very bad, I can get out and walk. I am not at
-all afraid. I should not mind walking half the way. I could change my
-shoes, you know, the moment I got home; and it is not the sort of thing
-that gives me cold.”
-
-“Indeed!” replied he. “Then, my dear Isabella, it is the most
-extraordinary sort of thing in the world, for in general every thing
-does give you cold. Walk home!—you are prettily shod for walking home,
-I dare say. It will be bad enough for the horses.”
-
-Isabella turned to Mrs. Weston for her approbation of the plan. Mrs.
-Weston could only approve. Isabella then went to Emma; but Emma could
-not so entirely give up the hope of their being all able to get away;
-and they were still discussing the point, when Mr. Knightley, who had
-left the room immediately after his brother’s first report of the snow,
-came back again, and told them that he had been out of doors to
-examine, and could answer for there not being the smallest difficulty
-in their getting home, whenever they liked it, either now or an hour
-hence. He had gone beyond the sweep—some way along the Highbury
-road—the snow was nowhere above half an inch deep—in many places hardly
-enough to whiten the ground; a very few flakes were falling at present,
-but the clouds were parting, and there was every appearance of its
-being soon over. He had seen the coachmen, and they both agreed with
-him in there being nothing to apprehend.
-
-To Isabella, the relief of such tidings was very great, and they were
-scarcely less acceptable to Emma on her father’s account, who was
-immediately set as much at ease on the subject as his nervous
-constitution allowed; but the alarm that had been raised could not be
-appeased so as to admit of any comfort for him while he continued at
-Randalls. He was satisfied of there being no present danger in
-returning home, but no assurances could convince him that it was safe
-to stay; and while the others were variously urging and recommending,
-Mr. Knightley and Emma settled it in a few brief sentences: thus—
-
-“Your father will not be easy; why do not you go?”
-
-“I am ready, if the others are.”
-
-“Shall I ring the bell?”
-
-“Yes, do.”
-
-And the bell was rung, and the carriages spoken for. A few minutes
-more, and Emma hoped to see one troublesome companion deposited in his
-own house, to get sober and cool, and the other recover his temper and
-happiness when this visit of hardship were over.
-
-The carriage came: and Mr. Woodhouse, always the first object on such
-occasions, was carefully attended to his own by Mr. Knightley and Mr.
-Weston; but not all that either could say could prevent some renewal of
-alarm at the sight of the snow which had actually fallen, and the
-discovery of a much darker night than he had been prepared for. “He was
-afraid they should have a very bad drive. He was afraid poor Isabella
-would not like it. And there would be poor Emma in the carriage behind.
-He did not know what they had best do. They must keep as much together
-as they could;” and James was talked to, and given a charge to go very
-slow and wait for the other carriage.
-
-Isabella stept in after her father; John Knightley, forgetting that he
-did not belong to their party, stept in after his wife very naturally;
-so that Emma found, on being escorted and followed into the second
-carriage by Mr. Elton, that the door was to be lawfully shut on them,
-and that they were to have a tête-à-tête drive. It would not have been
-the awkwardness of a moment, it would have been rather a pleasure,
-previous to the suspicions of this very day; she could have talked to
-him of Harriet, and the three-quarters of a mile would have seemed but
-one. But now, she would rather it had not happened. She believed he had
-been drinking too much of Mr. Weston’s good wine, and felt sure that he
-would want to be talking nonsense.
-
-To restrain him as much as might be, by her own manners, she was
-immediately preparing to speak with exquisite calmness and gravity of
-the weather and the night; but scarcely had she begun, scarcely had
-they passed the sweep-gate and joined the other carriage, than she
-found her subject cut up—her hand seized—her attention demanded, and
-Mr. Elton actually making violent love to her: availing himself of the
-precious opportunity, declaring sentiments which must be already well
-known, hoping—fearing—adoring—ready to die if she refused him; but
-flattering himself that his ardent attachment and unequalled love and
-unexampled passion could not fail of having some effect, and in short,
-very much resolved on being seriously accepted as soon as possible. It
-really was so. Without scruple—without apology—without much apparent
-diffidence, Mr. Elton, the lover of Harriet, was professing himself
-_her_ lover. She tried to stop him; but vainly; he would go on, and say
-it all. Angry as she was, the thought of the moment made her resolve to
-restrain herself when she did speak. She felt that half this folly must
-be drunkenness, and therefore could hope that it might belong only to
-the passing hour. Accordingly, with a mixture of the serious and the
-playful, which she hoped would best suit his half and half state, she
-replied,
-
-“I am very much astonished, Mr. Elton. This to _me_! you forget
-yourself—you take me for my friend—any message to Miss Smith I shall be
-happy to deliver; but no more of this to _me_, if you please.”
-
-“Miss Smith!—message to Miss Smith!—What could she possibly mean!”—And
-he repeated her words with such assurance of accent, such boastful
-pretence of amazement, that she could not help replying with quickness,
-
-“Mr. Elton, this is the most extraordinary conduct! and I can account
-for it only in one way; you are not yourself, or you could not speak
-either to me, or of Harriet, in such a manner. Command yourself enough
-to say no more, and I will endeavour to forget it.”
-
-But Mr. Elton had only drunk wine enough to elevate his spirits, not at
-all to confuse his intellects. He perfectly knew his own meaning; and
-having warmly protested against her suspicion as most injurious, and
-slightly touched upon his respect for Miss Smith as her friend,—but
-acknowledging his wonder that Miss Smith should be mentioned at all,—he
-resumed the subject of his own passion, and was very urgent for a
-favourable answer.
-
-As she thought less of his inebriety, she thought more of his
-inconstancy and presumption; and with fewer struggles for politeness,
-replied,
-
-“It is impossible for me to doubt any longer. You have made yourself
-too clear. Mr. Elton, my astonishment is much beyond any thing I can
-express. After such behaviour, as I have witnessed during the last
-month, to Miss Smith—such attentions as I have been in the daily habit
-of observing—to be addressing me in this manner—this is an unsteadiness
-of character, indeed, which I had not supposed possible! Believe me,
-sir, I am far, very far, from gratified in being the object of such
-professions.”
-
-“Good Heaven!” cried Mr. Elton, “what can be the meaning of this?—Miss
-Smith!—I never thought of Miss Smith in the whole course of my
-existence—never paid her any attentions, but as your friend: never
-cared whether she were dead or alive, but as your friend. If she has
-fancied otherwise, her own wishes have misled her, and I am very
-sorry—extremely sorry—But, Miss Smith, indeed!—Oh! Miss Woodhouse! who
-can think of Miss Smith, when Miss Woodhouse is near! No, upon my
-honour, there is no unsteadiness of character. I have thought only of
-you. I protest against having paid the smallest attention to any one
-else. Every thing that I have said or done, for many weeks past, has
-been with the sole view of marking my adoration of yourself. You cannot
-really, seriously, doubt it. No!—(in an accent meant to be
-insinuating)—I am sure you have seen and understood me.”
-
-It would be impossible to say what Emma felt, on hearing this—which of
-all her unpleasant sensations was uppermost. She was too completely
-overpowered to be immediately able to reply: and two moments of silence
-being ample encouragement for Mr. Elton’s sanguine state of mind, he
-tried to take her hand again, as he joyously exclaimed—
-
-“Charming Miss Woodhouse! allow me to interpret this interesting
-silence. It confesses that you have long understood me.”
-
-“No, sir,” cried Emma, “it confesses no such thing. So far from having
-long understood you, I have been in a most complete error with respect
-to your views, till this moment. As to myself, I am very sorry that you
-should have been giving way to any feelings—Nothing could be farther
-from my wishes—your attachment to my friend Harriet—your pursuit of
-her, (pursuit, it appeared,) gave me great pleasure, and I have been
-very earnestly wishing you success: but had I supposed that she were
-not your attraction to Hartfield, I should certainly have thought you
-judged ill in making your visits so frequent. Am I to believe that you
-have never sought to recommend yourself particularly to Miss
-Smith?—that you have never thought seriously of her?”
-
-“Never, madam,” cried he, affronted in his turn: “never, I assure you.
-_I_ think seriously of Miss Smith!—Miss Smith is a very good sort of
-girl; and I should be happy to see her respectably settled. I wish her
-extremely well: and, no doubt, there are men who might not object
-to—Every body has their level: but as for myself, I am not, I think,
-quite so much at a loss. I need not so totally despair of an equal
-alliance, as to be addressing myself to Miss Smith!—No, madam, my
-visits to Hartfield have been for yourself only; and the encouragement
-I received—”
-
-“Encouragement!—I give you encouragement!—Sir, you have been entirely
-mistaken in supposing it. I have seen you only as the admirer of my
-friend. In no other light could you have been more to me than a common
-acquaintance. I am exceedingly sorry: but it is well that the mistake
-ends where it does. Had the same behaviour continued, Miss Smith might
-have been led into a misconception of your views; not being aware,
-probably, any more than myself, of the very great inequality which you
-are so sensible of. But, as it is, the disappointment is single, and, I
-trust, will not be lasting. I have no thoughts of matrimony at
-present.”
-
-He was too angry to say another word; her manner too decided to invite
-supplication; and in this state of swelling resentment, and mutually
-deep mortification, they had to continue together a few minutes longer,
-for the fears of Mr. Woodhouse had confined them to a foot-pace. If
-there had not been so much anger, there would have been desperate
-awkwardness; but their straightforward emotions left no room for the
-little zigzags of embarrassment. Without knowing when the carriage
-turned into Vicarage Lane, or when it stopped, they found themselves,
-all at once, at the door of his house; and he was out before another
-syllable passed.—Emma then felt it indispensable to wish him a good
-night. The compliment was just returned, coldly and proudly; and, under
-indescribable irritation of spirits, she was then conveyed to
-Hartfield.
-
-There she was welcomed, with the utmost delight, by her father, who had
-been trembling for the dangers of a solitary drive from Vicarage
-Lane—turning a corner which he could never bear to think of—and in
-strange hands—a mere common coachman—no James; and there it seemed as
-if her return only were wanted to make every thing go well: for Mr.
-John Knightley, ashamed of his ill-humour, was now all kindness and
-attention; and so particularly solicitous for the comfort of her
-father, as to seem—if not quite ready to join him in a basin of
-gruel—perfectly sensible of its being exceedingly wholesome; and the
-day was concluding in peace and comfort to all their little party,
-except herself.—But her mind had never been in such perturbation; and
-it needed a very strong effort to appear attentive and cheerful till
-the usual hour of separating allowed her the relief of quiet
-reflection.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XVI
-
-
-The hair was curled, and the maid sent away, and Emma sat down to think
-and be miserable.—It was a wretched business indeed!—Such an overthrow
-of every thing she had been wishing for!—Such a development of every
-thing most unwelcome!—Such a blow for Harriet!—that was the worst of
-all. Every part of it brought pain and humiliation, of some sort or
-other; but, compared with the evil to Harriet, all was light; and she
-would gladly have submitted to feel yet more mistaken—more in
-error—more disgraced by mis-judgment, than she actually was, could the
-effects of her blunders have been confined to herself.
-
-“If I had not persuaded Harriet into liking the man, I could have borne
-any thing. He might have doubled his presumption to me—but poor
-Harriet!”
-
-How she could have been so deceived!—He protested that he had never
-thought seriously of Harriet—never! She looked back as well as she
-could; but it was all confusion. She had taken up the idea, she
-supposed, and made every thing bend to it. His manners, however, must
-have been unmarked, wavering, dubious, or she could not have been so
-misled.
-
-The picture!—How eager he had been about the picture!—and the
-charade!—and an hundred other circumstances;—how clearly they had
-seemed to point at Harriet. To be sure, the charade, with its “ready
-wit”—but then the “soft eyes”—in fact it suited neither; it was a
-jumble without taste or truth. Who could have seen through such
-thick-headed nonsense?
-
-Certainly she had often, especially of late, thought his manners to
-herself unnecessarily gallant; but it had passed as his way, as a mere
-error of judgment, of knowledge, of taste, as one proof among others
-that he had not always lived in the best society, that with all the
-gentleness of his address, true elegance was sometimes wanting; but,
-till this very day, she had never, for an instant, suspected it to mean
-any thing but grateful respect to her as Harriet’s friend.
-
-To Mr. John Knightley was she indebted for her first idea on the
-subject, for the first start of its possibility. There was no denying
-that those brothers had penetration. She remembered what Mr. Knightley
-had once said to her about Mr. Elton, the caution he had given, the
-conviction he had professed that Mr. Elton would never marry
-indiscreetly; and blushed to think how much truer a knowledge of his
-character had been there shewn than any she had reached herself. It was
-dreadfully mortifying; but Mr. Elton was proving himself, in many
-respects, the very reverse of what she had meant and believed him;
-proud, assuming, conceited; very full of his own claims, and little
-concerned about the feelings of others.
-
-Contrary to the usual course of things, Mr. Elton’s wanting to pay his
-addresses to her had sunk him in her opinion. His professions and his
-proposals did him no service. She thought nothing of his attachment,
-and was insulted by his hopes. He wanted to marry well, and having the
-arrogance to raise his eyes to her, pretended to be in love; but she
-was perfectly easy as to his not suffering any disappointment that need
-be cared for. There had been no real affection either in his language
-or manners. Sighs and fine words had been given in abundance; but she
-could hardly devise any set of expressions, or fancy any tone of voice,
-less allied with real love. She need not trouble herself to pity him.
-He only wanted to aggrandise and enrich himself; and if Miss Woodhouse
-of Hartfield, the heiress of thirty thousand pounds, were not quite so
-easily obtained as he had fancied, he would soon try for Miss Somebody
-else with twenty, or with ten.
-
-But—that he should talk of encouragement, should consider her as aware
-of his views, accepting his attentions, meaning (in short), to marry
-him!—should suppose himself her equal in connexion or mind!—look down
-upon her friend, so well understanding the gradations of rank below
-him, and be so blind to what rose above, as to fancy himself shewing no
-presumption in addressing her!—It was most provoking.
-
-Perhaps it was not fair to expect him to feel how very much he was her
-inferior in talent, and all the elegancies of mind. The very want of
-such equality might prevent his perception of it; but he must know that
-in fortune and consequence she was greatly his superior. He must know
-that the Woodhouses had been settled for several generations at
-Hartfield, the younger branch of a very ancient family—and that the
-Eltons were nobody. The landed property of Hartfield certainly was
-inconsiderable, being but a sort of notch in the Donwell Abbey estate,
-to which all the rest of Highbury belonged; but their fortune, from
-other sources, was such as to make them scarcely secondary to Donwell
-Abbey itself, in every other kind of consequence; and the Woodhouses
-had long held a high place in the consideration of the neighbourhood
-which Mr. Elton had first entered not two years ago, to make his way as
-he could, without any alliances but in trade, or any thing to recommend
-him to notice but his situation and his civility.—But he had fancied
-her in love with him; that evidently must have been his dependence; and
-after raving a little about the seeming incongruity of gentle manners
-and a conceited head, Emma was obliged in common honesty to stop and
-admit that her own behaviour to him had been so complaisant and
-obliging, so full of courtesy and attention, as (supposing her real
-motive unperceived) might warrant a man of ordinary observation and
-delicacy, like Mr. Elton, in fancying himself a very decided favourite.
-If _she_ had so misinterpreted his feelings, she had little right to
-wonder that _he_, with self-interest to blind him, should have mistaken
-hers.
-
-The first error and the worst lay at her door. It was foolish, it was
-wrong, to take so active a part in bringing any two people together. It
-was adventuring too far, assuming too much, making light of what ought
-to be serious, a trick of what ought to be simple. She was quite
-concerned and ashamed, and resolved to do such things no more.
-
-“Here have I,” said she, “actually talked poor Harriet into being very
-much attached to this man. She might never have thought of him but for
-me; and certainly never would have thought of him with hope, if I had
-not assured her of his attachment, for she is as modest and humble as I
-used to think him. Oh! that I had been satisfied with persuading her
-not to accept young Martin. There I was quite right. That was well done
-of me; but there I should have stopped, and left the rest to time and
-chance. I was introducing her into good company, and giving her the
-opportunity of pleasing some one worth having; I ought not to have
-attempted more. But now, poor girl, her peace is cut up for some time.
-I have been but half a friend to her; and if she were _not_ to feel
-this disappointment so very much, I am sure I have not an idea of any
-body else who would be at all desirable for her;—William Coxe—Oh! no, I
-could not endure William Coxe—a pert young lawyer.”
-
-She stopt to blush and laugh at her own relapse, and then resumed a
-more serious, more dispiriting cogitation upon what had been, and might
-be, and must be. The distressing explanation she had to make to
-Harriet, and all that poor Harriet would be suffering, with the
-awkwardness of future meetings, the difficulties of continuing or
-discontinuing the acquaintance, of subduing feelings, concealing
-resentment, and avoiding eclat, were enough to occupy her in most
-unmirthful reflections some time longer, and she went to bed at last
-with nothing settled but the conviction of her having blundered most
-dreadfully.
-
-To youth and natural cheerfulness like Emma’s, though under temporary
-gloom at night, the return of day will hardly fail to bring return of
-spirits. The youth and cheerfulness of morning are in happy analogy,
-and of powerful operation; and if the distress be not poignant enough
-to keep the eyes unclosed, they will be sure to open to sensations of
-softened pain and brighter hope.
-
-Emma got up on the morrow more disposed for comfort than she had gone
-to bed, more ready to see alleviations of the evil before her, and to
-depend on getting tolerably out of it.
-
-It was a great consolation that Mr. Elton should not be really in love
-with her, or so particularly amiable as to make it shocking to
-disappoint him—that Harriet’s nature should not be of that superior
-sort in which the feelings are most acute and retentive—and that there
-could be no necessity for any body’s knowing what had passed except the
-three principals, and especially for her father’s being given a
-moment’s uneasiness about it.
-
-These were very cheering thoughts; and the sight of a great deal of
-snow on the ground did her further service, for any thing was welcome
-that might justify their all three being quite asunder at present.
-
-The weather was most favourable for her; though Christmas Day, she
-could not go to church. Mr. Woodhouse would have been miserable had his
-daughter attempted it, and she was therefore safe from either exciting
-or receiving unpleasant and most unsuitable ideas. The ground covered
-with snow, and the atmosphere in that unsettled state between frost and
-thaw, which is of all others the most unfriendly for exercise, every
-morning beginning in rain or snow, and every evening setting in to
-freeze, she was for many days a most honourable prisoner. No
-intercourse with Harriet possible but by note; no church for her on
-Sunday any more than on Christmas Day; and no need to find excuses for
-Mr. Elton’s absenting himself.
-
-It was weather which might fairly confine every body at home; and
-though she hoped and believed him to be really taking comfort in some
-society or other, it was very pleasant to have her father so well
-satisfied with his being all alone in his own house, too wise to stir
-out; and to hear him say to Mr. Knightley, whom no weather could keep
-entirely from them,—
-
-“Ah! Mr. Knightley, why do not you stay at home like poor Mr. Elton?”
-
-These days of confinement would have been, but for her private
-perplexities, remarkably comfortable, as such seclusion exactly suited
-her brother, whose feelings must always be of great importance to his
-companions; and he had, besides, so thoroughly cleared off his
-ill-humour at Randalls, that his amiableness never failed him during
-the rest of his stay at Hartfield. He was always agreeable and
-obliging, and speaking pleasantly of every body. But with all the hopes
-of cheerfulness, and all the present comfort of delay, there was still
-such an evil hanging over her in the hour of explanation with Harriet,
-as made it impossible for Emma to be ever perfectly at ease.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XVII
-
-
-Mr. and Mrs. John Knightley were not detained long at Hartfield. The
-weather soon improved enough for those to move who must move; and Mr.
-Woodhouse having, as usual, tried to persuade his daughter to stay
-behind with all her children, was obliged to see the whole party set
-off, and return to his lamentations over the destiny of poor
-Isabella;—which poor Isabella, passing her life with those she doated
-on, full of their merits, blind to their faults, and always innocently
-busy, might have been a model of right feminine happiness.
-
-The evening of the very day on which they went brought a note from Mr.
-Elton to Mr. Woodhouse, a long, civil, ceremonious note, to say, with
-Mr. Elton’s best compliments, “that he was proposing to leave Highbury
-the following morning in his way to Bath; where, in compliance with the
-pressing entreaties of some friends, he had engaged to spend a few
-weeks, and very much regretted the impossibility he was under, from
-various circumstances of weather and business, of taking a personal
-leave of Mr. Woodhouse, of whose friendly civilities he should ever
-retain a grateful sense—and had Mr. Woodhouse any commands, should be
-happy to attend to them.”
-
-Emma was most agreeably surprized.—Mr. Elton’s absence just at this
-time was the very thing to be desired. She admired him for contriving
-it, though not able to give him much credit for the manner in which it
-was announced. Resentment could not have been more plainly spoken than
-in a civility to her father, from which she was so pointedly excluded.
-She had not even a share in his opening compliments.—Her name was not
-mentioned;—and there was so striking a change in all this, and such an
-ill-judged solemnity of leave-taking in his graceful acknowledgments,
-as she thought, at first, could not escape her father’s suspicion.
-
-It did, however.—Her father was quite taken up with the surprize of so
-sudden a journey, and his fears that Mr. Elton might never get safely
-to the end of it, and saw nothing extraordinary in his language. It was
-a very useful note, for it supplied them with fresh matter for thought
-and conversation during the rest of their lonely evening. Mr. Woodhouse
-talked over his alarms, and Emma was in spirits to persuade them away
-with all her usual promptitude.
-
-She now resolved to keep Harriet no longer in the dark. She had reason
-to believe her nearly recovered from her cold, and it was desirable
-that she should have as much time as possible for getting the better of
-her other complaint before the gentleman’s return. She went to Mrs.
-Goddard’s accordingly the very next day, to undergo the necessary
-penance of communication; and a severe one it was.—She had to destroy
-all the hopes which she had been so industriously feeding—to appear in
-the ungracious character of the one preferred—and acknowledge herself
-grossly mistaken and mis-judging in all her ideas on one subject, all
-her observations, all her convictions, all her prophecies for the last
-six weeks.
-
-The confession completely renewed her first shame—and the sight of
-Harriet’s tears made her think that she should never be in charity with
-herself again.
-
-Harriet bore the intelligence very well—blaming nobody—and in every
-thing testifying such an ingenuousness of disposition and lowly opinion
-of herself, as must appear with particular advantage at that moment to
-her friend.
-
-Emma was in the humour to value simplicity and modesty to the utmost;
-and all that was amiable, all that ought to be attaching, seemed on
-Harriet’s side, not her own. Harriet did not consider herself as having
-any thing to complain of. The affection of such a man as Mr. Elton
-would have been too great a distinction.—She never could have deserved
-him—and nobody but so partial and kind a friend as Miss Woodhouse would
-have thought it possible.
-
-Her tears fell abundantly—but her grief was so truly artless, that no
-dignity could have made it more respectable in Emma’s eyes—and she
-listened to her and tried to console her with all her heart and
-understanding—really for the time convinced that Harriet was the
-superior creature of the two—and that to resemble her would be more for
-her own welfare and happiness than all that genius or intelligence
-could do.
-
-It was rather too late in the day to set about being simple-minded and
-ignorant; but she left her with every previous resolution confirmed of
-being humble and discreet, and repressing imagination all the rest of
-her life. Her second duty now, inferior only to her father’s claims,
-was to promote Harriet’s comfort, and endeavour to prove her own
-affection in some better method than by match-making. She got her to
-Hartfield, and shewed her the most unvarying kindness, striving to
-occupy and amuse her, and by books and conversation, to drive Mr. Elton
-from her thoughts.
-
-Time, she knew, must be allowed for this being thoroughly done; and she
-could suppose herself but an indifferent judge of such matters in
-general, and very inadequate to sympathise in an attachment to Mr.
-Elton in particular; but it seemed to her reasonable that at Harriet’s
-age, and with the entire extinction of all hope, such a progress might
-be made towards a state of composure by the time of Mr. Elton’s return,
-as to allow them all to meet again in the common routine of
-acquaintance, without any danger of betraying sentiments or increasing
-them.
-
-Harriet did think him all perfection, and maintained the non-existence
-of any body equal to him in person or goodness—and did, in truth, prove
-herself more resolutely in love than Emma had foreseen; but yet it
-appeared to her so natural, so inevitable to strive against an
-inclination of that sort _unrequited_, that she could not comprehend
-its continuing very long in equal force.
-
-If Mr. Elton, on his return, made his own indifference as evident and
-indubitable as she could not doubt he would anxiously do, she could not
-imagine Harriet’s persisting to place her happiness in the sight or the
-recollection of him.
-
-Their being fixed, so absolutely fixed, in the same place, was bad for
-each, for all three. Not one of them had the power of removal, or of
-effecting any material change of society. They must encounter each
-other, and make the best of it.
-
-Harriet was farther unfortunate in the tone of her companions at Mrs.
-Goddard’s; Mr. Elton being the adoration of all the teachers and great
-girls in the school; and it must be at Hartfield only that she could
-have any chance of hearing him spoken of with cooling moderation or
-repellent truth. Where the wound had been given, there must the cure be
-found if anywhere; and Emma felt that, till she saw her in the way of
-cure, there could be no true peace for herself.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XVIII
-
-
-Mr. Frank Churchill did not come. When the time proposed drew near,
-Mrs. Weston’s fears were justified in the arrival of a letter of
-excuse. For the present, he could not be spared, to his “very great
-mortification and regret; but still he looked forward with the hope of
-coming to Randalls at no distant period.”
-
-Mrs. Weston was exceedingly disappointed—much more disappointed, in
-fact, than her husband, though her dependence on seeing the young man
-had been so much more sober: but a sanguine temper, though for ever
-expecting more good than occurs, does not always pay for its hopes by
-any proportionate depression. It soon flies over the present failure,
-and begins to hope again. For half an hour Mr. Weston was surprized and
-sorry; but then he began to perceive that Frank’s coming two or three
-months later would be a much better plan; better time of year; better
-weather; and that he would be able, without any doubt, to stay
-considerably longer with them than if he had come sooner.
-
-These feelings rapidly restored his comfort, while Mrs. Weston, of a
-more apprehensive disposition, foresaw nothing but a repetition of
-excuses and delays; and after all her concern for what her husband was
-to suffer, suffered a great deal more herself.
-
-Emma was not at this time in a state of spirits to care really about
-Mr. Frank Churchill’s not coming, except as a disappointment at
-Randalls. The acquaintance at present had no charm for her. She wanted,
-rather, to be quiet, and out of temptation; but still, as it was
-desirable that she should appear, in general, like her usual self, she
-took care to express as much interest in the circumstance, and enter as
-warmly into Mr. and Mrs. Weston’s disappointment, as might naturally
-belong to their friendship.
-
-She was the first to announce it to Mr. Knightley; and exclaimed quite
-as much as was necessary, (or, being acting a part, perhaps rather
-more,) at the conduct of the Churchills, in keeping him away. She then
-proceeded to say a good deal more than she felt, of the advantage of
-such an addition to their confined society in Surry; the pleasure of
-looking at somebody new; the gala-day to Highbury entire, which the
-sight of him would have made; and ending with reflections on the
-Churchills again, found herself directly involved in a disagreement
-with Mr. Knightley; and, to her great amusement, perceived that she was
-taking the other side of the question from her real opinion, and making
-use of Mrs. Weston’s arguments against herself.
-
-“The Churchills are very likely in fault,” said Mr. Knightley, coolly;
-“but I dare say he might come if he would.”
-
-“I do not know why you should say so. He wishes exceedingly to come;
-but his uncle and aunt will not spare him.”
-
-“I cannot believe that he has not the power of coming, if he made a
-point of it. It is too unlikely, for me to believe it without proof.”
-
-“How odd you are! What has Mr. Frank Churchill done, to make you
-suppose him such an unnatural creature?”
-
-“I am not supposing him at all an unnatural creature, in suspecting
-that he may have learnt to be above his connexions, and to care very
-little for any thing but his own pleasure, from living with those who
-have always set him the example of it. It is a great deal more natural
-than one could wish, that a young man, brought up by those who are
-proud, luxurious, and selfish, should be proud, luxurious, and selfish
-too. If Frank Churchill had wanted to see his father, he would have
-contrived it between September and January. A man at his age—what is
-he?—three or four-and-twenty—cannot be without the means of doing as
-much as that. It is impossible.”
-
-“That’s easily said, and easily felt by you, who have always been your
-own master. You are the worst judge in the world, Mr. Knightley, of the
-difficulties of dependence. You do not know what it is to have tempers
-to manage.”
-
-“It is not to be conceived that a man of three or four-and-twenty
-should not have liberty of mind or limb to that amount. He cannot want
-money—he cannot want leisure. We know, on the contrary, that he has so
-much of both, that he is glad to get rid of them at the idlest haunts
-in the kingdom. We hear of him for ever at some watering-place or
-other. A little while ago, he was at Weymouth. This proves that he can
-leave the Churchills.”
-
-“Yes, sometimes he can.”
-
-“And those times are whenever he thinks it worth his while; whenever
-there is any temptation of pleasure.”
-
-“It is very unfair to judge of any body’s conduct, without an intimate
-knowledge of their situation. Nobody, who has not been in the interior
-of a family, can say what the difficulties of any individual of that
-family may be. We ought to be acquainted with Enscombe, and with Mrs.
-Churchill’s temper, before we pretend to decide upon what her nephew
-can do. He may, at times, be able to do a great deal more than he can
-at others.”
-
-“There is one thing, Emma, which a man can always do, if he chuses, and
-that is, his duty; not by manoeuvring and finessing, but by vigour and
-resolution. It is Frank Churchill’s duty to pay this attention to his
-father. He knows it to be so, by his promises and messages; but if he
-wished to do it, it might be done. A man who felt rightly would say at
-once, simply and resolutely, to Mrs. Churchill—‘Every sacrifice of mere
-pleasure you will always find me ready to make to your convenience; but
-I must go and see my father immediately. I know he would be hurt by my
-failing in such a mark of respect to him on the present occasion. I
-shall, therefore, set off to-morrow.’—If he would say so to her at
-once, in the tone of decision becoming a man, there would be no
-opposition made to his going.”
-
-“No,” said Emma, laughing; “but perhaps there might be some made to his
-coming back again. Such language for a young man entirely dependent, to
-use!—Nobody but you, Mr. Knightley, would imagine it possible. But you
-have not an idea of what is requisite in situations directly opposite
-to your own. Mr. Frank Churchill to be making such a speech as that to
-the uncle and aunt, who have brought him up, and are to provide for
-him!—Standing up in the middle of the room, I suppose, and speaking as
-loud as he could!—How can you imagine such conduct practicable?”
-
-“Depend upon it, Emma, a sensible man would find no difficulty in it.
-He would feel himself in the right; and the declaration—made, of
-course, as a man of sense would make it, in a proper manner—would do
-him more good, raise him higher, fix his interest stronger with the
-people he depended on, than all that a line of shifts and expedients
-can ever do. Respect would be added to affection. They would feel that
-they could trust him; that the nephew who had done rightly by his
-father, would do rightly by them; for they know, as well as he does, as
-well as all the world must know, that he ought to pay this visit to his
-father; and while meanly exerting their power to delay it, are in their
-hearts not thinking the better of him for submitting to their whims.
-Respect for right conduct is felt by every body. If he would act in
-this sort of manner, on principle, consistently, regularly, their
-little minds would bend to his.”
-
-“I rather doubt that. You are very fond of bending little minds; but
-where little minds belong to rich people in authority, I think they
-have a knack of swelling out, till they are quite as unmanageable as
-great ones. I can imagine, that if you, as you are, Mr. Knightley, were
-to be transported and placed all at once in Mr. Frank Churchill’s
-situation, you would be able to say and do just what you have been
-recommending for him; and it might have a very good effect. The
-Churchills might not have a word to say in return; but then, you would
-have no habits of early obedience and long observance to break through.
-To him who has, it might not be so easy to burst forth at once into
-perfect independence, and set all their claims on his gratitude and
-regard at nought. He may have as strong a sense of what would be right,
-as you can have, without being so equal, under particular
-circumstances, to act up to it.”
-
-“Then it would not be so strong a sense. If it failed to produce equal
-exertion, it could not be an equal conviction.”
-
-“Oh, the difference of situation and habit! I wish you would try to
-understand what an amiable young man may be likely to feel in directly
-opposing those, whom as child and boy he has been looking up to all his
-life.”
-
-“Our amiable young man is a very weak young man, if this be the first
-occasion of his carrying through a resolution to do right against the
-will of others. It ought to have been a habit with him by this time, of
-following his duty, instead of consulting expediency. I can allow for
-the fears of the child, but not of the man. As he became rational, he
-ought to have roused himself and shaken off all that was unworthy in
-their authority. He ought to have opposed the first attempt on their
-side to make him slight his father. Had he begun as he ought, there
-would have been no difficulty now.”
-
-“We shall never agree about him,” cried Emma; “but that is nothing
-extraordinary. I have not the least idea of his being a weak young man:
-I feel sure that he is not. Mr. Weston would not be blind to folly,
-though in his own son; but he is very likely to have a more yielding,
-complying, mild disposition than would suit your notions of man’s
-perfection. I dare say he has; and though it may cut him off from some
-advantages, it will secure him many others.”
-
-“Yes; all the advantages of sitting still when he ought to move, and of
-leading a life of mere idle pleasure, and fancying himself extremely
-expert in finding excuses for it. He can sit down and write a fine
-flourishing letter, full of professions and falsehoods, and persuade
-himself that he has hit upon the very best method in the world of
-preserving peace at home and preventing his father’s having any right
-to complain. His letters disgust me.”
-
-“Your feelings are singular. They seem to satisfy every body else.”
-
-“I suspect they do not satisfy Mrs. Weston. They hardly can satisfy a
-woman of her good sense and quick feelings: standing in a mother’s
-place, but without a mother’s affection to blind her. It is on her
-account that attention to Randalls is doubly due, and she must doubly
-feel the omission. Had she been a person of consequence herself, he
-would have come I dare say; and it would not have signified whether he
-did or no. Can you think your friend behindhand in these sort of
-considerations? Do you suppose she does not often say all this to
-herself? No, Emma, your amiable young man can be amiable only in
-French, not in English. He may be very ‘amiable,’ have very good
-manners, and be very agreeable; but he can have no English delicacy
-towards the feelings of other people: nothing really amiable about
-him.”
-
-“You seem determined to think ill of him.”
-
-“Me!—not at all,” replied Mr. Knightley, rather displeased; “I do not
-want to think ill of him. I should be as ready to acknowledge his
-merits as any other man; but I hear of none, except what are merely
-personal; that he is well-grown and good-looking, with smooth,
-plausible manners.”
-
-“Well, if he have nothing else to recommend him, he will be a treasure
-at Highbury. We do not often look upon fine young men, well-bred and
-agreeable. We must not be nice and ask for all the virtues into the
-bargain. Cannot you imagine, Mr. Knightley, what a _sensation_ his
-coming will produce? There will be but one subject throughout the
-parishes of Donwell and Highbury; but one interest—one object of
-curiosity; it will be all Mr. Frank Churchill; we shall think and speak
-of nobody else.”
-
-“You will excuse my being so much over-powered. If I find him
-conversable, I shall be glad of his acquaintance; but if he is only a
-chattering coxcomb, he will not occupy much of my time or thoughts.”
-
-“My idea of him is, that he can adapt his conversation to the taste of
-every body, and has the power as well as the wish of being universally
-agreeable. To you, he will talk of farming; to me, of drawing or music;
-and so on to every body, having that general information on all
-subjects which will enable him to follow the lead, or take the lead,
-just as propriety may require, and to speak extremely well on each;
-that is my idea of him.”
-
-“And mine,” said Mr. Knightley warmly, “is, that if he turn out any
-thing like it, he will be the most insufferable fellow breathing! What!
-at three-and-twenty to be the king of his company—the great man—the
-practised politician, who is to read every body’s character, and make
-every body’s talents conduce to the display of his own superiority; to
-be dispensing his flatteries around, that he may make all appear like
-fools compared with himself! My dear Emma, your own good sense could
-not endure such a puppy when it came to the point.”
-
-“I will say no more about him,” cried Emma, “you turn every thing to
-evil. We are both prejudiced; you against, I for him; and we have no
-chance of agreeing till he is really here.”
-
-“Prejudiced! I am not prejudiced.”
-
-“But I am very much, and without being at all ashamed of it. My love
-for Mr. and Mrs. Weston gives me a decided prejudice in his favour.”
-
-“He is a person I never think of from one month’s end to another,” said
-Mr. Knightley, with a degree of vexation, which made Emma immediately
-talk of something else, though she could not comprehend why he should
-be angry.
-
-To take a dislike to a young man, only because he appeared to be of a
-different disposition from himself, was unworthy the real liberality of
-mind which she was always used to acknowledge in him; for with all the
-high opinion of himself, which she had often laid to his charge, she
-had never before for a moment supposed it could make him unjust to the
-merit of another.
-
-
-
-
-VOLUME II
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER I
-
-
-Emma and Harriet had been walking together one morning, and, in Emma’s
-opinion, had been talking enough of Mr. Elton for that day. She could
-not think that Harriet’s solace or her own sins required more; and she
-was therefore industriously getting rid of the subject as they
-returned;—but it burst out again when she thought she had succeeded,
-and after speaking some time of what the poor must suffer in winter,
-and receiving no other answer than a very plaintive—“Mr. Elton is so
-good to the poor!” she found something else must be done.
-
-They were just approaching the house where lived Mrs. and Miss Bates.
-She determined to call upon them and seek safety in numbers. There was
-always sufficient reason for such an attention; Mrs. and Miss Bates
-loved to be called on, and she knew she was considered by the very few
-who presumed ever to see imperfection in her, as rather negligent in
-that respect, and as not contributing what she ought to the stock of
-their scanty comforts.
-
-She had had many a hint from Mr. Knightley and some from her own heart,
-as to her deficiency—but none were equal to counteract the persuasion
-of its being very disagreeable,—a waste of time—tiresome women—and all
-the horror of being in danger of falling in with the second-rate and
-third-rate of Highbury, who were calling on them for ever, and
-therefore she seldom went near them. But now she made the sudden
-resolution of not passing their door without going in—observing, as she
-proposed it to Harriet, that, as well as she could calculate, they were
-just now quite safe from any letter from Jane Fairfax.
-
-The house belonged to people in business. Mrs. and Miss Bates occupied
-the drawing-room floor; and there, in the very moderate-sized
-apartment, which was every thing to them, the visitors were most
-cordially and even gratefully welcomed; the quiet neat old lady, who
-with her knitting was seated in the warmest corner, wanting even to
-give up her place to Miss Woodhouse, and her more active, talking
-daughter, almost ready to overpower them with care and kindness, thanks
-for their visit, solicitude for their shoes, anxious inquiries after
-Mr. Woodhouse’s health, cheerful communications about her mother’s, and
-sweet-cake from the beaufet—“Mrs. Cole had just been there, just called
-in for ten minutes, and had been so good as to sit an hour with them,
-and _she_ had taken a piece of cake and been so kind as to say she
-liked it very much; and, therefore, she hoped Miss Woodhouse and Miss
-Smith would do them the favour to eat a piece too.”
-
-The mention of the Coles was sure to be followed by that of Mr. Elton.
-There was intimacy between them, and Mr. Cole had heard from Mr. Elton
-since his going away. Emma knew what was coming; they must have the
-letter over again, and settle how long he had been gone, and how much
-he was engaged in company, and what a favourite he was wherever he
-went, and how full the Master of the Ceremonies’ ball had been; and she
-went through it very well, with all the interest and all the
-commendation that could be requisite, and always putting forward to
-prevent Harriet’s being obliged to say a word.
-
-This she had been prepared for when she entered the house; but meant,
-having once talked him handsomely over, to be no farther incommoded by
-any troublesome topic, and to wander at large amongst all the
-Mistresses and Misses of Highbury, and their card-parties. She had not
-been prepared to have Jane Fairfax succeed Mr. Elton; but he was
-actually hurried off by Miss Bates, she jumped away from him at last
-abruptly to the Coles, to usher in a letter from her niece.
-
-“Oh! yes—Mr. Elton, I understand—certainly as to dancing—Mrs. Cole was
-telling me that dancing at the rooms at Bath was—Mrs. Cole was so kind
-as to sit some time with us, talking of Jane; for as soon as she came
-in, she began inquiring after her, Jane is so very great a favourite
-there. Whenever she is with us, Mrs. Cole does not know how to shew her
-kindness enough; and I must say that Jane deserves it as much as any
-body can. And so she began inquiring after her directly, saying, ‘I
-know you cannot have heard from Jane lately, because it is not her time
-for writing;’ and when I immediately said, ‘But indeed we have, we had
-a letter this very morning,’ I do not know that I ever saw any body
-more surprized. ‘Have you, upon your honour?’ said she; ‘well, that is
-quite unexpected. Do let me hear what she says.’”
-
-Emma’s politeness was at hand directly, to say, with smiling interest—
-
-“Have you heard from Miss Fairfax so lately? I am extremely happy. I
-hope she is well?”
-
-“Thank you. You are so kind!” replied the happily deceived aunt, while
-eagerly hunting for the letter.—“Oh! here it is. I was sure it could
-not be far off; but I had put my huswife upon it, you see, without
-being aware, and so it was quite hid, but I had it in my hand so very
-lately that I was almost sure it must be on the table. I was reading it
-to Mrs. Cole, and since she went away, I was reading it again to my
-mother, for it is such a pleasure to her—a letter from Jane—that she
-can never hear it often enough; so I knew it could not be far off, and
-here it is, only just under my huswife—and since you are so kind as to
-wish to hear what she says;—but, first of all, I really must, in
-justice to Jane, apologise for her writing so short a letter—only two
-pages you see—hardly two—and in general she fills the whole paper and
-crosses half. My mother often wonders that I can make it out so well.
-She often says, when the letter is first opened, ‘Well, Hetty, now I
-think you will be put to it to make out all that checker-work’—don’t
-you, ma’am?—And then I tell her, I am sure she would contrive to make
-it out herself, if she had nobody to do it for her—every word of it—I
-am sure she would pore over it till she had made out every word. And,
-indeed, though my mother’s eyes are not so good as they were, she can
-see amazingly well still, thank God! with the help of spectacles. It is
-such a blessing! My mother’s are really very good indeed. Jane often
-says, when she is here, ‘I am sure, grandmama, you must have had very
-strong eyes to see as you do—and so much fine work as you have done
-too!—I only wish my eyes may last me as well.’”
-
-All this spoken extremely fast obliged Miss Bates to stop for breath;
-and Emma said something very civil about the excellence of Miss
-Fairfax’s handwriting.
-
-“You are extremely kind,” replied Miss Bates, highly gratified; “you
-who are such a judge, and write so beautifully yourself. I am sure
-there is nobody’s praise that could give us so much pleasure as Miss
-Woodhouse’s. My mother does not hear; she is a little deaf you know.
-Ma’am,” addressing her, “do you hear what Miss Woodhouse is so obliging
-to say about Jane’s handwriting?”
-
-And Emma had the advantage of hearing her own silly compliment repeated
-twice over before the good old lady could comprehend it. She was
-pondering, in the meanwhile, upon the possibility, without seeming very
-rude, of making her escape from Jane Fairfax’s letter, and had almost
-resolved on hurrying away directly under some slight excuse, when Miss
-Bates turned to her again and seized her attention.
-
-“My mother’s deafness is very trifling you see—just nothing at all. By
-only raising my voice, and saying any thing two or three times over,
-she is sure to hear; but then she is used to my voice. But it is very
-remarkable that she should always hear Jane better than she does me.
-Jane speaks so distinct! However, she will not find her grandmama at
-all deafer than she was two years ago; which is saying a great deal at
-my mother’s time of life—and it really is full two years, you know,
-since she was here. We never were so long without seeing her before,
-and as I was telling Mrs. Cole, we shall hardly know how to make enough
-of her now.”
-
-“Are you expecting Miss Fairfax here soon?”
-
-“Oh yes; next week.”
-
-“Indeed!—that must be a very great pleasure.”
-
-“Thank you. You are very kind. Yes, next week. Every body is so
-surprized; and every body says the same obliging things. I am sure she
-will be as happy to see her friends at Highbury, as they can be to see
-her. Yes, Friday or Saturday; she cannot say which, because Colonel
-Campbell will be wanting the carriage himself one of those days. So
-very good of them to send her the whole way! But they always do, you
-know. Oh yes, Friday or Saturday next. That is what she writes about.
-That is the reason of her writing out of rule, as we call it; for, in
-the common course, we should not have heard from her before next
-Tuesday or Wednesday.”
-
-“Yes, so I imagined. I was afraid there could be little chance of my
-hearing any thing of Miss Fairfax to-day.”
-
-“So obliging of you! No, we should not have heard, if it had not been
-for this particular circumstance, of her being to come here so soon. My
-mother is so delighted!—for she is to be three months with us at least.
-Three months, she says so, positively, as I am going to have the
-pleasure of reading to you. The case is, you see, that the Campbells
-are going to Ireland. Mrs. Dixon has persuaded her father and mother to
-come over and see her directly. They had not intended to go over till
-the summer, but she is so impatient to see them again—for till she
-married, last October, she was never away from them so much as a week,
-which must make it very strange to be in different kingdoms, I was
-going to say, but however different countries, and so she wrote a very
-urgent letter to her mother—or her father, I declare I do not know
-which it was, but we shall see presently in Jane’s letter—wrote in Mr.
-Dixon’s name as well as her own, to press their coming over directly,
-and they would give them the meeting in Dublin, and take them back to
-their country seat, Baly-craig, a beautiful place, I fancy. Jane has
-heard a great deal of its beauty; from Mr. Dixon, I mean—I do not know
-that she ever heard about it from any body else; but it was very
-natural, you know, that he should like to speak of his own place while
-he was paying his addresses—and as Jane used to be very often walking
-out with them—for Colonel and Mrs. Campbell were very particular about
-their daughter’s not walking out often with only Mr. Dixon, for which I
-do not at all blame them; of course she heard every thing he might be
-telling Miss Campbell about his own home in Ireland; and I think she
-wrote us word that he had shewn them some drawings of the place, views
-that he had taken himself. He is a most amiable, charming young man, I
-believe. Jane was quite longing to go to Ireland, from his account of
-things.”
-
-At this moment, an ingenious and animating suspicion entering Emma’s
-brain with regard to Jane Fairfax, this charming Mr. Dixon, and the not
-going to Ireland, she said, with the insidious design of farther
-discovery,
-
-“You must feel it very fortunate that Miss Fairfax should be allowed to
-come to you at such a time. Considering the very particular friendship
-between her and Mrs. Dixon, you could hardly have expected her to be
-excused from accompanying Colonel and Mrs. Campbell.”
-
-“Very true, very true, indeed. The very thing that we have always been
-rather afraid of; for we should not have liked to have her at such a
-distance from us, for months together—not able to come if any thing was
-to happen. But you see, every thing turns out for the best. They want
-her (Mr. and Mrs. Dixon) excessively to come over with Colonel and Mrs.
-Campbell; quite depend upon it; nothing can be more kind or pressing
-than their _joint_ invitation, Jane says, as you will hear presently;
-Mr. Dixon does not seem in the least backward in any attention. He is a
-most charming young man. Ever since the service he rendered Jane at
-Weymouth, when they were out in that party on the water, and she, by
-the sudden whirling round of something or other among the sails, would
-have been dashed into the sea at once, and actually was all but gone,
-if he had not, with the greatest presence of mind, caught hold of her
-habit— (I can never think of it without trembling!)—But ever since we
-had the history of that day, I have been so fond of Mr. Dixon!”
-
-“But, in spite of all her friends’ urgency, and her own wish of seeing
-Ireland, Miss Fairfax prefers devoting the time to you and Mrs. Bates?”
-
-“Yes—entirely her own doing, entirely her own choice; and Colonel and
-Mrs. Campbell think she does quite right, just what they should
-recommend; and indeed they particularly _wish_ her to try her native
-air, as she has not been quite so well as usual lately.”
-
-“I am concerned to hear of it. I think they judge wisely. But Mrs.
-Dixon must be very much disappointed. Mrs. Dixon, I understand, has no
-remarkable degree of personal beauty; is not, by any means, to be
-compared with Miss Fairfax.”
-
-“Oh! no. You are very obliging to say such things—but certainly not.
-There is no comparison between them. Miss Campbell always was
-absolutely plain—but extremely elegant and amiable.”
-
-“Yes, that of course.”
-
-“Jane caught a bad cold, poor thing! so long ago as the 7th of
-November, (as I am going to read to you,) and has never been well
-since. A long time, is not it, for a cold to hang upon her? She never
-mentioned it before, because she would not alarm us. Just like her! so
-considerate!—But however, she is so far from well, that her kind
-friends the Campbells think she had better come home, and try an air
-that always agrees with her; and they have no doubt that three or four
-months at Highbury will entirely cure her—and it is certainly a great
-deal better that she should come here, than go to Ireland, if she is
-unwell. Nobody could nurse her, as we should do.”
-
-“It appears to me the most desirable arrangement in the world.”
-
-“And so she is to come to us next Friday or Saturday, and the Campbells
-leave town in their way to Holyhead the Monday following—as you will
-find from Jane’s letter. So sudden!—You may guess, dear Miss Woodhouse,
-what a flurry it has thrown me in! If it was not for the drawback of
-her illness—but I am afraid we must expect to see her grown thin, and
-looking very poorly. I must tell you what an unlucky thing happened to
-me, as to that. I always make a point of reading Jane’s letters through
-to myself first, before I read them aloud to my mother, you know, for
-fear of there being any thing in them to distress her. Jane desired me
-to do it, so I always do: and so I began to-day with my usual caution;
-but no sooner did I come to the mention of her being unwell, than I
-burst out, quite frightened, with ‘Bless me! poor Jane is ill!’—which
-my mother, being on the watch, heard distinctly, and was sadly alarmed
-at. However, when I read on, I found it was not near so bad as I had
-fancied at first; and I make so light of it now to her, that she does
-not think much about it. But I cannot imagine how I could be so off my
-guard. If Jane does not get well soon, we will call in Mr. Perry. The
-expense shall not be thought of; and though he is so liberal, and so
-fond of Jane that I dare say he would not mean to charge any thing for
-attendance, we could not suffer it to be so, you know. He has a wife
-and family to maintain, and is not to be giving away his time. Well,
-now I have just given you a hint of what Jane writes about, we will
-turn to her letter, and I am sure she tells her own story a great deal
-better than I can tell it for her.”
-
-“I am afraid we must be running away,” said Emma, glancing at Harriet,
-and beginning to rise—“My father will be expecting us. I had no
-intention, I thought I had no power of staying more than five minutes,
-when I first entered the house. I merely called, because I would not
-pass the door without inquiring after Mrs. Bates; but I have been so
-pleasantly detained! Now, however, we must wish you and Mrs. Bates good
-morning.”
-
-And not all that could be urged to detain her succeeded. She regained
-the street—happy in this, that though much had been forced on her
-against her will, though she had in fact heard the whole substance of
-Jane Fairfax’s letter, she had been able to escape the letter itself.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER II
-
-
-Jane Fairfax was an orphan, the only child of Mrs. Bates’s youngest
-daughter.
-
-The marriage of Lieut. Fairfax of the ——regiment of infantry, and Miss
-Jane Bates, had had its day of fame and pleasure, hope and interest;
-but nothing now remained of it, save the melancholy remembrance of him
-dying in action abroad—of his widow sinking under consumption and grief
-soon afterwards—and this girl.
-
-By birth she belonged to Highbury: and when at three years old, on
-losing her mother, she became the property, the charge, the
-consolation, the foundling of her grandmother and aunt, there had
-seemed every probability of her being permanently fixed there; of her
-being taught only what very limited means could command, and growing up
-with no advantages of connexion or improvement, to be engrafted on what
-nature had given her in a pleasing person, good understanding, and
-warm-hearted, well-meaning relations.
-
-But the compassionate feelings of a friend of her father gave a change
-to her destiny. This was Colonel Campbell, who had very highly regarded
-Fairfax, as an excellent officer and most deserving young man; and
-farther, had been indebted to him for such attentions, during a severe
-camp-fever, as he believed had saved his life. These were claims which
-he did not learn to overlook, though some years passed away from the
-death of poor Fairfax, before his own return to England put any thing
-in his power. When he did return, he sought out the child and took
-notice of her. He was a married man, with only one living child, a
-girl, about Jane’s age: and Jane became their guest, paying them long
-visits and growing a favourite with all; and before she was nine years
-old, his daughter’s great fondness for her, and his own wish of being a
-real friend, united to produce an offer from Colonel Campbell of
-undertaking the whole charge of her education. It was accepted; and
-from that period Jane had belonged to Colonel Campbell’s family, and
-had lived with them entirely, only visiting her grandmother from time
-to time.
-
-The plan was that she should be brought up for educating others; the
-very few hundred pounds which she inherited from her father making
-independence impossible. To provide for her otherwise was out of
-Colonel Campbell’s power; for though his income, by pay and
-appointments, was handsome, his fortune was moderate and must be all
-his daughter’s; but, by giving her an education, he hoped to be
-supplying the means of respectable subsistence hereafter.
-
-Such was Jane Fairfax’s history. She had fallen into good hands, known
-nothing but kindness from the Campbells, and been given an excellent
-education. Living constantly with right-minded and well-informed
-people, her heart and understanding had received every advantage of
-discipline and culture; and Colonel Campbell’s residence being in
-London, every lighter talent had been done full justice to, by the
-attendance of first-rate masters. Her disposition and abilities were
-equally worthy of all that friendship could do; and at eighteen or
-nineteen she was, as far as such an early age can be qualified for the
-care of children, fully competent to the office of instruction herself;
-but she was too much beloved to be parted with. Neither father nor
-mother could promote, and the daughter could not endure it. The evil
-day was put off. It was easy to decide that she was still too young;
-and Jane remained with them, sharing, as another daughter, in all the
-rational pleasures of an elegant society, and a judicious mixture of
-home and amusement, with only the drawback of the future, the sobering
-suggestions of her own good understanding to remind her that all this
-might soon be over.
-
-The affection of the whole family, the warm attachment of Miss Campbell
-in particular, was the more honourable to each party from the
-circumstance of Jane’s decided superiority both in beauty and
-acquirements. That nature had given it in feature could not be unseen
-by the young woman, nor could her higher powers of mind be unfelt by
-the parents. They continued together with unabated regard however, till
-the marriage of Miss Campbell, who by that chance, that luck which so
-often defies anticipation in matrimonial affairs, giving attraction to
-what is moderate rather than to what is superior, engaged the
-affections of Mr. Dixon, a young man, rich and agreeable, almost as
-soon as they were acquainted; and was eligibly and happily settled,
-while Jane Fairfax had yet her bread to earn.
-
-This event had very lately taken place; too lately for any thing to be
-yet attempted by her less fortunate friend towards entering on her path
-of duty; though she had now reached the age which her own judgment had
-fixed on for beginning. She had long resolved that one-and-twenty
-should be the period. With the fortitude of a devoted novitiate, she
-had resolved at one-and-twenty to complete the sacrifice, and retire
-from all the pleasures of life, of rational intercourse, equal society,
-peace and hope, to penance and mortification for ever.
-
-The good sense of Colonel and Mrs. Campbell could not oppose such a
-resolution, though their feelings did. As long as they lived, no
-exertions would be necessary, their home might be hers for ever; and
-for their own comfort they would have retained her wholly; but this
-would be selfishness:—what must be at last, had better be soon. Perhaps
-they began to feel it might have been kinder and wiser to have resisted
-the temptation of any delay, and spared her from a taste of such
-enjoyments of ease and leisure as must now be relinquished. Still,
-however, affection was glad to catch at any reasonable excuse for not
-hurrying on the wretched moment. She had never been quite well since
-the time of their daughter’s marriage; and till she should have
-completely recovered her usual strength, they must forbid her engaging
-in duties, which, so far from being compatible with a weakened frame
-and varying spirits, seemed, under the most favourable circumstances,
-to require something more than human perfection of body and mind to be
-discharged with tolerable comfort.
-
-With regard to her not accompanying them to Ireland, her account to her
-aunt contained nothing but truth, though there might be some truths not
-told. It was her own choice to give the time of their absence to
-Highbury; to spend, perhaps, her last months of perfect liberty with
-those kind relations to whom she was so very dear: and the Campbells,
-whatever might be their motive or motives, whether single, or double,
-or treble, gave the arrangement their ready sanction, and said, that
-they depended more on a few months spent in her native air, for the
-recovery of her health, than on any thing else. Certain it was that she
-was to come; and that Highbury, instead of welcoming that perfect
-novelty which had been so long promised it—Mr. Frank Churchill—must put
-up for the present with Jane Fairfax, who could bring only the
-freshness of a two years’ absence.
-
-Emma was sorry;—to have to pay civilities to a person she did not like
-through three long months!—to be always doing more than she wished, and
-less than she ought! Why she did not like Jane Fairfax might be a
-difficult question to answer; Mr. Knightley had once told her it was
-because she saw in her the really accomplished young woman, which she
-wanted to be thought herself; and though the accusation had been
-eagerly refuted at the time, there were moments of self-examination in
-which her conscience could not quite acquit her. But “she could never
-get acquainted with her: she did not know how it was, but there was
-such coldness and reserve—such apparent indifference whether she
-pleased or not—and then, her aunt was such an eternal talker!—and she
-was made such a fuss with by every body!—and it had been always
-imagined that they were to be so intimate—because their ages were the
-same, every body had supposed they must be so fond of each other.”
-These were her reasons—she had no better.
-
-It was a dislike so little just—every imputed fault was so magnified by
-fancy, that she never saw Jane Fairfax the first time after any
-considerable absence, without feeling that she had injured her; and
-now, when the due visit was paid, on her arrival, after a two years’
-interval, she was particularly struck with the very appearance and
-manners, which for those two whole years she had been depreciating.
-Jane Fairfax was very elegant, remarkably elegant; and she had herself
-the highest value for elegance. Her height was pretty, just such as
-almost every body would think tall, and nobody could think very tall;
-her figure particularly graceful; her size a most becoming medium,
-between fat and thin, though a slight appearance of ill-health seemed
-to point out the likeliest evil of the two. Emma could not but feel all
-this; and then, her face—her features—there was more beauty in them
-altogether than she had remembered; it was not regular, but it was very
-pleasing beauty. Her eyes, a deep grey, with dark eye-lashes and
-eyebrows, had never been denied their praise; but the skin, which she
-had been used to cavil at, as wanting colour, had a clearness and
-delicacy which really needed no fuller bloom. It was a style of beauty,
-of which elegance was the reigning character, and as such, she must, in
-honour, by all her principles, admire it:—elegance, which, whether of
-person or of mind, she saw so little in Highbury. There, not to be
-vulgar, was distinction, and merit.
-
-In short, she sat, during the first visit, looking at Jane Fairfax with
-twofold complacency; the sense of pleasure and the sense of rendering
-justice, and was determining that she would dislike her no longer. When
-she took in her history, indeed, her situation, as well as her beauty;
-when she considered what all this elegance was destined to, what she
-was going to sink from, how she was going to live, it seemed impossible
-to feel any thing but compassion and respect; especially, if to every
-well-known particular entitling her to interest, were added the highly
-probable circumstance of an attachment to Mr. Dixon, which she had so
-naturally started to herself. In that case, nothing could be more
-pitiable or more honourable than the sacrifices she had resolved on.
-Emma was very willing now to acquit her of having seduced Mr. Dixon’s
-affections from his wife, or of any thing mischievous which her
-imagination had suggested at first. If it were love, it might be
-simple, single, successless love on her side alone. She might have been
-unconsciously sucking in the sad poison, while a sharer of his
-conversation with her friend; and from the best, the purest of motives,
-might now be denying herself this visit to Ireland, and resolving to
-divide herself effectually from him and his connexions by soon
-beginning her career of laborious duty.
-
-Upon the whole, Emma left her with such softened, charitable feelings,
-as made her look around in walking home, and lament that Highbury
-afforded no young man worthy of giving her independence; nobody that
-she could wish to scheme about for her.
-
-These were charming feelings—but not lasting. Before she had committed
-herself by any public profession of eternal friendship for Jane
-Fairfax, or done more towards a recantation of past prejudices and
-errors, than saying to Mr. Knightley, “She certainly is handsome; she
-is better than handsome!” Jane had spent an evening at Hartfield with
-her grandmother and aunt, and every thing was relapsing much into its
-usual state. Former provocations reappeared. The aunt was as tiresome
-as ever; more tiresome, because anxiety for her health was now added to
-admiration of her powers; and they had to listen to the description of
-exactly how little bread and butter she ate for breakfast, and how
-small a slice of mutton for dinner, as well as to see exhibitions of
-new caps and new workbags for her mother and herself; and Jane’s
-offences rose again. They had music; Emma was obliged to play; and the
-thanks and praise which necessarily followed appeared to her an
-affectation of candour, an air of greatness, meaning only to shew off
-in higher style her own very superior performance. She was, besides,
-which was the worst of all, so cold, so cautious! There was no getting
-at her real opinion. Wrapt up in a cloak of politeness, she seemed
-determined to hazard nothing. She was disgustingly, was suspiciously
-reserved.
-
-If any thing could be more, where all was most, she was more reserved
-on the subject of Weymouth and the Dixons than any thing. She seemed
-bent on giving no real insight into Mr. Dixon’s character, or her own
-value for his company, or opinion of the suitableness of the match. It
-was all general approbation and smoothness; nothing delineated or
-distinguished. It did her no service however. Her caution was thrown
-away. Emma saw its artifice, and returned to her first surmises. There
-probably _was_ something more to conceal than her own preference; Mr.
-Dixon, perhaps, had been very near changing one friend for the other,
-or been fixed only to Miss Campbell, for the sake of the future twelve
-thousand pounds.
-
-The like reserve prevailed on other topics. She and Mr. Frank Churchill
-had been at Weymouth at the same time. It was known that they were a
-little acquainted; but not a syllable of real information could Emma
-procure as to what he truly was. “Was he handsome?”—“She believed he
-was reckoned a very fine young man.” “Was he agreeable?”—“He was
-generally thought so.” “Did he appear a sensible young man; a young man
-of information?”—“At a watering-place, or in a common London
-acquaintance, it was difficult to decide on such points. Manners were
-all that could be safely judged of, under a much longer knowledge than
-they had yet had of Mr. Churchill. She believed every body found his
-manners pleasing.” Emma could not forgive her.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER III
-
-
-Emma could not forgive her;—but as neither provocation nor resentment
-were discerned by Mr. Knightley, who had been of the party, and had
-seen only proper attention and pleasing behaviour on each side, he was
-expressing the next morning, being at Hartfield again on business with
-Mr. Woodhouse, his approbation of the whole; not so openly as he might
-have done had her father been out of the room, but speaking plain
-enough to be very intelligible to Emma. He had been used to think her
-unjust to Jane, and had now great pleasure in marking an improvement.
-
-“A very pleasant evening,” he began, as soon as Mr. Woodhouse had been
-talked into what was necessary, told that he understood, and the papers
-swept away;—“particularly pleasant. You and Miss Fairfax gave us some
-very good music. I do not know a more luxurious state, sir, than
-sitting at one’s ease to be entertained a whole evening by two such
-young women; sometimes with music and sometimes with conversation. I am
-sure Miss Fairfax must have found the evening pleasant, Emma. You left
-nothing undone. I was glad you made her play so much, for having no
-instrument at her grandmother’s, it must have been a real indulgence.”
-
-“I am happy you approved,” said Emma, smiling; “but I hope I am not
-often deficient in what is due to guests at Hartfield.”
-
-“No, my dear,” said her father instantly; “_that_ I am sure you are
-not. There is nobody half so attentive and civil as you are. If any
-thing, you are too attentive. The muffin last night—if it had been
-handed round once, I think it would have been enough.”
-
-“No,” said Mr. Knightley, nearly at the same time; “you are not often
-deficient; not often deficient either in manner or comprehension. I
-think you understand me, therefore.”
-
-An arch look expressed—“I understand you well enough;” but she said
-only, “Miss Fairfax is reserved.”
-
-“I always told you she was—a little; but you will soon overcome all
-that part of her reserve which ought to be overcome, all that has its
-foundation in diffidence. What arises from discretion must be
-honoured.”
-
-“You think her diffident. I do not see it.”
-
-“My dear Emma,” said he, moving from his chair into one close by her,
-“you are not going to tell me, I hope, that you had not a pleasant
-evening.”
-
-“Oh! no; I was pleased with my own perseverance in asking questions;
-and amused to think how little information I obtained.”
-
-“I am disappointed,” was his only answer.
-
-“I hope every body had a pleasant evening,” said Mr. Woodhouse, in his
-quiet way. “I had. Once, I felt the fire rather too much; but then I
-moved back my chair a little, a very little, and it did not disturb me.
-Miss Bates was very chatty and good-humoured, as she always is, though
-she speaks rather too quick. However, she is very agreeable, and Mrs.
-Bates too, in a different way. I like old friends; and Miss Jane
-Fairfax is a very pretty sort of young lady, a very pretty and a very
-well-behaved young lady indeed. She must have found the evening
-agreeable, Mr. Knightley, because she had Emma.”
-
-“True, sir; and Emma, because she had Miss Fairfax.”
-
-Emma saw his anxiety, and wishing to appease it, at least for the
-present, said, and with a sincerity which no one could question—
-
-“She is a sort of elegant creature that one cannot keep one’s eyes
-from. I am always watching her to admire; and I do pity her from my
-heart.”
-
-Mr. Knightley looked as if he were more gratified than he cared to
-express; and before he could make any reply, Mr. Woodhouse, whose
-thoughts were on the Bates’s, said—
-
-“It is a great pity that their circumstances should be so confined! a
-great pity indeed! and I have often wished—but it is so little one can
-venture to do—small, trifling presents, of any thing uncommon—Now we
-have killed a porker, and Emma thinks of sending them a loin or a leg;
-it is very small and delicate—Hartfield pork is not like any other
-pork—but still it is pork—and, my dear Emma, unless one could be sure
-of their making it into steaks, nicely fried, as ours are fried,
-without the smallest grease, and not roast it, for no stomach can bear
-roast pork—I think we had better send the leg—do not you think so, my
-dear?”
-
-“My dear papa, I sent the whole hind-quarter. I knew you would wish it.
-There will be the leg to be salted, you know, which is so very nice,
-and the loin to be dressed directly in any manner they like.”
-
-“That’s right, my dear, very right. I had not thought of it before, but
-that is the best way. They must not over-salt the leg; and then, if it
-is not over-salted, and if it is very thoroughly boiled, just as Serle
-boils ours, and eaten very moderately of, with a boiled turnip, and a
-little carrot or parsnip, I do not consider it unwholesome.”
-
-“Emma,” said Mr. Knightley presently, “I have a piece of news for you.
-You like news—and I heard an article in my way hither that I think will
-interest you.”
-
-“News! Oh! yes, I always like news. What is it?—why do you smile
-so?—where did you hear it?—at Randalls?”
-
-He had time only to say,
-
-“No, not at Randalls; I have not been near Randalls,” when the door was
-thrown open, and Miss Bates and Miss Fairfax walked into the room. Full
-of thanks, and full of news, Miss Bates knew not which to give
-quickest. Mr. Knightley soon saw that he had lost his moment, and that
-not another syllable of communication could rest with him.
-
-“Oh! my dear sir, how are you this morning? My dear Miss Woodhouse—I
-come quite over-powered. Such a beautiful hind-quarter of pork! You are
-too bountiful! Have you heard the news? Mr. Elton is going to be
-married.”
-
-Emma had not had time even to think of Mr. Elton, and she was so
-completely surprized that she could not avoid a little start, and a
-little blush, at the sound.
-
-“There is my news:—I thought it would interest you,” said Mr.
-Knightley, with a smile which implied a conviction of some part of what
-had passed between them.
-
-“But where could _you_ hear it?” cried Miss Bates. “Where could you
-possibly hear it, Mr. Knightley? For it is not five minutes since I
-received Mrs. Cole’s note—no, it cannot be more than five—or at least
-ten—for I had got my bonnet and spencer on, just ready to come out—I
-was only gone down to speak to Patty again about the pork—Jane was
-standing in the passage—were not you, Jane?—for my mother was so afraid
-that we had not any salting-pan large enough. So I said I would go down
-and see, and Jane said, ‘Shall I go down instead? for I think you have
-a little cold, and Patty has been washing the kitchen.’—‘Oh! my dear,’
-said I—well, and just then came the note. A Miss Hawkins—that’s all I
-know. A Miss Hawkins of Bath. But, Mr. Knightley, how could you
-possibly have heard it? for the very moment Mr. Cole told Mrs. Cole of
-it, she sat down and wrote to me. A Miss Hawkins—”
-
-“I was with Mr. Cole on business an hour and a half ago. He had just
-read Elton’s letter as I was shewn in, and handed it to me directly.”
-
-“Well! that is quite—I suppose there never was a piece of news more
-generally interesting. My dear sir, you really are too bountiful. My
-mother desires her very best compliments and regards, and a thousand
-thanks, and says you really quite oppress her.”
-
-“We consider our Hartfield pork,” replied Mr. Woodhouse—“indeed it
-certainly is, so very superior to all other pork, that Emma and I
-cannot have a greater pleasure than—”
-
-“Oh! my dear sir, as my mother says, our friends are only too good to
-us. If ever there were people who, without having great wealth
-themselves, had every thing they could wish for, I am sure it is us. We
-may well say that ‘our lot is cast in a goodly heritage.’ Well, Mr.
-Knightley, and so you actually saw the letter; well—”
-
-“It was short—merely to announce—but cheerful, exulting, of course.”—
-Here was a sly glance at Emma. “He had been so fortunate as to—I forget
-the precise words—one has no business to remember them. The information
-was, as you state, that he was going to be married to a Miss Hawkins.
-By his style, I should imagine it just settled.”
-
-“Mr. Elton going to be married!” said Emma, as soon as she could speak.
-“He will have every body’s wishes for his happiness.”
-
-“He is very young to settle,” was Mr. Woodhouse’s observation. “He had
-better not be in a hurry. He seemed to me very well off as he was. We
-were always glad to see him at Hartfield.”
-
-“A new neighbour for us all, Miss Woodhouse!” said Miss Bates,
-joyfully; “my mother is so pleased!—she says she cannot bear to have
-the poor old Vicarage without a mistress. This is great news, indeed.
-Jane, you have never seen Mr. Elton!—no wonder that you have such a
-curiosity to see him.”
-
-Jane’s curiosity did not appear of that absorbing nature as wholly to
-occupy her.
-
-“No—I have never seen Mr. Elton,” she replied, starting on this appeal;
-“is he—is he a tall man?”
-
-“Who shall answer that question?” cried Emma. “My father would say
-‘yes,’ Mr. Knightley ‘no;’ and Miss Bates and I that he is just the
-happy medium. When you have been here a little longer, Miss Fairfax,
-you will understand that Mr. Elton is the standard of perfection in
-Highbury, both in person and mind.”
-
-“Very true, Miss Woodhouse, so she will. He is the very best young
-man—But, my dear Jane, if you remember, I told you yesterday he was
-precisely the height of Mr. Perry. Miss Hawkins,—I dare say, an
-excellent young woman. His extreme attention to my mother—wanting her
-to sit in the vicarage pew, that she might hear the better, for my
-mother is a little deaf, you know—it is not much, but she does not hear
-quite quick. Jane says that Colonel Campbell is a little deaf. He
-fancied bathing might be good for it—the warm bath—but she says it did
-him no lasting benefit. Colonel Campbell, you know, is quite our angel.
-And Mr. Dixon seems a very charming young man, quite worthy of him. It
-is such a happiness when good people get together—and they always do.
-Now, here will be Mr. Elton and Miss Hawkins; and there are the Coles,
-such very good people; and the Perrys—I suppose there never was a
-happier or a better couple than Mr. and Mrs. Perry. I say, sir,”
-turning to Mr. Woodhouse, “I think there are few places with such
-society as Highbury. I always say, we are quite blessed in our
-neighbours.—My dear sir, if there is one thing my mother loves better
-than another, it is pork—a roast loin of pork—”
-
-“As to who, or what Miss Hawkins is, or how long he has been acquainted
-with her,” said Emma, “nothing I suppose can be known. One feels that
-it cannot be a very long acquaintance. He has been gone only four
-weeks.”
-
-Nobody had any information to give; and, after a few more wonderings,
-Emma said,
-
-“You are silent, Miss Fairfax—but I hope you mean to take an interest
-in this news. You, who have been hearing and seeing so much of late on
-these subjects, who must have been so deep in the business on Miss
-Campbell’s account—we shall not excuse your being indifferent about Mr.
-Elton and Miss Hawkins.”
-
-“When I have seen Mr. Elton,” replied Jane, “I dare say I shall be
-interested—but I believe it requires _that_ with me. And as it is some
-months since Miss Campbell married, the impression may be a little worn
-off.”
-
-“Yes, he has been gone just four weeks, as you observe, Miss
-Woodhouse,” said Miss Bates, “four weeks yesterday.—A Miss
-Hawkins!—Well, I had always rather fancied it would be some young lady
-hereabouts; not that I ever—Mrs. Cole once whispered to me—but I
-immediately said, ‘No, Mr. Elton is a most worthy young man—but’—In
-short, I do not think I am particularly quick at those sort of
-discoveries. I do not pretend to it. What is before me, I see. At the
-same time, nobody could wonder if Mr. Elton should have aspired—Miss
-Woodhouse lets me chatter on, so good-humouredly. She knows I would not
-offend for the world. How does Miss Smith do? She seems quite recovered
-now. Have you heard from Mrs. John Knightley lately? Oh! those dear
-little children. Jane, do you know I always fancy Mr. Dixon like Mr.
-John Knightley. I mean in person—tall, and with that sort of look—and
-not very talkative.”
-
-“Quite wrong, my dear aunt; there is no likeness at all.”
-
-“Very odd! but one never does form a just idea of any body beforehand.
-One takes up a notion, and runs away with it. Mr. Dixon, you say, is
-not, strictly speaking, handsome?”
-
-“Handsome! Oh! no—far from it—certainly plain. I told you he was
-plain.”
-
-“My dear, you said that Miss Campbell would not allow him to be plain,
-and that you yourself—”
-
-“Oh! as for me, my judgment is worth nothing. Where I have a regard, I
-always think a person well-looking. But I gave what I believed the
-general opinion, when I called him plain.”
-
-“Well, my dear Jane, I believe we must be running away. The weather
-does not look well, and grandmama will be uneasy. You are too obliging,
-my dear Miss Woodhouse; but we really must take leave. This has been a
-most agreeable piece of news indeed. I shall just go round by Mrs.
-Cole’s; but I shall not stop three minutes: and, Jane, you had better
-go home directly—I would not have you out in a shower!—We think she is
-the better for Highbury already. Thank you, we do indeed. I shall not
-attempt calling on Mrs. Goddard, for I really do not think she cares
-for any thing but _boiled_ pork: when we dress the leg it will be
-another thing. Good morning to you, my dear sir. Oh! Mr. Knightley is
-coming too. Well, that is so very!—I am sure if Jane is tired, you will
-be so kind as to give her your arm.—Mr. Elton, and Miss Hawkins!—Good
-morning to you.”
-
-Emma, alone with her father, had half her attention wanted by him while
-he lamented that young people would be in such a hurry to marry—and to
-marry strangers too—and the other half she could give to her own view
-of the subject. It was to herself an amusing and a very welcome piece
-of news, as proving that Mr. Elton could not have suffered long; but
-she was sorry for Harriet: Harriet must feel it—and all that she could
-hope was, by giving the first information herself, to save her from
-hearing it abruptly from others. It was now about the time that she was
-likely to call. If she were to meet Miss Bates in her way!—and upon its
-beginning to rain, Emma was obliged to expect that the weather would be
-detaining her at Mrs. Goddard’s, and that the intelligence would
-undoubtedly rush upon her without preparation.
-
-The shower was heavy, but short; and it had not been over five minutes,
-when in came Harriet, with just the heated, agitated look which
-hurrying thither with a full heart was likely to give; and the “Oh!
-Miss Woodhouse, what do you think has happened!” which instantly burst
-forth, had all the evidence of corresponding perturbation. As the blow
-was given, Emma felt that she could not now shew greater kindness than
-in listening; and Harriet, unchecked, ran eagerly through what she had
-to tell. “She had set out from Mrs. Goddard’s half an hour ago—she had
-been afraid it would rain—she had been afraid it would pour down every
-moment—but she thought she might get to Hartfield first—she had hurried
-on as fast as possible; but then, as she was passing by the house where
-a young woman was making up a gown for her, she thought she would just
-step in and see how it went on; and though she did not seem to stay
-half a moment there, soon after she came out it began to rain, and she
-did not know what to do; so she ran on directly, as fast as she could,
-and took shelter at Ford’s.”—Ford’s was the principal woollen-draper,
-linen-draper, and haberdasher’s shop united; the shop first in size and
-fashion in the place.—“And so, there she had set, without an idea of
-any thing in the world, full ten minutes, perhaps—when, all of a
-sudden, who should come in—to be sure it was so very odd!—but they
-always dealt at Ford’s—who should come in, but Elizabeth Martin and her
-brother!—Dear Miss Woodhouse! only think. I thought I should have
-fainted. I did not know what to do. I was sitting near the
-door—Elizabeth saw me directly; but he did not; he was busy with the
-umbrella. I am sure she saw me, but she looked away directly, and took
-no notice; and they both went to quite the farther end of the shop; and
-I kept sitting near the door!—Oh! dear; I was so miserable! I am sure I
-must have been as white as my gown. I could not go away you know,
-because of the rain; but I did so wish myself anywhere in the world but
-there.—Oh! dear, Miss Woodhouse—well, at last, I fancy, he looked round
-and saw me; for instead of going on with her buyings, they began
-whispering to one another. I am sure they were talking of me; and I
-could not help thinking that he was persuading her to speak to me—(do
-you think he was, Miss Woodhouse?)—for presently she came forward—came
-quite up to me, and asked me how I did, and seemed ready to shake
-hands, if I would. She did not do any of it in the same way that she
-used; I could see she was altered; but, however, she seemed to _try_ to
-be very friendly, and we shook hands, and stood talking some time; but
-I know no more what I said—I was in such a tremble!—I remember she said
-she was sorry we never met now; which I thought almost too kind! Dear,
-Miss Woodhouse, I was absolutely miserable! By that time, it was
-beginning to hold up, and I was determined that nothing should stop me
-from getting away—and then—only think!—I found he was coming up towards
-me too—slowly you know, and as if he did not quite know what to do; and
-so he came and spoke, and I answered—and I stood for a minute, feeling
-dreadfully, you know, one can’t tell how; and then I took courage, and
-said it did not rain, and I must go; and so off I set; and I had not
-got three yards from the door, when he came after me, only to say, if I
-was going to Hartfield, he thought I had much better go round by Mr.
-Cole’s stables, for I should find the near way quite floated by this
-rain. Oh! dear, I thought it would have been the death of me! So I
-said, I was very much obliged to him: you know I could not do less; and
-then he went back to Elizabeth, and I came round by the stables—I
-believe I did—but I hardly knew where I was, or any thing about it. Oh!
-Miss Woodhouse, I would rather done any thing than have it happen: and
-yet, you know, there was a sort of satisfaction in seeing him behave so
-pleasantly and so kindly. And Elizabeth, too. Oh! Miss Woodhouse, do
-talk to me and make me comfortable again.”
-
-Very sincerely did Emma wish to do so; but it was not immediately in
-her power. She was obliged to stop and think. She was not thoroughly
-comfortable herself. The young man’s conduct, and his sister’s, seemed
-the result of real feeling, and she could not but pity them. As Harriet
-described it, there had been an interesting mixture of wounded
-affection and genuine delicacy in their behaviour. But she had believed
-them to be well-meaning, worthy people before; and what difference did
-this make in the evils of the connexion? It was folly to be disturbed
-by it. Of course, he must be sorry to lose her—they must be all sorry.
-Ambition, as well as love, had probably been mortified. They might all
-have hoped to rise by Harriet’s acquaintance: and besides, what was the
-value of Harriet’s description?—So easily pleased—so little
-discerning;—what signified her praise?
-
-She exerted herself, and did try to make her comfortable, by
-considering all that had passed as a mere trifle, and quite unworthy of
-being dwelt on,
-
-“It might be distressing, for the moment,” said she; “but you seem to
-have behaved extremely well; and it is over—and may never—can never, as
-a first meeting, occur again, and therefore you need not think about
-it.”
-
-Harriet said, “very true,” and she “would not think about it;” but
-still she talked of it—still she could talk of nothing else; and Emma,
-at last, in order to put the Martins out of her head, was obliged to
-hurry on the news, which she had meant to give with so much tender
-caution; hardly knowing herself whether to rejoice or be angry, ashamed
-or only amused, at such a state of mind in poor Harriet—such a
-conclusion of Mr. Elton’s importance with her!
-
-Mr. Elton’s rights, however, gradually revived. Though she did not feel
-the first intelligence as she might have done the day before, or an
-hour before, its interest soon increased; and before their first
-conversation was over, she had talked herself into all the sensations
-of curiosity, wonder and regret, pain and pleasure, as to this
-fortunate Miss Hawkins, which could conduce to place the Martins under
-proper subordination in her fancy.
-
-Emma learned to be rather glad that there had been such a meeting. It
-had been serviceable in deadening the first shock, without retaining
-any influence to alarm. As Harriet now lived, the Martins could not get
-at her, without seeking her, where hitherto they had wanted either the
-courage or the condescension to seek her; for since her refusal of the
-brother, the sisters never had been at Mrs. Goddard’s; and a
-twelvemonth might pass without their being thrown together again, with
-any necessity, or even any power of speech.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER IV
-
-
-Human nature is so well disposed towards those who are in interesting
-situations, that a young person, who either marries or dies, is sure of
-being kindly spoken of.
-
-A week had not passed since Miss Hawkins’s name was first mentioned in
-Highbury, before she was, by some means or other, discovered to have
-every recommendation of person and mind; to be handsome, elegant,
-highly accomplished, and perfectly amiable: and when Mr. Elton himself
-arrived to triumph in his happy prospects, and circulate the fame of
-her merits, there was very little more for him to do, than to tell her
-Christian name, and say whose music she principally played.
-
-Mr. Elton returned, a very happy man. He had gone away rejected and
-mortified—disappointed in a very sanguine hope, after a series of what
-appeared to him strong encouragement; and not only losing the right
-lady, but finding himself debased to the level of a very wrong one. He
-had gone away deeply offended—he came back engaged to another—and to
-another as superior, of course, to the first, as under such
-circumstances what is gained always is to what is lost. He came back
-gay and self-satisfied, eager and busy, caring nothing for Miss
-Woodhouse, and defying Miss Smith.
-
-The charming Augusta Hawkins, in addition to all the usual advantages
-of perfect beauty and merit, was in possession of an independent
-fortune, of so many thousands as would always be called ten; a point of
-some dignity, as well as some convenience: the story told well; he had
-not thrown himself away—he had gained a woman of 10,000 _l_. or
-thereabouts; and he had gained her with such delightful rapidity—the
-first hour of introduction had been so very soon followed by
-distinguishing notice; the history which he had to give Mrs. Cole of
-the rise and progress of the affair was so glorious—the steps so quick,
-from the accidental rencontre, to the dinner at Mr. Green’s, and the
-party at Mrs. Brown’s—smiles and blushes rising in importance—with
-consciousness and agitation richly scattered—the lady had been so
-easily impressed—so sweetly disposed—had in short, to use a most
-intelligible phrase, been so very ready to have him, that vanity and
-prudence were equally contented.
-
-He had caught both substance and shadow—both fortune and affection, and
-was just the happy man he ought to be; talking only of himself and his
-own concerns—expecting to be congratulated—ready to be laughed at—and,
-with cordial, fearless smiles, now addressing all the young ladies of
-the place, to whom, a few weeks ago, he would have been more cautiously
-gallant.
-
-The wedding was no distant event, as the parties had only themselves to
-please, and nothing but the necessary preparations to wait for; and
-when he set out for Bath again, there was a general expectation, which
-a certain glance of Mrs. Cole’s did not seem to contradict, that when
-he next entered Highbury he would bring his bride.
-
-During his present short stay, Emma had barely seen him; but just
-enough to feel that the first meeting was over, and to give her the
-impression of his not being improved by the mixture of pique and
-pretension, now spread over his air. She was, in fact, beginning very
-much to wonder that she had ever thought him pleasing at all; and his
-sight was so inseparably connected with some very disagreeable
-feelings, that, except in a moral light, as a penance, a lesson, a
-source of profitable humiliation to her own mind, she would have been
-thankful to be assured of never seeing him again. She wished him very
-well; but he gave her pain, and his welfare twenty miles off would
-administer most satisfaction.
-
-The pain of his continued residence in Highbury, however, must
-certainly be lessened by his marriage. Many vain solicitudes would be
-prevented—many awkwardnesses smoothed by it. A _Mrs._ _Elton_ would be
-an excuse for any change of intercourse; former intimacy might sink
-without remark. It would be almost beginning their life of civility
-again.
-
-Of the lady, individually, Emma thought very little. She was good
-enough for Mr. Elton, no doubt; accomplished enough for
-Highbury—handsome enough—to look plain, probably, by Harriet’s side. As
-to connexion, there Emma was perfectly easy; persuaded, that after all
-his own vaunted claims and disdain of Harriet, he had done nothing. On
-that article, truth seemed attainable. _What_ she was, must be
-uncertain; but _who_ she was, might be found out; and setting aside the
-10,000 l., it did not appear that she was at all Harriet’s superior.
-She brought no name, no blood, no alliance. Miss Hawkins was the
-youngest of the two daughters of a Bristol—merchant, of course, he must
-be called; but, as the whole of the profits of his mercantile life
-appeared so very moderate, it was not unfair to guess the dignity of
-his line of trade had been very moderate also. Part of every winter she
-had been used to spend in Bath; but Bristol was her home, the very
-heart of Bristol; for though the father and mother had died some years
-ago, an uncle remained—in the law line—nothing more distinctly
-honourable was hazarded of him, than that he was in the law line; and
-with him the daughter had lived. Emma guessed him to be the drudge of
-some attorney, and too stupid to rise. And all the grandeur of the
-connexion seemed dependent on the elder sister, who was _very_ _well_
-_married_, to a gentleman in a _great_ _way_, near Bristol, who kept
-two carriages! That was the wind-up of the history; that was the glory
-of Miss Hawkins.
-
-Could she but have given Harriet her feelings about it all! She had
-talked her into love; but, alas! she was not so easily to be talked out
-of it. The charm of an object to occupy the many vacancies of Harriet’s
-mind was not to be talked away. He might be superseded by another; he
-certainly would indeed; nothing could be clearer; even a Robert Martin
-would have been sufficient; but nothing else, she feared, would cure
-her. Harriet was one of those, who, having once begun, would be always
-in love. And now, poor girl! she was considerably worse from this
-reappearance of Mr. Elton. She was always having a glimpse of him
-somewhere or other. Emma saw him only once; but two or three times
-every day Harriet was sure _just_ to meet with him, or _just_ to miss
-him, _just_ to hear his voice, or see his shoulder, _just_ to have
-something occur to preserve him in her fancy, in all the favouring
-warmth of surprize and conjecture. She was, moreover, perpetually
-hearing about him; for, excepting when at Hartfield, she was always
-among those who saw no fault in Mr. Elton, and found nothing so
-interesting as the discussion of his concerns; and every report,
-therefore, every guess—all that had already occurred, all that might
-occur in the arrangement of his affairs, comprehending income,
-servants, and furniture, was continually in agitation around her. Her
-regard was receiving strength by invariable praise of him, and her
-regrets kept alive, and feelings irritated by ceaseless repetitions of
-Miss Hawkins’s happiness, and continual observation of, how much he
-seemed attached!—his air as he walked by the house—the very sitting of
-his hat, being all in proof of how much he was in love!
-
-Had it been allowable entertainment, had there been no pain to her
-friend, or reproach to herself, in the waverings of Harriet’s mind,
-Emma would have been amused by its variations. Sometimes Mr. Elton
-predominated, sometimes the Martins; and each was occasionally useful
-as a check to the other. Mr. Elton’s engagement had been the cure of
-the agitation of meeting Mr. Martin. The unhappiness produced by the
-knowledge of that engagement had been a little put aside by Elizabeth
-Martin’s calling at Mrs. Goddard’s a few days afterwards. Harriet had
-not been at home; but a note had been prepared and left for her,
-written in the very style to touch; a small mixture of reproach, with a
-great deal of kindness; and till Mr. Elton himself appeared, she had
-been much occupied by it, continually pondering over what could be done
-in return, and wishing to do more than she dared to confess. But Mr.
-Elton, in person, had driven away all such cares. While he staid, the
-Martins were forgotten; and on the very morning of his setting off for
-Bath again, Emma, to dissipate some of the distress it occasioned,
-judged it best for her to return Elizabeth Martin’s visit.
-
-How that visit was to be acknowledged—what would be necessary—and what
-might be safest, had been a point of some doubtful consideration.
-Absolute neglect of the mother and sisters, when invited to come, would
-be ingratitude. It must not be: and yet the danger of a renewal of the
-acquaintance—!
-
-After much thinking, she could determine on nothing better, than
-Harriet’s returning the visit; but in a way that, if they had
-understanding, should convince them that it was to be only a formal
-acquaintance. She meant to take her in the carriage, leave her at the
-Abbey Mill, while she drove a little farther, and call for her again so
-soon, as to allow no time for insidious applications or dangerous
-recurrences to the past, and give the most decided proof of what degree
-of intimacy was chosen for the future.
-
-She could think of nothing better: and though there was something in it
-which her own heart could not approve—something of ingratitude, merely
-glossed over—it must be done, or what would become of Harriet?
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER V
-
-
-Small heart had Harriet for visiting. Only half an hour before her
-friend called for her at Mrs. Goddard’s, her evil stars had led her to
-the very spot where, at that moment, a trunk, directed to _The Rev.
-Philip Elton, White-Hart, Bath_, was to be seen under the operation of
-being lifted into the butcher’s cart, which was to convey it to where
-the coaches past; and every thing in this world, excepting that trunk
-and the direction, was consequently a blank.
-
-She went, however; and when they reached the farm, and she was to be
-put down, at the end of the broad, neat gravel walk, which led between
-espalier apple-trees to the front door, the sight of every thing which
-had given her so much pleasure the autumn before, was beginning to
-revive a little local agitation; and when they parted, Emma observed
-her to be looking around with a sort of fearful curiosity, which
-determined her not to allow the visit to exceed the proposed quarter of
-an hour. She went on herself, to give that portion of time to an old
-servant who was married, and settled in Donwell.
-
-The quarter of an hour brought her punctually to the white gate again;
-and Miss Smith receiving her summons, was with her without delay, and
-unattended by any alarming young man. She came solitarily down the
-gravel walk—a Miss Martin just appearing at the door, and parting with
-her seemingly with ceremonious civility.
-
-Harriet could not very soon give an intelligible account. She was
-feeling too much; but at last Emma collected from her enough to
-understand the sort of meeting, and the sort of pain it was creating.
-She had seen only Mrs. Martin and the two girls. They had received her
-doubtingly, if not coolly; and nothing beyond the merest commonplace
-had been talked almost all the time—till just at last, when Mrs.
-Martin’s saying, all of a sudden, that she thought Miss Smith was
-grown, had brought on a more interesting subject, and a warmer manner.
-In that very room she had been measured last September, with her two
-friends. There were the pencilled marks and memorandums on the wainscot
-by the window. _He_ had done it. They all seemed to remember the day,
-the hour, the party, the occasion—to feel the same consciousness, the
-same regrets—to be ready to return to the same good understanding; and
-they were just growing again like themselves, (Harriet, as Emma must
-suspect, as ready as the best of them to be cordial and happy,) when
-the carriage reappeared, and all was over. The style of the visit, and
-the shortness of it, were then felt to be decisive. Fourteen minutes to
-be given to those with whom she had thankfully passed six weeks not six
-months ago!—Emma could not but picture it all, and feel how justly they
-might resent, how naturally Harriet must suffer. It was a bad business.
-She would have given a great deal, or endured a great deal, to have had
-the Martins in a higher rank of life. They were so deserving, that a
-_little_ higher should have been enough: but as it was, how could she
-have done otherwise?—Impossible!—She could not repent. They must be
-separated; but there was a great deal of pain in the process—so much to
-herself at this time, that she soon felt the necessity of a little
-consolation, and resolved on going home by way of Randalls to procure
-it. Her mind was quite sick of Mr. Elton and the Martins. The
-refreshment of Randalls was absolutely necessary.
-
-It was a good scheme; but on driving to the door they heard that
-neither “master nor mistress was at home;” they had both been out some
-time; the man believed they were gone to Hartfield.
-
-“This is too bad,” cried Emma, as they turned away. “And now we shall
-just miss them; too provoking!—I do not know when I have been so
-disappointed.” And she leaned back in the corner, to indulge her
-murmurs, or to reason them away; probably a little of both—such being
-the commonest process of a not ill-disposed mind. Presently the
-carriage stopt; she looked up; it was stopt by Mr. and Mrs. Weston, who
-were standing to speak to her. There was instant pleasure in the sight
-of them, and still greater pleasure was conveyed in sound—for Mr.
-Weston immediately accosted her with,
-
-“How d’ye do?—how d’ye do?—We have been sitting with your father—glad
-to see him so well. Frank comes to-morrow—I had a letter this
-morning—we see him to-morrow by dinner-time to a certainty—he is at
-Oxford to-day, and he comes for a whole fortnight; I knew it would be
-so. If he had come at Christmas he could not have staid three days; I
-was always glad he did not come at Christmas; now we are going to have
-just the right weather for him, fine, dry, settled weather. We shall
-enjoy him completely; every thing has turned out exactly as we could
-wish.”
-
-There was no resisting such news, no possibility of avoiding the
-influence of such a happy face as Mr. Weston’s, confirmed as it all was
-by the words and the countenance of his wife, fewer and quieter, but
-not less to the purpose. To know that _she_ thought his coming certain
-was enough to make Emma consider it so, and sincerely did she rejoice
-in their joy. It was a most delightful reanimation of exhausted
-spirits. The worn-out past was sunk in the freshness of what was
-coming; and in the rapidity of half a moment’s thought, she hoped Mr.
-Elton would now be talked of no more.
-
-Mr. Weston gave her the history of the engagements at Enscombe, which
-allowed his son to answer for having an entire fortnight at his
-command, as well as the route and the method of his journey; and she
-listened, and smiled, and congratulated.
-
-“I shall soon bring him over to Hartfield,” said he, at the conclusion.
-
-Emma could imagine she saw a touch of the arm at this speech, from his
-wife.
-
-“We had better move on, Mr. Weston,” said she, “we are detaining the
-girls.”
-
-“Well, well, I am ready;”—and turning again to Emma, “but you must not
-be expecting such a _very_ fine young man; you have only had _my_
-account you know; I dare say he is really nothing
-extraordinary:”—though his own sparkling eyes at the moment were
-speaking a very different conviction.
-
-Emma could look perfectly unconscious and innocent, and answer in a
-manner that appropriated nothing.
-
-“Think of me to-morrow, my dear Emma, about four o’clock,” was Mrs.
-Weston’s parting injunction; spoken with some anxiety, and meant only
-for her.
-
-“Four o’clock!—depend upon it he will be here by three,” was Mr.
-Weston’s quick amendment; and so ended a most satisfactory meeting.
-Emma’s spirits were mounted quite up to happiness; every thing wore a
-different air; James and his horses seemed not half so sluggish as
-before. When she looked at the hedges, she thought the elder at least
-must soon be coming out; and when she turned round to Harriet, she saw
-something like a look of spring, a tender smile even there.
-
-“Will Mr. Frank Churchill pass through Bath as well as Oxford?”—was a
-question, however, which did not augur much.
-
-But neither geography nor tranquillity could come all at once, and Emma
-was now in a humour to resolve that they should both come in time.
-
-The morning of the interesting day arrived, and Mrs. Weston’s faithful
-pupil did not forget either at ten, or eleven, or twelve o’clock, that
-she was to think of her at four.
-
-“My dear, dear anxious friend,”—said she, in mental soliloquy, while
-walking downstairs from her own room, “always overcareful for every
-body’s comfort but your own; I see you now in all your little fidgets,
-going again and again into his room, to be sure that all is right.” The
-clock struck twelve as she passed through the hall. “’Tis twelve; I
-shall not forget to think of you four hours hence; and by this time
-to-morrow, perhaps, or a little later, I may be thinking of the
-possibility of their all calling here. I am sure they will bring him
-soon.”
-
-She opened the parlour door, and saw two gentlemen sitting with her
-father—Mr. Weston and his son. They had been arrived only a few
-minutes, and Mr. Weston had scarcely finished his explanation of
-Frank’s being a day before his time, and her father was yet in the
-midst of his very civil welcome and congratulations, when she appeared,
-to have her share of surprize, introduction, and pleasure.
-
-The Frank Churchill so long talked of, so high in interest, was
-actually before her—he was presented to her, and she did not think too
-much had been said in his praise; he was a _very_ good looking young
-man; height, air, address, all were unexceptionable, and his
-countenance had a great deal of the spirit and liveliness of his
-father’s; he looked quick and sensible. She felt immediately that she
-should like him; and there was a well-bred ease of manner, and a
-readiness to talk, which convinced her that he came intending to be
-acquainted with her, and that acquainted they soon must be.
-
-He had reached Randalls the evening before. She was pleased with the
-eagerness to arrive which had made him alter his plan, and travel
-earlier, later, and quicker, that he might gain half a day.
-
-“I told you yesterday,” cried Mr. Weston with exultation, “I told you
-all that he would be here before the time named. I remembered what I
-used to do myself. One cannot creep upon a journey; one cannot help
-getting on faster than one has planned; and the pleasure of coming in
-upon one’s friends before the look-out begins, is worth a great deal
-more than any little exertion it needs.”
-
-“It is a great pleasure where one can indulge in it,” said the young
-man, “though there are not many houses that I should presume on so far;
-but in coming _home_ I felt I might do any thing.”
-
-The word _home_ made his father look on him with fresh complacency.
-Emma was directly sure that he knew how to make himself agreeable; the
-conviction was strengthened by what followed. He was very much pleased
-with Randalls, thought it a most admirably arranged house, would hardly
-allow it even to be very small, admired the situation, the walk to
-Highbury, Highbury itself, Hartfield still more, and professed himself
-to have always felt the sort of interest in the country which none but
-one’s _own_ country gives, and the greatest curiosity to visit it. That
-he should never have been able to indulge so amiable a feeling before,
-passed suspiciously through Emma’s brain; but still, if it were a
-falsehood, it was a pleasant one, and pleasantly handled. His manner
-had no air of study or exaggeration. He did really look and speak as if
-in a state of no common enjoyment.
-
-Their subjects in general were such as belong to an opening
-acquaintance. On his side were the inquiries,—“Was she a
-horsewoman?—Pleasant rides?—Pleasant walks?—Had they a large
-neighbourhood?—Highbury, perhaps, afforded society enough?—There were
-several very pretty houses in and about it.—Balls—had they balls?—Was
-it a musical society?”
-
-But when satisfied on all these points, and their acquaintance
-proportionably advanced, he contrived to find an opportunity, while
-their two fathers were engaged with each other, of introducing his
-mother-in-law, and speaking of her with so much handsome praise, so
-much warm admiration, so much gratitude for the happiness she secured
-to his father, and her very kind reception of himself, as was an
-additional proof of his knowing how to please—and of his certainly
-thinking it worth while to try to please her. He did not advance a word
-of praise beyond what she knew to be thoroughly deserved by Mrs.
-Weston; but, undoubtedly he could know very little of the matter. He
-understood what would be welcome; he could be sure of little else. “His
-father’s marriage,” he said, “had been the wisest measure, every friend
-must rejoice in it; and the family from whom he had received such a
-blessing must be ever considered as having conferred the highest
-obligation on him.”
-
-He got as near as he could to thanking her for Miss Taylor’s merits,
-without seeming quite to forget that in the common course of things it
-was to be rather supposed that Miss Taylor had formed Miss Woodhouse’s
-character, than Miss Woodhouse Miss Taylor’s. And at last, as if
-resolved to qualify his opinion completely for travelling round to its
-object, he wound it all up with astonishment at the youth and beauty of
-her person.
-
-“Elegant, agreeable manners, I was prepared for,” said he; “but I
-confess that, considering every thing, I had not expected more than a
-very tolerably well-looking woman of a certain age; I did not know that
-I was to find a pretty young woman in Mrs. Weston.”
-
-“You cannot see too much perfection in Mrs. Weston for my feelings,”
-said Emma; “were you to guess her to be _eighteen_, I should listen
-with pleasure; but _she_ would be ready to quarrel with you for using
-such words. Don’t let her imagine that you have spoken of her as a
-pretty young woman.”
-
-“I hope I should know better,” he replied; “no, depend upon it, (with a
-gallant bow,) that in addressing Mrs. Weston I should understand whom I
-might praise without any danger of being thought extravagant in my
-terms.”
-
-Emma wondered whether the same suspicion of what might be expected from
-their knowing each other, which had taken strong possession of her
-mind, had ever crossed his; and whether his compliments were to be
-considered as marks of acquiescence, or proofs of defiance. She must
-see more of him to understand his ways; at present she only felt they
-were agreeable.
-
-She had no doubt of what Mr. Weston was often thinking about. His quick
-eye she detected again and again glancing towards them with a happy
-expression; and even, when he might have determined not to look, she
-was confident that he was often listening.
-
-Her own father’s perfect exemption from any thought of the kind, the
-entire deficiency in him of all such sort of penetration or suspicion,
-was a most comfortable circumstance. Happily he was not farther from
-approving matrimony than from foreseeing it.—Though always objecting to
-every marriage that was arranged, he never suffered beforehand from the
-apprehension of any; it seemed as if he could not think so ill of any
-two persons’ understanding as to suppose they meant to marry till it
-were proved against them. She blessed the favouring blindness. He could
-now, without the drawback of a single unpleasant surmise, without a
-glance forward at any possible treachery in his guest, give way to all
-his natural kind-hearted civility in solicitous inquiries after Mr.
-Frank Churchill’s accommodation on his journey, through the sad evils
-of sleeping two nights on the road, and express very genuine unmixed
-anxiety to know that he had certainly escaped catching cold—which,
-however, he could not allow him to feel quite assured of himself till
-after another night.
-
-A reasonable visit paid, Mr. Weston began to move.—“He must be going.
-He had business at the Crown about his hay, and a great many errands
-for Mrs. Weston at Ford’s, but he need not hurry any body else.” His
-son, too well bred to hear the hint, rose immediately also, saying,
-
-“As you are going farther on business, sir, I will take the opportunity
-of paying a visit, which must be paid some day or other, and therefore
-may as well be paid now. I have the honour of being acquainted with a
-neighbour of yours, (turning to Emma,) a lady residing in or near
-Highbury; a family of the name of Fairfax. I shall have no difficulty,
-I suppose, in finding the house; though Fairfax, I believe, is not the
-proper name—I should rather say Barnes, or Bates. Do you know any
-family of that name?”
-
-“To be sure we do,” cried his father; “Mrs. Bates—we passed her house—I
-saw Miss Bates at the window. True, true, you are acquainted with Miss
-Fairfax; I remember you knew her at Weymouth, and a fine girl she is.
-Call upon her, by all means.”
-
-“There is no necessity for my calling this morning,” said the young
-man; “another day would do as well; but there was that degree of
-acquaintance at Weymouth which—”
-
-“Oh! go to-day, go to-day. Do not defer it. What is right to be done
-cannot be done too soon. And, besides, I must give you a hint, Frank;
-any want of attention to her _here_ should be carefully avoided. You
-saw her with the Campbells, when she was the equal of every body she
-mixed with, but here she is with a poor old grandmother, who has barely
-enough to live on. If you do not call early it will be a slight.”
-
-The son looked convinced.
-
-“I have heard her speak of the acquaintance,” said Emma; “she is a very
-elegant young woman.”
-
-He agreed to it, but with so quiet a “Yes,” as inclined her almost to
-doubt his real concurrence; and yet there must be a very distinct sort
-of elegance for the fashionable world, if Jane Fairfax could be thought
-only ordinarily gifted with it.
-
-“If you were never particularly struck by her manners before,” said
-she, “I think you will to-day. You will see her to advantage; see her
-and hear her—no, I am afraid you will not hear her at all, for she has
-an aunt who never holds her tongue.”
-
-“You are acquainted with Miss Jane Fairfax, sir, are you?” said Mr.
-Woodhouse, always the last to make his way in conversation; “then give
-me leave to assure you that you will find her a very agreeable young
-lady. She is staying here on a visit to her grandmama and aunt, very
-worthy people; I have known them all my life. They will be extremely
-glad to see you, I am sure; and one of my servants shall go with you to
-shew you the way.”
-
-“My dear sir, upon no account in the world; my father can direct me.”
-
-“But your father is not going so far; he is only going to the Crown,
-quite on the other side of the street, and there are a great many
-houses; you might be very much at a loss, and it is a very dirty walk,
-unless you keep on the footpath; but my coachman can tell you where you
-had best cross the street.”
-
-Mr. Frank Churchill still declined it, looking as serious as he could,
-and his father gave his hearty support by calling out, “My good friend,
-this is quite unnecessary; Frank knows a puddle of water when he sees
-it, and as to Mrs. Bates’s, he may get there from the Crown in a hop,
-step, and jump.”
-
-They were permitted to go alone; and with a cordial nod from one, and a
-graceful bow from the other, the two gentlemen took leave. Emma
-remained very well pleased with this beginning of the acquaintance, and
-could now engage to think of them all at Randalls any hour of the day,
-with full confidence in their comfort.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER VI
-
-
-The next morning brought Mr. Frank Churchill again. He came with Mrs.
-Weston, to whom and to Highbury he seemed to take very cordially. He
-had been sitting with her, it appeared, most companionably at home,
-till her usual hour of exercise; and on being desired to chuse their
-walk, immediately fixed on Highbury.—“He did not doubt there being very
-pleasant walks in every direction, but if left to him, he should always
-chuse the same. Highbury, that airy, cheerful, happy-looking Highbury,
-would be his constant attraction.”—Highbury, with Mrs. Weston, stood
-for Hartfield; and she trusted to its bearing the same construction
-with him. They walked thither directly.
-
-Emma had hardly expected them: for Mr. Weston, who had called in for
-half a minute, in order to hear that his son was very handsome, knew
-nothing of their plans; and it was an agreeable surprize to her,
-therefore, to perceive them walking up to the house together, arm in
-arm. She was wanting to see him again, and especially to see him in
-company with Mrs. Weston, upon his behaviour to whom her opinion of him
-was to depend. If he were deficient there, nothing should make amends
-for it. But on seeing them together, she became perfectly satisfied. It
-was not merely in fine words or hyperbolical compliment that he paid
-his duty; nothing could be more proper or pleasing than his whole
-manner to her—nothing could more agreeably denote his wish of
-considering her as a friend and securing her affection. And there was
-time enough for Emma to form a reasonable judgment, as their visit
-included all the rest of the morning. They were all three walking about
-together for an hour or two—first round the shrubberies of Hartfield,
-and afterwards in Highbury. He was delighted with every thing; admired
-Hartfield sufficiently for Mr. Woodhouse’s ear; and when their going
-farther was resolved on, confessed his wish to be made acquainted with
-the whole village, and found matter of commendation and interest much
-oftener than Emma could have supposed.
-
-Some of the objects of his curiosity spoke very amiable feelings. He
-begged to be shewn the house which his father had lived in so long, and
-which had been the home of his father’s father; and on recollecting
-that an old woman who had nursed him was still living, walked in quest
-of her cottage from one end of the street to the other; and though in
-some points of pursuit or observation there was no positive merit, they
-shewed, altogether, a good-will towards Highbury in general, which must
-be very like a merit to those he was with.
-
-Emma watched and decided, that with such feelings as were now shewn, it
-could not be fairly supposed that he had been ever voluntarily
-absenting himself; that he had not been acting a part, or making a
-parade of insincere professions; and that Mr. Knightley certainly had
-not done him justice.
-
-Their first pause was at the Crown Inn, an inconsiderable house, though
-the principal one of the sort, where a couple of pair of post-horses
-were kept, more for the convenience of the neighbourhood than from any
-run on the road; and his companions had not expected to be detained by
-any interest excited there; but in passing it they gave the history of
-the large room visibly added; it had been built many years ago for a
-ball-room, and while the neighbourhood had been in a particularly
-populous, dancing state, had been occasionally used as such;—but such
-brilliant days had long passed away, and now the highest purpose for
-which it was ever wanted was to accommodate a whist club established
-among the gentlemen and half-gentlemen of the place. He was immediately
-interested. Its character as a ball-room caught him; and instead of
-passing on, he stopt for several minutes at the two superior sashed
-windows which were open, to look in and contemplate its capabilities,
-and lament that its original purpose should have ceased. He saw no
-fault in the room, he would acknowledge none which they suggested. No,
-it was long enough, broad enough, handsome enough. It would hold the
-very number for comfort. They ought to have balls there at least every
-fortnight through the winter. Why had not Miss Woodhouse revived the
-former good old days of the room?—She who could do any thing in
-Highbury! The want of proper families in the place, and the conviction
-that none beyond the place and its immediate environs could be tempted
-to attend, were mentioned; but he was not satisfied. He could not be
-persuaded that so many good-looking houses as he saw around him, could
-not furnish numbers enough for such a meeting; and even when
-particulars were given and families described, he was still unwilling
-to admit that the inconvenience of such a mixture would be any thing,
-or that there would be the smallest difficulty in every body’s
-returning into their proper place the next morning. He argued like a
-young man very much bent on dancing; and Emma was rather surprized to
-see the constitution of the Weston prevail so decidedly against the
-habits of the Churchills. He seemed to have all the life and spirit,
-cheerful feelings, and social inclinations of his father, and nothing
-of the pride or reserve of Enscombe. Of pride, indeed, there was,
-perhaps, scarcely enough; his indifference to a confusion of rank,
-bordered too much on inelegance of mind. He could be no judge, however,
-of the evil he was holding cheap. It was but an effusion of lively
-spirits.
-
-At last he was persuaded to move on from the front of the Crown; and
-being now almost facing the house where the Bateses lodged, Emma
-recollected his intended visit the day before, and asked him if he had
-paid it.
-
-“Yes, oh! yes”—he replied; “I was just going to mention it. A very
-successful visit:—I saw all the three ladies; and felt very much
-obliged to you for your preparatory hint. If the talking aunt had taken
-me quite by surprize, it must have been the death of me. As it was, I
-was only betrayed into paying a most unreasonable visit. Ten minutes
-would have been all that was necessary, perhaps all that was proper;
-and I had told my father I should certainly be at home before him—but
-there was no getting away, no pause; and, to my utter astonishment, I
-found, when he (finding me nowhere else) joined me there at last, that
-I had been actually sitting with them very nearly three-quarters of an
-hour. The good lady had not given me the possibility of escape before.”
-
-“And how did you think Miss Fairfax looking?”
-
-“Ill, very ill—that is, if a young lady can ever be allowed to look
-ill. But the expression is hardly admissible, Mrs. Weston, is it?
-Ladies can never look ill. And, seriously, Miss Fairfax is naturally so
-pale, as almost always to give the appearance of ill health.—A most
-deplorable want of complexion.”
-
-Emma would not agree to this, and began a warm defence of Miss
-Fairfax’s complexion. “It was certainly never brilliant, but she would
-not allow it to have a sickly hue in general; and there was a softness
-and delicacy in her skin which gave peculiar elegance to the character
-of her face.” He listened with all due deference; acknowledged that he
-had heard many people say the same—but yet he must confess, that to him
-nothing could make amends for the want of the fine glow of health.
-Where features were indifferent, a fine complexion gave beauty to them
-all; and where they were good, the effect was—fortunately he need not
-attempt to describe what the effect was.
-
-“Well,” said Emma, “there is no disputing about taste.—At least you
-admire her except her complexion.”
-
-He shook his head and laughed.—“I cannot separate Miss Fairfax and her
-complexion.”
-
-“Did you see her often at Weymouth? Were you often in the same
-society?”
-
-At this moment they were approaching Ford’s, and he hastily exclaimed,
-“Ha! this must be the very shop that every body attends every day of
-their lives, as my father informs me. He comes to Highbury himself, he
-says, six days out of the seven, and has always business at Ford’s. If
-it be not inconvenient to you, pray let us go in, that I may prove
-myself to belong to the place, to be a true citizen of Highbury. I must
-buy something at Ford’s. It will be taking out my freedom.—I dare say
-they sell gloves.”
-
-“Oh! yes, gloves and every thing. I do admire your patriotism. You will
-be adored in Highbury. You were very popular before you came, because
-you were Mr. Weston’s son—but lay out half a guinea at Ford’s, and your
-popularity will stand upon your own virtues.”
-
-They went in; and while the sleek, well-tied parcels of “Men’s Beavers”
-and “York Tan” were bringing down and displaying on the counter, he
-said—“But I beg your pardon, Miss Woodhouse, you were speaking to me,
-you were saying something at the very moment of this burst of my _amor_
-_patriae_. Do not let me lose it. I assure you the utmost stretch of
-public fame would not make me amends for the loss of any happiness in
-private life.”
-
-“I merely asked, whether you had known much of Miss Fairfax and her
-party at Weymouth.”
-
-“And now that I understand your question, I must pronounce it to be a
-very unfair one. It is always the lady’s right to decide on the degree
-of acquaintance. Miss Fairfax must already have given her account.—I
-shall not commit myself by claiming more than she may chuse to allow.”
-
-“Upon my word! you answer as discreetly as she could do herself. But
-her account of every thing leaves so much to be guessed, she is so very
-reserved, so very unwilling to give the least information about any
-body, that I really think you may say what you like of your
-acquaintance with her.”
-
-“May I, indeed?—Then I will speak the truth, and nothing suits me so
-well. I met her frequently at Weymouth. I had known the Campbells a
-little in town; and at Weymouth we were very much in the same set.
-Colonel Campbell is a very agreeable man, and Mrs. Campbell a friendly,
-warm-hearted woman. I like them all.”
-
-“You know Miss Fairfax’s situation in life, I conclude; what she is
-destined to be?”
-
-“Yes—(rather hesitatingly)—I believe I do.”
-
-“You get upon delicate subjects, Emma,” said Mrs. Weston smiling;
-“remember that I am here.—Mr. Frank Churchill hardly knows what to say
-when you speak of Miss Fairfax’s situation in life. I will move a
-little farther off.”
-
-“I certainly do forget to think of _her_,” said Emma, “as having ever
-been any thing but my friend and my dearest friend.”
-
-He looked as if he fully understood and honoured such a sentiment.
-
-When the gloves were bought, and they had quitted the shop again, “Did
-you ever hear the young lady we were speaking of, play?” said Frank
-Churchill.
-
-“Ever hear her!” repeated Emma. “You forget how much she belongs to
-Highbury. I have heard her every year of our lives since we both began.
-She plays charmingly.”
-
-“You think so, do you?—I wanted the opinion of some one who could
-really judge. She appeared to me to play well, that is, with
-considerable taste, but I know nothing of the matter myself.—I am
-excessively fond of music, but without the smallest skill or right of
-judging of any body’s performance.—I have been used to hear her’s
-admired; and I remember one proof of her being thought to play well:—a
-man, a very musical man, and in love with another woman—engaged to
-her—on the point of marriage—would yet never ask that other woman to
-sit down to the instrument, if the lady in question could sit down
-instead—never seemed to like to hear one if he could hear the other.
-That, I thought, in a man of known musical talent, was some proof.”
-
-“Proof indeed!” said Emma, highly amused.—“Mr. Dixon is very musical,
-is he? We shall know more about them all, in half an hour, from you,
-than Miss Fairfax would have vouchsafed in half a year.”
-
-“Yes, Mr. Dixon and Miss Campbell were the persons; and I thought it a
-very strong proof.”
-
-“Certainly—very strong it was; to own the truth, a great deal stronger
-than, if _I_ had been Miss Campbell, would have been at all agreeable
-to me. I could not excuse a man’s having more music than love—more ear
-than eye—a more acute sensibility to fine sounds than to my feelings.
-How did Miss Campbell appear to like it?”
-
-“It was her very particular friend, you know.”
-
-“Poor comfort!” said Emma, laughing. “One would rather have a stranger
-preferred than one’s very particular friend—with a stranger it might
-not recur again—but the misery of having a very particular friend
-always at hand, to do every thing better than one does oneself!—Poor
-Mrs. Dixon! Well, I am glad she is gone to settle in Ireland.”
-
-“You are right. It was not very flattering to Miss Campbell; but she
-really did not seem to feel it.”
-
-“So much the better—or so much the worse:—I do not know which. But be
-it sweetness or be it stupidity in her—quickness of friendship, or
-dulness of feeling—there was one person, I think, who must have felt
-it: Miss Fairfax herself. She must have felt the improper and dangerous
-distinction.”
-
-“As to that—I do not—”
-
-“Oh! do not imagine that I expect an account of Miss Fairfax’s
-sensations from you, or from any body else. They are known to no human
-being, I guess, but herself. But if she continued to play whenever she
-was asked by Mr. Dixon, one may guess what one chuses.”
-
-“There appeared such a perfectly good understanding among them all—” he
-began rather quickly, but checking himself, added, “however, it is
-impossible for me to say on what terms they really were—how it might
-all be behind the scenes. I can only say that there was smoothness
-outwardly. But you, who have known Miss Fairfax from a child, must be a
-better judge of her character, and of how she is likely to conduct
-herself in critical situations, than I can be.”
-
-“I have known her from a child, undoubtedly; we have been children and
-women together; and it is natural to suppose that we should be
-intimate,—that we should have taken to each other whenever she visited
-her friends. But we never did. I hardly know how it has happened; a
-little, perhaps, from that wickedness on my side which was prone to
-take disgust towards a girl so idolized and so cried up as she always
-was, by her aunt and grandmother, and all their set. And then, her
-reserve—I never could attach myself to any one so completely reserved.”
-
-“It is a most repulsive quality, indeed,” said he. “Oftentimes very
-convenient, no doubt, but never pleasing. There is safety in reserve,
-but no attraction. One cannot love a reserved person.”
-
-“Not till the reserve ceases towards oneself; and then the attraction
-may be the greater. But I must be more in want of a friend, or an
-agreeable companion, than I have yet been, to take the trouble of
-conquering any body’s reserve to procure one. Intimacy between Miss
-Fairfax and me is quite out of the question. I have no reason to think
-ill of her—not the least—except that such extreme and perpetual
-cautiousness of word and manner, such a dread of giving a distinct idea
-about any body, is apt to suggest suspicions of there being something
-to conceal.”
-
-He perfectly agreed with her: and after walking together so long, and
-thinking so much alike, Emma felt herself so well acquainted with him,
-that she could hardly believe it to be only their second meeting. He
-was not exactly what she had expected; less of the man of the world in
-some of his notions, less of the spoiled child of fortune, therefore
-better than she had expected. His ideas seemed more moderate—his
-feelings warmer. She was particularly struck by his manner of
-considering Mr. Elton’s house, which, as well as the church, he would
-go and look at, and would not join them in finding much fault with. No,
-he could not believe it a bad house; not such a house as a man was to
-be pitied for having. If it were to be shared with the woman he loved,
-he could not think any man to be pitied for having that house. There
-must be ample room in it for every real comfort. The man must be a
-blockhead who wanted more.
-
-Mrs. Weston laughed, and said he did not know what he was talking
-about. Used only to a large house himself, and without ever thinking
-how many advantages and accommodations were attached to its size, he
-could be no judge of the privations inevitably belonging to a small
-one. But Emma, in her own mind, determined that he _did_ know what he
-was talking about, and that he shewed a very amiable inclination to
-settle early in life, and to marry, from worthy motives. He might not
-be aware of the inroads on domestic peace to be occasioned by no
-housekeeper’s room, or a bad butler’s pantry, but no doubt he did
-perfectly feel that Enscombe could not make him happy, and that
-whenever he were attached, he would willingly give up much of wealth to
-be allowed an early establishment.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER VII
-
-
-Emma’s very good opinion of Frank Churchill was a little shaken the
-following day, by hearing that he was gone off to London, merely to
-have his hair cut. A sudden freak seemed to have seized him at
-breakfast, and he had sent for a chaise and set off, intending to
-return to dinner, but with no more important view that appeared than
-having his hair cut. There was certainly no harm in his travelling
-sixteen miles twice over on such an errand; but there was an air of
-foppery and nonsense in it which she could not approve. It did not
-accord with the rationality of plan, the moderation in expense, or even
-the unselfish warmth of heart, which she had believed herself to
-discern in him yesterday. Vanity, extravagance, love of change,
-restlessness of temper, which must be doing something, good or bad;
-heedlessness as to the pleasure of his father and Mrs. Weston,
-indifferent as to how his conduct might appear in general; he became
-liable to all these charges. His father only called him a coxcomb, and
-thought it a very good story; but that Mrs. Weston did not like it, was
-clear enough, by her passing it over as quickly as possible, and making
-no other comment than that “all young people would have their little
-whims.”
-
-With the exception of this little blot, Emma found that his visit
-hitherto had given her friend only good ideas of him. Mrs. Weston was
-very ready to say how attentive and pleasant a companion he made
-himself—how much she saw to like in his disposition altogether. He
-appeared to have a very open temper—certainly a very cheerful and
-lively one; she could observe nothing wrong in his notions, a great
-deal decidedly right; he spoke of his uncle with warm regard, was fond
-of talking of him—said he would be the best man in the world if he were
-left to himself; and though there was no being attached to the aunt, he
-acknowledged her kindness with gratitude, and seemed to mean always to
-speak of her with respect. This was all very promising; and, but for
-such an unfortunate fancy for having his hair cut, there was nothing to
-denote him unworthy of the distinguished honour which her imagination
-had given him; the honour, if not of being really in love with her, of
-being at least very near it, and saved only by her own
-indifference—(for still her resolution held of never marrying)—the
-honour, in short, of being marked out for her by all their joint
-acquaintance.
-
-Mr. Weston, on his side, added a virtue to the account which must have
-some weight. He gave her to understand that Frank admired her
-extremely—thought her very beautiful and very charming; and with so
-much to be said for him altogether, she found she must not judge him
-harshly. As Mrs. Weston observed, “all young people would have their
-little whims.”
-
-There was one person among his new acquaintance in Surry, not so
-leniently disposed. In general he was judged, throughout the parishes
-of Donwell and Highbury, with great candour; liberal allowances were
-made for the little excesses of such a handsome young man—one who
-smiled so often and bowed so well; but there was one spirit among them
-not to be softened, from its power of censure, by bows or smiles—Mr.
-Knightley. The circumstance was told him at Hartfield; for the moment,
-he was silent; but Emma heard him almost immediately afterwards say to
-himself, over a newspaper he held in his hand, “Hum! just the trifling,
-silly fellow I took him for.” She had half a mind to resent; but an
-instant’s observation convinced her that it was really said only to
-relieve his own feelings, and not meant to provoke; and therefore she
-let it pass.
-
-Although in one instance the bearers of not good tidings, Mr. and Mrs.
-Weston’s visit this morning was in another respect particularly
-opportune. Something occurred while they were at Hartfield, to make
-Emma want their advice; and, which was still more lucky, she wanted
-exactly the advice they gave.
-
-This was the occurrence:—The Coles had been settled some years in
-Highbury, and were very good sort of people—friendly, liberal, and
-unpretending; but, on the other hand, they were of low origin, in
-trade, and only moderately genteel. On their first coming into the
-country, they had lived in proportion to their income, quietly, keeping
-little company, and that little unexpensively; but the last year or two
-had brought them a considerable increase of means—the house in town had
-yielded greater profits, and fortune in general had smiled on them.
-With their wealth, their views increased; their want of a larger house,
-their inclination for more company. They added to their house, to their
-number of servants, to their expenses of every sort; and by this time
-were, in fortune and style of living, second only to the family at
-Hartfield. Their love of society, and their new dining-room, prepared
-every body for their keeping dinner-company; and a few parties, chiefly
-among the single men, had already taken place. The regular and best
-families Emma could hardly suppose they would presume to invite—neither
-Donwell, nor Hartfield, nor Randalls. Nothing should tempt _her_ to go,
-if they did; and she regretted that her father’s known habits would be
-giving her refusal less meaning than she could wish. The Coles were
-very respectable in their way, but they ought to be taught that it was
-not for them to arrange the terms on which the superior families would
-visit them. This lesson, she very much feared, they would receive only
-from herself; she had little hope of Mr. Knightley, none of Mr. Weston.
-
-But she had made up her mind how to meet this presumption so many weeks
-before it appeared, that when the insult came at last, it found her
-very differently affected. Donwell and Randalls had received their
-invitation, and none had come for her father and herself; and Mrs.
-Weston’s accounting for it with “I suppose they will not take the
-liberty with you; they know you do not dine out,” was not quite
-sufficient. She felt that she should like to have had the power of
-refusal; and afterwards, as the idea of the party to be assembled
-there, consisting precisely of those whose society was dearest to her,
-occurred again and again, she did not know that she might not have been
-tempted to accept. Harriet was to be there in the evening, and the
-Bateses. They had been speaking of it as they walked about Highbury the
-day before, and Frank Churchill had most earnestly lamented her
-absence. Might not the evening end in a dance? had been a question of
-his. The bare possibility of it acted as a farther irritation on her
-spirits; and her being left in solitary grandeur, even supposing the
-omission to be intended as a compliment, was but poor comfort.
-
-It was the arrival of this very invitation while the Westons were at
-Hartfield, which made their presence so acceptable; for though her
-first remark, on reading it, was that “of course it must be declined,”
-she so very soon proceeded to ask them what they advised her to do,
-that their advice for her going was most prompt and successful.
-
-She owned that, considering every thing, she was not absolutely without
-inclination for the party. The Coles expressed themselves so
-properly—there was so much real attention in the manner of it—so much
-consideration for her father. “They would have solicited the honour
-earlier, but had been waiting the arrival of a folding-screen from
-London, which they hoped might keep Mr. Woodhouse from any draught of
-air, and therefore induce him the more readily to give them the honour
-of his company.” Upon the whole, she was very persuadable; and it being
-briefly settled among themselves how it might be done without
-neglecting his comfort—how certainly Mrs. Goddard, if not Mrs. Bates,
-might be depended on for bearing him company—Mr. Woodhouse was to be
-talked into an acquiescence of his daughter’s going out to dinner on a
-day now near at hand, and spending the whole evening away from him. As
-for _his_ going, Emma did not wish him to think it possible, the hours
-would be too late, and the party too numerous. He was soon pretty well
-resigned.
-
-“I am not fond of dinner-visiting,” said he—“I never was. No more is
-Emma. Late hours do not agree with us. I am sorry Mr. and Mrs. Cole
-should have done it. I think it would be much better if they would come
-in one afternoon next summer, and take their tea with us—take us in
-their afternoon walk; which they might do, as our hours are so
-reasonable, and yet get home without being out in the damp of the
-evening. The dews of a summer evening are what I would not expose any
-body to. However, as they are so very desirous to have dear Emma dine
-with them, and as you will both be there, and Mr. Knightley too, to
-take care of her, I cannot wish to prevent it, provided the weather be
-what it ought, neither damp, nor cold, nor windy.” Then turning to Mrs.
-Weston, with a look of gentle reproach—“Ah! Miss Taylor, if you had not
-married, you would have staid at home with me.”
-
-“Well, sir,” cried Mr. Weston, “as I took Miss Taylor away, it is
-incumbent on me to supply her place, if I can; and I will step to Mrs.
-Goddard in a moment, if you wish it.”
-
-But the idea of any thing to be done in a _moment_, was increasing, not
-lessening, Mr. Woodhouse’s agitation. The ladies knew better how to
-allay it. Mr. Weston must be quiet, and every thing deliberately
-arranged.
-
-With this treatment, Mr. Woodhouse was soon composed enough for talking
-as usual. “He should be happy to see Mrs. Goddard. He had a great
-regard for Mrs. Goddard; and Emma should write a line, and invite her.
-James could take the note. But first of all, there must be an answer
-written to Mrs. Cole.”
-
-“You will make my excuses, my dear, as civilly as possible. You will
-say that I am quite an invalid, and go no where, and therefore must
-decline their obliging invitation; beginning with my _compliments_, of
-course. But you will do every thing right. I need not tell you what is
-to be done. We must remember to let James know that the carriage will
-be wanted on Tuesday. I shall have no fears for you with him. We have
-never been there above once since the new approach was made; but still
-I have no doubt that James will take you very safely. And when you get
-there, you must tell him at what time you would have him come for you
-again; and you had better name an early hour. You will not like staying
-late. You will get very tired when tea is over.”
-
-“But you would not wish me to come away before I am tired, papa?”
-
-“Oh! no, my love; but you will soon be tired. There will be a great
-many people talking at once. You will not like the noise.”
-
-“But, my dear sir,” cried Mr. Weston, “if Emma comes away early, it
-will be breaking up the party.”
-
-“And no great harm if it does,” said Mr. Woodhouse. “The sooner every
-party breaks up, the better.”
-
-“But you do not consider how it may appear to the Coles. Emma’s going
-away directly after tea might be giving offence. They are good-natured
-people, and think little of their own claims; but still they must feel
-that any body’s hurrying away is no great compliment; and Miss
-Woodhouse’s doing it would be more thought of than any other person’s
-in the room. You would not wish to disappoint and mortify the Coles, I
-am sure, sir; friendly, good sort of people as ever lived, and who have
-been your neighbours these _ten_ years.”
-
-“No, upon no account in the world, Mr. Weston; I am much obliged to you
-for reminding me. I should be extremely sorry to be giving them any
-pain. I know what worthy people they are. Perry tells me that Mr. Cole
-never touches malt liquor. You would not think it to look at him, but
-he is bilious—Mr. Cole is very bilious. No, I would not be the means of
-giving them any pain. My dear Emma, we must consider this. I am sure,
-rather than run the risk of hurting Mr. and Mrs. Cole, you would stay a
-little longer than you might wish. You will not regard being tired. You
-will be perfectly safe, you know, among your friends.”
-
-“Oh yes, papa. I have no fears at all for myself; and I should have no
-scruples of staying as late as Mrs. Weston, but on your account. I am
-only afraid of your sitting up for me. I am not afraid of your not
-being exceedingly comfortable with Mrs. Goddard. She loves piquet, you
-know; but when she is gone home, I am afraid you will be sitting up by
-yourself, instead of going to bed at your usual time—and the idea of
-that would entirely destroy my comfort. You must promise me not to sit
-up.”
-
-He did, on the condition of some promises on her side: such as that, if
-she came home cold, she would be sure to warm herself thoroughly; if
-hungry, that she would take something to eat; that her own maid should
-sit up for her; and that Serle and the butler should see that every
-thing were safe in the house, as usual.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER VIII
-
-
-Frank Churchill came back again; and if he kept his father’s dinner
-waiting, it was not known at Hartfield; for Mrs. Weston was too anxious
-for his being a favourite with Mr. Woodhouse, to betray any
-imperfection which could be concealed.
-
-He came back, had had his hair cut, and laughed at himself with a very
-good grace, but without seeming really at all ashamed of what he had
-done. He had no reason to wish his hair longer, to conceal any
-confusion of face; no reason to wish the money unspent, to improve his
-spirits. He was quite as undaunted and as lively as ever; and, after
-seeing him, Emma thus moralised to herself:—
-
-“I do not know whether it ought to be so, but certainly silly things do
-cease to be silly if they are done by sensible people in an impudent
-way. Wickedness is always wickedness, but folly is not always folly.—It
-depends upon the character of those who handle it. Mr. Knightley, he is
-_not_ a trifling, silly young man. If he were, he would have done this
-differently. He would either have gloried in the achievement, or been
-ashamed of it. There would have been either the ostentation of a
-coxcomb, or the evasions of a mind too weak to defend its own
-vanities.—No, I am perfectly sure that he is not trifling or silly.”
-
-With Tuesday came the agreeable prospect of seeing him again, and for a
-longer time than hitherto; of judging of his general manners, and by
-inference, of the meaning of his manners towards herself; of guessing
-how soon it might be necessary for her to throw coldness into her air;
-and of fancying what the observations of all those might be, who were
-now seeing them together for the first time.
-
-She meant to be very happy, in spite of the scene being laid at Mr.
-Cole’s; and without being able to forget that among the failings of Mr.
-Elton, even in the days of his favour, none had disturbed her more than
-his propensity to dine with Mr. Cole.
-
-Her father’s comfort was amply secured, Mrs. Bates as well as Mrs.
-Goddard being able to come; and her last pleasing duty, before she left
-the house, was to pay her respects to them as they sat together after
-dinner; and while her father was fondly noticing the beauty of her
-dress, to make the two ladies all the amends in her power, by helping
-them to large slices of cake and full glasses of wine, for whatever
-unwilling self-denial his care of their constitution might have obliged
-them to practise during the meal.—She had provided a plentiful dinner
-for them; she wished she could know that they had been allowed to eat
-it.
-
-She followed another carriage to Mr. Cole’s door; and was pleased to
-see that it was Mr. Knightley’s; for Mr. Knightley keeping no horses,
-having little spare money and a great deal of health, activity, and
-independence, was too apt, in Emma’s opinion, to get about as he could,
-and not use his carriage so often as became the owner of Donwell Abbey.
-She had an opportunity now of speaking her approbation while warm from
-her heart, for he stopped to hand her out.
-
-“This is coming as you should do,” said she; “like a gentleman.—I am
-quite glad to see you.”
-
-He thanked her, observing, “How lucky that we should arrive at the same
-moment! for, if we had met first in the drawing-room, I doubt whether
-you would have discerned me to be more of a gentleman than usual.—You
-might not have distinguished how I came, by my look or manner.”
-
-“Yes I should, I am sure I should. There is always a look of
-consciousness or bustle when people come in a way which they know to be
-beneath them. You think you carry it off very well, I dare say, but
-with you it is a sort of bravado, an air of affected unconcern; I
-always observe it whenever I meet you under those circumstances. _Now_
-you have nothing to try for. You are not afraid of being supposed
-ashamed. You are not striving to look taller than any body else. _Now_
-I shall really be very happy to walk into the same room with you.”
-
-“Nonsensical girl!” was his reply, but not at all in anger.
-
-Emma had as much reason to be satisfied with the rest of the party as
-with Mr. Knightley. She was received with a cordial respect which could
-not but please, and given all the consequence she could wish for. When
-the Westons arrived, the kindest looks of love, the strongest of
-admiration were for her, from both husband and wife; the son approached
-her with a cheerful eagerness which marked her as his peculiar object,
-and at dinner she found him seated by her—and, as she firmly believed,
-not without some dexterity on his side.
-
-The party was rather large, as it included one other family, a proper
-unobjectionable country family, whom the Coles had the advantage of
-naming among their acquaintance, and the male part of Mr. Cox’s family,
-the lawyer of Highbury. The less worthy females were to come in the
-evening, with Miss Bates, Miss Fairfax, and Miss Smith; but already, at
-dinner, they were too numerous for any subject of conversation to be
-general; and, while politics and Mr. Elton were talked over, Emma could
-fairly surrender all her attention to the pleasantness of her
-neighbour. The first remote sound to which she felt herself obliged to
-attend, was the name of Jane Fairfax. Mrs. Cole seemed to be relating
-something of her that was expected to be very interesting. She
-listened, and found it well worth listening to. That very dear part of
-Emma, her fancy, received an amusing supply. Mrs. Cole was telling that
-she had been calling on Miss Bates, and as soon as she entered the room
-had been struck by the sight of a pianoforte—a very elegant looking
-instrument—not a grand, but a large-sized square pianoforte; and the
-substance of the story, the end of all the dialogue which ensued of
-surprize, and inquiry, and congratulations on her side, and
-explanations on Miss Bates’s, was, that this pianoforte had arrived
-from Broadwood’s the day before, to the great astonishment of both aunt
-and niece—entirely unexpected; that at first, by Miss Bates’s account,
-Jane herself was quite at a loss, quite bewildered to think who could
-possibly have ordered it—but now, they were both perfectly satisfied
-that it could be from only one quarter;—of course it must be from
-Colonel Campbell.
-
-“One can suppose nothing else,” added Mrs. Cole, “and I was only
-surprized that there could ever have been a doubt. But Jane, it seems,
-had a letter from them very lately, and not a word was said about it.
-She knows their ways best; but I should not consider their silence as
-any reason for their not meaning to make the present. They might chuse
-to surprize her.”
-
-Mrs. Cole had many to agree with her; every body who spoke on the
-subject was equally convinced that it must come from Colonel Campbell,
-and equally rejoiced that such a present had been made; and there were
-enough ready to speak to allow Emma to think her own way, and still
-listen to Mrs. Cole.
-
-“I declare, I do not know when I have heard any thing that has given me
-more satisfaction!—It always has quite hurt me that Jane Fairfax, who
-plays so delightfully, should not have an instrument. It seemed quite a
-shame, especially considering how many houses there are where fine
-instruments are absolutely thrown away. This is like giving ourselves a
-slap, to be sure! and it was but yesterday I was telling Mr. Cole, I
-really was ashamed to look at our new grand pianoforte in the
-drawing-room, while I do not know one note from another, and our little
-girls, who are but just beginning, perhaps may never make any thing of
-it; and there is poor Jane Fairfax, who is mistress of music, has not
-any thing of the nature of an instrument, not even the pitifullest old
-spinet in the world, to amuse herself with.—I was saying this to Mr.
-Cole but yesterday, and he quite agreed with me; only he is so
-particularly fond of music that he could not help indulging himself in
-the purchase, hoping that some of our good neighbours might be so
-obliging occasionally to put it to a better use than we can; and that
-really is the reason why the instrument was bought—or else I am sure we
-ought to be ashamed of it.—We are in great hopes that Miss Woodhouse
-may be prevailed with to try it this evening.”
-
-Miss Woodhouse made the proper acquiescence; and finding that nothing
-more was to be entrapped from any communication of Mrs. Cole’s, turned
-to Frank Churchill.
-
-“Why do you smile?” said she.
-
-“Nay, why do you?”
-
-“Me!—I suppose I smile for pleasure at Colonel Campbell’s being so rich
-and so liberal.—It is a handsome present.”
-
-“Very.”
-
-“I rather wonder that it was never made before.”
-
-“Perhaps Miss Fairfax has never been staying here so long before.”
-
-“Or that he did not give her the use of their own instrument—which must
-now be shut up in London, untouched by any body.”
-
-“That is a grand pianoforte, and he might think it too large for Mrs.
-Bates’s house.”
-
-“You may _say_ what you chuse—but your countenance testifies that your
-_thoughts_ on this subject are very much like mine.”
-
-“I do not know. I rather believe you are giving me more credit for
-acuteness than I deserve. I smile because you smile, and shall probably
-suspect whatever I find you suspect; but at present I do not see what
-there is to question. If Colonel Campbell is not the person, who can
-be?”
-
-“What do you say to Mrs. Dixon?”
-
-“Mrs. Dixon! very true indeed. I had not thought of Mrs. Dixon. She
-must know as well as her father, how acceptable an instrument would be;
-and perhaps the mode of it, the mystery, the surprize, is more like a
-young woman’s scheme than an elderly man’s. It is Mrs. Dixon, I dare
-say. I told you that your suspicions would guide mine.”
-
-“If so, you must extend your suspicions and comprehend _Mr_. Dixon in
-them.”
-
-“Mr. Dixon.—Very well. Yes, I immediately perceive that it must be the
-joint present of Mr. and Mrs. Dixon. We were speaking the other day,
-you know, of his being so warm an admirer of her performance.”
-
-“Yes, and what you told me on that head, confirmed an idea which I had
-entertained before.—I do not mean to reflect upon the good intentions
-of either Mr. Dixon or Miss Fairfax, but I cannot help suspecting
-either that, after making his proposals to her friend, he had the
-misfortune to fall in love with _her_, or that he became conscious of a
-little attachment on her side. One might guess twenty things without
-guessing exactly the right; but I am sure there must be a particular
-cause for her chusing to come to Highbury instead of going with the
-Campbells to Ireland. Here, she must be leading a life of privation and
-penance; there it would have been all enjoyment. As to the pretence of
-trying her native air, I look upon that as a mere excuse.—In the summer
-it might have passed; but what can any body’s native air do for them in
-the months of January, February, and March? Good fires and carriages
-would be much more to the purpose in most cases of delicate health, and
-I dare say in her’s. I do not require you to adopt all my suspicions,
-though you make so noble a profession of doing it, but I honestly tell
-you what they are.”
-
-“And, upon my word, they have an air of great probability. Mr. Dixon’s
-preference of her music to her friend’s, I can answer for being very
-decided.”
-
-“And then, he saved her life. Did you ever hear of that?—A water party;
-and by some accident she was falling overboard. He caught her.”
-
-“He did. I was there—one of the party.”
-
-“Were you really?—Well!—But you observed nothing of course, for it
-seems to be a new idea to you.—If I had been there, I think I should
-have made some discoveries.”
-
-“I dare say you would; but I, simple I, saw nothing but the fact, that
-Miss Fairfax was nearly dashed from the vessel and that Mr. Dixon
-caught her.—It was the work of a moment. And though the consequent
-shock and alarm was very great and much more durable—indeed I believe
-it was half an hour before any of us were comfortable again—yet that
-was too general a sensation for any thing of peculiar anxiety to be
-observable. I do not mean to say, however, that you might not have made
-discoveries.”
-
-The conversation was here interrupted. They were called on to share in
-the awkwardness of a rather long interval between the courses, and
-obliged to be as formal and as orderly as the others; but when the
-table was again safely covered, when every corner dish was placed
-exactly right, and occupation and ease were generally restored, Emma
-said,
-
-“The arrival of this pianoforte is decisive with me. I wanted to know a
-little more, and this tells me quite enough. Depend upon it, we shall
-soon hear that it is a present from Mr. and Mrs. Dixon.”
-
-“And if the Dixons should absolutely deny all knowledge of it we must
-conclude it to come from the Campbells.”
-
-“No, I am sure it is not from the Campbells. Miss Fairfax knows it is
-not from the Campbells, or they would have been guessed at first. She
-would not have been puzzled, had she dared fix on them. I may not have
-convinced you perhaps, but I am perfectly convinced myself that Mr.
-Dixon is a principal in the business.”
-
-“Indeed you injure me if you suppose me unconvinced. Your reasonings
-carry my judgment along with them entirely. At first, while I supposed
-you satisfied that Colonel Campbell was the giver, I saw it only as
-paternal kindness, and thought it the most natural thing in the world.
-But when you mentioned Mrs. Dixon, I felt how much more probable that
-it should be the tribute of warm female friendship. And now I can see
-it in no other light than as an offering of love.”
-
-There was no occasion to press the matter farther. The conviction
-seemed real; he looked as if he felt it. She said no more, other
-subjects took their turn; and the rest of the dinner passed away; the
-dessert succeeded, the children came in, and were talked to and admired
-amid the usual rate of conversation; a few clever things said, a few
-downright silly, but by much the larger proportion neither the one nor
-the other—nothing worse than everyday remarks, dull repetitions, old
-news, and heavy jokes.
-
-The ladies had not been long in the drawing-room, before the other
-ladies, in their different divisions, arrived. Emma watched the entree
-of her own particular little friend; and if she could not exult in her
-dignity and grace, she could not only love the blooming sweetness and
-the artless manner, but could most heartily rejoice in that light,
-cheerful, unsentimental disposition which allowed her so many
-alleviations of pleasure, in the midst of the pangs of disappointed
-affection. There she sat—and who would have guessed how many tears she
-had been lately shedding? To be in company, nicely dressed herself and
-seeing others nicely dressed, to sit and smile and look pretty, and say
-nothing, was enough for the happiness of the present hour. Jane Fairfax
-did look and move superior; but Emma suspected she might have been glad
-to change feelings with Harriet, very glad to have purchased the
-mortification of having loved—yes, of having loved even Mr. Elton in
-vain—by the surrender of all the dangerous pleasure of knowing herself
-beloved by the husband of her friend.
-
-In so large a party it was not necessary that Emma should approach her.
-She did not wish to speak of the pianoforte, she felt too much in the
-secret herself, to think the appearance of curiosity or interest fair,
-and therefore purposely kept at a distance; but by the others, the
-subject was almost immediately introduced, and she saw the blush of
-consciousness with which congratulations were received, the blush of
-guilt which accompanied the name of “my excellent friend Colonel
-Campbell.”
-
-Mrs. Weston, kind-hearted and musical, was particularly interested by
-the circumstance, and Emma could not help being amused at her
-perseverance in dwelling on the subject; and having so much to ask and
-to say as to tone, touch, and pedal, totally unsuspicious of that wish
-of saying as little about it as possible, which she plainly read in the
-fair heroine’s countenance.
-
-They were soon joined by some of the gentlemen; and the very first of
-the early was Frank Churchill. In he walked, the first and the
-handsomest; and after paying his compliments en passant to Miss Bates
-and her niece, made his way directly to the opposite side of the
-circle, where sat Miss Woodhouse; and till he could find a seat by her,
-would not sit at all. Emma divined what every body present must be
-thinking. She was his object, and every body must perceive it. She
-introduced him to her friend, Miss Smith, and, at convenient moments
-afterwards, heard what each thought of the other. “He had never seen so
-lovely a face, and was delighted with her naïveté.” And she, “Only to
-be sure it was paying him too great a compliment, but she did think
-there were some looks a little like Mr. Elton.” Emma restrained her
-indignation, and only turned from her in silence.
-
-Smiles of intelligence passed between her and the gentleman on first
-glancing towards Miss Fairfax; but it was most prudent to avoid speech.
-He told her that he had been impatient to leave the dining-room—hated
-sitting long—was always the first to move when he could—that his
-father, Mr. Knightley, Mr. Cox, and Mr. Cole, were left very busy over
-parish business—that as long as he had staid, however, it had been
-pleasant enough, as he had found them in general a set of
-gentlemanlike, sensible men; and spoke so handsomely of Highbury
-altogether—thought it so abundant in agreeable families—that Emma began
-to feel she had been used to despise the place rather too much. She
-questioned him as to the society in Yorkshire—the extent of the
-neighbourhood about Enscombe, and the sort; and could make out from his
-answers that, as far as Enscombe was concerned, there was very little
-going on, that their visitings were among a range of great families,
-none very near; and that even when days were fixed, and invitations
-accepted, it was an even chance that Mrs. Churchill were not in health
-and spirits for going; that they made a point of visiting no fresh
-person; and that, though he had his separate engagements, it was not
-without difficulty, without considerable address _at_ _times_, that he
-could get away, or introduce an acquaintance for a night.
-
-She saw that Enscombe could not satisfy, and that Highbury, taken at
-its best, might reasonably please a young man who had more retirement
-at home than he liked. His importance at Enscombe was very evident. He
-did not boast, but it naturally betrayed itself, that he had persuaded
-his aunt where his uncle could do nothing, and on her laughing and
-noticing it, he owned that he believed (excepting one or two points) he
-could _with_ _time_ persuade her to any thing. One of those points on
-which his influence failed, he then mentioned. He had wanted very much
-to go abroad—had been very eager indeed to be allowed to travel—but she
-would not hear of it. This had happened the year before. _Now_, he
-said, he was beginning to have no longer the same wish.
-
-The unpersuadable point, which he did not mention, Emma guessed to be
-good behaviour to his father.
-
-“I have made a most wretched discovery,” said he, after a short pause.—
-“I have been here a week to-morrow—half my time. I never knew days fly
-so fast. A week to-morrow!—And I have hardly begun to enjoy myself. But
-just got acquainted with Mrs. Weston, and others!—I hate the
-recollection.”
-
-“Perhaps you may now begin to regret that you spent one whole day, out
-of so few, in having your hair cut.”
-
-“No,” said he, smiling, “that is no subject of regret at all. I have no
-pleasure in seeing my friends, unless I can believe myself fit to be
-seen.”
-
-The rest of the gentlemen being now in the room, Emma found herself
-obliged to turn from him for a few minutes, and listen to Mr. Cole.
-When Mr. Cole had moved away, and her attention could be restored as
-before, she saw Frank Churchill looking intently across the room at
-Miss Fairfax, who was sitting exactly opposite.
-
-“What is the matter?” said she.
-
-He started. “Thank you for rousing me,” he replied. “I believe I have
-been very rude; but really Miss Fairfax has done her hair in so odd a
-way—so very odd a way—that I cannot keep my eyes from her. I never saw
-any thing so outrée!—Those curls!—This must be a fancy of her own. I
-see nobody else looking like her!—I must go and ask her whether it is
-an Irish fashion. Shall I?—Yes, I will—I declare I will—and you shall
-see how she takes it;—whether she colours.”
-
-He was gone immediately; and Emma soon saw him standing before Miss
-Fairfax, and talking to her; but as to its effect on the young lady, as
-he had improvidently placed himself exactly between them, exactly in
-front of Miss Fairfax, she could absolutely distinguish nothing.
-
-Before he could return to his chair, it was taken by Mrs. Weston.
-
-“This is the luxury of a large party,” said she:—“one can get near
-every body, and say every thing. My dear Emma, I am longing to talk to
-you. I have been making discoveries and forming plans, just like
-yourself, and I must tell them while the idea is fresh. Do you know how
-Miss Bates and her niece came here?”
-
-“How?—They were invited, were not they?”
-
-“Oh! yes—but how they were conveyed hither?—the manner of their
-coming?”
-
-“They walked, I conclude. How else could they come?”
-
-“Very true.—Well, a little while ago it occurred to me how very sad it
-would be to have Jane Fairfax walking home again, late at night, and
-cold as the nights are now. And as I looked at her, though I never saw
-her appear to more advantage, it struck me that she was heated, and
-would therefore be particularly liable to take cold. Poor girl! I could
-not bear the idea of it; so, as soon as Mr. Weston came into the room,
-and I could get at him, I spoke to him about the carriage. You may
-guess how readily he came into my wishes; and having his approbation, I
-made my way directly to Miss Bates, to assure her that the carriage
-would be at her service before it took us home; for I thought it would
-be making her comfortable at once. Good soul! she was as grateful as
-possible, you may be sure. ‘Nobody was ever so fortunate as
-herself!’—but with many, many thanks—‘there was no occasion to trouble
-us, for Mr. Knightley’s carriage had brought, and was to take them home
-again.’ I was quite surprized;—very glad, I am sure; but really quite
-surprized. Such a very kind attention—and so thoughtful an
-attention!—the sort of thing that so few men would think of. And, in
-short, from knowing his usual ways, I am very much inclined to think
-that it was for their accommodation the carriage was used at all. I do
-suspect he would not have had a pair of horses for himself, and that it
-was only as an excuse for assisting them.”
-
-“Very likely,” said Emma—“nothing more likely. I know no man more
-likely than Mr. Knightley to do the sort of thing—to do any thing
-really good-natured, useful, considerate, or benevolent. He is not a
-gallant man, but he is a very humane one; and this, considering Jane
-Fairfax’s ill-health, would appear a case of humanity to him;—and for
-an act of unostentatious kindness, there is nobody whom I would fix on
-more than on Mr. Knightley. I know he had horses to-day—for we arrived
-together; and I laughed at him about it, but he said not a word that
-could betray.”
-
-“Well,” said Mrs. Weston, smiling, “you give him credit for more
-simple, disinterested benevolence in this instance than I do; for while
-Miss Bates was speaking, a suspicion darted into my head, and I have
-never been able to get it out again. The more I think of it, the more
-probable it appears. In short, I have made a match between Mr.
-Knightley and Jane Fairfax. See the consequence of keeping you
-company!—What do you say to it?”
-
-“Mr. Knightley and Jane Fairfax!” exclaimed Emma. “Dear Mrs. Weston,
-how could you think of such a thing?—Mr. Knightley!—Mr. Knightley must
-not marry!—You would not have little Henry cut out from Donwell?—Oh!
-no, no, Henry must have Donwell. I cannot at all consent to Mr.
-Knightley’s marrying; and I am sure it is not at all likely. I am
-amazed that you should think of such a thing.”
-
-“My dear Emma, I have told you what led me to think of it. I do not
-want the match—I do not want to injure dear little Henry—but the idea
-has been given me by circumstances; and if Mr. Knightley really wished
-to marry, you would not have him refrain on Henry’s account, a boy of
-six years old, who knows nothing of the matter?”
-
-“Yes, I would. I could not bear to have Henry supplanted.—Mr. Knightley
-marry!—No, I have never had such an idea, and I cannot adopt it now.
-And Jane Fairfax, too, of all women!”
-
-“Nay, she has always been a first favourite with him, as you very well
-know.”
-
-“But the imprudence of such a match!”
-
-“I am not speaking of its prudence; merely its probability.”
-
-“I see no probability in it, unless you have any better foundation than
-what you mention. His good-nature, his humanity, as I tell you, would
-be quite enough to account for the horses. He has a great regard for
-the Bateses, you know, independent of Jane Fairfax—and is always glad
-to shew them attention. My dear Mrs. Weston, do not take to
-match-making. You do it very ill. Jane Fairfax mistress of the
-Abbey!—Oh! no, no;—every feeling revolts. For his own sake, I would not
-have him do so mad a thing.”
-
-“Imprudent, if you please—but not mad. Excepting inequality of fortune,
-and perhaps a little disparity of age, I can see nothing unsuitable.”
-
-“But Mr. Knightley does not want to marry. I am sure he has not the
-least idea of it. Do not put it into his head. Why should he marry?—He
-is as happy as possible by himself; with his farm, and his sheep, and
-his library, and all the parish to manage; and he is extremely fond of
-his brother’s children. He has no occasion to marry, either to fill up
-his time or his heart.”
-
-“My dear Emma, as long as he thinks so, it is so; but if he really
-loves Jane Fairfax—”
-
-“Nonsense! He does not care about Jane Fairfax. In the way of love, I
-am sure he does not. He would do any good to her, or her family; but—”
-
-“Well,” said Mrs. Weston, laughing, “perhaps the greatest good he could
-do them, would be to give Jane such a respectable home.”
-
-“If it would be good to her, I am sure it would be evil to himself; a
-very shameful and degrading connexion. How would he bear to have Miss
-Bates belonging to him?—To have her haunting the Abbey, and thanking
-him all day long for his great kindness in marrying Jane?—‘So very kind
-and obliging!—But he always had been such a very kind neighbour!’ And
-then fly off, through half a sentence, to her mother’s old petticoat.
-‘Not that it was such a very old petticoat either—for still it would
-last a great while—and, indeed, she must thankfully say that their
-petticoats were all very strong.’”
-
-“For shame, Emma! Do not mimic her. You divert me against my
-conscience. And, upon my word, I do not think Mr. Knightley would be
-much disturbed by Miss Bates. Little things do not irritate him. She
-might talk on; and if he wanted to say any thing himself, he would only
-talk louder, and drown her voice. But the question is not, whether it
-would be a bad connexion for him, but whether he wishes it; and I think
-he does. I have heard him speak, and so must you, so very highly of
-Jane Fairfax! The interest he takes in her—his anxiety about her
-health—his concern that she should have no happier prospect! I have
-heard him express himself so warmly on those points!—Such an admirer of
-her performance on the pianoforte, and of her voice! I have heard him
-say that he could listen to her for ever. Oh! and I had almost
-forgotten one idea that occurred to me—this pianoforte that has been
-sent here by somebody—though we have all been so well satisfied to
-consider it a present from the Campbells, may it not be from Mr.
-Knightley? I cannot help suspecting him. I think he is just the person
-to do it, even without being in love.”
-
-“Then it can be no argument to prove that he is in love. But I do not
-think it is at all a likely thing for him to do. Mr. Knightley does
-nothing mysteriously.”
-
-“I have heard him lamenting her having no instrument repeatedly;
-oftener than I should suppose such a circumstance would, in the common
-course of things, occur to him.”
-
-“Very well; and if he had intended to give her one, he would have told
-her so.”
-
-“There might be scruples of delicacy, my dear Emma. I have a very
-strong notion that it comes from him. I am sure he was particularly
-silent when Mrs. Cole told us of it at dinner.”
-
-“You take up an idea, Mrs. Weston, and run away with it; as you have
-many a time reproached me with doing. I see no sign of attachment—I
-believe nothing of the pianoforte—and proof only shall convince me that
-Mr. Knightley has any thought of marrying Jane Fairfax.”
-
-They combated the point some time longer in the same way; Emma rather
-gaining ground over the mind of her friend; for Mrs. Weston was the
-most used of the two to yield; till a little bustle in the room shewed
-them that tea was over, and the instrument in preparation;—and at the
-same moment Mr. Cole approaching to entreat Miss Woodhouse would do
-them the honour of trying it. Frank Churchill, of whom, in the
-eagerness of her conversation with Mrs. Weston, she had been seeing
-nothing, except that he had found a seat by Miss Fairfax, followed Mr.
-Cole, to add his very pressing entreaties; and as, in every respect, it
-suited Emma best to lead, she gave a very proper compliance.
-
-She knew the limitations of her own powers too well to attempt more
-than she could perform with credit; she wanted neither taste nor spirit
-in the little things which are generally acceptable, and could
-accompany her own voice well. One accompaniment to her song took her
-agreeably by surprize—a second, slightly but correctly taken by Frank
-Churchill. Her pardon was duly begged at the close of the song, and
-every thing usual followed. He was accused of having a delightful
-voice, and a perfect knowledge of music; which was properly denied; and
-that he knew nothing of the matter, and had no voice at all, roundly
-asserted. They sang together once more; and Emma would then resign her
-place to Miss Fairfax, whose performance, both vocal and instrumental,
-she never could attempt to conceal from herself, was infinitely
-superior to her own.
-
-With mixed feelings, she seated herself at a little distance from the
-numbers round the instrument, to listen. Frank Churchill sang again.
-They had sung together once or twice, it appeared, at Weymouth. But the
-sight of Mr. Knightley among the most attentive, soon drew away half
-Emma’s mind; and she fell into a train of thinking on the subject of
-Mrs. Weston’s suspicions, to which the sweet sounds of the united
-voices gave only momentary interruptions. Her objections to Mr.
-Knightley’s marrying did not in the least subside. She could see
-nothing but evil in it. It would be a great disappointment to Mr. John
-Knightley; consequently to Isabella. A real injury to the children—a
-most mortifying change, and material loss to them all;—a very great
-deduction from her father’s daily comfort—and, as to herself, she could
-not at all endure the idea of Jane Fairfax at Donwell Abbey. A Mrs.
-Knightley for them all to give way to!—No—Mr. Knightley must never
-marry. Little Henry must remain the heir of Donwell.
-
-Presently Mr. Knightley looked back, and came and sat down by her. They
-talked at first only of the performance. His admiration was certainly
-very warm; yet she thought, but for Mrs. Weston, it would not have
-struck her. As a sort of touchstone, however, she began to speak of his
-kindness in conveying the aunt and niece; and though his answer was in
-the spirit of cutting the matter short, she believed it to indicate
-only his disinclination to dwell on any kindness of his own.
-
-“I often feel concern,” said she, “that I dare not make our carriage
-more useful on such occasions. It is not that I am without the wish;
-but you know how impossible my father would deem it that James should
-put-to for such a purpose.”
-
-“Quite out of the question, quite out of the question,” he
-replied;—“but you must often wish it, I am sure.” And he smiled with
-such seeming pleasure at the conviction, that she must proceed another
-step.
-
-“This present from the Campbells,” said she—“this pianoforte is very
-kindly given.”
-
-“Yes,” he replied, and without the smallest apparent
-embarrassment.—“But they would have done better had they given her
-notice of it. Surprizes are foolish things. The pleasure is not
-enhanced, and the inconvenience is often considerable. I should have
-expected better judgment in Colonel Campbell.”
-
-From that moment, Emma could have taken her oath that Mr. Knightley had
-had no concern in giving the instrument. But whether he were entirely
-free from peculiar attachment—whether there were no actual
-preference—remained a little longer doubtful. Towards the end of Jane’s
-second song, her voice grew thick.
-
-“That will do,” said he, when it was finished, thinking aloud—“you have
-sung quite enough for one evening—now be quiet.”
-
-Another song, however, was soon begged for. “One more;—they would not
-fatigue Miss Fairfax on any account, and would only ask for one more.”
-And Frank Churchill was heard to say, “I think you could manage this
-without effort; the first part is so very trifling. The strength of the
-song falls on the second.”
-
-Mr. Knightley grew angry.
-
-“That fellow,” said he, indignantly, “thinks of nothing but shewing off
-his own voice. This must not be.” And touching Miss Bates, who at that
-moment passed near—“Miss Bates, are you mad, to let your niece sing
-herself hoarse in this manner? Go, and interfere. They have no mercy on
-her.”
-
-Miss Bates, in her real anxiety for Jane, could hardly stay even to be
-grateful, before she stept forward and put an end to all farther
-singing. Here ceased the concert part of the evening, for Miss
-Woodhouse and Miss Fairfax were the only young lady performers; but
-soon (within five minutes) the proposal of dancing—originating nobody
-exactly knew where—was so effectually promoted by Mr. and Mrs. Cole,
-that every thing was rapidly clearing away, to give proper space. Mrs.
-Weston, capital in her country-dances, was seated, and beginning an
-irresistible waltz; and Frank Churchill, coming up with most becoming
-gallantry to Emma, had secured her hand, and led her up to the top.
-
-While waiting till the other young people could pair themselves off,
-Emma found time, in spite of the compliments she was receiving on her
-voice and her taste, to look about, and see what became of Mr.
-Knightley. This would be a trial. He was no dancer in general. If he
-were to be very alert in engaging Jane Fairfax now, it might augur
-something. There was no immediate appearance. No; he was talking to
-Mrs. Cole—he was looking on unconcerned; Jane was asked by somebody
-else, and he was still talking to Mrs. Cole.
-
-Emma had no longer an alarm for Henry; his interest was yet safe; and
-she led off the dance with genuine spirit and enjoyment. Not more than
-five couple could be mustered; but the rarity and the suddenness of it
-made it very delightful, and she found herself well matched in a
-partner. They were a couple worth looking at.
-
-Two dances, unfortunately, were all that could be allowed. It was
-growing late, and Miss Bates became anxious to get home, on her
-mother’s account. After some attempts, therefore, to be permitted to
-begin again, they were obliged to thank Mrs. Weston, look sorrowful,
-and have done.
-
-“Perhaps it is as well,” said Frank Churchill, as he attended Emma to
-her carriage. “I must have asked Miss Fairfax, and her languid dancing
-would not have agreed with me, after yours.”
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER IX
-
-
-Emma did not repent her condescension in going to the Coles. The visit
-afforded her many pleasant recollections the next day; and all that she
-might be supposed to have lost on the side of dignified seclusion, must
-be amply repaid in the splendour of popularity. She must have delighted
-the Coles—worthy people, who deserved to be made happy!—And left a name
-behind her that would not soon die away.
-
-Perfect happiness, even in memory, is not common; and there were two
-points on which she was not quite easy. She doubted whether she had not
-transgressed the duty of woman by woman, in betraying her suspicions of
-Jane Fairfax’s feelings to Frank Churchill. It was hardly right; but it
-had been so strong an idea, that it would escape her, and his
-submission to all that she told, was a compliment to her penetration,
-which made it difficult for her to be quite certain that she ought to
-have held her tongue.
-
-The other circumstance of regret related also to Jane Fairfax; and
-there she had no doubt. She did unfeignedly and unequivocally regret
-the inferiority of her own playing and singing. She did most heartily
-grieve over the idleness of her childhood—and sat down and practised
-vigorously an hour and a half.
-
-She was then interrupted by Harriet’s coming in; and if Harriet’s
-praise could have satisfied her, she might soon have been comforted.
-
-“Oh! if I could but play as well as you and Miss Fairfax!”
-
-“Don’t class us together, Harriet. My playing is no more like her’s,
-than a lamp is like sunshine.”
-
-“Oh! dear—I think you play the best of the two. I think you play quite
-as well as she does. I am sure I had much rather hear you. Every body
-last night said how well you played.”
-
-“Those who knew any thing about it, must have felt the difference. The
-truth is, Harriet, that my playing is just good enough to be praised,
-but Jane Fairfax’s is much beyond it.”
-
-“Well, I always shall think that you play quite as well as she does, or
-that if there is any difference nobody would ever find it out. Mr. Cole
-said how much taste you had; and Mr. Frank Churchill talked a great
-deal about your taste, and that he valued taste much more than
-execution.”
-
-“Ah! but Jane Fairfax has them both, Harriet.”
-
-“Are you sure? I saw she had execution, but I did not know she had any
-taste. Nobody talked about it. And I hate Italian singing.—There is no
-understanding a word of it. Besides, if she does play so very well, you
-know, it is no more than she is obliged to do, because she will have to
-teach. The Coxes were wondering last night whether she would get into
-any great family. How did you think the Coxes looked?”
-
-“Just as they always do—very vulgar.”
-
-“They told me something,” said Harriet rather hesitatingly; “but it is
-nothing of any consequence.”
-
-Emma was obliged to ask what they had told her, though fearful of its
-producing Mr. Elton.
-
-“They told me—that Mr. Martin dined with them last Saturday.”
-
-“Oh!”
-
-“He came to their father upon some business, and he asked him to stay
-to dinner.”
-
-“Oh!”
-
-“They talked a great deal about him, especially Anne Cox. I do not know
-what she meant, but she asked me if I thought I should go and stay
-there again next summer.”
-
-“She meant to be impertinently curious, just as such an Anne Cox should
-be.”
-
-“She said he was very agreeable the day he dined there. He sat by her
-at dinner. Miss Nash thinks either of the Coxes would be very glad to
-marry him.”
-
-“Very likely.—I think they are, without exception, the most vulgar
-girls in Highbury.”
-
-Harriet had business at Ford’s.—Emma thought it most prudent to go with
-her. Another accidental meeting with the Martins was possible, and in
-her present state, would be dangerous.
-
-Harriet, tempted by every thing and swayed by half a word, was always
-very long at a purchase; and while she was still hanging over muslins
-and changing her mind, Emma went to the door for amusement.—Much could
-not be hoped from the traffic of even the busiest part of Highbury;—Mr.
-Perry walking hastily by, Mr. William Cox letting himself in at the
-office-door, Mr. Cole’s carriage-horses returning from exercise, or a
-stray letter-boy on an obstinate mule, were the liveliest objects she
-could presume to expect; and when her eyes fell only on the butcher
-with his tray, a tidy old woman travelling homewards from shop with her
-full basket, two curs quarrelling over a dirty bone, and a string of
-dawdling children round the baker’s little bow-window eyeing the
-gingerbread, she knew she had no reason to complain, and was amused
-enough; quite enough still to stand at the door. A mind lively and at
-ease, can do with seeing nothing, and can see nothing that does not
-answer.
-
-She looked down the Randalls road. The scene enlarged; two persons
-appeared; Mrs. Weston and her son-in-law; they were walking into
-Highbury;—to Hartfield of course. They were stopping, however, in the
-first place at Mrs. Bates’s; whose house was a little nearer Randalls
-than Ford’s; and had all but knocked, when Emma caught their
-eye.—Immediately they crossed the road and came forward to her; and the
-agreeableness of yesterday’s engagement seemed to give fresh pleasure
-to the present meeting. Mrs. Weston informed her that she was going to
-call on the Bateses, in order to hear the new instrument.
-
-“For my companion tells me,” said she, “that I absolutely promised Miss
-Bates last night, that I would come this morning. I was not aware of it
-myself. I did not know that I had fixed a day, but as he says I did, I
-am going now.”
-
-“And while Mrs. Weston pays her visit, I may be allowed, I hope,” said
-Frank Churchill, “to join your party and wait for her at Hartfield—if
-you are going home.”
-
-Mrs. Weston was disappointed.
-
-“I thought you meant to go with me. They would be very much pleased.”
-
-“Me! I should be quite in the way. But, perhaps—I may be equally in the
-way here. Miss Woodhouse looks as if she did not want me. My aunt
-always sends me off when she is shopping. She says I fidget her to
-death; and Miss Woodhouse looks as if she could almost say the same.
-What am I to do?”
-
-“I am here on no business of my own,” said Emma; “I am only waiting for
-my friend. She will probably have soon done, and then we shall go home.
-But you had better go with Mrs. Weston and hear the instrument.”
-
-“Well—if you advise it.—But (with a smile) if Colonel Campbell should
-have employed a careless friend, and if it should prove to have an
-indifferent tone—what shall I say? I shall be no support to Mrs.
-Weston. She might do very well by herself. A disagreeable truth would
-be palatable through her lips, but I am the wretchedest being in the
-world at a civil falsehood.”
-
-“I do not believe any such thing,” replied Emma.—“I am persuaded that
-you can be as insincere as your neighbours, when it is necessary; but
-there is no reason to suppose the instrument is indifferent. Quite
-otherwise indeed, if I understood Miss Fairfax’s opinion last night.”
-
-“Do come with me,” said Mrs. Weston, “if it be not very disagreeable to
-you. It need not detain us long. We will go to Hartfield afterwards. We
-will follow them to Hartfield. I really wish you to call with me. It
-will be felt so great an attention! and I always thought you meant it.”
-
-He could say no more; and with the hope of Hartfield to reward him,
-returned with Mrs. Weston to Mrs. Bates’s door. Emma watched them in,
-and then joined Harriet at the interesting counter,—trying, with all
-the force of her own mind, to convince her that if she wanted plain
-muslin it was of no use to look at figured; and that a blue ribbon, be
-it ever so beautiful, would still never match her yellow pattern. At
-last it was all settled, even to the destination of the parcel.
-
-“Should I send it to Mrs. Goddard’s, ma’am?” asked Mrs.
-Ford.—“Yes—no—yes, to Mrs. Goddard’s. Only my pattern gown is at
-Hartfield. No, you shall send it to Hartfield, if you please. But then,
-Mrs. Goddard will want to see it.—And I could take the pattern gown
-home any day. But I shall want the ribbon directly—so it had better go
-to Hartfield—at least the ribbon. You could make it into two parcels,
-Mrs. Ford, could not you?”
-
-“It is not worth while, Harriet, to give Mrs. Ford the trouble of two
-parcels.”
-
-“No more it is.”
-
-“No trouble in the world, ma’am,” said the obliging Mrs. Ford.
-
-“Oh! but indeed I would much rather have it only in one. Then, if you
-please, you shall send it all to Mrs. Goddard’s—I do not know—No, I
-think, Miss Woodhouse, I may just as well have it sent to Hartfield,
-and take it home with me at night. What do you advise?”
-
-“That you do not give another half-second to the subject. To Hartfield,
-if you please, Mrs. Ford.”
-
-“Aye, that will be much best,” said Harriet, quite satisfied, “I should
-not at all like to have it sent to Mrs. Goddard’s.”
-
-Voices approached the shop—or rather one voice and two ladies: Mrs.
-Weston and Miss Bates met them at the door.
-
-“My dear Miss Woodhouse,” said the latter, “I am just run across to
-entreat the favour of you to come and sit down with us a little while,
-and give us your opinion of our new instrument; you and Miss Smith. How
-do you do, Miss Smith?—Very well I thank you.—And I begged Mrs. Weston
-to come with me, that I might be sure of succeeding.”
-
-“I hope Mrs. Bates and Miss Fairfax are—”
-
-“Very well, I am much obliged to you. My mother is delightfully well;
-and Jane caught no cold last night. How is Mr. Woodhouse?—I am so glad
-to hear such a good account. Mrs. Weston told me you were here.—Oh!
-then, said I, I must run across, I am sure Miss Woodhouse will allow me
-just to run across and entreat her to come in; my mother will be so
-very happy to see her—and now we are such a nice party, she cannot
-refuse.—‘Aye, pray do,’ said Mr. Frank Churchill, ‘Miss Woodhouse’s
-opinion of the instrument will be worth having.’—But, said I, I shall
-be more sure of succeeding if one of you will go with me.—‘Oh,’ said
-he, ‘wait half a minute, till I have finished my job;’—For, would you
-believe it, Miss Woodhouse, there he is, in the most obliging manner in
-the world, fastening in the rivet of my mother’s spectacles.—The rivet
-came out, you know, this morning.—So very obliging!—For my mother had
-no use of her spectacles—could not put them on. And, by the bye, every
-body ought to have two pair of spectacles; they should indeed. Jane
-said so. I meant to take them over to John Saunders the first thing I
-did, but something or other hindered me all the morning; first one
-thing, then another, there is no saying what, you know. At one time
-Patty came to say she thought the kitchen chimney wanted sweeping. Oh,
-said I, Patty do not come with your bad news to me. Here is the rivet
-of your mistress’s spectacles out. Then the baked apples came home,
-Mrs. Wallis sent them by her boy; they are extremely civil and obliging
-to us, the Wallises, always—I have heard some people say that Mrs.
-Wallis can be uncivil and give a very rude answer, but we have never
-known any thing but the greatest attention from them. And it cannot be
-for the value of our custom now, for what is our consumption of bread,
-you know? Only three of us.—besides dear Jane at present—and she really
-eats nothing—makes such a shocking breakfast, you would be quite
-frightened if you saw it. I dare not let my mother know how little she
-eats—so I say one thing and then I say another, and it passes off. But
-about the middle of the day she gets hungry, and there is nothing she
-likes so well as these baked apples, and they are extremely wholesome,
-for I took the opportunity the other day of asking Mr. Perry; I
-happened to meet him in the street. Not that I had any doubt before—I
-have so often heard Mr. Woodhouse recommend a baked apple. I believe it
-is the only way that Mr. Woodhouse thinks the fruit thoroughly
-wholesome. We have apple-dumplings, however, very often. Patty makes an
-excellent apple-dumpling. Well, Mrs. Weston, you have prevailed, I
-hope, and these ladies will oblige us.”
-
-Emma would be “very happy to wait on Mrs. Bates, &c.,” and they did at
-last move out of the shop, with no farther delay from Miss Bates than,
-
-“How do you do, Mrs. Ford? I beg your pardon. I did not see you before.
-I hear you have a charming collection of new ribbons from town. Jane
-came back delighted yesterday. Thank ye, the gloves do very well—only a
-little too large about the wrist; but Jane is taking them in.”
-
-“What was I talking of?” said she, beginning again when they were all
-in the street.
-
-Emma wondered on what, of all the medley, she would fix.
-
-“I declare I cannot recollect what I was talking of.—Oh! my mother’s
-spectacles. So very obliging of Mr. Frank Churchill! ‘Oh!’ said he, ‘I
-do think I can fasten the rivet; I like a job of this kind
-excessively.’—Which you know shewed him to be so very.... Indeed I must
-say that, much as I had heard of him before and much as I had expected,
-he very far exceeds any thing.... I do congratulate you, Mrs. Weston,
-most warmly. He seems every thing the fondest parent could.... ‘Oh!’
-said he, ‘I can fasten the rivet. I like a job of that sort
-excessively.’ I never shall forget his manner. And when I brought out
-the baked apples from the closet, and hoped our friends would be so
-very obliging as to take some, ‘Oh!’ said he directly, ‘there is
-nothing in the way of fruit half so good, and these are the
-finest-looking home-baked apples I ever saw in my life.’ That, you
-know, was so very.... And I am sure, by his manner, it was no
-compliment. Indeed they are very delightful apples, and Mrs. Wallis
-does them full justice—only we do not have them baked more than twice,
-and Mr. Woodhouse made us promise to have them done three times—but
-Miss Woodhouse will be so good as not to mention it. The apples
-themselves are the very finest sort for baking, beyond a doubt; all
-from Donwell—some of Mr. Knightley’s most liberal supply. He sends us a
-sack every year; and certainly there never was such a keeping apple
-anywhere as one of his trees—I believe there is two of them. My mother
-says the orchard was always famous in her younger days. But I was
-really quite shocked the other day—for Mr. Knightley called one
-morning, and Jane was eating these apples, and we talked about them and
-said how much she enjoyed them, and he asked whether we were not got to
-the end of our stock. ‘I am sure you must be,’ said he, ‘and I will
-send you another supply; for I have a great many more than I can ever
-use. William Larkins let me keep a larger quantity than usual this
-year. I will send you some more, before they get good for nothing.’ So
-I begged he would not—for really as to ours being gone, I could not
-absolutely say that we had a great many left—it was but half a dozen
-indeed; but they should be all kept for Jane; and I could not at all
-bear that he should be sending us more, so liberal as he had been
-already; and Jane said the same. And when he was gone, she almost
-quarrelled with me—No, I should not say quarrelled, for we never had a
-quarrel in our lives; but she was quite distressed that I had owned the
-apples were so nearly gone; she wished I had made him believe we had a
-great many left. Oh, said I, my dear, I did say as much as I could.
-However, the very same evening William Larkins came over with a large
-basket of apples, the same sort of apples, a bushel at least, and I was
-very much obliged, and went down and spoke to William Larkins and said
-every thing, as you may suppose. William Larkins is such an old
-acquaintance! I am always glad to see him. But, however, I found
-afterwards from Patty, that William said it was all the apples of
-_that_ sort his master had; he had brought them all—and now his master
-had not one left to bake or boil. William did not seem to mind it
-himself, he was so pleased to think his master had sold so many; for
-William, you know, thinks more of his master’s profit than any thing;
-but Mrs. Hodges, he said, was quite displeased at their being all sent
-away. She could not bear that her master should not be able to have
-another apple-tart this spring. He told Patty this, but bid her not
-mind it, and be sure not to say any thing to us about it, for Mrs.
-Hodges _would_ be cross sometimes, and as long as so many sacks were
-sold, it did not signify who ate the remainder. And so Patty told me,
-and I was excessively shocked indeed! I would not have Mr. Knightley
-know any thing about it for the world! He would be so very.... I wanted
-to keep it from Jane’s knowledge; but, unluckily, I had mentioned it
-before I was aware.”
-
-Miss Bates had just done as Patty opened the door; and her visitors
-walked upstairs without having any regular narration to attend to,
-pursued only by the sounds of her desultory good-will.
-
-“Pray take care, Mrs. Weston, there is a step at the turning. Pray take
-care, Miss Woodhouse, ours is rather a dark staircase—rather darker and
-narrower than one could wish. Miss Smith, pray take care. Miss
-Woodhouse, I am quite concerned, I am sure you hit your foot. Miss
-Smith, the step at the turning.”
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER X
-
-
-The appearance of the little sitting-room as they entered, was
-tranquillity itself; Mrs. Bates, deprived of her usual employment,
-slumbering on one side of the fire, Frank Churchill, at a table near
-her, most deedily occupied about her spectacles, and Jane Fairfax,
-standing with her back to them, intent on her pianoforte.
-
-Busy as he was, however, the young man was yet able to shew a most
-happy countenance on seeing Emma again.
-
-“This is a pleasure,” said he, in rather a low voice, “coming at least
-ten minutes earlier than I had calculated. You find me trying to be
-useful; tell me if you think I shall succeed.”
-
-“What!” said Mrs. Weston, “have not you finished it yet? you would not
-earn a very good livelihood as a working silversmith at this rate.”
-
-“I have not been working uninterruptedly,” he replied, “I have been
-assisting Miss Fairfax in trying to make her instrument stand steadily,
-it was not quite firm; an unevenness in the floor, I believe. You see
-we have been wedging one leg with paper. This was very kind of you to
-be persuaded to come. I was almost afraid you would be hurrying home.”
-
-He contrived that she should be seated by him; and was sufficiently
-employed in looking out the best baked apple for her, and trying to
-make her help or advise him in his work, till Jane Fairfax was quite
-ready to sit down to the pianoforte again. That she was not immediately
-ready, Emma did suspect to arise from the state of her nerves; she had
-not yet possessed the instrument long enough to touch it without
-emotion; she must reason herself into the power of performance; and
-Emma could not but pity such feelings, whatever their origin, and could
-not but resolve never to expose them to her neighbour again.
-
-At last Jane began, and though the first bars were feebly given, the
-powers of the instrument were gradually done full justice to. Mrs.
-Weston had been delighted before, and was delighted again; Emma joined
-her in all her praise; and the pianoforte, with every proper
-discrimination, was pronounced to be altogether of the highest promise.
-
-“Whoever Colonel Campbell might employ,” said Frank Churchill, with a
-smile at Emma, “the person has not chosen ill. I heard a good deal of
-Colonel Campbell’s taste at Weymouth; and the softness of the upper
-notes I am sure is exactly what he and _all_ _that_ _party_ would
-particularly prize. I dare say, Miss Fairfax, that he either gave his
-friend very minute directions, or wrote to Broadwood himself. Do not
-you think so?”
-
-Jane did not look round. She was not obliged to hear. Mrs. Weston had
-been speaking to her at the same moment.
-
-“It is not fair,” said Emma, in a whisper; “mine was a random guess. Do
-not distress her.”
-
-He shook his head with a smile, and looked as if he had very little
-doubt and very little mercy. Soon afterwards he began again,
-
-“How much your friends in Ireland must be enjoying your pleasure on
-this occasion, Miss Fairfax. I dare say they often think of you, and
-wonder which will be the day, the precise day of the instrument’s
-coming to hand. Do you imagine Colonel Campbell knows the business to
-be going forward just at this time?—Do you imagine it to be the
-consequence of an immediate commission from him, or that he may have
-sent only a general direction, an order indefinite as to time, to
-depend upon contingencies and conveniences?”
-
-He paused. She could not but hear; she could not avoid answering,
-
-“Till I have a letter from Colonel Campbell,” said she, in a voice of
-forced calmness, “I can imagine nothing with any confidence. It must be
-all conjecture.”
-
-“Conjecture—aye, sometimes one conjectures right, and sometimes one
-conjectures wrong. I wish I could conjecture how soon I shall make this
-rivet quite firm. What nonsense one talks, Miss Woodhouse, when hard at
-work, if one talks at all;—your real workmen, I suppose, hold their
-tongues; but we gentlemen labourers if we get hold of a word—Miss
-Fairfax said something about conjecturing. There, it is done. I have
-the pleasure, madam, (to Mrs. Bates,) of restoring your spectacles,
-healed for the present.”
-
-He was very warmly thanked both by mother and daughter; to escape a
-little from the latter, he went to the pianoforte, and begged Miss
-Fairfax, who was still sitting at it, to play something more.
-
-“If you are very kind,” said he, “it will be one of the waltzes we
-danced last night;—let me live them over again. You did not enjoy them
-as I did; you appeared tired the whole time. I believe you were glad we
-danced no longer; but I would have given worlds—all the worlds one ever
-has to give—for another half-hour.”
-
-She played.
-
-“What felicity it is to hear a tune again which _has_ made one
-happy!—If I mistake not that was danced at Weymouth.”
-
-She looked up at him for a moment, coloured deeply, and played
-something else. He took some music from a chair near the pianoforte,
-and turning to Emma, said,
-
-“Here is something quite new to me. Do you know it?—Cramer.—And here
-are a new set of Irish melodies. That, from such a quarter, one might
-expect. This was all sent with the instrument. Very thoughtful of
-Colonel Campbell, was not it?—He knew Miss Fairfax could have no music
-here. I honour that part of the attention particularly; it shews it to
-have been so thoroughly from the heart. Nothing hastily done; nothing
-incomplete. True affection only could have prompted it.”
-
-Emma wished he would be less pointed, yet could not help being amused;
-and when on glancing her eye towards Jane Fairfax she caught the
-remains of a smile, when she saw that with all the deep blush of
-consciousness, there had been a smile of secret delight, she had less
-scruple in the amusement, and much less compunction with respect to
-her.—This amiable, upright, perfect Jane Fairfax was apparently
-cherishing very reprehensible feelings.
-
-He brought all the music to her, and they looked it over together.—Emma
-took the opportunity of whispering,
-
-“You speak too plain. She must understand you.”
-
-“I hope she does. I would have her understand me. I am not in the least
-ashamed of my meaning.”
-
-“But really, I am half ashamed, and wish I had never taken up the
-idea.”
-
-“I am very glad you did, and that you communicated it to me. I have now
-a key to all her odd looks and ways. Leave shame to her. If she does
-wrong, she ought to feel it.”
-
-“She is not entirely without it, I think.”
-
-“I do not see much sign of it. She is playing _Robin_ _Adair_ at this
-moment—_his_ favourite.”
-
-Shortly afterwards Miss Bates, passing near the window, descried Mr.
-Knightley on horse-back not far off.
-
-“Mr. Knightley I declare!—I must speak to him if possible, just to
-thank him. I will not open the window here; it would give you all cold;
-but I can go into my mother’s room you know. I dare say he will come in
-when he knows who is here. Quite delightful to have you all meet
-so!—Our little room so honoured!”
-
-She was in the adjoining chamber while she still spoke, and opening the
-casement there, immediately called Mr. Knightley’s attention, and every
-syllable of their conversation was as distinctly heard by the others,
-as if it had passed within the same apartment.
-
-“How d’ ye do?—how d’ye do?—Very well, I thank you. So obliged to you
-for the carriage last night. We were just in time; my mother just ready
-for us. Pray come in; do come in. You will find some friends here.”
-
-So began Miss Bates; and Mr. Knightley seemed determined to be heard in
-his turn, for most resolutely and commandingly did he say,
-
-“How is your niece, Miss Bates?—I want to inquire after you all, but
-particularly your niece. How is Miss Fairfax?—I hope she caught no cold
-last night. How is she to-day? Tell me how Miss Fairfax is.”
-
-And Miss Bates was obliged to give a direct answer before he would hear
-her in any thing else. The listeners were amused; and Mrs. Weston gave
-Emma a look of particular meaning. But Emma still shook her head in
-steady scepticism.
-
-“So obliged to you!—so very much obliged to you for the carriage,”
-resumed Miss Bates.
-
-He cut her short with,
-
-“I am going to Kingston. Can I do any thing for you?”
-
-“Oh! dear, Kingston—are you?—Mrs. Cole was saying the other day she
-wanted something from Kingston.”
-
-“Mrs. Cole has servants to send. Can I do any thing for _you_?”
-
-“No, I thank you. But do come in. Who do you think is here?—Miss
-Woodhouse and Miss Smith; so kind as to call to hear the new
-pianoforte. Do put up your horse at the Crown, and come in.”
-
-“Well,” said he, in a deliberating manner, “for five minutes, perhaps.”
-
-“And here is Mrs. Weston and Mr. Frank Churchill too!—Quite delightful;
-so many friends!”
-
-“No, not now, I thank you. I could not stay two minutes. I must get on
-to Kingston as fast as I can.”
-
-“Oh! do come in. They will be so very happy to see you.”
-
-“No, no; your room is full enough. I will call another day, and hear
-the pianoforte.”
-
-“Well, I am so sorry!—Oh! Mr. Knightley, what a delightful party last
-night; how extremely pleasant.—Did you ever see such dancing?—Was not
-it delightful?—Miss Woodhouse and Mr. Frank Churchill; I never saw any
-thing equal to it.”
-
-“Oh! very delightful indeed; I can say nothing less, for I suppose Miss
-Woodhouse and Mr. Frank Churchill are hearing every thing that passes.
-And (raising his voice still more) I do not see why Miss Fairfax should
-not be mentioned too. I think Miss Fairfax dances very well; and Mrs.
-Weston is the very best country-dance player, without exception, in
-England. Now, if your friends have any gratitude, they will say
-something pretty loud about you and me in return; but I cannot stay to
-hear it.”
-
-“Oh! Mr. Knightley, one moment more; something of consequence—so
-shocked!—Jane and I are both so shocked about the apples!”
-
-“What is the matter now?”
-
-“To think of your sending us all your store apples. You said you had a
-great many, and now you have not one left. We really are so shocked!
-Mrs. Hodges may well be angry. William Larkins mentioned it here. You
-should not have done it, indeed you should not. Ah! he is off. He never
-can bear to be thanked. But I thought he would have staid now, and it
-would have been a pity not to have mentioned.... Well, (returning to
-the room,) I have not been able to succeed. Mr. Knightley cannot stop.
-He is going to Kingston. He asked me if he could do any thing....”
-
-“Yes,” said Jane, “we heard his kind offers, we heard every thing.”
-
-“Oh! yes, my dear, I dare say you might, because you know, the door was
-open, and the window was open, and Mr. Knightley spoke loud. You must
-have heard every thing to be sure. ‘Can I do any thing for you at
-Kingston?’ said he; so I just mentioned.... Oh! Miss Woodhouse, must
-you be going?—You seem but just come—so very obliging of you.”
-
-Emma found it really time to be at home; the visit had already lasted
-long; and on examining watches, so much of the morning was perceived to
-be gone, that Mrs. Weston and her companion taking leave also, could
-allow themselves only to walk with the two young ladies to Hartfield
-gates, before they set off for Randalls.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XI
-
-
-It may be possible to do without dancing entirely. Instances have been
-known of young people passing many, many months successively, without
-being at any ball of any description, and no material injury accrue
-either to body or mind;—but when a beginning is made—when the
-felicities of rapid motion have once been, though slightly, felt—it
-must be a very heavy set that does not ask for more.
-
-Frank Churchill had danced once at Highbury, and longed to dance again;
-and the last half-hour of an evening which Mr. Woodhouse was persuaded
-to spend with his daughter at Randalls, was passed by the two young
-people in schemes on the subject. Frank’s was the first idea; and his
-the greatest zeal in pursuing it; for the lady was the best judge of
-the difficulties, and the most solicitous for accommodation and
-appearance. But still she had inclination enough for shewing people
-again how delightfully Mr. Frank Churchill and Miss Woodhouse
-danced—for doing that in which she need not blush to compare herself
-with Jane Fairfax—and even for simple dancing itself, without any of
-the wicked aids of vanity—to assist him first in pacing out the room
-they were in to see what it could be made to hold—and then in taking
-the dimensions of the other parlour, in the hope of discovering, in
-spite of all that Mr. Weston could say of their exactly equal size,
-that it was a little the largest.
-
-His first proposition and request, that the dance begun at Mr. Cole’s
-should be finished there—that the same party should be collected, and
-the same musician engaged, met with the readiest acquiescence. Mr.
-Weston entered into the idea with thorough enjoyment, and Mrs. Weston
-most willingly undertook to play as long as they could wish to dance;
-and the interesting employment had followed, of reckoning up exactly
-who there would be, and portioning out the indispensable division of
-space to every couple.
-
-“You and Miss Smith, and Miss Fairfax, will be three, and the two Miss
-Coxes five,” had been repeated many times over. “And there will be the
-two Gilberts, young Cox, my father, and myself, besides Mr. Knightley.
-Yes, that will be quite enough for pleasure. You and Miss Smith, and
-Miss Fairfax, will be three, and the two Miss Coxes five; and for five
-couple there will be plenty of room.”
-
-But soon it came to be on one side,
-
-“But will there be good room for five couple?—I really do not think
-there will.”
-
-On another,
-
-“And after all, five couple are not enough to make it worth while to
-stand up. Five couple are nothing, when one thinks seriously about it.
-It will not do to _invite_ five couple. It can be allowable only as the
-thought of the moment.”
-
-Somebody said that _Miss_ Gilbert was expected at her brother’s, and
-must be invited with the rest. Somebody else believed _Mrs_. Gilbert
-would have danced the other evening, if she had been asked. A word was
-put in for a second young Cox; and at last, Mr. Weston naming one
-family of cousins who must be included, and another of very old
-acquaintance who could not be left out, it became a certainty that the
-five couple would be at least ten, and a very interesting speculation
-in what possible manner they could be disposed of.
-
-The doors of the two rooms were just opposite each other. “Might not
-they use both rooms, and dance across the passage?” It seemed the best
-scheme; and yet it was not so good but that many of them wanted a
-better. Emma said it would be awkward; Mrs. Weston was in distress
-about the supper; and Mr. Woodhouse opposed it earnestly, on the score
-of health. It made him so very unhappy, indeed, that it could not be
-persevered in.
-
-“Oh! no,” said he; “it would be the extreme of imprudence. I could not
-bear it for Emma!—Emma is not strong. She would catch a dreadful cold.
-So would poor little Harriet. So you would all. Mrs. Weston, you would
-be quite laid up; do not let them talk of such a wild thing. Pray do
-not let them talk of it. That young man (speaking lower) is very
-thoughtless. Do not tell his father, but that young man is not quite
-the thing. He has been opening the doors very often this evening, and
-keeping them open very inconsiderately. He does not think of the
-draught. I do not mean to set you against him, but indeed he is not
-quite the thing!”
-
-Mrs. Weston was sorry for such a charge. She knew the importance of it,
-and said every thing in her power to do it away. Every door was now
-closed, the passage plan given up, and the first scheme of dancing only
-in the room they were in resorted to again; and with such good-will on
-Frank Churchill’s part, that the space which a quarter of an hour
-before had been deemed barely sufficient for five couple, was now
-endeavoured to be made out quite enough for ten.
-
-“We were too magnificent,” said he. “We allowed unnecessary room. Ten
-couple may stand here very well.”
-
-Emma demurred. “It would be a crowd—a sad crowd; and what could be
-worse than dancing without space to turn in?”
-
-“Very true,” he gravely replied; “it was very bad.” But still he went
-on measuring, and still he ended with,
-
-“I think there will be very tolerable room for ten couple.”
-
-“No, no,” said she, “you are quite unreasonable. It would be dreadful
-to be standing so close! Nothing can be farther from pleasure than to
-be dancing in a crowd—and a crowd in a little room!”
-
-“There is no denying it,” he replied. “I agree with you exactly. A
-crowd in a little room—Miss Woodhouse, you have the art of giving
-pictures in a few words. Exquisite, quite exquisite!—Still, however,
-having proceeded so far, one is unwilling to give the matter up. It
-would be a disappointment to my father—and altogether—I do not know
-that—I am rather of opinion that ten couple might stand here very
-well.”
-
-Emma perceived that the nature of his gallantry was a little
-self-willed, and that he would rather oppose than lose the pleasure of
-dancing with her; but she took the compliment, and forgave the rest.
-Had she intended ever to _marry_ him, it might have been worth while to
-pause and consider, and try to understand the value of his preference,
-and the character of his temper; but for all the purposes of their
-acquaintance, he was quite amiable enough.
-
-Before the middle of the next day, he was at Hartfield; and he entered
-the room with such an agreeable smile as certified the continuance of
-the scheme. It soon appeared that he came to announce an improvement.
-
-“Well, Miss Woodhouse,” he almost immediately began, “your inclination
-for dancing has not been quite frightened away, I hope, by the terrors
-of my father’s little rooms. I bring a new proposal on the subject:—a
-thought of my father’s, which waits only your approbation to be acted
-upon. May I hope for the honour of your hand for the two first dances
-of this little projected ball, to be given, not at Randalls, but at the
-Crown Inn?”
-
-“The Crown!”
-
-“Yes; if you and Mr. Woodhouse see no objection, and I trust you
-cannot, my father hopes his friends will be so kind as to visit him
-there. Better accommodations, he can promise them, and not a less
-grateful welcome than at Randalls. It is his own idea. Mrs. Weston sees
-no objection to it, provided you are satisfied. This is what we all
-feel. Oh! you were perfectly right! Ten couple, in either of the
-Randalls rooms, would have been insufferable!—Dreadful!—I felt how
-right you were the whole time, but was too anxious for securing _any_
-_thing_ to like to yield. Is not it a good exchange?—You consent—I hope
-you consent?”
-
-“It appears to me a plan that nobody can object to, if Mr. and Mrs.
-Weston do not. I think it admirable; and, as far as I can answer for
-myself, shall be most happy—It seems the only improvement that could
-be. Papa, do you not think it an excellent improvement?”
-
-She was obliged to repeat and explain it, before it was fully
-comprehended; and then, being quite new, farther representations were
-necessary to make it acceptable.
-
-“No; he thought it very far from an improvement—a very bad plan—much
-worse than the other. A room at an inn was always damp and dangerous;
-never properly aired, or fit to be inhabited. If they must dance, they
-had better dance at Randalls. He had never been in the room at the
-Crown in his life—did not know the people who kept it by sight.—Oh!
-no—a very bad plan. They would catch worse colds at the Crown than
-anywhere.”
-
-“I was going to observe, sir,” said Frank Churchill, “that one of the
-great recommendations of this change would be the very little danger of
-any body’s catching cold—so much less danger at the Crown than at
-Randalls! Mr. Perry might have reason to regret the alteration, but
-nobody else could.”
-
-“Sir,” said Mr. Woodhouse, rather warmly, “you are very much mistaken
-if you suppose Mr. Perry to be that sort of character. Mr. Perry is
-extremely concerned when any of us are ill. But I do not understand how
-the room at the Crown can be safer for you than your father’s house.”
-
-“From the very circumstance of its being larger, sir. We shall have no
-occasion to open the windows at all—not once the whole evening; and it
-is that dreadful habit of opening the windows, letting in cold air upon
-heated bodies, which (as you well know, sir) does the mischief.”
-
-“Open the windows!—but surely, Mr. Churchill, nobody would think of
-opening the windows at Randalls. Nobody could be so imprudent! I never
-heard of such a thing. Dancing with open windows!—I am sure, neither
-your father nor Mrs. Weston (poor Miss Taylor that was) would suffer
-it.”
-
-“Ah! sir—but a thoughtless young person will sometimes step behind a
-window-curtain, and throw up a sash, without its being suspected. I
-have often known it done myself.”
-
-“Have you indeed, sir?—Bless me! I never could have supposed it. But I
-live out of the world, and am often astonished at what I hear. However,
-this does make a difference; and, perhaps, when we come to talk it
-over—but these sort of things require a good deal of consideration. One
-cannot resolve upon them in a hurry. If Mr. and Mrs. Weston will be so
-obliging as to call here one morning, we may talk it over, and see what
-can be done.”
-
-“But, unfortunately, sir, my time is so limited—”
-
-“Oh!” interrupted Emma, “there will be plenty of time for talking every
-thing over. There is no hurry at all. If it can be contrived to be at
-the Crown, papa, it will be very convenient for the horses. They will
-be so near their own stable.”
-
-“So they will, my dear. That is a great thing. Not that James ever
-complains; but it is right to spare our horses when we can. If I could
-be sure of the rooms being thoroughly aired—but is Mrs. Stokes to be
-trusted? I doubt it. I do not know her, even by sight.”
-
-“I can answer for every thing of that nature, sir, because it will be
-under Mrs. Weston’s care. Mrs. Weston undertakes to direct the whole.”
-
-“There, papa!—Now you must be satisfied—Our own dear Mrs. Weston, who
-is carefulness itself. Do not you remember what Mr. Perry said, so many
-years ago, when I had the measles? ‘If _Miss_ _Taylor_ undertakes to
-wrap Miss Emma up, you need not have any fears, sir.’ How often have I
-heard you speak of it as such a compliment to her!”
-
-“Aye, very true. Mr. Perry did say so. I shall never forget it. Poor
-little Emma! You were very bad with the measles; that is, you would
-have been very bad, but for Perry’s great attention. He came four times
-a day for a week. He said, from the first, it was a very good
-sort—which was our great comfort; but the measles are a dreadful
-complaint. I hope whenever poor Isabella’s little ones have the
-measles, she will send for Perry.”
-
-“My father and Mrs. Weston are at the Crown at this moment,” said Frank
-Churchill, “examining the capabilities of the house. I left them there
-and came on to Hartfield, impatient for your opinion, and hoping you
-might be persuaded to join them and give your advice on the spot. I was
-desired to say so from both. It would be the greatest pleasure to them,
-if you could allow me to attend you there. They can do nothing
-satisfactorily without you.”
-
-Emma was most happy to be called to such a council; and her father,
-engaging to think it all over while she was gone, the two young people
-set off together without delay for the Crown. There were Mr. and Mrs.
-Weston; delighted to see her and receive her approbation, very busy and
-very happy in their different way; she, in some little distress; and
-he, finding every thing perfect.
-
-“Emma,” said she, “this paper is worse than I expected. Look! in places
-you see it is dreadfully dirty; and the wainscot is more yellow and
-forlorn than any thing I could have imagined.”
-
-“My dear, you are too particular,” said her husband. “What does all
-that signify? You will see nothing of it by candlelight. It will be as
-clean as Randalls by candlelight. We never see any thing of it on our
-club-nights.”
-
-The ladies here probably exchanged looks which meant, “Men never know
-when things are dirty or not;” and the gentlemen perhaps thought each
-to himself, “Women will have their little nonsenses and needless
-cares.”
-
-One perplexity, however, arose, which the gentlemen did not disdain. It
-regarded a supper-room. At the time of the ballroom’s being built,
-suppers had not been in question; and a small card-room adjoining, was
-the only addition. What was to be done? This card-room would be wanted
-as a card-room now; or, if cards were conveniently voted unnecessary by
-their four selves, still was it not too small for any comfortable
-supper? Another room of much better size might be secured for the
-purpose; but it was at the other end of the house, and a long awkward
-passage must be gone through to get at it. This made a difficulty. Mrs.
-Weston was afraid of draughts for the young people in that passage; and
-neither Emma nor the gentlemen could tolerate the prospect of being
-miserably crowded at supper.
-
-Mrs. Weston proposed having no regular supper; merely sandwiches, &c.,
-set out in the little room; but that was scouted as a wretched
-suggestion. A private dance, without sitting down to supper, was
-pronounced an infamous fraud upon the rights of men and women; and Mrs.
-Weston must not speak of it again. She then took another line of
-expediency, and looking into the doubtful room, observed,
-
-“I do not think it _is_ so very small. We shall not be many, you know.”
-
-And Mr. Weston at the same time, walking briskly with long steps
-through the passage, was calling out,
-
-“You talk a great deal of the length of this passage, my dear. It is a
-mere nothing after all; and not the least draught from the stairs.”
-
-“I wish,” said Mrs. Weston, “one could know which arrangement our
-guests in general would like best. To do what would be most generally
-pleasing must be our object—if one could but tell what that would be.”
-
-“Yes, very true,” cried Frank, “very true. You want your neighbours’
-opinions. I do not wonder at you. If one could ascertain what the chief
-of them—the Coles, for instance. They are not far off. Shall I call
-upon them? Or Miss Bates? She is still nearer.—And I do not know
-whether Miss Bates is not as likely to understand the inclinations of
-the rest of the people as any body. I think we do want a larger
-council. Suppose I go and invite Miss Bates to join us?”
-
-“Well—if you please,” said Mrs. Weston rather hesitating, “if you think
-she will be of any use.”
-
-“You will get nothing to the purpose from Miss Bates,” said Emma. “She
-will be all delight and gratitude, but she will tell you nothing. She
-will not even listen to your questions. I see no advantage in
-consulting Miss Bates.”
-
-“But she is so amusing, so extremely amusing! I am very fond of hearing
-Miss Bates talk. And I need not bring the whole family, you know.”
-
-Here Mr. Weston joined them, and on hearing what was proposed, gave it
-his decided approbation.
-
-“Aye, do, Frank.—Go and fetch Miss Bates, and let us end the matter at
-once. She will enjoy the scheme, I am sure; and I do not know a
-properer person for shewing us how to do away difficulties. Fetch Miss
-Bates. We are growing a little too nice. She is a standing lesson of
-how to be happy. But fetch them both. Invite them both.”
-
-“Both sir! Can the old lady?”...
-
-“The old lady! No, the young lady, to be sure. I shall think you a
-great blockhead, Frank, if you bring the aunt without the niece.”
-
-“Oh! I beg your pardon, sir. I did not immediately recollect.
-Undoubtedly if you wish it, I will endeavour to persuade them both.”
-And away he ran.
-
-Long before he reappeared, attending the short, neat, brisk-moving
-aunt, and her elegant niece,—Mrs. Weston, like a sweet-tempered woman
-and a good wife, had examined the passage again, and found the evils of
-it much less than she had supposed before—indeed very trifling; and
-here ended the difficulties of decision. All the rest, in speculation
-at least, was perfectly smooth. All the minor arrangements of table and
-chair, lights and music, tea and supper, made themselves; or were left
-as mere trifles to be settled at any time between Mrs. Weston and Mrs.
-Stokes.—Every body invited, was certainly to come; Frank had already
-written to Enscombe to propose staying a few days beyond his fortnight,
-which could not possibly be refused. And a delightful dance it was to
-be.
-
-Most cordially, when Miss Bates arrived, did she agree that it must. As
-a counsellor she was not wanted; but as an approver, (a much safer
-character,) she was truly welcome. Her approbation, at once general and
-minute, warm and incessant, could not but please; and for another
-half-hour they were all walking to and fro, between the different
-rooms, some suggesting, some attending, and all in happy enjoyment of
-the future. The party did not break up without Emma’s being positively
-secured for the two first dances by the hero of the evening, nor
-without her overhearing Mr. Weston whisper to his wife, “He has asked
-her, my dear. That’s right. I knew he would!”
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XII
-
-
-One thing only was wanting to make the prospect of the ball completely
-satisfactory to Emma—its being fixed for a day within the granted term
-of Frank Churchill’s stay in Surry; for, in spite of Mr. Weston’s
-confidence, she could not think it so very impossible that the
-Churchills might not allow their nephew to remain a day beyond his
-fortnight. But this was not judged feasible. The preparations must take
-their time, nothing could be properly ready till the third week were
-entered on, and for a few days they must be planning, proceeding and
-hoping in uncertainty—at the risk—in her opinion, the great risk, of
-its being all in vain.
-
-Enscombe however was gracious, gracious in fact, if not in word. His
-wish of staying longer evidently did not please; but it was not
-opposed. All was safe and prosperous; and as the removal of one
-solicitude generally makes way for another, Emma, being now certain of
-her ball, began to adopt as the next vexation Mr. Knightley’s provoking
-indifference about it. Either because he did not dance himself, or
-because the plan had been formed without his being consulted, he seemed
-resolved that it should not interest him, determined against its
-exciting any present curiosity, or affording him any future amusement.
-To her voluntary communications Emma could get no more approving reply,
-than,
-
-“Very well. If the Westons think it worth while to be at all this
-trouble for a few hours of noisy entertainment, I have nothing to say
-against it, but that they shall not chuse pleasures for me.—Oh! yes, I
-must be there; I could not refuse; and I will keep as much awake as I
-can; but I would rather be at home, looking over William Larkins’s
-week’s account; much rather, I confess.—Pleasure in seeing dancing!—not
-I, indeed—I never look at it—I do not know who does.—Fine dancing, I
-believe, like virtue, must be its own reward. Those who are standing by
-are usually thinking of something very different.”
-
-This Emma felt was aimed at her; and it made her quite angry. It was
-not in compliment to Jane Fairfax however that he was so indifferent,
-or so indignant; he was not guided by _her_ feelings in reprobating the
-ball, for _she_ enjoyed the thought of it to an extraordinary degree.
-It made her animated—open hearted—she voluntarily said;—
-
-“Oh! Miss Woodhouse, I hope nothing may happen to prevent the ball.
-What a disappointment it would be! I do look forward to it, I own, with
-_very_ great pleasure.”
-
-It was not to oblige Jane Fairfax therefore that he would have
-preferred the society of William Larkins. No!—she was more and more
-convinced that Mrs. Weston was quite mistaken in that surmise. There
-was a great deal of friendly and of compassionate attachment on his
-side—but no love.
-
-Alas! there was soon no leisure for quarrelling with Mr. Knightley. Two
-days of joyful security were immediately followed by the over-throw of
-every thing. A letter arrived from Mr. Churchill to urge his nephew’s
-instant return. Mrs. Churchill was unwell—far too unwell to do without
-him; she had been in a very suffering state (so said her husband) when
-writing to her nephew two days before, though from her usual
-unwillingness to give pain, and constant habit of never thinking of
-herself, she had not mentioned it; but now she was too ill to trifle,
-and must entreat him to set off for Enscombe without delay.
-
-The substance of this letter was forwarded to Emma, in a note from Mrs.
-Weston, instantly. As to his going, it was inevitable. He must be gone
-within a few hours, though without feeling any real alarm for his aunt,
-to lessen his repugnance. He knew her illnesses; they never occurred
-but for her own convenience.
-
-Mrs. Weston added, “that he could only allow himself time to hurry to
-Highbury, after breakfast, and take leave of the few friends there whom
-he could suppose to feel any interest in him; and that he might be
-expected at Hartfield very soon.”
-
-This wretched note was the finale of Emma’s breakfast. When once it had
-been read, there was no doing any thing, but lament and exclaim. The
-loss of the ball—the loss of the young man—and all that the young man
-might be feeling!—It was too wretched!—Such a delightful evening as it
-would have been!—Every body so happy! and she and her partner the
-happiest!—“I said it would be so,” was the only consolation.
-
-Her father’s feelings were quite distinct. He thought principally of
-Mrs. Churchill’s illness, and wanted to know how she was treated; and
-as for the ball, it was shocking to have dear Emma disappointed; but
-they would all be safer at home.
-
-Emma was ready for her visitor some time before he appeared; but if
-this reflected at all upon his impatience, his sorrowful look and total
-want of spirits when he did come might redeem him. He felt the going
-away almost too much to speak of it. His dejection was most evident. He
-sat really lost in thought for the first few minutes; and when rousing
-himself, it was only to say,
-
-“Of all horrid things, leave-taking is the worst.”
-
-“But you will come again,” said Emma. “This will not be your only visit
-to Randalls.”
-
-“Ah!—(shaking his head)—the uncertainty of when I may be able to
-return!—I shall try for it with a zeal!—It will be the object of all my
-thoughts and cares!—and if my uncle and aunt go to town this spring—but
-I am afraid—they did not stir last spring—I am afraid it is a custom
-gone for ever.”
-
-“Our poor ball must be quite given up.”
-
-“Ah! that ball!—why did we wait for any thing?—why not seize the
-pleasure at once?—How often is happiness destroyed by preparation,
-foolish preparation!—You told us it would be so.—Oh! Miss Woodhouse,
-why are you always so right?”
-
-“Indeed, I am very sorry to be right in this instance. I would much
-rather have been merry than wise.”
-
-“If I can come again, we are still to have our ball. My father depends
-on it. Do not forget your engagement.”
-
-Emma looked graciously.
-
-“Such a fortnight as it has been!” he continued; “every day more
-precious and more delightful than the day before!—every day making me
-less fit to bear any other place. Happy those, who can remain at
-Highbury!”
-
-“As you do us such ample justice now,” said Emma, laughing, “I will
-venture to ask, whether you did not come a little doubtfully at first?
-Do not we rather surpass your expectations? I am sure we do. I am sure
-you did not much expect to like us. You would not have been so long in
-coming, if you had had a pleasant idea of Highbury.”
-
-He laughed rather consciously; and though denying the sentiment, Emma
-was convinced that it had been so.
-
-“And you must be off this very morning?”
-
-“Yes; my father is to join me here: we shall walk back together, and I
-must be off immediately. I am almost afraid that every moment will
-bring him.”
-
-“Not five minutes to spare even for your friends Miss Fairfax and Miss
-Bates? How unlucky! Miss Bates’s powerful, argumentative mind might
-have strengthened yours.”
-
-“Yes—I _have_ called there; passing the door, I thought it better. It
-was a right thing to do. I went in for three minutes, and was detained
-by Miss Bates’s being absent. She was out; and I felt it impossible not
-to wait till she came in. She is a woman that one may, that one _must_
-laugh at; but that one would not wish to slight. It was better to pay
-my visit, then”—
-
-He hesitated, got up, walked to a window.
-
-“In short,” said he, “perhaps, Miss Woodhouse—I think you can hardly be
-quite without suspicion”—
-
-He looked at her, as if wanting to read her thoughts. She hardly knew
-what to say. It seemed like the forerunner of something absolutely
-serious, which she did not wish. Forcing herself to speak, therefore,
-in the hope of putting it by, she calmly said,
-
-“You are quite in the right; it was most natural to pay your visit,
-then”—
-
-He was silent. She believed he was looking at her; probably reflecting
-on what she had said, and trying to understand the manner. She heard
-him sigh. It was natural for him to feel that he had _cause_ to sigh.
-He could not believe her to be encouraging him. A few awkward moments
-passed, and he sat down again; and in a more determined manner said,
-
-“It was something to feel that all the rest of my time might be given
-to Hartfield. My regard for Hartfield is most warm”—
-
-He stopt again, rose again, and seemed quite embarrassed.—He was more
-in love with her than Emma had supposed; and who can say how it might
-have ended, if his father had not made his appearance? Mr. Woodhouse
-soon followed; and the necessity of exertion made him composed.
-
-A very few minutes more, however, completed the present trial. Mr.
-Weston, always alert when business was to be done, and as incapable of
-procrastinating any evil that was inevitable, as of foreseeing any that
-was doubtful, said, “It was time to go;” and the young man, though he
-might and did sigh, could not but agree, to take leave.
-
-“I shall hear about you all,” said he; “that is my chief consolation. I
-shall hear of every thing that is going on among you. I have engaged
-Mrs. Weston to correspond with me. She has been so kind as to promise
-it. Oh! the blessing of a female correspondent, when one is really
-interested in the absent!—she will tell me every thing. In her letters
-I shall be at dear Highbury again.”
-
-A very friendly shake of the hand, a very earnest “Good-bye,” closed
-the speech, and the door had soon shut out Frank Churchill. Short had
-been the notice—short their meeting; he was gone; and Emma felt so
-sorry to part, and foresaw so great a loss to their little society from
-his absence as to begin to be afraid of being too sorry, and feeling it
-too much.
-
-It was a sad change. They had been meeting almost every day since his
-arrival. Certainly his being at Randalls had given great spirit to the
-last two weeks—indescribable spirit; the idea, the expectation of
-seeing him which every morning had brought, the assurance of his
-attentions, his liveliness, his manners! It had been a very happy
-fortnight, and forlorn must be the sinking from it into the common
-course of Hartfield days. To complete every other recommendation, he
-had _almost_ told her that he loved her. What strength, or what
-constancy of affection he might be subject to, was another point; but
-at present she could not doubt his having a decidedly warm admiration,
-a conscious preference of herself; and this persuasion, joined to all
-the rest, made her think that she _must_ be a little in love with him,
-in spite of every previous determination against it.
-
-“I certainly must,” said she. “This sensation of listlessness,
-weariness, stupidity, this disinclination to sit down and employ
-myself, this feeling of every thing’s being dull and insipid about the
-house!— I must be in love; I should be the oddest creature in the world
-if I were not—for a few weeks at least. Well! evil to some is always
-good to others. I shall have many fellow-mourners for the ball, if not
-for Frank Churchill; but Mr. Knightley will be happy. He may spend the
-evening with his dear William Larkins now if he likes.”
-
-Mr. Knightley, however, shewed no triumphant happiness. He could not
-say that he was sorry on his own account; his very cheerful look would
-have contradicted him if he had; but he said, and very steadily, that
-he was sorry for the disappointment of the others, and with
-considerable kindness added,
-
-“You, Emma, who have so few opportunities of dancing, you are really
-out of luck; you are very much out of luck!”
-
-It was some days before she saw Jane Fairfax, to judge of her honest
-regret in this woeful change; but when they did meet, her composure was
-odious. She had been particularly unwell, however, suffering from
-headache to a degree, which made her aunt declare, that had the ball
-taken place, she did not think Jane could have attended it; and it was
-charity to impute some of her unbecoming indifference to the languor of
-ill-health.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XIII
-
-
-Emma continued to entertain no doubt of her being in love. Her ideas
-only varied as to the how much. At first, she thought it was a good
-deal; and afterwards, but little. She had great pleasure in hearing
-Frank Churchill talked of; and, for his sake, greater pleasure than
-ever in seeing Mr. and Mrs. Weston; she was very often thinking of him,
-and quite impatient for a letter, that she might know how he was, how
-were his spirits, how was his aunt, and what was the chance of his
-coming to Randalls again this spring. But, on the other hand, she could
-not admit herself to be unhappy, nor, after the first morning, to be
-less disposed for employment than usual; she was still busy and
-cheerful; and, pleasing as he was, she could yet imagine him to have
-faults; and farther, though thinking of him so much, and, as she sat
-drawing or working, forming a thousand amusing schemes for the progress
-and close of their attachment, fancying interesting dialogues, and
-inventing elegant letters; the conclusion of every imaginary
-declaration on his side was that she _refused_ _him_. Their affection
-was always to subside into friendship. Every thing tender and charming
-was to mark their parting; but still they were to part. When she became
-sensible of this, it struck her that she could not be very much in
-love; for in spite of her previous and fixed determination never to
-quit her father, never to marry, a strong attachment certainly must
-produce more of a struggle than she could foresee in her own feelings.
-
-“I do not find myself making any use of the word _sacrifice_,” said
-she.—“In not one of all my clever replies, my delicate negatives, is
-there any allusion to making a sacrifice. I do suspect that he is not
-really necessary to my happiness. So much the better. I certainly will
-not persuade myself to feel more than I do. I am quite enough in love.
-I should be sorry to be more.”
-
-Upon the whole, she was equally contented with her view of his
-feelings.
-
-“_He_ is undoubtedly very much in love—every thing denotes it—very much
-in love indeed!—and when he comes again, if his affection continue, I
-must be on my guard not to encourage it.—It would be most inexcusable
-to do otherwise, as my own mind is quite made up. Not that I imagine he
-can think I have been encouraging him hitherto. No, if he had believed
-me at all to share his feelings, he would not have been so wretched.
-Could he have thought himself encouraged, his looks and language at
-parting would have been different.—Still, however, I must be on my
-guard. This is in the supposition of his attachment continuing what it
-now is; but I do not know that I expect it will; I do not look upon him
-to be quite the sort of man—I do not altogether build upon his
-steadiness or constancy.—His feelings are warm, but I can imagine them
-rather changeable.—Every consideration of the subject, in short, makes
-me thankful that my happiness is not more deeply involved.—I shall do
-very well again after a little while—and then, it will be a good thing
-over; for they say every body is in love once in their lives, and I
-shall have been let off easily.”
-
-When his letter to Mrs. Weston arrived, Emma had the perusal of it; and
-she read it with a degree of pleasure and admiration which made her at
-first shake her head over her own sensations, and think she had
-undervalued their strength. It was a long, well-written letter, giving
-the particulars of his journey and of his feelings, expressing all the
-affection, gratitude, and respect which was natural and honourable, and
-describing every thing exterior and local that could be supposed
-attractive, with spirit and precision. No suspicious flourishes now of
-apology or concern; it was the language of real feeling towards Mrs.
-Weston; and the transition from Highbury to Enscombe, the contrast
-between the places in some of the first blessings of social life was
-just enough touched on to shew how keenly it was felt, and how much
-more might have been said but for the restraints of propriety.—The
-charm of her own name was not wanting. _Miss_ _Woodhouse_ appeared more
-than once, and never without a something of pleasing connexion, either
-a compliment to her taste, or a remembrance of what she had said; and
-in the very last time of its meeting her eye, unadorned as it was by
-any such broad wreath of gallantry, she yet could discern the effect of
-her influence and acknowledge the greatest compliment perhaps of all
-conveyed. Compressed into the very lowest vacant corner were these
-words—“I had not a spare moment on Tuesday, as you know, for Miss
-Woodhouse’s beautiful little friend. Pray make my excuses and adieus to
-her.” This, Emma could not doubt, was all for herself. Harriet was
-remembered only from being _her_ friend. His information and prospects
-as to Enscombe were neither worse nor better than had been anticipated;
-Mrs. Churchill was recovering, and he dared not yet, even in his own
-imagination, fix a time for coming to Randalls again.
-
-Gratifying, however, and stimulative as was the letter in the material
-part, its sentiments, she yet found, when it was folded up and returned
-to Mrs. Weston, that it had not added any lasting warmth, that she
-could still do without the writer, and that he must learn to do without
-her. Her intentions were unchanged. Her resolution of refusal only grew
-more interesting by the addition of a scheme for his subsequent
-consolation and happiness. His recollection of Harriet, and the words
-which clothed it, the “beautiful little friend,” suggested to her the
-idea of Harriet’s succeeding her in his affections. Was it
-impossible?—No.—Harriet undoubtedly was greatly his inferior in
-understanding; but he had been very much struck with the loveliness of
-her face and the warm simplicity of her manner; and all the
-probabilities of circumstance and connexion were in her favour.—For
-Harriet, it would be advantageous and delightful indeed.
-
-“I must not dwell upon it,” said she.—“I must not think of it. I know
-the danger of indulging such speculations. But stranger things have
-happened; and when we cease to care for each other as we do now, it
-will be the means of confirming us in that sort of true disinterested
-friendship which I can already look forward to with pleasure.”
-
-It was well to have a comfort in store on Harriet’s behalf, though it
-might be wise to let the fancy touch it seldom; for evil in that
-quarter was at hand. As Frank Churchill’s arrival had succeeded Mr.
-Elton’s engagement in the conversation of Highbury, as the latest
-interest had entirely borne down the first, so now upon Frank
-Churchill’s disappearance, Mr. Elton’s concerns were assuming the most
-irresistible form.—His wedding-day was named. He would soon be among
-them again; Mr. Elton and his bride. There was hardly time to talk over
-the first letter from Enscombe before “Mr. Elton and his bride” was in
-every body’s mouth, and Frank Churchill was forgotten. Emma grew sick
-at the sound. She had had three weeks of happy exemption from Mr.
-Elton; and Harriet’s mind, she had been willing to hope, had been
-lately gaining strength. With Mr. Weston’s ball in view at least, there
-had been a great deal of insensibility to other things; but it was now
-too evident that she had not attained such a state of composure as
-could stand against the actual approach—new carriage, bell-ringing, and
-all.
-
-Poor Harriet was in a flutter of spirits which required all the
-reasonings and soothings and attentions of every kind that Emma could
-give. Emma felt that she could not do too much for her, that Harriet
-had a right to all her ingenuity and all her patience; but it was heavy
-work to be for ever convincing without producing any effect, for ever
-agreed to, without being able to make their opinions the same. Harriet
-listened submissively, and said “it was very true—it was just as Miss
-Woodhouse described—it was not worth while to think about them—and she
-would not think about them any longer” but no change of subject could
-avail, and the next half-hour saw her as anxious and restless about the
-Eltons as before. At last Emma attacked her on another ground.
-
-“Your allowing yourself to be so occupied and so unhappy about Mr.
-Elton’s marrying, Harriet, is the strongest reproach you can make _me_.
-You could not give me a greater reproof for the mistake I fell into. It
-was all my doing, I know. I have not forgotten it, I assure
-you.—Deceived myself, I did very miserably deceive you—and it will be a
-painful reflection to me for ever. Do not imagine me in danger of
-forgetting it.”
-
-Harriet felt this too much to utter more than a few words of eager
-exclamation. Emma continued,
-
-“I have not said, exert yourself Harriet for my sake; think less, talk
-less of Mr. Elton for my sake; because for your own sake rather, I
-would wish it to be done, for the sake of what is more important than
-my comfort, a habit of self-command in you, a consideration of what is
-your duty, an attention to propriety, an endeavour to avoid the
-suspicions of others, to save your health and credit, and restore your
-tranquillity. These are the motives which I have been pressing on you.
-They are very important—and sorry I am that you cannot feel them
-sufficiently to act upon them. My being saved from pain is a very
-secondary consideration. I want you to save yourself from greater pain.
-Perhaps I may sometimes have felt that Harriet would not forget what
-was due—or rather what would be kind by me.”
-
-This appeal to her affections did more than all the rest. The idea of
-wanting gratitude and consideration for Miss Woodhouse, whom she really
-loved extremely, made her wretched for a while, and when the violence
-of grief was comforted away, still remained powerful enough to prompt
-to what was right and support her in it very tolerably.
-
-“You, who have been the best friend I ever had in my life—Want
-gratitude to you!—Nobody is equal to you!—I care for nobody as I do for
-you!—Oh! Miss Woodhouse, how ungrateful I have been!”
-
-Such expressions, assisted as they were by every thing that look and
-manner could do, made Emma feel that she had never loved Harriet so
-well, nor valued her affection so highly before.
-
-“There is no charm equal to tenderness of heart,” said she afterwards
-to herself. “There is nothing to be compared to it. Warmth and
-tenderness of heart, with an affectionate, open manner, will beat all
-the clearness of head in the world, for attraction, I am sure it will.
-It is tenderness of heart which makes my dear father so generally
-beloved—which gives Isabella all her popularity.—I have it not—but I
-know how to prize and respect it.—Harriet is my superior in all the
-charm and all the felicity it gives. Dear Harriet!—I would not change
-you for the clearest-headed, longest-sighted, best-judging female
-breathing. Oh! the coldness of a Jane Fairfax!—Harriet is worth a
-hundred such—And for a wife—a sensible man’s wife—it is invaluable. I
-mention no names; but happy the man who changes Emma for Harriet!”
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XIV
-
-
-Mrs. Elton was first seen at church: but though devotion might be
-interrupted, curiosity could not be satisfied by a bride in a pew, and
-it must be left for the visits in form which were then to be paid, to
-settle whether she were very pretty indeed, or only rather pretty, or
-not pretty at all.
-
-Emma had feelings, less of curiosity than of pride or propriety, to
-make her resolve on not being the last to pay her respects; and she
-made a point of Harriet’s going with her, that the worst of the
-business might be gone through as soon as possible.
-
-She could not enter the house again, could not be in the same room to
-which she had with such vain artifice retreated three months ago, to
-lace up her boot, without _recollecting_. A thousand vexatious thoughts
-would recur. Compliments, charades, and horrible blunders; and it was
-not to be supposed that poor Harriet should not be recollecting too;
-but she behaved very well, and was only rather pale and silent. The
-visit was of course short; and there was so much embarrassment and
-occupation of mind to shorten it, that Emma would not allow herself
-entirely to form an opinion of the lady, and on no account to give one,
-beyond the nothing-meaning terms of being “elegantly dressed, and very
-pleasing.”
-
-She did not really like her. She would not be in a hurry to find fault,
-but she suspected that there was no elegance;—ease, but not elegance.—
-She was almost sure that for a young woman, a stranger, a bride, there
-was too much ease. Her person was rather good; her face not unpretty;
-but neither feature, nor air, nor voice, nor manner, were elegant. Emma
-thought at least it would turn out so.
-
-As for Mr. Elton, his manners did not appear—but no, she would not
-permit a hasty or a witty word from herself about his manners. It was
-an awkward ceremony at any time to be receiving wedding visits, and a
-man had need be all grace to acquit himself well through it. The woman
-was better off; she might have the assistance of fine clothes, and the
-privilege of bashfulness, but the man had only his own good sense to
-depend on; and when she considered how peculiarly unlucky poor Mr.
-Elton was in being in the same room at once with the woman he had just
-married, the woman he had wanted to marry, and the woman whom he had
-been expected to marry, she must allow him to have the right to look as
-little wise, and to be as much affectedly, and as little really easy as
-could be.
-
-“Well, Miss Woodhouse,” said Harriet, when they had quitted the house,
-and after waiting in vain for her friend to begin; “Well, Miss
-Woodhouse, (with a gentle sigh,) what do you think of her?—Is not she
-very charming?”
-
-There was a little hesitation in Emma’s answer.
-
-“Oh! yes—very—a very pleasing young woman.”
-
-“I think her beautiful, quite beautiful.”
-
-“Very nicely dressed, indeed; a remarkably elegant gown.”
-
-“I am not at all surprized that he should have fallen in love.”
-
-“Oh! no—there is nothing to surprize one at all.—A pretty fortune; and
-she came in his way.”
-
-“I dare say,” returned Harriet, sighing again, “I dare say she was very
-much attached to him.”
-
-“Perhaps she might; but it is not every man’s fate to marry the woman
-who loves him best. Miss Hawkins perhaps wanted a home, and thought
-this the best offer she was likely to have.”
-
-“Yes,” said Harriet earnestly, “and well she might, nobody could ever
-have a better. Well, I wish them happy with all my heart. And now, Miss
-Woodhouse, I do not think I shall mind seeing them again. He is just as
-superior as ever;—but being married, you know, it is quite a different
-thing. No, indeed, Miss Woodhouse, you need not be afraid; I can sit
-and admire him now without any great misery. To know that he has not
-thrown himself away, is such a comfort!—She does seem a charming young
-woman, just what he deserves. Happy creature! He called her ‘Augusta.’
-How delightful!”
-
-When the visit was returned, Emma made up her mind. She could then see
-more and judge better. From Harriet’s happening not to be at Hartfield,
-and her father’s being present to engage Mr. Elton, she had a quarter
-of an hour of the lady’s conversation to herself, and could composedly
-attend to her; and the quarter of an hour quite convinced her that Mrs.
-Elton was a vain woman, extremely well satisfied with herself, and
-thinking much of her own importance; that she meant to shine and be
-very superior, but with manners which had been formed in a bad school,
-pert and familiar; that all her notions were drawn from one set of
-people, and one style of living; that if not foolish she was ignorant,
-and that her society would certainly do Mr. Elton no good.
-
-Harriet would have been a better match. If not wise or refined herself,
-she would have connected him with those who were; but Miss Hawkins, it
-might be fairly supposed from her easy conceit, had been the best of
-her own set. The rich brother-in-law near Bristol was the pride of the
-alliance, and his place and his carriages were the pride of him.
-
-The very first subject after being seated was Maple Grove, “My brother
-Mr. Suckling’s seat;”—a comparison of Hartfield to Maple Grove. The
-grounds of Hartfield were small, but neat and pretty; and the house was
-modern and well-built. Mrs. Elton seemed most favourably impressed by
-the size of the room, the entrance, and all that she could see or
-imagine. “Very like Maple Grove indeed!—She was quite struck by the
-likeness!—That room was the very shape and size of the morning-room at
-Maple Grove; her sister’s favourite room.”—Mr. Elton was appealed
-to.—“Was not it astonishingly like?—She could really almost fancy
-herself at Maple Grove.”
-
-“And the staircase—You know, as I came in, I observed how very like the
-staircase was; placed exactly in the same part of the house. I really
-could not help exclaiming! I assure you, Miss Woodhouse, it is very
-delightful to me, to be reminded of a place I am so extremely partial
-to as Maple Grove. I have spent so many happy months there! (with a
-little sigh of sentiment). A charming place, undoubtedly. Every body
-who sees it is struck by its beauty; but to me, it has been quite a
-home. Whenever you are transplanted, like me, Miss Woodhouse, you will
-understand how very delightful it is to meet with any thing at all like
-what one has left behind. I always say this is quite one of the evils
-of matrimony.”
-
-Emma made as slight a reply as she could; but it was fully sufficient
-for Mrs. Elton, who only wanted to be talking herself.
-
-“So extremely like Maple Grove! And it is not merely the house—the
-grounds, I assure you, as far as I could observe, are strikingly like.
-The laurels at Maple Grove are in the same profusion as here, and stand
-very much in the same way—just across the lawn; and I had a glimpse of
-a fine large tree, with a bench round it, which put me so exactly in
-mind! My brother and sister will be enchanted with this place. People
-who have extensive grounds themselves are always pleased with any thing
-in the same style.”
-
-Emma doubted the truth of this sentiment. She had a great idea that
-people who had extensive grounds themselves cared very little for the
-extensive grounds of any body else; but it was not worth while to
-attack an error so double-dyed, and therefore only said in reply,
-
-“When you have seen more of this country, I am afraid you will think
-you have overrated Hartfield. Surry is full of beauties.”
-
-“Oh! yes, I am quite aware of that. It is the garden of England, you
-know. Surry is the garden of England.”
-
-“Yes; but we must not rest our claims on that distinction. Many
-counties, I believe, are called the garden of England, as well as
-Surry.”
-
-“No, I fancy not,” replied Mrs. Elton, with a most satisfied smile. “I
-never heard any county but Surry called so.”
-
-Emma was silenced.
-
-“My brother and sister have promised us a visit in the spring, or
-summer at farthest,” continued Mrs. Elton; “and that will be our time
-for exploring. While they are with us, we shall explore a great deal, I
-dare say. They will have their barouche-landau, of course, which holds
-four perfectly; and therefore, without saying any thing of _our_
-carriage, we should be able to explore the different beauties extremely
-well. They would hardly come in their chaise, I think, at that season
-of the year. Indeed, when the time draws on, I shall decidedly
-recommend their bringing the barouche-landau; it will be so very much
-preferable. When people come into a beautiful country of this sort, you
-know, Miss Woodhouse, one naturally wishes them to see as much as
-possible; and Mr. Suckling is extremely fond of exploring. We explored
-to King’s-Weston twice last summer, in that way, most delightfully,
-just after their first having the barouche-landau. You have many
-parties of that kind here, I suppose, Miss Woodhouse, every summer?”
-
-“No; not immediately here. We are rather out of distance of the very
-striking beauties which attract the sort of parties you speak of; and
-we are a very quiet set of people, I believe; more disposed to stay at
-home than engage in schemes of pleasure.”
-
-“Ah! there is nothing like staying at home for real comfort. Nobody can
-be more devoted to home than I am. I was quite a proverb for it at
-Maple Grove. Many a time has Selina said, when she has been going to
-Bristol, ‘I really cannot get this girl to move from the house. I
-absolutely must go in by myself, though I hate being stuck up in the
-barouche-landau without a companion; but Augusta, I believe, with her
-own good-will, would never stir beyond the park paling.’ Many a time
-has she said so; and yet I am no advocate for entire seclusion. I
-think, on the contrary, when people shut themselves up entirely from
-society, it is a very bad thing; and that it is much more advisable to
-mix in the world in a proper degree, without living in it either too
-much or too little. I perfectly understand your situation, however,
-Miss Woodhouse—(looking towards Mr. Woodhouse), Your father’s state of
-health must be a great drawback. Why does not he try Bath?—Indeed he
-should. Let me recommend Bath to you. I assure you I have no doubt of
-its doing Mr. Woodhouse good.”
-
-“My father tried it more than once, formerly; but without receiving any
-benefit; and Mr. Perry, whose name, I dare say, is not unknown to you,
-does not conceive it would be at all more likely to be useful now.”
-
-“Ah! that’s a great pity; for I assure you, Miss Woodhouse, where the
-waters do agree, it is quite wonderful the relief they give. In my Bath
-life, I have seen such instances of it! And it is so cheerful a place,
-that it could not fail of being of use to Mr. Woodhouse’s spirits,
-which, I understand, are sometimes much depressed. And as to its
-recommendations to _you_, I fancy I need not take much pains to dwell
-on them. The advantages of Bath to the young are pretty generally
-understood. It would be a charming introduction for you, who have lived
-so secluded a life; and I could immediately secure you some of the best
-society in the place. A line from me would bring you a little host of
-acquaintance; and my particular friend, Mrs. Partridge, the lady I have
-always resided with when in Bath, would be most happy to shew you any
-attentions, and would be the very person for you to go into public
-with.”
-
-It was as much as Emma could bear, without being impolite. The idea of
-her being indebted to Mrs. Elton for what was called an
-_introduction_—of her going into public under the auspices of a friend
-of Mrs. Elton’s—probably some vulgar, dashing widow, who, with the help
-of a boarder, just made a shift to live!—The dignity of Miss Woodhouse,
-of Hartfield, was sunk indeed!
-
-She restrained herself, however, from any of the reproofs she could
-have given, and only thanked Mrs. Elton coolly; “but their going to
-Bath was quite out of the question; and she was not perfectly convinced
-that the place might suit her better than her father.” And then, to
-prevent farther outrage and indignation, changed the subject directly.
-
-“I do not ask whether you are musical, Mrs. Elton. Upon these
-occasions, a lady’s character generally precedes her; and Highbury has
-long known that you are a superior performer.”
-
-“Oh! no, indeed; I must protest against any such idea. A superior
-performer!—very far from it, I assure you. Consider from how partial a
-quarter your information came. I am doatingly fond of
-music—passionately fond;—and my friends say I am not entirely devoid of
-taste; but as to any thing else, upon my honour my performance is
-_mediocre_ to the last degree. You, Miss Woodhouse, I well know, play
-delightfully. I assure you it has been the greatest satisfaction,
-comfort, and delight to me, to hear what a musical society I am got
-into. I absolutely cannot do without music. It is a necessary of life
-to me; and having always been used to a very musical society, both at
-Maple Grove and in Bath, it would have been a most serious sacrifice. I
-honestly said as much to Mr. E. when he was speaking of my future home,
-and expressing his fears lest the retirement of it should be
-disagreeable; and the inferiority of the house too—knowing what I had
-been accustomed to—of course he was not wholly without apprehension.
-When he was speaking of it in that way, I honestly said that _the_
-_world_ I could give up—parties, balls, plays—for I had no fear of
-retirement. Blessed with so many resources within myself, the world was
-not necessary to _me_. I could do very well without it. To those who
-had no resources it was a different thing; but my resources made me
-quite independent. And as to smaller-sized rooms than I had been used
-to, I really could not give it a thought. I hoped I was perfectly equal
-to any sacrifice of that description. Certainly I had been accustomed
-to every luxury at Maple Grove; but I did assure him that two carriages
-were not necessary to my happiness, nor were spacious apartments.
-‘But,’ said I, ‘to be quite honest, I do not think I can live without
-something of a musical society. I condition for nothing else; but
-without music, life would be a blank to me.’”
-
-“We cannot suppose,” said Emma, smiling, “that Mr. Elton would hesitate
-to assure you of there being a _very_ musical society in Highbury; and
-I hope you will not find he has outstepped the truth more than may be
-pardoned, in consideration of the motive.”
-
-“No, indeed, I have no doubts at all on that head. I am delighted to
-find myself in such a circle. I hope we shall have many sweet little
-concerts together. I think, Miss Woodhouse, you and I must establish a
-musical club, and have regular weekly meetings at your house, or ours.
-Will not it be a good plan? If _we_ exert ourselves, I think we shall
-not be long in want of allies. Something of that nature would be
-particularly desirable for _me_, as an inducement to keep me in
-practice; for married women, you know—there is a sad story against
-them, in general. They are but too apt to give up music.”
-
-“But you, who are so extremely fond of it—there can be no danger,
-surely?”
-
-“I should hope not; but really when I look around among my
-acquaintance, I tremble. Selina has entirely given up music—never
-touches the instrument—though she played sweetly. And the same may be
-said of Mrs. Jeffereys—Clara Partridge, that was—and of the two
-Milmans, now Mrs. Bird and Mrs. James Cooper; and of more than I can
-enumerate. Upon my word it is enough to put one in a fright. I used to
-be quite angry with Selina; but really I begin now to comprehend that a
-married woman has many things to call her attention. I believe I was
-half an hour this morning shut up with my housekeeper.”
-
-“But every thing of that kind,” said Emma, “will soon be in so regular
-a train—”
-
-“Well,” said Mrs. Elton, laughing, “we shall see.”
-
-Emma, finding her so determined upon neglecting her music, had nothing
-more to say; and, after a moment’s pause, Mrs. Elton chose another
-subject.
-
-“We have been calling at Randalls,” said she, “and found them both at
-home; and very pleasant people they seem to be. I like them extremely.
-Mr. Weston seems an excellent creature—quite a first-rate favourite
-with me already, I assure you. And _she_ appears so truly good—there is
-something so motherly and kind-hearted about her, that it wins upon one
-directly. She was your governess, I think?”
-
-Emma was almost too much astonished to answer; but Mrs. Elton hardly
-waited for the affirmative before she went on.
-
-“Having understood as much, I was rather astonished to find her so very
-lady-like! But she is really quite the gentlewoman.”
-
-“Mrs. Weston’s manners,” said Emma, “were always particularly good.
-Their propriety, simplicity, and elegance, would make them the safest
-model for any young woman.”
-
-“And who do you think came in while we were there?”
-
-Emma was quite at a loss. The tone implied some old acquaintance—and
-how could she possibly guess?
-
-“Knightley!” continued Mrs. Elton; “Knightley himself!—Was not it
-lucky?—for, not being within when he called the other day, I had never
-seen him before; and of course, as so particular a friend of Mr. E.’s,
-I had a great curiosity. ‘My friend Knightley’ had been so often
-mentioned, that I was really impatient to see him; and I must do my
-caro sposo the justice to say that he need not be ashamed of his
-friend. Knightley is quite the gentleman. I like him very much.
-Decidedly, I think, a very gentleman-like man.”
-
-Happily, it was now time to be gone. They were off; and Emma could
-breathe.
-
-“Insufferable woman!” was her immediate exclamation. “Worse than I had
-supposed. Absolutely insufferable! Knightley!—I could not have believed
-it. Knightley!—never seen him in her life before, and call him
-Knightley!—and discover that he is a gentleman! A little upstart,
-vulgar being, with her Mr. E., and her _caro_ _sposo_, and her
-resources, and all her airs of pert pretension and underbred finery.
-Actually to discover that Mr. Knightley is a gentleman! I doubt whether
-he will return the compliment, and discover her to be a lady. I could
-not have believed it! And to propose that she and I should unite to
-form a musical club! One would fancy we were bosom friends! And Mrs.
-Weston!—Astonished that the person who had brought me up should be a
-gentlewoman! Worse and worse. I never met with her equal. Much beyond
-my hopes. Harriet is disgraced by any comparison. Oh! what would Frank
-Churchill say to her, if he were here? How angry and how diverted he
-would be! Ah! there I am—thinking of him directly. Always the first
-person to be thought of! How I catch myself out! Frank Churchill comes
-as regularly into my mind!”—
-
-All this ran so glibly through her thoughts, that by the time her
-father had arranged himself, after the bustle of the Eltons’ departure,
-and was ready to speak, she was very tolerably capable of attending.
-
-“Well, my dear,” he deliberately began, “considering we never saw her
-before, she seems a very pretty sort of young lady; and I dare say she
-was very much pleased with you. She speaks a little too quick. A little
-quickness of voice there is which rather hurts the ear. But I believe I
-am nice; I do not like strange voices; and nobody speaks like you and
-poor Miss Taylor. However, she seems a very obliging, pretty-behaved
-young lady, and no doubt will make him a very good wife. Though I think
-he had better not have married. I made the best excuses I could for not
-having been able to wait on him and Mrs. Elton on this happy occasion;
-I said that I hoped I _should_ in the course of the summer. But I ought
-to have gone before. Not to wait upon a bride is very remiss. Ah! it
-shews what a sad invalid I am! But I do not like the corner into
-Vicarage Lane.”
-
-“I dare say your apologies were accepted, sir. Mr. Elton knows you.”
-
-“Yes: but a young lady—a bride—I ought to have paid my respects to her
-if possible. It was being very deficient.”
-
-“But, my dear papa, you are no friend to matrimony; and therefore why
-should you be so anxious to pay your respects to a _bride_? It ought to
-be no recommendation to _you_. It is encouraging people to marry if you
-make so much of them.”
-
-“No, my dear, I never encouraged any body to marry, but I would always
-wish to pay every proper attention to a lady—and a bride, especially,
-is never to be neglected. More is avowedly due to _her_. A bride, you
-know, my dear, is always the first in company, let the others be who
-they may.”
-
-“Well, papa, if this is not encouragement to marry, I do not know what
-is. And I should never have expected you to be lending your sanction to
-such vanity-baits for poor young ladies.”
-
-“My dear, you do not understand me. This is a matter of mere common
-politeness and good-breeding, and has nothing to do with any
-encouragement to people to marry.”
-
-Emma had done. Her father was growing nervous, and could not understand
-_her_. Her mind returned to Mrs. Elton’s offences, and long, very long,
-did they occupy her.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XV
-
-
-Emma was not required, by any subsequent discovery, to retract her ill
-opinion of Mrs. Elton. Her observation had been pretty correct. Such as
-Mrs. Elton appeared to her on this second interview, such she appeared
-whenever they met again,—self-important, presuming, familiar, ignorant,
-and ill-bred. She had a little beauty and a little accomplishment, but
-so little judgment that she thought herself coming with superior
-knowledge of the world, to enliven and improve a country neighbourhood;
-and conceived Miss Hawkins to have held such a place in society as Mrs.
-Elton’s consequence only could surpass.
-
-There was no reason to suppose Mr. Elton thought at all differently
-from his wife. He seemed not merely happy with her, but proud. He had
-the air of congratulating himself on having brought such a woman to
-Highbury, as not even Miss Woodhouse could equal; and the greater part
-of her new acquaintance, disposed to commend, or not in the habit of
-judging, following the lead of Miss Bates’s good-will, or taking it for
-granted that the bride must be as clever and as agreeable as she
-professed herself, were very well satisfied; so that Mrs. Elton’s
-praise passed from one mouth to another as it ought to do, unimpeded by
-Miss Woodhouse, who readily continued her first contribution and talked
-with a good grace of her being “very pleasant and very elegantly
-dressed.”
-
-In one respect Mrs. Elton grew even worse than she had appeared at
-first. Her feelings altered towards Emma.—Offended, probably, by the
-little encouragement which her proposals of intimacy met with, she drew
-back in her turn and gradually became much more cold and distant; and
-though the effect was agreeable, the ill-will which produced it was
-necessarily increasing Emma’s dislike. Her manners, too—and Mr.
-Elton’s, were unpleasant towards Harriet. They were sneering and
-negligent. Emma hoped it must rapidly work Harriet’s cure; but the
-sensations which could prompt such behaviour sunk them both very
-much.—It was not to be doubted that poor Harriet’s attachment had been
-an offering to conjugal unreserve, and her own share in the story,
-under a colouring the least favourable to her and the most soothing to
-him, had in all likelihood been given also. She was, of course, the
-object of their joint dislike.—When they had nothing else to say, it
-must be always easy to begin abusing Miss Woodhouse; and the enmity
-which they dared not shew in open disrespect to her, found a broader
-vent in contemptuous treatment of Harriet.
-
-Mrs. Elton took a great fancy to Jane Fairfax; and from the first. Not
-merely when a state of warfare with one young lady might be supposed to
-recommend the other, but from the very first; and she was not satisfied
-with expressing a natural and reasonable admiration—but without
-solicitation, or plea, or privilege, she must be wanting to assist and
-befriend her.—Before Emma had forfeited her confidence, and about the
-third time of their meeting, she heard all Mrs. Elton’s knight-errantry
-on the subject.—
-
-“Jane Fairfax is absolutely charming, Miss Woodhouse.—I quite rave
-about Jane Fairfax.—A sweet, interesting creature. So mild and
-ladylike—and with such talents!—I assure you I think she has very
-extraordinary talents. I do not scruple to say that she plays extremely
-well. I know enough of music to speak decidedly on that point. Oh! she
-is absolutely charming! You will laugh at my warmth—but, upon my word,
-I talk of nothing but Jane Fairfax.—And her situation is so calculated
-to affect one!—Miss Woodhouse, we must exert ourselves and endeavour to
-do something for her. We must bring her forward. Such talent as hers
-must not be suffered to remain unknown.—I dare say you have heard those
-charming lines of the poet,
-
-‘Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
-    ‘And waste its fragrance on the desert air.’
-
-
-We must not allow them to be verified in sweet Jane Fairfax.”
-
-“I cannot think there is any danger of it,” was Emma’s calm answer—“and
-when you are better acquainted with Miss Fairfax’s situation and
-understand what her home has been, with Colonel and Mrs. Campbell, I
-have no idea that you will suppose her talents can be unknown.”
-
-“Oh! but dear Miss Woodhouse, she is now in such retirement, such
-obscurity, so thrown away.—Whatever advantages she may have enjoyed
-with the Campbells are so palpably at an end! And I think she feels it.
-I am sure she does. She is very timid and silent. One can see that she
-feels the want of encouragement. I like her the better for it. I must
-confess it is a recommendation to me. I am a great advocate for
-timidity—and I am sure one does not often meet with it.—But in those
-who are at all inferior, it is extremely prepossessing. Oh! I assure
-you, Jane Fairfax is a very delightful character, and interests me more
-than I can express.”
-
-“You appear to feel a great deal—but I am not aware how you or any of
-Miss Fairfax’s acquaintance here, any of those who have known her
-longer than yourself, can shew her any other attention than”—
-
-“My dear Miss Woodhouse, a vast deal may be done by those who dare to
-act. You and I need not be afraid. If _we_ set the example, many will
-follow it as far as they can; though all have not our situations. _We_
-have carriages to fetch and convey her home, and _we_ live in a style
-which could not make the addition of Jane Fairfax, at any time, the
-least inconvenient.—I should be extremely displeased if Wright were to
-send us up such a dinner, as could make me regret having asked _more_
-than Jane Fairfax to partake of it. I have no idea of that sort of
-thing. It is not likely that I _should_, considering what I have been
-used to. My greatest danger, perhaps, in housekeeping, may be quite the
-other way, in doing too much, and being too careless of expense. Maple
-Grove will probably be my model more than it ought to be—for we do not
-at all affect to equal my brother, Mr. Suckling, in income.—However, my
-resolution is taken as to noticing Jane Fairfax.—I shall certainly have
-her very often at my house, shall introduce her wherever I can, shall
-have musical parties to draw out her talents, and shall be constantly
-on the watch for an eligible situation. My acquaintance is so very
-extensive, that I have little doubt of hearing of something to suit her
-shortly.—I shall introduce her, of course, very particularly to my
-brother and sister when they come to us. I am sure they will like her
-extremely; and when she gets a little acquainted with them, her fears
-will completely wear off, for there really is nothing in the manners of
-either but what is highly conciliating.—I shall have her very often
-indeed while they are with me, and I dare say we shall sometimes find a
-seat for her in the barouche-landau in some of our exploring parties.”
-
-“Poor Jane Fairfax!”—thought Emma.—“You have not deserved this. You may
-have done wrong with regard to Mr. Dixon, but this is a punishment
-beyond what you can have merited!—The kindness and protection of Mrs.
-Elton!—‘Jane Fairfax and Jane Fairfax.’ Heavens! Let me not suppose
-that she dares go about, Emma Woodhouse-ing me!—But upon my honour,
-there seems no limits to the licentiousness of that woman’s tongue!”
-
-Emma had not to listen to such paradings again—to any so exclusively
-addressed to herself—so disgustingly decorated with a “dear Miss
-Woodhouse.” The change on Mrs. Elton’s side soon afterwards appeared,
-and she was left in peace—neither forced to be the very particular
-friend of Mrs. Elton, nor, under Mrs. Elton’s guidance, the very active
-patroness of Jane Fairfax, and only sharing with others in a general
-way, in knowing what was felt, what was meditated, what was done.
-
-She looked on with some amusement.—Miss Bates’s gratitude for Mrs.
-Elton’s attentions to Jane was in the first style of guileless
-simplicity and warmth. She was quite one of her worthies—the most
-amiable, affable, delightful woman—just as accomplished and
-condescending as Mrs. Elton meant to be considered. Emma’s only
-surprize was that Jane Fairfax should accept those attentions and
-tolerate Mrs. Elton as she seemed to do. She heard of her walking with
-the Eltons, sitting with the Eltons, spending a day with the Eltons!
-This was astonishing!—She could not have believed it possible that the
-taste or the pride of Miss Fairfax could endure such society and
-friendship as the Vicarage had to offer.
-
-“She is a riddle, quite a riddle!” said she.—“To chuse to remain here
-month after month, under privations of every sort! And now to chuse the
-mortification of Mrs. Elton’s notice and the penury of her
-conversation, rather than return to the superior companions who have
-always loved her with such real, generous affection.”
-
-Jane had come to Highbury professedly for three months; the Campbells
-were gone to Ireland for three months; but now the Campbells had
-promised their daughter to stay at least till Midsummer, and fresh
-invitations had arrived for her to join them there. According to Miss
-Bates—it all came from her—Mrs. Dixon had written most pressingly.
-Would Jane but go, means were to be found, servants sent, friends
-contrived—no travelling difficulty allowed to exist; but still she had
-declined it!
-
-“She must have some motive, more powerful than appears, for refusing
-this invitation,” was Emma’s conclusion. “She must be under some sort
-of penance, inflicted either by the Campbells or herself. There is
-great fear, great caution, great resolution somewhere.—She is _not_ to
-be with the _Dixons_. The decree is issued by somebody. But why must
-she consent to be with the Eltons?—Here is quite a separate puzzle.”
-
-Upon her speaking her wonder aloud on that part of the subject, before
-the few who knew her opinion of Mrs. Elton, Mrs. Weston ventured this
-apology for Jane.
-
-“We cannot suppose that she has any great enjoyment at the Vicarage, my
-dear Emma—but it is better than being always at home. Her aunt is a
-good creature, but, as a constant companion, must be very tiresome. We
-must consider what Miss Fairfax quits, before we condemn her taste for
-what she goes to.”
-
-“You are right, Mrs. Weston,” said Mr. Knightley warmly, “Miss Fairfax
-is as capable as any of us of forming a just opinion of Mrs. Elton.
-Could she have chosen with whom to associate, she would not have chosen
-her. But (with a reproachful smile at Emma) she receives attentions
-from Mrs. Elton, which nobody else pays her.”
-
-Emma felt that Mrs. Weston was giving her a momentary glance; and she
-was herself struck by his warmth. With a faint blush, she presently
-replied,
-
-“Such attentions as Mrs. Elton’s, I should have imagined, would rather
-disgust than gratify Miss Fairfax. Mrs. Elton’s invitations I should
-have imagined any thing but inviting.”
-
-“I should not wonder,” said Mrs. Weston, “if Miss Fairfax were to have
-been drawn on beyond her own inclination, by her aunt’s eagerness in
-accepting Mrs. Elton’s civilities for her. Poor Miss Bates may very
-likely have committed her niece and hurried her into a greater
-appearance of intimacy than her own good sense would have dictated, in
-spite of the very natural wish of a little change.”
-
-Both felt rather anxious to hear him speak again; and after a few
-minutes silence, he said,
-
-“Another thing must be taken into consideration too—Mrs. Elton does not
-talk _to_ Miss Fairfax as she speaks _of_ her. We all know the
-difference between the pronouns he or she and thou, the plainest spoken
-amongst us; we all feel the influence of a something beyond common
-civility in our personal intercourse with each other—a something more
-early implanted. We cannot give any body the disagreeable hints that we
-may have been very full of the hour before. We feel things differently.
-And besides the operation of this, as a general principle, you may be
-sure that Miss Fairfax awes Mrs. Elton by her superiority both of mind
-and manner; and that, face to face, Mrs. Elton treats her with all the
-respect which she has a claim to. Such a woman as Jane Fairfax probably
-never fell in Mrs. Elton’s way before—and no degree of vanity can
-prevent her acknowledging her own comparative littleness in action, if
-not in consciousness.”
-
-“I know how highly you think of Jane Fairfax,” said Emma. Little Henry
-was in her thoughts, and a mixture of alarm and delicacy made her
-irresolute what else to say.
-
-“Yes,” he replied, “any body may know how highly I think of her.”
-
-“And yet,” said Emma, beginning hastily and with an arch look, but soon
-stopping—it was better, however, to know the worst at once—she hurried
-on—“And yet, perhaps, you may hardly be aware yourself how highly it
-is. The extent of your admiration may take you by surprize some day or
-other.”
-
-Mr. Knightley was hard at work upon the lower buttons of his thick
-leather gaiters, and either the exertion of getting them together, or
-some other cause, brought the colour into his face, as he answered,
-
-“Oh! are you there?—But you are miserably behindhand. Mr. Cole gave me
-a hint of it six weeks ago.”
-
-He stopped.—Emma felt her foot pressed by Mrs. Weston, and did not
-herself know what to think. In a moment he went on—
-
-“That will never be, however, I can assure you. Miss Fairfax, I dare
-say, would not have me if I were to ask her—and I am very sure I shall
-never ask her.”
-
-Emma returned her friend’s pressure with interest; and was pleased
-enough to exclaim,
-
-“You are not vain, Mr. Knightley. I will say that for you.”
-
-He seemed hardly to hear her; he was thoughtful—and in a manner which
-shewed him not pleased, soon afterwards said,
-
-“So you have been settling that I should marry Jane Fairfax?”
-
-“No indeed I have not. You have scolded me too much for match-making,
-for me to presume to take such a liberty with you. What I said just
-now, meant nothing. One says those sort of things, of course, without
-any idea of a serious meaning. Oh! no, upon my word I have not the
-smallest wish for your marrying Jane Fairfax or Jane any body. You
-would not come in and sit with us in this comfortable way, if you were
-married.”
-
-Mr. Knightley was thoughtful again. The result of his reverie was, “No,
-Emma, I do not think the extent of my admiration for her will ever take
-me by surprize.—I never had a thought of her in that way, I assure
-you.” And soon afterwards, “Jane Fairfax is a very charming young
-woman—but not even Jane Fairfax is perfect. She has a fault. She has
-not the open temper which a man would wish for in a wife.”
-
-Emma could not but rejoice to hear that she had a fault. “Well,” said
-she, “and you soon silenced Mr. Cole, I suppose?”
-
-“Yes, very soon. He gave me a quiet hint; I told him he was mistaken;
-he asked my pardon and said no more. Cole does not want to be wiser or
-wittier than his neighbours.”
-
-“In that respect how unlike dear Mrs. Elton, who wants to be wiser and
-wittier than all the world! I wonder how she speaks of the Coles—what
-she calls them! How can she find any appellation for them, deep enough
-in familiar vulgarity? She calls you, Knightley—what can she do for Mr.
-Cole? And so I am not to be surprized that Jane Fairfax accepts her
-civilities and consents to be with her. Mrs. Weston, your argument
-weighs most with me. I can much more readily enter into the temptation
-of getting away from Miss Bates, than I can believe in the triumph of
-Miss Fairfax’s mind over Mrs. Elton. I have no faith in Mrs. Elton’s
-acknowledging herself the inferior in thought, word, or deed; or in her
-being under any restraint beyond her own scanty rule of good-breeding.
-I cannot imagine that she will not be continually insulting her visitor
-with praise, encouragement, and offers of service; that she will not be
-continually detailing her magnificent intentions, from the procuring
-her a permanent situation to the including her in those delightful
-exploring parties which are to take place in the barouche-landau.”
-
-“Jane Fairfax has feeling,” said Mr. Knightley—“I do not accuse her of
-want of feeling. Her sensibilities, I suspect, are strong—and her
-temper excellent in its power of forbearance, patience, self-control;
-but it wants openness. She is reserved, more reserved, I think, than
-she used to be—And I love an open temper. No—till Cole alluded to my
-supposed attachment, it had never entered my head. I saw Jane Fairfax
-and conversed with her, with admiration and pleasure always—but with no
-thought beyond.”
-
-“Well, Mrs. Weston,” said Emma triumphantly when he left them, “what do
-you say now to Mr. Knightley’s marrying Jane Fairfax?”
-
-“Why, really, dear Emma, I say that he is so very much occupied by the
-idea of _not_ being in love with her, that I should not wonder if it
-were to end in his being so at last. Do not beat me.”
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XVI
-
-
-Every body in and about Highbury who had ever visited Mr. Elton, was
-disposed to pay him attention on his marriage. Dinner-parties and
-evening-parties were made for him and his lady; and invitations flowed
-in so fast that she had soon the pleasure of apprehending they were
-never to have a disengaged day.
-
-“I see how it is,” said she. “I see what a life I am to lead among you.
-Upon my word we shall be absolutely dissipated. We really seem quite
-the fashion. If this is living in the country, it is nothing very
-formidable. From Monday next to Saturday, I assure you we have not a
-disengaged day!—A woman with fewer resources than I have, need not have
-been at a loss.”
-
-No invitation came amiss to her. Her Bath habits made evening-parties
-perfectly natural to her, and Maple Grove had given her a taste for
-dinners. She was a little shocked at the want of two drawing rooms, at
-the poor attempt at rout-cakes, and there being no ice in the Highbury
-card-parties. Mrs. Bates, Mrs. Perry, Mrs. Goddard and others, were a
-good deal behind-hand in knowledge of the world, but she would soon
-shew them how every thing ought to be arranged. In the course of the
-spring she must return their civilities by one very superior party—in
-which her card-tables should be set out with their separate candles and
-unbroken packs in the true style—and more waiters engaged for the
-evening than their own establishment could furnish, to carry round the
-refreshments at exactly the proper hour, and in the proper order.
-
-Emma, in the meanwhile, could not be satisfied without a dinner at
-Hartfield for the Eltons. They must not do less than others, or she
-should be exposed to odious suspicions, and imagined capable of pitiful
-resentment. A dinner there must be. After Emma had talked about it for
-ten minutes, Mr. Woodhouse felt no unwillingness, and only made the
-usual stipulation of not sitting at the bottom of the table himself,
-with the usual regular difficulty of deciding who should do it for him.
-
-The persons to be invited, required little thought. Besides the Eltons,
-it must be the Westons and Mr. Knightley; so far it was all of
-course—and it was hardly less inevitable that poor little Harriet must
-be asked to make the eighth:—but this invitation was not given with
-equal satisfaction, and on many accounts Emma was particularly pleased
-by Harriet’s begging to be allowed to decline it. “She would rather not
-be in his company more than she could help. She was not yet quite able
-to see him and his charming happy wife together, without feeling
-uncomfortable. If Miss Woodhouse would not be displeased, she would
-rather stay at home.” It was precisely what Emma would have wished, had
-she deemed it possible enough for wishing. She was delighted with the
-fortitude of her little friend—for fortitude she knew it was in her to
-give up being in company and stay at home; and she could now invite the
-very person whom she really wanted to make the eighth, Jane Fairfax.—
-Since her last conversation with Mrs. Weston and Mr. Knightley, she was
-more conscience-stricken about Jane Fairfax than she had often
-been.—Mr. Knightley’s words dwelt with her. He had said that Jane
-Fairfax received attentions from Mrs. Elton which nobody else paid her.
-
-“This is very true,” said she, “at least as far as relates to me, which
-was all that was meant—and it is very shameful.—Of the same age—and
-always knowing her—I ought to have been more her friend.—She will never
-like me now. I have neglected her too long. But I will shew her greater
-attention than I have done.”
-
-Every invitation was successful. They were all disengaged and all
-happy.—The preparatory interest of this dinner, however, was not yet
-over. A circumstance rather unlucky occurred. The two eldest little
-Knightleys were engaged to pay their grandpapa and aunt a visit of some
-weeks in the spring, and their papa now proposed bringing them, and
-staying one whole day at Hartfield—which one day would be the very day
-of this party.—His professional engagements did not allow of his being
-put off, but both father and daughter were disturbed by its happening
-so. Mr. Woodhouse considered eight persons at dinner together as the
-utmost that his nerves could bear—and here would be a ninth—and Emma
-apprehended that it would be a ninth very much out of humour at not
-being able to come even to Hartfield for forty-eight hours without
-falling in with a dinner-party.
-
-She comforted her father better than she could comfort herself, by
-representing that though he certainly would make them nine, yet he
-always said so little, that the increase of noise would be very
-immaterial. She thought it in reality a sad exchange for herself, to
-have him with his grave looks and reluctant conversation opposed to her
-instead of his brother.
-
-The event was more favourable to Mr. Woodhouse than to Emma. John
-Knightley came; but Mr. Weston was unexpectedly summoned to town and
-must be absent on the very day. He might be able to join them in the
-evening, but certainly not to dinner. Mr. Woodhouse was quite at ease;
-and the seeing him so, with the arrival of the little boys and the
-philosophic composure of her brother on hearing his fate, removed the
-chief of even Emma’s vexation.
-
-The day came, the party were punctually assembled, and Mr. John
-Knightley seemed early to devote himself to the business of being
-agreeable. Instead of drawing his brother off to a window while they
-waited for dinner, he was talking to Miss Fairfax. Mrs. Elton, as
-elegant as lace and pearls could make her, he looked at in
-silence—wanting only to observe enough for Isabella’s information—but
-Miss Fairfax was an old acquaintance and a quiet girl, and he could
-talk to her. He had met her before breakfast as he was returning from a
-walk with his little boys, when it had been just beginning to rain. It
-was natural to have some civil hopes on the subject, and he said,
-
-“I hope you did not venture far, Miss Fairfax, this morning, or I am
-sure you must have been wet.—We scarcely got home in time. I hope you
-turned directly.”
-
-“I went only to the post-office,” said she, “and reached home before
-the rain was much. It is my daily errand. I always fetch the letters
-when I am here. It saves trouble, and is a something to get me out. A
-walk before breakfast does me good.”
-
-“Not a walk in the rain, I should imagine.”
-
-“No, but it did not absolutely rain when I set out.”
-
-Mr. John Knightley smiled, and replied,
-
-“That is to say, you chose to have your walk, for you were not six
-yards from your own door when I had the pleasure of meeting you; and
-Henry and John had seen more drops than they could count long before.
-The post-office has a great charm at one period of our lives. When you
-have lived to my age, you will begin to think letters are never worth
-going through the rain for.”
-
-There was a little blush, and then this answer,
-
-“I must not hope to be ever situated as you are, in the midst of every
-dearest connexion, and therefore I cannot expect that simply growing
-older should make me indifferent about letters.”
-
-“Indifferent! Oh! no—I never conceived you could become indifferent.
-Letters are no matter of indifference; they are generally a very
-positive curse.”
-
-“You are speaking of letters of business; mine are letters of
-friendship.”
-
-“I have often thought them the worst of the two,” replied he coolly.
-“Business, you know, may bring money, but friendship hardly ever does.”
-
-“Ah! you are not serious now. I know Mr. John Knightley too well—I am
-very sure he understands the value of friendship as well as any body. I
-can easily believe that letters are very little to you, much less than
-to me, but it is not your being ten years older than myself which makes
-the difference, it is not age, but situation. You have every body
-dearest to you always at hand, I, probably, never shall again; and
-therefore till I have outlived all my affections, a post-office, I
-think, must always have power to draw me out, in worse weather than
-to-day.”
-
-“When I talked of your being altered by time, by the progress of
-years,” said John Knightley, “I meant to imply the change of situation
-which time usually brings. I consider one as including the other. Time
-will generally lessen the interest of every attachment not within the
-daily circle—but that is not the change I had in view for you. As an
-old friend, you will allow me to hope, Miss Fairfax, that ten years
-hence you may have as many concentrated objects as I have.”
-
-It was kindly said, and very far from giving offence. A pleasant “thank
-you” seemed meant to laugh it off, but a blush, a quivering lip, a tear
-in the eye, shewed that it was felt beyond a laugh. Her attention was
-now claimed by Mr. Woodhouse, who being, according to his custom on
-such occasions, making the circle of his guests, and paying his
-particular compliments to the ladies, was ending with her—and with all
-his mildest urbanity, said,
-
-“I am very sorry to hear, Miss Fairfax, of your being out this morning
-in the rain. Young ladies should take care of themselves.—Young ladies
-are delicate plants. They should take care of their health and their
-complexion. My dear, did you change your stockings?”
-
-“Yes, sir, I did indeed; and I am very much obliged by your kind
-solicitude about me.”
-
-“My dear Miss Fairfax, young ladies are very sure to be cared for.—I
-hope your good grand-mama and aunt are well. They are some of my very
-old friends. I wish my health allowed me to be a better neighbour. You
-do us a great deal of honour to-day, I am sure. My daughter and I are
-both highly sensible of your goodness, and have the greatest
-satisfaction in seeing you at Hartfield.”
-
-The kind-hearted, polite old man might then sit down and feel that he
-had done his duty, and made every fair lady welcome and easy.
-
-By this time, the walk in the rain had reached Mrs. Elton, and her
-remonstrances now opened upon Jane.
-
-“My dear Jane, what is this I hear?—Going to the post-office in the
-rain!—This must not be, I assure you.—You sad girl, how could you do
-such a thing?—It is a sign I was not there to take care of you.”
-
-Jane very patiently assured her that she had not caught any cold.
-
-“Oh! do not tell _me_. You really are a very sad girl, and do not know
-how to take care of yourself.—To the post-office indeed! Mrs. Weston,
-did you ever hear the like? You and I must positively exert our
-authority.”
-
-“My advice,” said Mrs. Weston kindly and persuasively, “I certainly do
-feel tempted to give. Miss Fairfax, you must not run such risks.—Liable
-as you have been to severe colds, indeed you ought to be particularly
-careful, especially at this time of year. The spring I always think
-requires more than common care. Better wait an hour or two, or even
-half a day for your letters, than run the risk of bringing on your
-cough again. Now do not you feel that you had? Yes, I am sure you are
-much too reasonable. You look as if you would not do such a thing
-again.”
-
-“Oh! she _shall_ _not_ do such a thing again,” eagerly rejoined Mrs.
-Elton. “We will not allow her to do such a thing again:”—and nodding
-significantly—“there must be some arrangement made, there must indeed.
-I shall speak to Mr. E. The man who fetches our letters every morning
-(one of our men, I forget his name) shall inquire for yours too and
-bring them to you. That will obviate all difficulties you know; and
-from _us_ I really think, my dear Jane, you can have no scruple to
-accept such an accommodation.”
-
-“You are extremely kind,” said Jane; “but I cannot give up my early
-walk. I am advised to be out of doors as much as I can, I must walk
-somewhere, and the post-office is an object; and upon my word, I have
-scarcely ever had a bad morning before.”
-
-“My dear Jane, say no more about it. The thing is determined, that is
-(laughing affectedly) as far as I can presume to determine any thing
-without the concurrence of my lord and master. You know, Mrs. Weston,
-you and I must be cautious how we express ourselves. But I do flatter
-myself, my dear Jane, that my influence is not entirely worn out. If I
-meet with no insuperable difficulties therefore, consider that point as
-settled.”
-
-“Excuse me,” said Jane earnestly, “I cannot by any means consent to
-such an arrangement, so needlessly troublesome to your servant. If the
-errand were not a pleasure to me, it could be done, as it always is
-when I am not here, by my grandmama’s.”
-
-“Oh! my dear; but so much as Patty has to do!—And it is a kindness to
-employ our men.”
-
-Jane looked as if she did not mean to be conquered; but instead of
-answering, she began speaking again to Mr. John Knightley.
-
-“The post-office is a wonderful establishment!” said she.—“The
-regularity and despatch of it! If one thinks of all that it has to do,
-and all that it does so well, it is really astonishing!”
-
-“It is certainly very well regulated.”
-
-“So seldom that any negligence or blunder appears! So seldom that a
-letter, among the thousands that are constantly passing about the
-kingdom, is even carried wrong—and not one in a million, I suppose,
-actually lost! And when one considers the variety of hands, and of bad
-hands too, that are to be deciphered, it increases the wonder.”
-
-“The clerks grow expert from habit.—They must begin with some quickness
-of sight and hand, and exercise improves them. If you want any farther
-explanation,” continued he, smiling, “they are paid for it. That is the
-key to a great deal of capacity. The public pays and must be served
-well.”
-
-The varieties of handwriting were farther talked of, and the usual
-observations made.
-
-“I have heard it asserted,” said John Knightley, “that the same sort of
-handwriting often prevails in a family; and where the same master
-teaches, it is natural enough. But for that reason, I should imagine
-the likeness must be chiefly confined to the females, for boys have
-very little teaching after an early age, and scramble into any hand
-they can get. Isabella and Emma, I think, do write very much alike. I
-have not always known their writing apart.”
-
-“Yes,” said his brother hesitatingly, “there is a likeness. I know what
-you mean—but Emma’s hand is the strongest.”
-
-“Isabella and Emma both write beautifully,” said Mr. Woodhouse; “and
-always did. And so does poor Mrs. Weston”—with half a sigh and half a
-smile at her.
-
-“I never saw any gentleman’s handwriting”��€”Emma began, looking also at
-Mrs. Weston; but stopped, on perceiving that Mrs. Weston was attending
-to some one else—and the pause gave her time to reflect, “Now, how am I
-going to introduce him?—Am I unequal to speaking his name at once
-before all these people? Is it necessary for me to use any roundabout
-phrase?—Your Yorkshire friend—your correspondent in Yorkshire;—that
-would be the way, I suppose, if I were very bad.—No, I can pronounce
-his name without the smallest distress. I certainly get better and
-better.—Now for it.”
-
-Mrs. Weston was disengaged and Emma began again—“Mr. Frank Churchill
-writes one of the best gentleman’s hands I ever saw.”
-
-“I do not admire it,” said Mr. Knightley. “It is too small—wants
-strength. It is like a woman’s writing.”
-
-This was not submitted to by either lady. They vindicated him against
-the base aspersion. “No, it by no means wanted strength—it was not a
-large hand, but very clear and certainly strong. Had not Mrs. Weston
-any letter about her to produce?” No, she had heard from him very
-lately, but having answered the letter, had put it away.
-
-“If we were in the other room,” said Emma, “if I had my writing-desk, I
-am sure I could produce a specimen. I have a note of his.—Do not you
-remember, Mrs. Weston, employing him to write for you one day?”
-
-“He chose to say he was employed”—
-
-“Well, well, I have that note; and can shew it after dinner to convince
-Mr. Knightley.”
-
-“Oh! when a gallant young man, like Mr. Frank Churchill,” said Mr.
-Knightley dryly, “writes to a fair lady like Miss Woodhouse, he will,
-of course, put forth his best.”
-
-Dinner was on table.—Mrs. Elton, before she could be spoken to, was
-ready; and before Mr. Woodhouse had reached her with his request to be
-allowed to hand her into the dining-parlour, was saying—
-
-“Must I go first? I really am ashamed of always leading the way.”
-
-Jane’s solicitude about fetching her own letters had not escaped Emma.
-She had heard and seen it all; and felt some curiosity to know whether
-the wet walk of this morning had produced any. She suspected that it
-_had_; that it would not have been so resolutely encountered but in
-full expectation of hearing from some one very dear, and that it had
-not been in vain. She thought there was an air of greater happiness
-than usual—a glow both of complexion and spirits.
-
-She could have made an inquiry or two, as to the expedition and the
-expense of the Irish mails;—it was at her tongue’s end—but she
-abstained. She was quite determined not to utter a word that should
-hurt Jane Fairfax’s feelings; and they followed the other ladies out of
-the room, arm in arm, with an appearance of good-will highly becoming
-to the beauty and grace of each.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XVII
-
-
-When the ladies returned to the drawing-room after dinner, Emma found
-it hardly possible to prevent their making two distinct parties;—with
-so much perseverance in judging and behaving ill did Mrs. Elton engross
-Jane Fairfax and slight herself. She and Mrs. Weston were obliged to be
-almost always either talking together or silent together. Mrs. Elton
-left them no choice. If Jane repressed her for a little time, she soon
-began again; and though much that passed between them was in a
-half-whisper, especially on Mrs. Elton’s side, there was no avoiding a
-knowledge of their principal subjects: The post-office—catching
-cold—fetching letters—and friendship, were long under discussion; and
-to them succeeded one, which must be at least equally unpleasant to
-Jane—inquiries whether she had yet heard of any situation likely to
-suit her, and professions of Mrs. Elton’s meditated activity.
-
-“Here is April come!” said she, “I get quite anxious about you. June
-will soon be here.”
-
-“But I have never fixed on June or any other month—merely looked
-forward to the summer in general.”
-
-“But have you really heard of nothing?”
-
-“I have not even made any inquiry; I do not wish to make any yet.”
-
-“Oh! my dear, we cannot begin too early; you are not aware of the
-difficulty of procuring exactly the desirable thing.”
-
-“I not aware!” said Jane, shaking her head; “dear Mrs. Elton, who can
-have thought of it as I have done?”
-
-“But you have not seen so much of the world as I have. You do not know
-how many candidates there always are for the _first_ situations. I saw
-a vast deal of that in the neighbourhood round Maple Grove. A cousin of
-Mr. Suckling, Mrs. Bragge, had such an infinity of applications; every
-body was anxious to be in her family, for she moves in the first
-circle. Wax-candles in the schoolroom! You may imagine how desirable!
-Of all houses in the kingdom Mrs. Bragge’s is the one I would most wish
-to see you in.”
-
-“Colonel and Mrs. Campbell are to be in town again by midsummer,” said
-Jane. “I must spend some time with them; I am sure they will want
-it;—afterwards I may probably be glad to dispose of myself. But I would
-not wish you to take the trouble of making any inquiries at present.”
-
-“Trouble! aye, I know your scruples. You are afraid of giving me
-trouble; but I assure you, my dear Jane, the Campbells can hardly be
-more interested about you than I am. I shall write to Mrs. Partridge in
-a day or two, and shall give her a strict charge to be on the look-out
-for any thing eligible.”
-
-“Thank you, but I would rather you did not mention the subject to her;
-till the time draws nearer, I do not wish to be giving any body
-trouble.”
-
-“But, my dear child, the time is drawing near; here is April, and June,
-or say even July, is very near, with such business to accomplish before
-us. Your inexperience really amuses me! A situation such as you
-deserve, and your friends would require for you, is no everyday
-occurrence, is not obtained at a moment’s notice; indeed, indeed, we
-must begin inquiring directly.”
-
-“Excuse me, ma’am, but this is by no means my intention; I make no
-inquiry myself, and should be sorry to have any made by my friends.
-When I am quite determined as to the time, I am not at all afraid of
-being long unemployed. There are places in town, offices, where inquiry
-would soon produce something—Offices for the sale—not quite of human
-flesh—but of human intellect.”
-
-“Oh! my dear, human flesh! You quite shock me; if you mean a fling at
-the slave-trade, I assure you Mr. Suckling was always rather a friend
-to the abolition.”
-
-“I did not mean, I was not thinking of the slave-trade,” replied Jane;
-“governess-trade, I assure you, was all that I had in view; widely
-different certainly as to the guilt of those who carry it on; but as to
-the greater misery of the victims, I do not know where it lies. But I
-only mean to say that there are advertising offices, and that by
-applying to them I should have no doubt of very soon meeting with
-something that would do.”
-
-“Something that would do!” repeated Mrs. Elton. “Aye, _that_ may suit
-your humble ideas of yourself;—I know what a modest creature you are;
-but it will not satisfy your friends to have you taking up with any
-thing that may offer, any inferior, commonplace situation, in a family
-not moving in a certain circle, or able to command the elegancies of
-life.”
-
-“You are very obliging; but as to all that, I am very indifferent; it
-would be no object to me to be with the rich; my mortifications, I
-think, would only be the greater; I should suffer more from comparison.
-A gentleman’s family is all that I should condition for.”
-
-“I know you, I know you; you would take up with any thing; but I shall
-be a little more nice, and I am sure the good Campbells will be quite
-on my side; with your superior talents, you have a right to move in the
-first circle. Your musical knowledge alone would entitle you to name
-your own terms, have as many rooms as you like, and mix in the family
-as much as you chose;—that is—I do not know—if you knew the harp, you
-might do all that, I am very sure; but you sing as well as play;—yes, I
-really believe you might, even without the harp, stipulate for what you
-chose;—and you must and shall be delightfully, honourably and
-comfortably settled before the Campbells or I have any rest.”
-
-“You may well class the delight, the honour, and the comfort of such a
-situation together,” said Jane, “they are pretty sure to be equal;
-however, I am very serious in not wishing any thing to be attempted at
-present for me. I am exceedingly obliged to you, Mrs. Elton, I am
-obliged to any body who feels for me, but I am quite serious in wishing
-nothing to be done till the summer. For two or three months longer I
-shall remain where I am, and as I am.”
-
-“And I am quite serious too, I assure you,” replied Mrs. Elton gaily,
-“in resolving to be always on the watch, and employing my friends to
-watch also, that nothing really unexceptionable may pass us.”
-
-In this style she ran on; never thoroughly stopped by any thing till
-Mr. Woodhouse came into the room; her vanity had then a change of
-object, and Emma heard her saying in the same half-whisper to Jane,
-
-“Here comes this dear old beau of mine, I protest!—Only think of his
-gallantry in coming away before the other men!—what a dear creature he
-is;—I assure you I like him excessively. I admire all that quaint,
-old-fashioned politeness; it is much more to my taste than modern ease;
-modern ease often disgusts me. But this good old Mr. Woodhouse, I wish
-you had heard his gallant speeches to me at dinner. Oh! I assure you I
-began to think my caro sposo would be absolutely jealous. I fancy I am
-rather a favourite; he took notice of my gown. How do you like
-it?—Selina’s choice—handsome, I think, but I do not know whether it is
-not over-trimmed; I have the greatest dislike to the idea of being
-over-trimmed—quite a horror of finery. I must put on a few ornaments
-now, because it is expected of me. A bride, you know, must appear like
-a bride, but my natural taste is all for simplicity; a simple style of
-dress is so infinitely preferable to finery. But I am quite in the
-minority, I believe; few people seem to value simplicity of dress,—show
-and finery are every thing. I have some notion of putting such a
-trimming as this to my white and silver poplin. Do you think it will
-look well?”
-
-The whole party were but just reassembled in the drawing-room when Mr.
-Weston made his appearance among them. He had returned to a late
-dinner, and walked to Hartfield as soon as it was over. He had been too
-much expected by the best judges, for surprize—but there was great joy.
-Mr. Woodhouse was almost as glad to see him now, as he would have been
-sorry to see him before. John Knightley only was in mute
-astonishment.—That a man who might have spent his evening quietly at
-home after a day of business in London, should set off again, and walk
-half a mile to another man’s house, for the sake of being in mixed
-company till bed-time, of finishing his day in the efforts of civility
-and the noise of numbers, was a circumstance to strike him deeply. A
-man who had been in motion since eight o’clock in the morning, and
-might now have been still, who had been long talking, and might have
-been silent, who had been in more than one crowd, and might have been
-alone!—Such a man, to quit the tranquillity and independence of his own
-fireside, and on the evening of a cold sleety April day rush out again
-into the world!—Could he by a touch of his finger have instantly taken
-back his wife, there would have been a motive; but his coming would
-probably prolong rather than break up the party. John Knightley looked
-at him with amazement, then shrugged his shoulders, and said, “I could
-not have believed it even of _him_.”
-
-Mr. Weston meanwhile, perfectly unsuspicious of the indignation he was
-exciting, happy and cheerful as usual, and with all the right of being
-principal talker, which a day spent anywhere from home confers, was
-making himself agreeable among the rest; and having satisfied the
-inquiries of his wife as to his dinner, convincing her that none of all
-her careful directions to the servants had been forgotten, and spread
-abroad what public news he had heard, was proceeding to a family
-communication, which, though principally addressed to Mrs. Weston, he
-had not the smallest doubt of being highly interesting to every body in
-the room. He gave her a letter, it was from Frank, and to herself; he
-had met with it in his way, and had taken the liberty of opening it.
-
-“Read it, read it,” said he, “it will give you pleasure; only a few
-lines—will not take you long; read it to Emma.”
-
-The two ladies looked over it together; and he sat smiling and talking
-to them the whole time, in a voice a little subdued, but very audible
-to every body.
-
-“Well, he is coming, you see; good news, I think. Well, what do you say
-to it?—I always told you he would be here again soon, did not I?—Anne,
-my dear, did not I always tell you so, and you would not believe me?—In
-town next week, you see—at the latest, I dare say; for _she_ is as
-impatient as the black gentleman when any thing is to be done; most
-likely they will be there to-morrow or Saturday. As to her illness, all
-nothing of course. But it is an excellent thing to have Frank among us
-again, so near as town. They will stay a good while when they do come,
-and he will be half his time with us. This is precisely what I wanted.
-Well, pretty good news, is not it? Have you finished it? Has Emma read
-it all? Put it up, put it up; we will have a good talk about it some
-other time, but it will not do now. I shall only just mention the
-circumstance to the others in a common way.”
-
-Mrs. Weston was most comfortably pleased on the occasion. Her looks and
-words had nothing to restrain them. She was happy, she knew she was
-happy, and knew she ought to be happy. Her congratulations were warm
-and open; but Emma could not speak so fluently. _She_ was a little
-occupied in weighing her own feelings, and trying to understand the
-degree of her agitation, which she rather thought was considerable.
-
-Mr. Weston, however, too eager to be very observant, too communicative
-to want others to talk, was very well satisfied with what she did say,
-and soon moved away to make the rest of his friends happy by a partial
-communication of what the whole room must have overheard already.
-
-It was well that he took every body’s joy for granted, or he might not
-have thought either Mr. Woodhouse or Mr. Knightley particularly
-delighted. They were the first entitled, after Mrs. Weston and Emma, to
-be made happy;—from them he would have proceeded to Miss Fairfax, but
-she was so deep in conversation with John Knightley, that it would have
-been too positive an interruption; and finding himself close to Mrs.
-Elton, and her attention disengaged, he necessarily began on the
-subject with her.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XVIII
-
-
-“I hope I shall soon have the pleasure of introducing my son to you,”
-said Mr. Weston.
-
-Mrs. Elton, very willing to suppose a particular compliment intended
-her by such a hope, smiled most graciously.
-
-“You have heard of a certain Frank Churchill, I presume,” he
-continued—“and know him to be my son, though he does not bear my name.”
-
-“Oh! yes, and I shall be very happy in his acquaintance. I am sure Mr.
-Elton will lose no time in calling on him; and we shall both have great
-pleasure in seeing him at the Vicarage.”
-
-“You are very obliging.—Frank will be extremely happy, I am sure.— He
-is to be in town next week, if not sooner. We have notice of it in a
-letter to-day. I met the letters in my way this morning, and seeing my
-son’s hand, presumed to open it—though it was not directed to me—it was
-to Mrs. Weston. She is his principal correspondent, I assure you. I
-hardly ever get a letter.”
-
-“And so you absolutely opened what was directed to her! Oh! Mr.
-Weston—(laughing affectedly) I must protest against that.—A most
-dangerous precedent indeed!—I beg you will not let your neighbours
-follow your example.—Upon my word, if this is what I am to expect, we
-married women must begin to exert ourselves!—Oh! Mr. Weston, I could
-not have believed it of you!”
-
-“Aye, we men are sad fellows. You must take care of yourself, Mrs.
-Elton.—This letter tells us—it is a short letter—written in a hurry,
-merely to give us notice—it tells us that they are all coming up to
-town directly, on Mrs. Churchill’s account—she has not been well the
-whole winter, and thinks Enscombe too cold for her—so they are all to
-move southward without loss of time.”
-
-“Indeed!—from Yorkshire, I think. Enscombe is in Yorkshire?”
-
-“Yes, they are about one hundred and ninety miles from London, a
-considerable journey.”
-
-“Yes, upon my word, very considerable. Sixty-five miles farther than
-from Maple Grove to London. But what is distance, Mr. Weston, to people
-of large fortune?—You would be amazed to hear how my brother, Mr.
-Suckling, sometimes flies about. You will hardly believe me—but twice
-in one week he and Mr. Bragge went to London and back again with four
-horses.”
-
-“The evil of the distance from Enscombe,” said Mr. Weston, “is, that
-Mrs. Churchill, _as_ _we_ _understand_, has not been able to leave the
-sofa for a week together. In Frank’s last letter she complained, he
-said, of being too weak to get into her conservatory without having
-both his arm and his uncle’s! This, you know, speaks a great degree of
-weakness—but now she is so impatient to be in town, that she means to
-sleep only two nights on the road.—So Frank writes word. Certainly,
-delicate ladies have very extraordinary constitutions, Mrs. Elton. You
-must grant me that.”
-
-“No, indeed, I shall grant you nothing. I always take the part of my
-own sex. I do indeed. I give you notice—You will find me a formidable
-antagonist on that point. I always stand up for women—and I assure you,
-if you knew how Selina feels with respect to sleeping at an inn, you
-would not wonder at Mrs. Churchill’s making incredible exertions to
-avoid it. Selina says it is quite horror to her—and I believe I have
-caught a little of her nicety. She always travels with her own sheets;
-an excellent precaution. Does Mrs. Churchill do the same?”
-
-“Depend upon it, Mrs. Churchill does every thing that any other fine
-lady ever did. Mrs. Churchill will not be second to any lady in the
-land for”—
-
-Mrs. Elton eagerly interposed with,
-
-“Oh! Mr. Weston, do not mistake me. Selina is no fine lady, I assure
-you. Do not run away with such an idea.”
-
-“Is not she? Then she is no rule for Mrs. Churchill, who is as thorough
-a fine lady as any body ever beheld.”
-
-Mrs. Elton began to think she had been wrong in disclaiming so warmly.
-It was by no means her object to have it believed that her sister was
-_not_ a fine lady; perhaps there was want of spirit in the pretence of
-it;—and she was considering in what way she had best retract, when Mr.
-Weston went on.
-
-“Mrs. Churchill is not much in my good graces, as you may suspect—but
-this is quite between ourselves. She is very fond of Frank, and
-therefore I would not speak ill of her. Besides, she is out of health
-now; but _that_ indeed, by her own account, she has always been. I
-would not say so to every body, Mrs. Elton, but I have not much faith
-in Mrs. Churchill’s illness.”
-
-“If she is really ill, why not go to Bath, Mr. Weston?—To Bath, or to
-Clifton?” “She has taken it into her head that Enscombe is too cold for
-her. The fact is, I suppose, that she is tired of Enscombe. She has now
-been a longer time stationary there, than she ever was before, and she
-begins to want change. It is a retired place. A fine place, but very
-retired.”
-
-“Aye—like Maple Grove, I dare say. Nothing can stand more retired from
-the road than Maple Grove. Such an immense plantation all round it! You
-seem shut out from every thing—in the most complete retirement.—And
-Mrs. Churchill probably has not health or spirits like Selina to enjoy
-that sort of seclusion. Or, perhaps she may not have resources enough
-in herself to be qualified for a country life. I always say a woman
-cannot have too many resources—and I feel very thankful that I have so
-many myself as to be quite independent of society.”
-
-“Frank was here in February for a fortnight.”
-
-“So I remember to have heard. He will find an _addition_ to the society
-of Highbury when he comes again; that is, if I may presume to call
-myself an addition. But perhaps he may never have heard of there being
-such a creature in the world.”
-
-This was too loud a call for a compliment to be passed by, and Mr.
-Weston, with a very good grace, immediately exclaimed,
-
-“My dear madam! Nobody but yourself could imagine such a thing
-possible. Not heard of you!—I believe Mrs. Weston’s letters lately have
-been full of very little else than Mrs. Elton.”
-
-He had done his duty and could return to his son.
-
-“When Frank left us,” continued he, “it was quite uncertain when we
-might see him again, which makes this day’s news doubly welcome. It has
-been completely unexpected. That is, _I_ always had a strong persuasion
-he would be here again soon, I was sure something favourable would turn
-up—but nobody believed me. He and Mrs. Weston were both dreadfully
-desponding. ‘How could he contrive to come? And how could it be
-supposed that his uncle and aunt would spare him again?’ and so forth—I
-always felt that something would happen in our favour; and so it has,
-you see. I have observed, Mrs. Elton, in the course of my life, that if
-things are going untowardly one month, they are sure to mend the next.”
-
-“Very true, Mr. Weston, perfectly true. It is just what I used to say
-to a certain gentleman in company in the days of courtship, when,
-because things did not go quite right, did not proceed with all the
-rapidity which suited his feelings, he was apt to be in despair, and
-exclaim that he was sure at this rate it would be _May_ before Hymen’s
-saffron robe would be put on for us. Oh! the pains I have been at to
-dispel those gloomy ideas and give him cheerfuller views! The
-carriage—we had disappointments about the carriage;—one morning, I
-remember, he came to me quite in despair.”
-
-She was stopped by a slight fit of coughing, and Mr. Weston instantly
-seized the opportunity of going on.
-
-“You were mentioning May. May is the very month which Mrs. Churchill is
-ordered, or has ordered herself, to spend in some warmer place than
-Enscombe—in short, to spend in London; so that we have the agreeable
-prospect of frequent visits from Frank the whole spring—precisely the
-season of the year which one should have chosen for it: days almost at
-the longest; weather genial and pleasant, always inviting one out, and
-never too hot for exercise. When he was here before, we made the best
-of it; but there was a good deal of wet, damp, cheerless weather; there
-always is in February, you know, and we could not do half that we
-intended. Now will be the time. This will be complete enjoyment; and I
-do not know, Mrs. Elton, whether the uncertainty of our meetings, the
-sort of constant expectation there will be of his coming in to-day or
-to-morrow, and at any hour, may not be more friendly to happiness than
-having him actually in the house. I think it is so. I think it is the
-state of mind which gives most spirit and delight. I hope you will be
-pleased with my son; but you must not expect a prodigy. He is generally
-thought a fine young man, but do not expect a prodigy. Mrs. Weston’s
-partiality for him is very great, and, as you may suppose, most
-gratifying to me. She thinks nobody equal to him.”
-
-“And I assure you, Mr. Weston, I have very little doubt that my opinion
-will be decidedly in his favour. I have heard so much in praise of Mr.
-Frank Churchill.—At the same time it is fair to observe, that I am one
-of those who always judge for themselves, and are by no means
-implicitly guided by others. I give you notice that as I find your son,
-so I shall judge of him.—I am no flatterer.”
-
-Mr. Weston was musing.
-
-“I hope,” said he presently, “I have not been severe upon poor Mrs.
-Churchill. If she is ill I should be sorry to do her injustice; but
-there are some traits in her character which make it difficult for me
-to speak of her with the forbearance I could wish. You cannot be
-ignorant, Mrs. Elton, of my connexion with the family, nor of the
-treatment I have met with; and, between ourselves, the whole blame of
-it is to be laid to her. She was the instigator. Frank’s mother would
-never have been slighted as she was but for her. Mr. Churchill has
-pride; but his pride is nothing to his wife’s: his is a quiet,
-indolent, gentlemanlike sort of pride that would harm nobody, and only
-make himself a little helpless and tiresome; but her pride is arrogance
-and insolence! And what inclines one less to bear, she has no fair
-pretence of family or blood. She was nobody when he married her, barely
-the daughter of a gentleman; but ever since her being turned into a
-Churchill she has out-Churchill’d them all in high and mighty claims:
-but in herself, I assure you, she is an upstart.”
-
-“Only think! well, that must be infinitely provoking! I have quite a
-horror of upstarts. Maple Grove has given me a thorough disgust to
-people of that sort; for there is a family in that neighbourhood who
-are such an annoyance to my brother and sister from the airs they give
-themselves! Your description of Mrs. Churchill made me think of them
-directly. People of the name of Tupman, very lately settled there, and
-encumbered with many low connexions, but giving themselves immense
-airs, and expecting to be on a footing with the old established
-families. A year and a half is the very utmost that they can have lived
-at West Hall; and how they got their fortune nobody knows. They came
-from Birmingham, which is not a place to promise much, you know, Mr.
-Weston. One has not great hopes from Birmingham. I always say there is
-something direful in the sound: but nothing more is positively known of
-the Tupmans, though a good many things I assure you are suspected; and
-yet by their manners they evidently think themselves equal even to my
-brother, Mr. Suckling, who happens to be one of their nearest
-neighbours. It is infinitely too bad. Mr. Suckling, who has been eleven
-years a resident at Maple Grove, and whose father had it before him—I
-believe, at least—I am almost sure that old Mr. Suckling had completed
-the purchase before his death.”
-
-They were interrupted. Tea was carrying round, and Mr. Weston, having
-said all that he wanted, soon took the opportunity of walking away.
-
-After tea, Mr. and Mrs. Weston, and Mr. Elton sat down with Mr.
-Woodhouse to cards. The remaining five were left to their own powers,
-and Emma doubted their getting on very well; for Mr. Knightley seemed
-little disposed for conversation; Mrs. Elton was wanting notice, which
-nobody had inclination to pay, and she was herself in a worry of
-spirits which would have made her prefer being silent.
-
-Mr. John Knightley proved more talkative than his brother. He was to
-leave them early the next day; and he soon began with—
-
-“Well, Emma, I do not believe I have any thing more to say about the
-boys; but you have your sister’s letter, and every thing is down at
-full length there we may be sure. My charge would be much more concise
-than her’s, and probably not much in the same spirit; all that I have
-to recommend being comprised in, do not spoil them, and do not physic
-them.”
-
-“I rather hope to satisfy you both,” said Emma, “for I shall do all in
-my power to make them happy, which will be enough for Isabella; and
-happiness must preclude false indulgence and physic.”
-
-“And if you find them troublesome, you must send them home again.”
-
-“That is very likely. You think so, do not you?”
-
-“I hope I am aware that they may be too noisy for your father—or even
-may be some encumbrance to you, if your visiting engagements continue
-to increase as much as they have done lately.”
-
-“Increase!”
-
-“Certainly; you must be sensible that the last half-year has made a
-great difference in your way of life.”
-
-“Difference! No indeed I am not.”
-
-“There can be no doubt of your being much more engaged with company
-than you used to be. Witness this very time. Here am I come down for
-only one day, and you are engaged with a dinner-party!—When did it
-happen before, or any thing like it? Your neighbourhood is increasing,
-and you mix more with it. A little while ago, every letter to Isabella
-brought an account of fresh gaieties; dinners at Mr. Cole’s, or balls
-at the Crown. The difference which Randalls, Randalls alone makes in
-your goings-on, is very great.”
-
-“Yes,” said his brother quickly, “it is Randalls that does it all.”
-
-“Very well—and as Randalls, I suppose, is not likely to have less
-influence than heretofore, it strikes me as a possible thing, Emma,
-that Henry and John may be sometimes in the way. And if they are, I
-only beg you to send them home.”
-
-“No,” cried Mr. Knightley, “that need not be the consequence. Let them
-be sent to Donwell. I shall certainly be at leisure.”
-
-“Upon my word,” exclaimed Emma, “you amuse me! I should like to know
-how many of all my numerous engagements take place without your being
-of the party; and why I am to be supposed in danger of wanting leisure
-to attend to the little boys. These amazing engagements of mine—what
-have they been? Dining once with the Coles—and having a ball talked of,
-which never took place. I can understand you—(nodding at Mr. John
-Knightley)—your good fortune in meeting with so many of your friends at
-once here, delights you too much to pass unnoticed. But you, (turning
-to Mr. Knightley,) who know how very, very seldom I am ever two hours
-from Hartfield, why you should foresee such a series of dissipation for
-me, I cannot imagine. And as to my dear little boys, I must say, that
-if Aunt Emma has not time for them, I do not think they would fare much
-better with Uncle Knightley, who is absent from home about five hours
-where she is absent one—and who, when he is at home, is either reading
-to himself or settling his accounts.”
-
-Mr. Knightley seemed to be trying not to smile; and succeeded without
-difficulty, upon Mrs. Elton’s beginning to talk to him.
-
-
-
-
-VOLUME III
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER I
-
-
-A very little quiet reflection was enough to satisfy Emma as to the
-nature of her agitation on hearing this news of Frank Churchill. She
-was soon convinced that it was not for herself she was feeling at all
-apprehensive or embarrassed; it was for him. Her own attachment had
-really subsided into a mere nothing; it was not worth thinking of;—but
-if he, who had undoubtedly been always so much the most in love of the
-two, were to be returning with the same warmth of sentiment which he
-had taken away, it would be very distressing. If a separation of two
-months should not have cooled him, there were dangers and evils before
-her:—caution for him and for herself would be necessary. She did not
-mean to have her own affections entangled again, and it would be
-incumbent on her to avoid any encouragement of his.
-
-She wished she might be able to keep him from an absolute declaration.
-That would be so very painful a conclusion of their present
-acquaintance! and yet, she could not help rather anticipating something
-decisive. She felt as if the spring would not pass without bringing a
-crisis, an event, a something to alter her present composed and
-tranquil state.
-
-It was not very long, though rather longer than Mr. Weston had
-foreseen, before she had the power of forming some opinion of Frank
-Churchill’s feelings. The Enscombe family were not in town quite so
-soon as had been imagined, but he was at Highbury very soon afterwards.
-He rode down for a couple of hours; he could not yet do more; but as he
-came from Randalls immediately to Hartfield, she could then exercise
-all her quick observation, and speedily determine how he was
-influenced, and how she must act. They met with the utmost
-friendliness. There could be no doubt of his great pleasure in seeing
-her. But she had an almost instant doubt of his caring for her as he
-had done, of his feeling the same tenderness in the same degree. She
-watched him well. It was a clear thing he was less in love than he had
-been. Absence, with the conviction probably of her indifference, had
-produced this very natural and very desirable effect.
-
-He was in high spirits; as ready to talk and laugh as ever, and seemed
-delighted to speak of his former visit, and recur to old stories: and
-he was not without agitation. It was not in his calmness that she read
-his comparative indifference. He was not calm; his spirits were
-evidently fluttered; there was restlessness about him. Lively as he
-was, it seemed a liveliness that did not satisfy himself; but what
-decided her belief on the subject, was his staying only a quarter of an
-hour, and hurrying away to make other calls in Highbury. “He had seen a
-group of old acquaintance in the street as he passed—he had not
-stopped, he would not stop for more than a word—but he had the vanity
-to think they would be disappointed if he did not call, and much as he
-wished to stay longer at Hartfield, he must hurry off.” She had no
-doubt as to his being less in love—but neither his agitated spirits,
-nor his hurrying away, seemed like a perfect cure; and she was rather
-inclined to think it implied a dread of her returning power, and a
-discreet resolution of not trusting himself with her long.
-
-This was the only visit from Frank Churchill in the course of ten days.
-He was often hoping, intending to come—but was always prevented. His
-aunt could not bear to have him leave her. Such was his own account at
-Randall’s. If he were quite sincere, if he really tried to come, it was
-to be inferred that Mrs. Churchill’s removal to London had been of no
-service to the wilful or nervous part of her disorder. That she was
-really ill was very certain; he had declared himself convinced of it,
-at Randalls. Though much might be fancy, he could not doubt, when he
-looked back, that she was in a weaker state of health than she had been
-half a year ago. He did not believe it to proceed from any thing that
-care and medicine might not remove, or at least that she might not have
-many years of existence before her; but he could not be prevailed on,
-by all his father’s doubts, to say that her complaints were merely
-imaginary, or that she was as strong as ever.
-
-It soon appeared that London was not the place for her. She could not
-endure its noise. Her nerves were under continual irritation and
-suffering; and by the ten days’ end, her nephew’s letter to Randalls
-communicated a change of plan. They were going to remove immediately to
-Richmond. Mrs. Churchill had been recommended to the medical skill of
-an eminent person there, and had otherwise a fancy for the place. A
-ready-furnished house in a favourite spot was engaged, and much benefit
-expected from the change.
-
-Emma heard that Frank wrote in the highest spirits of this arrangement,
-and seemed most fully to appreciate the blessing of having two months
-before him of such near neighbourhood to many dear friends—for the
-house was taken for May and June. She was told that now he wrote with
-the greatest confidence of being often with them, almost as often as he
-could even wish.
-
-Emma saw how Mr. Weston understood these joyous prospects. He was
-considering her as the source of all the happiness they offered. She
-hoped it was not so. Two months must bring it to the proof.
-
-Mr. Weston’s own happiness was indisputable. He was quite delighted. It
-was the very circumstance he could have wished for. Now, it would be
-really having Frank in their neighbourhood. What were nine miles to a
-young man?—An hour’s ride. He would be always coming over. The
-difference in that respect of Richmond and London was enough to make
-the whole difference of seeing him always and seeing him never. Sixteen
-miles—nay, eighteen—it must be full eighteen to Manchester-street—was a
-serious obstacle. Were he ever able to get away, the day would be spent
-in coming and returning. There was no comfort in having him in London;
-he might as well be at Enscombe; but Richmond was the very distance for
-easy intercourse. Better than nearer!
-
-One good thing was immediately brought to a certainty by this
-removal,—the ball at the Crown. It had not been forgotten before, but
-it had been soon acknowledged vain to attempt to fix a day. Now,
-however, it was absolutely to be; every preparation was resumed, and
-very soon after the Churchills had removed to Richmond, a few lines
-from Frank, to say that his aunt felt already much better for the
-change, and that he had no doubt of being able to join them for
-twenty-four hours at any given time, induced them to name as early a
-day as possible.
-
-Mr. Weston’s ball was to be a real thing. A very few to-morrows stood
-between the young people of Highbury and happiness.
-
-Mr. Woodhouse was resigned. The time of year lightened the evil to him.
-May was better for every thing than February. Mrs. Bates was engaged to
-spend the evening at Hartfield, James had due notice, and he sanguinely
-hoped that neither dear little Henry nor dear little John would have
-any thing the matter with them, while dear Emma were gone.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER II
-
-
-No misfortune occurred, again to prevent the ball. The day approached,
-the day arrived; and after a morning of some anxious watching, Frank
-Churchill, in all the certainty of his own self, reached Randalls
-before dinner, and every thing was safe.
-
-No second meeting had there yet been between him and Emma. The room at
-the Crown was to witness it;—but it would be better than a common
-meeting in a crowd. Mr. Weston had been so very earnest in his
-entreaties for her arriving there as soon as possible after themselves,
-for the purpose of taking her opinion as to the propriety and comfort
-of the rooms before any other persons came, that she could not refuse
-him, and must therefore spend some quiet interval in the young man’s
-company. She was to convey Harriet, and they drove to the Crown in good
-time, the Randalls party just sufficiently before them.
-
-Frank Churchill seemed to have been on the watch; and though he did not
-say much, his eyes declared that he meant to have a delightful evening.
-They all walked about together, to see that every thing was as it
-should be; and within a few minutes were joined by the contents of
-another carriage, which Emma could not hear the sound of at first,
-without great surprize. “So unreasonably early!” she was going to
-exclaim; but she presently found that it was a family of old friends,
-who were coming, like herself, by particular desire, to help Mr.
-Weston’s judgment; and they were so very closely followed by another
-carriage of cousins, who had been entreated to come early with the same
-distinguishing earnestness, on the same errand, that it seemed as if
-half the company might soon be collected together for the purpose of
-preparatory inspection.
-
-Emma perceived that her taste was not the only taste on which Mr.
-Weston depended, and felt, that to be the favourite and intimate of a
-man who had so many intimates and confidantes, was not the very first
-distinction in the scale of vanity. She liked his open manners, but a
-little less of open-heartedness would have made him a higher
-character.—General benevolence, but not general friendship, made a man
-what he ought to be.—She could fancy such a man. The whole party walked
-about, and looked, and praised again; and then, having nothing else to
-do, formed a sort of half-circle round the fire, to observe in their
-various modes, till other subjects were started, that, though _May_, a
-fire in the evening was still very pleasant.
-
-Emma found that it was not Mr. Weston’s fault that the number of privy
-councillors was not yet larger. They had stopped at Mrs. Bates’s door
-to offer the use of their carriage, but the aunt and niece were to be
-brought by the Eltons.
-
-Frank was standing by her, but not steadily; there was a restlessness,
-which shewed a mind not at ease. He was looking about, he was going to
-the door, he was watching for the sound of other carriages,—impatient
-to begin, or afraid of being always near her.
-
-Mrs. Elton was spoken of. “I think she must be here soon,” said he. “I
-have a great curiosity to see Mrs. Elton, I have heard so much of her.
-It cannot be long, I think, before she comes.”
-
-A carriage was heard. He was on the move immediately; but coming back,
-said,
-
-“I am forgetting that I am not acquainted with her. I have never seen
-either Mr. or Mrs. Elton. I have no business to put myself forward.”
-
-Mr. and Mrs. Elton appeared; and all the smiles and the proprieties
-passed.
-
-“But Miss Bates and Miss Fairfax!” said Mr. Weston, looking about. “We
-thought you were to bring them.”
-
-The mistake had been slight. The carriage was sent for them now. Emma
-longed to know what Frank’s first opinion of Mrs. Elton might be; how
-he was affected by the studied elegance of her dress, and her smiles of
-graciousness. He was immediately qualifying himself to form an opinion,
-by giving her very proper attention, after the introduction had passed.
-
-In a few minutes the carriage returned.—Somebody talked of rain.—“I
-will see that there are umbrellas, sir,” said Frank to his father:
-“Miss Bates must not be forgotten:” and away he went. Mr. Weston was
-following; but Mrs. Elton detained him, to gratify him by her opinion
-of his son; and so briskly did she begin, that the young man himself,
-though by no means moving slowly, could hardly be out of hearing.
-
-“A very fine young man indeed, Mr. Weston. You know I candidly told you
-I should form my own opinion; and I am happy to say that I am extremely
-pleased with him.—You may believe me. I never compliment. I think him a
-very handsome young man, and his manners are precisely what I like and
-approve—so truly the gentleman, without the least conceit or puppyism.
-You must know I have a vast dislike to puppies—quite a horror of them.
-They were never tolerated at Maple Grove. Neither Mr. Suckling nor me
-had ever any patience with them; and we used sometimes to say very
-cutting things! Selina, who is mild almost to a fault, bore with them
-much better.”
-
-While she talked of his son, Mr. Weston’s attention was chained; but
-when she got to Maple Grove, he could recollect that there were ladies
-just arriving to be attended to, and with happy smiles must hurry away.
-
-Mrs. Elton turned to Mrs. Weston. “I have no doubt of its being our
-carriage with Miss Bates and Jane. Our coachman and horses are so
-extremely expeditious!—I believe we drive faster than any body.—What a
-pleasure it is to send one’s carriage for a friend!—I understand you
-were so kind as to offer, but another time it will be quite
-unnecessary. You may be very sure I shall always take care of _them_.”
-
-Miss Bates and Miss Fairfax, escorted by the two gentlemen, walked into
-the room; and Mrs. Elton seemed to think it as much her duty as Mrs.
-Weston’s to receive them. Her gestures and movements might be
-understood by any one who looked on like Emma; but her words, every
-body’s words, were soon lost under the incessant flow of Miss Bates,
-who came in talking, and had not finished her speech under many minutes
-after her being admitted into the circle at the fire. As the door
-opened she was heard,
-
-“So very obliging of you!—No rain at all. Nothing to signify. I do not
-care for myself. Quite thick shoes. And Jane declares—Well!—(as soon as
-she was within the door) Well! This is brilliant indeed!—This is
-admirable!—Excellently contrived, upon my word. Nothing wanting. Could
-not have imagined it.—So well lighted up!—Jane, Jane, look!—did you
-ever see any thing? Oh! Mr. Weston, you must really have had Aladdin’s
-lamp. Good Mrs. Stokes would not know her own room again. I saw her as
-I came in; she was standing in the entrance. ‘Oh! Mrs. Stokes,’ said
-I—but I had not time for more.” She was now met by Mrs. Weston.—“Very
-well, I thank you, ma’am. I hope you are quite well. Very happy to hear
-it. So afraid you might have a headache!—seeing you pass by so often,
-and knowing how much trouble you must have. Delighted to hear it
-indeed. Ah! dear Mrs. Elton, so obliged to you for the
-carriage!—excellent time. Jane and I quite ready. Did not keep the
-horses a moment. Most comfortable carriage.—Oh! and I am sure our
-thanks are due to you, Mrs. Weston, on that score. Mrs. Elton had most
-kindly sent Jane a note, or we should have been.—But two such offers in
-one day!—Never were such neighbours. I said to my mother, ‘Upon my
-word, ma’am—.’ Thank you, my mother is remarkably well. Gone to Mr.
-Woodhouse’s. I made her take her shawl—for the evenings are not
-warm—her large new shawl— Mrs. Dixon’s wedding-present.—So kind of her
-to think of my mother! Bought at Weymouth, you know—Mr. Dixon’s choice.
-There were three others, Jane says, which they hesitated about some
-time. Colonel Campbell rather preferred an olive. My dear Jane, are you
-sure you did not wet your feet?—It was but a drop or two, but I am so
-afraid:—but Mr. Frank Churchill was so extremely—and there was a mat to
-step upon—I shall never forget his extreme politeness.—Oh! Mr. Frank
-Churchill, I must tell you my mother’s spectacles have never been in
-fault since; the rivet never came out again. My mother often talks of
-your good-nature. Does not she, Jane?—Do not we often talk of Mr. Frank
-Churchill?—Ah! here’s Miss Woodhouse.—Dear Miss Woodhouse, how do you
-do?—Very well I thank you, quite well. This is meeting quite in
-fairy-land!—Such a transformation!—Must not compliment, I know (eyeing
-Emma most complacently)—that would be rude—but upon my word, Miss
-Woodhouse, you do look—how do you like Jane’s hair?—You are a
-judge.—She did it all herself. Quite wonderful how she does her
-hair!—No hairdresser from London I think could.—Ah! Dr. Hughes I
-declare—and Mrs. Hughes. Must go and speak to Dr. and Mrs. Hughes for a
-moment.—How do you do? How do you do?—Very well, I thank you. This is
-delightful, is not it?—Where’s dear Mr. Richard?—Oh! there he is. Don’t
-disturb him. Much better employed talking to the young ladies. How do
-you do, Mr. Richard?—I saw you the other day as you rode through the
-town—Mrs. Otway, I protest!—and good Mr. Otway, and Miss Otway and Miss
-Caroline.—Such a host of friends!—and Mr. George and Mr. Arthur!—How do
-you do? How do you all do?—Quite well, I am much obliged to you. Never
-better.—Don’t I hear another carriage?—Who can this be?—very likely the
-worthy Coles.—Upon my word, this is charming to be standing about among
-such friends! And such a noble fire!—I am quite roasted. No coffee, I
-thank you, for me—never take coffee.—A little tea if you please, sir,
-by and bye,—no hurry—Oh! here it comes. Every thing so good!”
-
-Frank Churchill returned to his station by Emma; and as soon as Miss
-Bates was quiet, she found herself necessarily overhearing the
-discourse of Mrs. Elton and Miss Fairfax, who were standing a little
-way behind her.—He was thoughtful. Whether he were overhearing too, she
-could not determine. After a good many compliments to Jane on her dress
-and look, compliments very quietly and properly taken, Mrs. Elton was
-evidently wanting to be complimented herself—and it was, “How do you
-like my gown?—How do you like my trimming?—How has Wright done my
-hair?”—with many other relative questions, all answered with patient
-politeness. Mrs. Elton then said, “Nobody can think less of dress in
-general than I do—but upon such an occasion as this, when every body’s
-eyes are so much upon me, and in compliment to the Westons—who I have
-no doubt are giving this ball chiefly to do me honour—I would not wish
-to be inferior to others. And I see very few pearls in the room except
-mine.—So Frank Churchill is a capital dancer, I understand.—We shall
-see if our styles suit.—A fine young man certainly is Frank Churchill.
-I like him very well.”
-
-At this moment Frank began talking so vigorously, that Emma could not
-but imagine he had overheard his own praises, and did not want to hear
-more;—and the voices of the ladies were drowned for a while, till
-another suspension brought Mrs. Elton’s tones again distinctly
-forward.—Mr. Elton had just joined them, and his wife was exclaiming,
-
-“Oh! you have found us out at last, have you, in our seclusion?—I was
-this moment telling Jane, I thought you would begin to be impatient for
-tidings of us.”
-
-“Jane!”—repeated Frank Churchill, with a look of surprize and
-displeasure.—“That is easy—but Miss Fairfax does not disapprove it, I
-suppose.”
-
-“How do you like Mrs. Elton?” said Emma in a whisper.
-
-“Not at all.”
-
-“You are ungrateful.”
-
-“Ungrateful!—What do you mean?” Then changing from a frown to a
-smile—“No, do not tell me—I do not want to know what you mean.—Where is
-my father?—When are we to begin dancing?”
-
-Emma could hardly understand him; he seemed in an odd humour. He walked
-off to find his father, but was quickly back again with both Mr. and
-Mrs. Weston. He had met with them in a little perplexity, which must be
-laid before Emma. It had just occurred to Mrs. Weston that Mrs. Elton
-must be asked to begin the ball; that she would expect it; which
-interfered with all their wishes of giving Emma that distinction.—Emma
-heard the sad truth with fortitude.
-
-“And what are we to do for a proper partner for her?” said Mr. Weston.
-“She will think Frank ought to ask her.”
-
-Frank turned instantly to Emma, to claim her former promise; and
-boasted himself an engaged man, which his father looked his most
-perfect approbation of—and it then appeared that Mrs. Weston was
-wanting _him_ to dance with Mrs. Elton himself, and that their business
-was to help to persuade him into it, which was done pretty soon.—Mr.
-Weston and Mrs. Elton led the way, Mr. Frank Churchill and Miss
-Woodhouse followed. Emma must submit to stand second to Mrs. Elton,
-though she had always considered the ball as peculiarly for her. It was
-almost enough to make her think of marrying. Mrs. Elton had undoubtedly
-the advantage, at this time, in vanity completely gratified; for though
-she had intended to begin with Frank Churchill, she could not lose by
-the change. Mr. Weston might be his son’s superior.—In spite of this
-little rub, however, Emma was smiling with enjoyment, delighted to see
-the respectable length of the set as it was forming, and to feel that
-she had so many hours of unusual festivity before her.—She was more
-disturbed by Mr. Knightley’s not dancing than by any thing else.—There
-he was, among the standers-by, where he ought not to be; he ought to be
-dancing,—not classing himself with the husbands, and fathers, and
-whist-players, who were pretending to feel an interest in the dance
-till their rubbers were made up,—so young as he looked!—He could not
-have appeared to greater advantage perhaps anywhere, than where he had
-placed himself. His tall, firm, upright figure, among the bulky forms
-and stooping shoulders of the elderly men, was such as Emma felt must
-draw every body’s eyes; and, excepting her own partner, there was not
-one among the whole row of young men who could be compared with him.—He
-moved a few steps nearer, and those few steps were enough to prove in
-how gentlemanlike a manner, with what natural grace, he must have
-danced, would he but take the trouble.—Whenever she caught his eye, she
-forced him to smile; but in general he was looking grave. She wished he
-could love a ballroom better, and could like Frank Churchill better.—He
-seemed often observing her. She must not flatter herself that he
-thought of her dancing, but if he were criticising her behaviour, she
-did not feel afraid. There was nothing like flirtation between her and
-her partner. They seemed more like cheerful, easy friends, than lovers.
-That Frank Churchill thought less of her than he had done, was
-indubitable.
-
-The ball proceeded pleasantly. The anxious cares, the incessant
-attentions of Mrs. Weston, were not thrown away. Every body seemed
-happy; and the praise of being a delightful ball, which is seldom
-bestowed till after a ball has ceased to be, was repeatedly given in
-the very beginning of the existence of this. Of very important, very
-recordable events, it was not more productive than such meetings
-usually are. There was one, however, which Emma thought something
-of.—The two last dances before supper were begun, and Harriet had no
-partner;—the only young lady sitting down;—and so equal had been
-hitherto the number of dancers, that how there could be any one
-disengaged was the wonder!—But Emma’s wonder lessened soon afterwards,
-on seeing Mr. Elton sauntering about. He would not ask Harriet to dance
-if it were possible to be avoided: she was sure he would not—and she
-was expecting him every moment to escape into the card-room.
-
-Escape, however, was not his plan. He came to the part of the room
-where the sitters-by were collected, spoke to some, and walked about in
-front of them, as if to shew his liberty, and his resolution of
-maintaining it. He did not omit being sometimes directly before Miss
-Smith, or speaking to those who were close to her.—Emma saw it. She was
-not yet dancing; she was working her way up from the bottom, and had
-therefore leisure to look around, and by only turning her head a little
-she saw it all. When she was half-way up the set, the whole group were
-exactly behind her, and she would no longer allow her eyes to watch;
-but Mr. Elton was so near, that she heard every syllable of a dialogue
-which just then took place between him and Mrs. Weston; and she
-perceived that his wife, who was standing immediately above her, was
-not only listening also, but even encouraging him by significant
-glances.—The kind-hearted, gentle Mrs. Weston had left her seat to join
-him and say, “Do not you dance, Mr. Elton?” to which his prompt reply
-was, “Most readily, Mrs. Weston, if you will dance with me.”
-
-“Me!—oh! no—I would get you a better partner than myself. I am no
-dancer.”
-
-“If Mrs. Gilbert wishes to dance,” said he, “I shall have great
-pleasure, I am sure—for, though beginning to feel myself rather an old
-married man, and that my dancing days are over, it would give me very
-great pleasure at any time to stand up with an old friend like Mrs.
-Gilbert.”
-
-“Mrs. Gilbert does not mean to dance, but there is a young lady
-disengaged whom I should be very glad to see dancing—Miss Smith.” “Miss
-Smith!—oh!—I had not observed.—You are extremely obliging—and if I were
-not an old married man.—But my dancing days are over, Mrs. Weston. You
-will excuse me. Any thing else I should be most happy to do, at your
-command—but my dancing days are over.”
-
-Mrs. Weston said no more; and Emma could imagine with what surprize and
-mortification she must be returning to her seat. This was Mr. Elton!
-the amiable, obliging, gentle Mr. Elton.—She looked round for a moment;
-he had joined Mr. Knightley at a little distance, and was arranging
-himself for settled conversation, while smiles of high glee passed
-between him and his wife.
-
-She would not look again. Her heart was in a glow, and she feared her
-face might be as hot.
-
-In another moment a happier sight caught her;—Mr. Knightley leading
-Harriet to the set!—Never had she been more surprized, seldom more
-delighted, than at that instant. She was all pleasure and gratitude,
-both for Harriet and herself, and longed to be thanking him; and though
-too distant for speech, her countenance said much, as soon as she could
-catch his eye again.
-
-His dancing proved to be just what she had believed it, extremely good;
-and Harriet would have seemed almost too lucky, if it had not been for
-the cruel state of things before, and for the very complete enjoyment
-and very high sense of the distinction which her happy features
-announced. It was not thrown away on her, she bounded higher than ever,
-flew farther down the middle, and was in a continual course of smiles.
-
-Mr. Elton had retreated into the card-room, looking (Emma trusted) very
-foolish. She did not think he was quite so hardened as his wife, though
-growing very like her;—_she_ spoke some of her feelings, by observing
-audibly to her partner,
-
-“Knightley has taken pity on poor little Miss Smith!—Very good-natured,
-I declare.”
-
-Supper was announced. The move began; and Miss Bates might be heard
-from that moment, without interruption, till her being seated at table
-and taking up her spoon.
-
-“Jane, Jane, my dear Jane, where are you?—Here is your tippet. Mrs.
-Weston begs you to put on your tippet. She says she is afraid there
-will be draughts in the passage, though every thing has been done—One
-door nailed up—Quantities of matting—My dear Jane, indeed you must. Mr.
-Churchill, oh! you are too obliging! How well you put it on!—so
-gratified! Excellent dancing indeed!—Yes, my dear, I ran home, as I
-said I should, to help grandmama to bed, and got back again, and nobody
-missed me.—I set off without saying a word, just as I told you.
-Grandmama was quite well, had a charming evening with Mr. Woodhouse, a
-vast deal of chat, and backgammon.—Tea was made downstairs, biscuits
-and baked apples and wine before she came away: amazing luck in some of
-her throws: and she inquired a great deal about you, how you were
-amused, and who were your partners. ‘Oh!’ said I, ‘I shall not
-forestall Jane; I left her dancing with Mr. George Otway; she will love
-to tell you all about it herself to-morrow: her first partner was Mr.
-Elton, I do not know who will ask her next, perhaps Mr. William Cox.’
-My dear sir, you are too obliging.—Is there nobody you would not
-rather?—I am not helpless. Sir, you are most kind. Upon my word, Jane
-on one arm, and me on the other!—Stop, stop, let us stand a little
-back, Mrs. Elton is going; dear Mrs. Elton, how elegant she
-looks!—Beautiful lace!—Now we all follow in her train. Quite the queen
-of the evening!—Well, here we are at the passage. Two steps, Jane, take
-care of the two steps. Oh! no, there is but one. Well, I was persuaded
-there were two. How very odd! I was convinced there were two, and there
-is but one. I never saw any thing equal to the comfort and
-style—Candles everywhere.—I was telling you of your grandmama,
-Jane,—There was a little disappointment.—The baked apples and biscuits,
-excellent in their way, you know; but there was a delicate fricassee of
-sweetbread and some asparagus brought in at first, and good Mr.
-Woodhouse, not thinking the asparagus quite boiled enough, sent it all
-out again. Now there is nothing grandmama loves better than sweetbread
-and asparagus—so she was rather disappointed, but we agreed we would
-not speak of it to any body, for fear of its getting round to dear Miss
-Woodhouse, who would be so very much concerned!—Well, this is
-brilliant! I am all amazement! could not have supposed any thing!—Such
-elegance and profusion!—I have seen nothing like it since—Well, where
-shall we sit? where shall we sit? Anywhere, so that Jane is not in a
-draught. Where _I_ sit is of no consequence. Oh! do you recommend this
-side?—Well, I am sure, Mr. Churchill—only it seems too good—but just as
-you please. What you direct in this house cannot be wrong. Dear Jane,
-how shall we ever recollect half the dishes for grandmama? Soup too!
-Bless me! I should not be helped so soon, but it smells most excellent,
-and I cannot help beginning.”
-
-Emma had no opportunity of speaking to Mr. Knightley till after supper;
-but, when they were all in the ballroom again, her eyes invited him
-irresistibly to come to her and be thanked. He was warm in his
-reprobation of Mr. Elton’s conduct; it had been unpardonable rudeness;
-and Mrs. Elton’s looks also received the due share of censure.
-
-“They aimed at wounding more than Harriet,” said he. “Emma, why is it
-that they are your enemies?”
-
-He looked with smiling penetration; and, on receiving no answer, added,
-“_She_ ought not to be angry with you, I suspect, whatever he may
-be.—To that surmise, you say nothing, of course; but confess, Emma,
-that you did want him to marry Harriet.”
-
-“I did,” replied Emma, “and they cannot forgive me.”
-
-He shook his head; but there was a smile of indulgence with it, and he
-only said,
-
-“I shall not scold you. I leave you to your own reflections.”
-
-“Can you trust me with such flatterers?—Does my vain spirit ever tell
-me I am wrong?”
-
-“Not your vain spirit, but your serious spirit.—If one leads you wrong,
-I am sure the other tells you of it.”
-
-“I do own myself to have been completely mistaken in Mr. Elton. There
-is a littleness about him which you discovered, and which I did not:
-and I was fully convinced of his being in love with Harriet. It was
-through a series of strange blunders!”
-
-“And, in return for your acknowledging so much, I will do you the
-justice to say, that you would have chosen for him better than he has
-chosen for himself.—Harriet Smith has some first-rate qualities, which
-Mrs. Elton is totally without. An unpretending, single-minded, artless
-girl—infinitely to be preferred by any man of sense and taste to such a
-woman as Mrs. Elton. I found Harriet more conversable than I expected.”
-
-Emma was extremely gratified.—They were interrupted by the bustle of
-Mr. Weston calling on every body to begin dancing again.
-
-“Come Miss Woodhouse, Miss Otway, Miss Fairfax, what are you all
-doing?—Come Emma, set your companions the example. Every body is lazy!
-Every body is asleep!”
-
-“I am ready,” said Emma, “whenever I am wanted.”
-
-“Whom are you going to dance with?” asked Mr. Knightley.
-
-She hesitated a moment, and then replied, “With you, if you will ask
-me.”
-
-“Will you?” said he, offering his hand.
-
-“Indeed I will. You have shewn that you can dance, and you know we are
-not really so much brother and sister as to make it at all improper.”
-
-“Brother and sister! no, indeed.”
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER III
-
-
-This little explanation with Mr. Knightley gave Emma considerable
-pleasure. It was one of the agreeable recollections of the ball, which
-she walked about the lawn the next morning to enjoy.—She was extremely
-glad that they had come to so good an understanding respecting the
-Eltons, and that their opinions of both husband and wife were so much
-alike; and his praise of Harriet, his concession in her favour, was
-peculiarly gratifying. The impertinence of the Eltons, which for a few
-minutes had threatened to ruin the rest of her evening, had been the
-occasion of some of its highest satisfactions; and she looked forward
-to another happy result—the cure of Harriet’s infatuation.—From
-Harriet’s manner of speaking of the circumstance before they quitted
-the ballroom, she had strong hopes. It seemed as if her eyes were
-suddenly opened, and she were enabled to see that Mr. Elton was not the
-superior creature she had believed him. The fever was over, and Emma
-could harbour little fear of the pulse being quickened again by
-injurious courtesy. She depended on the evil feelings of the Eltons for
-supplying all the discipline of pointed neglect that could be farther
-requisite.—Harriet rational, Frank Churchill not too much in love, and
-Mr. Knightley not wanting to quarrel with her, how very happy a summer
-must be before her!
-
-She was not to see Frank Churchill this morning. He had told her that
-he could not allow himself the pleasure of stopping at Hartfield, as he
-was to be at home by the middle of the day. She did not regret it.
-
-Having arranged all these matters, looked them through, and put them
-all to rights, she was just turning to the house with spirits freshened
-up for the demands of the two little boys, as well as of their
-grandpapa, when the great iron sweep-gate opened, and two persons
-entered whom she had never less expected to see together—Frank
-Churchill, with Harriet leaning on his arm—actually Harriet!—A moment
-sufficed to convince her that something extraordinary had happened.
-Harriet looked white and frightened, and he was trying to cheer
-her.—The iron gates and the front-door were not twenty yards
-asunder;—they were all three soon in the hall, and Harriet immediately
-sinking into a chair fainted away.
-
-A young lady who faints, must be recovered; questions must be answered,
-and surprizes be explained. Such events are very interesting, but the
-suspense of them cannot last long. A few minutes made Emma acquainted
-with the whole.
-
-Miss Smith, and Miss Bickerton, another parlour boarder at Mrs.
-Goddard’s, who had been also at the ball, had walked out together, and
-taken a road, the Richmond road, which, though apparently public enough
-for safety, had led them into alarm.—About half a mile beyond Highbury,
-making a sudden turn, and deeply shaded by elms on each side, it became
-for a considerable stretch very retired; and when the young ladies had
-advanced some way into it, they had suddenly perceived at a small
-distance before them, on a broader patch of greensward by the side, a
-party of gipsies. A child on the watch, came towards them to beg; and
-Miss Bickerton, excessively frightened, gave a great scream, and
-calling on Harriet to follow her, ran up a steep bank, cleared a slight
-hedge at the top, and made the best of her way by a short cut back to
-Highbury. But poor Harriet could not follow. She had suffered very much
-from cramp after dancing, and her first attempt to mount the bank
-brought on such a return of it as made her absolutely powerless—and in
-this state, and exceedingly terrified, she had been obliged to remain.
-
-How the trampers might have behaved, had the young ladies been more
-courageous, must be doubtful; but such an invitation for attack could
-not be resisted; and Harriet was soon assailed by half a dozen
-children, headed by a stout woman and a great boy, all clamorous, and
-impertinent in look, though not absolutely in word.—More and more
-frightened, she immediately promised them money, and taking out her
-purse, gave them a shilling, and begged them not to want more, or to
-use her ill.—She was then able to walk, though but slowly, and was
-moving away—but her terror and her purse were too tempting, and she was
-followed, or rather surrounded, by the whole gang, demanding more.
-
-In this state Frank Churchill had found her, she trembling and
-conditioning, they loud and insolent. By a most fortunate chance his
-leaving Highbury had been delayed so as to bring him to her assistance
-at this critical moment. The pleasantness of the morning had induced
-him to walk forward, and leave his horses to meet him by another road,
-a mile or two beyond Highbury—and happening to have borrowed a pair of
-scissors the night before of Miss Bates, and to have forgotten to
-restore them, he had been obliged to stop at her door, and go in for a
-few minutes: he was therefore later than he had intended; and being on
-foot, was unseen by the whole party till almost close to them. The
-terror which the woman and boy had been creating in Harriet was then
-their own portion. He had left them completely frightened; and Harriet
-eagerly clinging to him, and hardly able to speak, had just strength
-enough to reach Hartfield, before her spirits were quite overcome. It
-was his idea to bring her to Hartfield: he had thought of no other
-place.
-
-This was the amount of the whole story,—of his communication and of
-Harriet’s as soon as she had recovered her senses and speech.—He dared
-not stay longer than to see her well; these several delays left him not
-another minute to lose; and Emma engaging to give assurance of her
-safety to Mrs. Goddard, and notice of there being such a set of people
-in the neighbourhood to Mr. Knightley, he set off, with all the
-grateful blessings that she could utter for her friend and herself.
-
-Such an adventure as this,—a fine young man and a lovely young woman
-thrown together in such a way, could hardly fail of suggesting certain
-ideas to the coldest heart and the steadiest brain. So Emma thought, at
-least. Could a linguist, could a grammarian, could even a mathematician
-have seen what she did, have witnessed their appearance together, and
-heard their history of it, without feeling that circumstances had been
-at work to make them peculiarly interesting to each other?—How much
-more must an imaginist, like herself, be on fire with speculation and
-foresight!—especially with such a groundwork of anticipation as her
-mind had already made.
-
-It was a very extraordinary thing! Nothing of the sort had ever
-occurred before to any young ladies in the place, within her memory; no
-rencontre, no alarm of the kind;—and now it had happened to the very
-person, and at the very hour, when the other very person was chancing
-to pass by to rescue her!—It certainly was very extraordinary!—And
-knowing, as she did, the favourable state of mind of each at this
-period, it struck her the more. He was wishing to get the better of his
-attachment to herself, she just recovering from her mania for Mr.
-Elton. It seemed as if every thing united to promise the most
-interesting consequences. It was not possible that the occurrence
-should not be strongly recommending each to the other.
-
-In the few minutes’ conversation which she had yet had with him, while
-Harriet had been partially insensible, he had spoken of her terror, her
-naïveté, her fervour as she seized and clung to his arm, with a
-sensibility amused and delighted; and just at last, after Harriet’s own
-account had been given, he had expressed his indignation at the
-abominable folly of Miss Bickerton in the warmest terms. Every thing
-was to take its natural course, however, neither impelled nor assisted.
-She would not stir a step, nor drop a hint. No, she had had enough of
-interference. There could be no harm in a scheme, a mere passive
-scheme. It was no more than a wish. Beyond it she would on no account
-proceed.
-
-Emma’s first resolution was to keep her father from the knowledge of
-what had passed,—aware of the anxiety and alarm it would occasion: but
-she soon felt that concealment must be impossible. Within half an hour
-it was known all over Highbury. It was the very event to engage those
-who talk most, the young and the low; and all the youth and servants in
-the place were soon in the happiness of frightful news. The last
-night’s ball seemed lost in the gipsies. Poor Mr. Woodhouse trembled as
-he sat, and, as Emma had foreseen, would scarcely be satisfied without
-their promising never to go beyond the shrubbery again. It was some
-comfort to him that many inquiries after himself and Miss Woodhouse
-(for his neighbours knew that he loved to be inquired after), as well
-as Miss Smith, were coming in during the rest of the day; and he had
-the pleasure of returning for answer, that they were all very
-indifferent—which, though not exactly true, for she was perfectly well,
-and Harriet not much otherwise, Emma would not interfere with. She had
-an unhappy state of health in general for the child of such a man, for
-she hardly knew what indisposition was; and if he did not invent
-illnesses for her, she could make no figure in a message.
-
-The gipsies did not wait for the operations of justice; they took
-themselves off in a hurry. The young ladies of Highbury might have
-walked again in safety before their panic began, and the whole history
-dwindled soon into a matter of little importance but to Emma and her
-nephews:—in her imagination it maintained its ground, and Henry and
-John were still asking every day for the story of Harriet and the
-gipsies, and still tenaciously setting her right if she varied in the
-slightest particular from the original recital.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER IV
-
-
-A very few days had passed after this adventure, when Harriet came one
-morning to Emma with a small parcel in her hand, and after sitting down
-and hesitating, thus began:
-
-“Miss Woodhouse—if you are at leisure—I have something that I should
-like to tell you—a sort of confession to make—and then, you know, it
-will be over.”
-
-Emma was a good deal surprized; but begged her to speak. There was a
-seriousness in Harriet’s manner which prepared her, quite as much as
-her words, for something more than ordinary.
-
-“It is my duty, and I am sure it is my wish,” she continued, “to have
-no reserves with you on this subject. As I am happily quite an altered
-creature in _one_ _respect_, it is very fit that you should have the
-satisfaction of knowing it. I do not want to say more than is
-necessary—I am too much ashamed of having given way as I have done, and
-I dare say you understand me.”
-
-“Yes,” said Emma, “I hope I do.”
-
-“How I could so long a time be fancying myself!...” cried Harriet,
-warmly. “It seems like madness! I can see nothing at all extraordinary
-in him now.—I do not care whether I meet him or not—except that of the
-two I had rather not see him—and indeed I would go any distance round
-to avoid him—but I do not envy his wife in the least; I neither admire
-her nor envy her, as I have done: she is very charming, I dare say, and
-all that, but I think her very ill-tempered and disagreeable—I shall
-never forget her look the other night!—However, I assure you, Miss
-Woodhouse, I wish her no evil.—No, let them be ever so happy together,
-it will not give me another moment’s pang: and to convince you that I
-have been speaking truth, I am now going to destroy—what I ought to
-have destroyed long ago—what I ought never to have kept—I know that
-very well (blushing as she spoke).—However, now I will destroy it
-all—and it is my particular wish to do it in your presence, that you
-may see how rational I am grown. Cannot you guess what this parcel
-holds?” said she, with a conscious look.
-
-“Not the least in the world.—Did he ever give you any thing?”
-
-“No—I cannot call them gifts; but they are things that I have valued
-very much.”
-
-She held the parcel towards her, and Emma read the words _Most_
-_precious_ _treasures_ on the top. Her curiosity was greatly excited.
-Harriet unfolded the parcel, and she looked on with impatience. Within
-abundance of silver paper was a pretty little Tunbridge-ware box, which
-Harriet opened: it was well lined with the softest cotton; but,
-excepting the cotton, Emma saw only a small piece of court-plaister.
-
-“Now,” said Harriet, “you _must_ recollect.”
-
-“No, indeed I do not.”
-
-“Dear me! I should not have thought it possible you could forget what
-passed in this very room about court-plaister, one of the very last
-times we ever met in it!—It was but a very few days before I had my
-sore throat—just before Mr. and Mrs. John Knightley came—I think the
-very evening.—Do not you remember his cutting his finger with your new
-penknife, and your recommending court-plaister?—But, as you had none
-about you, and knew I had, you desired me to supply him; and so I took
-mine out and cut him a piece; but it was a great deal too large, and he
-cut it smaller, and kept playing some time with what was left, before
-he gave it back to me. And so then, in my nonsense, I could not help
-making a treasure of it—so I put it by never to be used, and looked at
-it now and then as a great treat.”
-
-“My dearest Harriet!” cried Emma, putting her hand before her face, and
-jumping up, “you make me more ashamed of myself than I can bear.
-Remember it? Aye, I remember it all now; all, except your saving this
-relic—I knew nothing of that till this moment—but the cutting the
-finger, and my recommending court-plaister, and saying I had none about
-me!—Oh! my sins, my sins!—And I had plenty all the while in my
-pocket!—One of my senseless tricks!—I deserve to be under a continual
-blush all the rest of my life.—Well—(sitting down again)—go on—what
-else?”
-
-“And had you really some at hand yourself? I am sure I never suspected
-it, you did it so naturally.”
-
-“And so you actually put this piece of court-plaister by for his sake!”
-said Emma, recovering from her state of shame and feeling divided
-between wonder and amusement. And secretly she added to herself, “Lord
-bless me! when should I ever have thought of putting by in cotton a
-piece of court-plaister that Frank Churchill had been pulling about! I
-never was equal to this.”
-
-“Here,” resumed Harriet, turning to her box again, “here is something
-still more valuable, I mean that _has_ _been_ more valuable, because
-this is what did really once belong to him, which the court-plaister
-never did.”
-
-Emma was quite eager to see this superior treasure. It was the end of
-an old pencil,—the part without any lead.
-
-“This was really his,” said Harriet.—“Do not you remember one
-morning?—no, I dare say you do not. But one morning—I forget exactly
-the day—but perhaps it was the Tuesday or Wednesday before _that_
-_evening_, he wanted to make a memorandum in his pocket-book; it was
-about spruce-beer. Mr. Knightley had been telling him something about
-brewing spruce-beer, and he wanted to put it down; but when he took out
-his pencil, there was so little lead that he soon cut it all away, and
-it would not do, so you lent him another, and this was left upon the
-table as good for nothing. But I kept my eye on it; and, as soon as I
-dared, caught it up, and never parted with it again from that moment.”
-
-“I do remember it,” cried Emma; “I perfectly remember it.—Talking about
-spruce-beer.—Oh! yes—Mr. Knightley and I both saying we liked it, and
-Mr. Elton’s seeming resolved to learn to like it too. I perfectly
-remember it.—Stop; Mr. Knightley was standing just here, was not he? I
-have an idea he was standing just here.”
-
-“Ah! I do not know. I cannot recollect.—It is very odd, but I cannot
-recollect.—Mr. Elton was sitting here, I remember, much about where I
-am now.”—
-
-“Well, go on.”
-
-“Oh! that’s all. I have nothing more to shew you, or to say—except that
-I am now going to throw them both behind the fire, and I wish you to
-see me do it.”
-
-“My poor dear Harriet! and have you actually found happiness in
-treasuring up these things?”
-
-“Yes, simpleton as I was!—but I am quite ashamed of it now, and wish I
-could forget as easily as I can burn them. It was very wrong of me, you
-know, to keep any remembrances, after he was married. I knew it was—but
-had not resolution enough to part with them.”
-
-“But, Harriet, is it necessary to burn the court-plaister?—I have not a
-word to say for the bit of old pencil, but the court-plaister might be
-useful.”
-
-“I shall be happier to burn it,” replied Harriet. “It has a
-disagreeable look to me. I must get rid of every thing.—There it goes,
-and there is an end, thank Heaven! of Mr. Elton.”
-
-“And when,” thought Emma, “will there be a beginning of Mr. Churchill?”
-
-She had soon afterwards reason to believe that the beginning was
-already made, and could not but hope that the gipsy, though she had
-_told_ no fortune, might be proved to have made Harriet’s.—About a
-fortnight after the alarm, they came to a sufficient explanation, and
-quite undesignedly. Emma was not thinking of it at the moment, which
-made the information she received more valuable. She merely said, in
-the course of some trivial chat, “Well, Harriet, whenever you marry I
-would advise you to do so and so”—and thought no more of it, till after
-a minute’s silence she heard Harriet say in a very serious tone, “I
-shall never marry.”
-
-Emma then looked up, and immediately saw how it was; and after a
-moment’s debate, as to whether it should pass unnoticed or not,
-replied,
-
-“Never marry!—This is a new resolution.”
-
-“It is one that I shall never change, however.”
-
-After another short hesitation, “I hope it does not proceed from—I hope
-it is not in compliment to Mr. Elton?”
-
-“Mr. Elton indeed!” cried Harriet indignantly.—“Oh! no”—and Emma could
-just catch the words, “so superior to Mr. Elton!”
-
-She then took a longer time for consideration. Should she proceed no
-farther?—should she let it pass, and seem to suspect nothing?—Perhaps
-Harriet might think her cold or angry if she did; or perhaps if she
-were totally silent, it might only drive Harriet into asking her to
-hear too much; and against any thing like such an unreserve as had
-been, such an open and frequent discussion of hopes and chances, she
-was perfectly resolved.—She believed it would be wiser for her to say
-and know at once, all that she meant to say and know. Plain dealing was
-always best. She had previously determined how far she would proceed,
-on any application of the sort; and it would be safer for both, to have
-the judicious law of her own brain laid down with speed.—She was
-decided, and thus spoke—
-
-“Harriet, I will not affect to be in doubt of your meaning. Your
-resolution, or rather your expectation of never marrying, results from
-an idea that the person whom you might prefer, would be too greatly
-your superior in situation to think of you. Is not it so?”
-
-“Oh! Miss Woodhouse, believe me I have not the presumption to suppose—
-Indeed I am not so mad.—But it is a pleasure to me to admire him at a
-distance—and to think of his infinite superiority to all the rest of
-the world, with the gratitude, wonder, and veneration, which are so
-proper, in me especially.”
-
-“I am not at all surprized at you, Harriet. The service he rendered you
-was enough to warm your heart.”
-
-“Service! oh! it was such an inexpressible obligation!—The very
-recollection of it, and all that I felt at the time—when I saw him
-coming—his noble look—and my wretchedness before. Such a change! In one
-moment such a change! From perfect misery to perfect happiness!”
-
-“It is very natural. It is natural, and it is honourable.—Yes,
-honourable, I think, to chuse so well and so gratefully.—But that it
-will be a fortunate preference is more than I can promise. I do not
-advise you to give way to it, Harriet. I do not by any means engage for
-its being returned. Consider what you are about. Perhaps it will be
-wisest in you to check your feelings while you can: at any rate do not
-let them carry you far, unless you are persuaded of his liking you. Be
-observant of him. Let his behaviour be the guide of your sensations. I
-give you this caution now, because I shall never speak to you again on
-the subject. I am determined against all interference. Henceforward I
-know nothing of the matter. Let no name ever pass our lips. We were
-very wrong before; we will be cautious now.—He is your superior, no
-doubt, and there do seem objections and obstacles of a very serious
-nature; but yet, Harriet, more wonderful things have taken place, there
-have been matches of greater disparity. But take care of yourself. I
-would not have you too sanguine; though, however it may end, be assured
-your raising your thoughts to _him_, is a mark of good taste which I
-shall always know how to value.”
-
-Harriet kissed her hand in silent and submissive gratitude. Emma was
-very decided in thinking such an attachment no bad thing for her
-friend. Its tendency would be to raise and refine her mind—and it must
-be saving her from the danger of degradation.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER V
-
-
-In this state of schemes, and hopes, and connivance, June opened upon
-Hartfield. To Highbury in general it brought no material change. The
-Eltons were still talking of a visit from the Sucklings, and of the use
-to be made of their barouche-landau; and Jane Fairfax was still at her
-grandmother’s; and as the return of the Campbells from Ireland was
-again delayed, and August, instead of Midsummer, fixed for it, she was
-likely to remain there full two months longer, provided at least she
-were able to defeat Mrs. Elton’s activity in her service, and save
-herself from being hurried into a delightful situation against her
-will.
-
-Mr. Knightley, who, for some reason best known to himself, had
-certainly taken an early dislike to Frank Churchill, was only growing
-to dislike him more. He began to suspect him of some double dealing in
-his pursuit of Emma. That Emma was his object appeared indisputable.
-Every thing declared it; his own attentions, his father’s hints, his
-mother-in-law’s guarded silence; it was all in unison; words, conduct,
-discretion, and indiscretion, told the same story. But while so many
-were devoting him to Emma, and Emma herself making him over to Harriet,
-Mr. Knightley began to suspect him of some inclination to trifle with
-Jane Fairfax. He could not understand it; but there were symptoms of
-intelligence between them—he thought so at least—symptoms of admiration
-on his side, which, having once observed, he could not persuade himself
-to think entirely void of meaning, however he might wish to escape any
-of Emma’s errors of imagination. _She_ was not present when the
-suspicion first arose. He was dining with the Randalls family, and
-Jane, at the Eltons’; and he had seen a look, more than a single look,
-at Miss Fairfax, which, from the admirer of Miss Woodhouse, seemed
-somewhat out of place. When he was again in their company, he could not
-help remembering what he had seen; nor could he avoid observations
-which, unless it were like Cowper and his fire at twilight,
-
-“Myself creating what I saw,”
-
-
-brought him yet stronger suspicion of there being a something of
-private liking, of private understanding even, between Frank Churchill
-and Jane.
-
-He had walked up one day after dinner, as he very often did, to spend
-his evening at Hartfield. Emma and Harriet were going to walk; he
-joined them; and, on returning, they fell in with a larger party, who,
-like themselves, judged it wisest to take their exercise early, as the
-weather threatened rain; Mr. and Mrs. Weston and their son, Miss Bates
-and her niece, who had accidentally met. They all united; and, on
-reaching Hartfield gates, Emma, who knew it was exactly the sort of
-visiting that would be welcome to her father, pressed them all to go in
-and drink tea with him. The Randalls party agreed to it immediately;
-and after a pretty long speech from Miss Bates, which few persons
-listened to, she also found it possible to accept dear Miss Woodhouse’s
-most obliging invitation.
-
-As they were turning into the grounds, Mr. Perry passed by on
-horseback. The gentlemen spoke of his horse.
-
-“By the bye,” said Frank Churchill to Mrs. Weston presently, “what
-became of Mr. Perry’s plan of setting up his carriage?”
-
-Mrs. Weston looked surprized, and said, “I did not know that he ever
-had any such plan.”
-
-“Nay, I had it from you. You wrote me word of it three months ago.”
-
-“Me! impossible!”
-
-“Indeed you did. I remember it perfectly. You mentioned it as what was
-certainly to be very soon. Mrs. Perry had told somebody, and was
-extremely happy about it. It was owing to _her_ persuasion, as she
-thought his being out in bad weather did him a great deal of harm. You
-must remember it now?”
-
-“Upon my word I never heard of it till this moment.”
-
-“Never! really, never!—Bless me! how could it be?—Then I must have
-dreamt it—but I was completely persuaded—Miss Smith, you walk as if you
-were tired. You will not be sorry to find yourself at home.”
-
-“What is this?—What is this?” cried Mr. Weston, “about Perry and a
-carriage? Is Perry going to set up his carriage, Frank? I am glad he
-can afford it. You had it from himself, had you?”
-
-“No, sir,” replied his son, laughing, “I seem to have had it from
-nobody.—Very odd!—I really was persuaded of Mrs. Weston’s having
-mentioned it in one of her letters to Enscombe, many weeks ago, with
-all these particulars—but as she declares she never heard a syllable of
-it before, of course it must have been a dream. I am a great dreamer. I
-dream of every body at Highbury when I am away—and when I have gone
-through my particular friends, then I begin dreaming of Mr. and Mrs.
-Perry.”
-
-“It is odd though,” observed his father, “that you should have had such
-a regular connected dream about people whom it was not very likely you
-should be thinking of at Enscombe. Perry’s setting up his carriage! and
-his wife’s persuading him to it, out of care for his health—just what
-will happen, I have no doubt, some time or other; only a little
-premature. What an air of probability sometimes runs through a dream!
-And at others, what a heap of absurdities it is! Well, Frank, your
-dream certainly shews that Highbury is in your thoughts when you are
-absent. Emma, you are a great dreamer, I think?”
-
-Emma was out of hearing. She had hurried on before her guests to
-prepare her father for their appearance, and was beyond the reach of
-Mr. Weston’s hint.
-
-“Why, to own the truth,” cried Miss Bates, who had been trying in vain
-to be heard the last two minutes, “if I must speak on this subject,
-there is no denying that Mr. Frank Churchill might have—I do not mean
-to say that he did not dream it—I am sure I have sometimes the oddest
-dreams in the world—but if I am questioned about it, I must acknowledge
-that there was such an idea last spring; for Mrs. Perry herself
-mentioned it to my mother, and the Coles knew of it as well as
-ourselves—but it was quite a secret, known to nobody else, and only
-thought of about three days. Mrs. Perry was very anxious that he should
-have a carriage, and came to my mother in great spirits one morning
-because she thought she had prevailed. Jane, don’t you remember
-grandmama’s telling us of it when we got home? I forget where we had
-been walking to—very likely to Randalls; yes, I think it was to
-Randalls. Mrs. Perry was always particularly fond of my mother—indeed I
-do not know who is not—and she had mentioned it to her in confidence;
-she had no objection to her telling us, of course, but it was not to go
-beyond: and, from that day to this, I never mentioned it to a soul that
-I know of. At the same time, I will not positively answer for my having
-never dropt a hint, because I know I do sometimes pop out a thing
-before I am aware. I am a talker, you know; I am rather a talker; and
-now and then I have let a thing escape me which I should not. I am not
-like Jane; I wish I were. I will answer for it _she_ never betrayed the
-least thing in the world. Where is she?—Oh! just behind. Perfectly
-remember Mrs. Perry’s coming.—Extraordinary dream, indeed!”
-
-They were entering the hall. Mr. Knightley’s eyes had preceded Miss
-Bates’s in a glance at Jane. From Frank Churchill’s face, where he
-thought he saw confusion suppressed or laughed away, he had
-involuntarily turned to hers; but she was indeed behind, and too busy
-with her shawl. Mr. Weston had walked in. The two other gentlemen
-waited at the door to let her pass. Mr. Knightley suspected in Frank
-Churchill the determination of catching her eye—he seemed watching her
-intently—in vain, however, if it were so—Jane passed between them into
-the hall, and looked at neither.
-
-There was no time for farther remark or explanation. The dream must be
-borne with, and Mr. Knightley must take his seat with the rest round
-the large modern circular table which Emma had introduced at Hartfield,
-and which none but Emma could have had power to place there and
-persuade her father to use, instead of the small-sized Pembroke, on
-which two of his daily meals had, for forty years been crowded. Tea
-passed pleasantly, and nobody seemed in a hurry to move.
-
-“Miss Woodhouse,” said Frank Churchill, after examining a table behind
-him, which he could reach as he sat, “have your nephews taken away
-their alphabets—their box of letters? It used to stand here. Where is
-it? This is a sort of dull-looking evening, that ought to be treated
-rather as winter than summer. We had great amusement with those letters
-one morning. I want to puzzle you again.”
-
-Emma was pleased with the thought; and producing the box, the table was
-quickly scattered over with alphabets, which no one seemed so much
-disposed to employ as their two selves. They were rapidly forming words
-for each other, or for any body else who would be puzzled. The
-quietness of the game made it particularly eligible for Mr. Woodhouse,
-who had often been distressed by the more animated sort, which Mr.
-Weston had occasionally introduced, and who now sat happily occupied in
-lamenting, with tender melancholy, over the departure of the “poor
-little boys,” or in fondly pointing out, as he took up any stray letter
-near him, how beautifully Emma had written it.
-
-Frank Churchill placed a word before Miss Fairfax. She gave a slight
-glance round the table, and applied herself to it. Frank was next to
-Emma, Jane opposite to them—and Mr. Knightley so placed as to see them
-all; and it was his object to see as much as he could, with as little
-apparent observation. The word was discovered, and with a faint smile
-pushed away. If meant to be immediately mixed with the others, and
-buried from sight, she should have looked on the table instead of
-looking just across, for it was not mixed; and Harriet, eager after
-every fresh word, and finding out none, directly took it up, and fell
-to work. She was sitting by Mr. Knightley, and turned to him for help.
-The word was _blunder_; and as Harriet exultingly proclaimed it, there
-was a blush on Jane’s cheek which gave it a meaning not otherwise
-ostensible. Mr. Knightley connected it with the dream; but how it could
-all be, was beyond his comprehension. How the delicacy, the discretion
-of his favourite could have been so lain asleep! He feared there must
-be some decided involvement. Disingenuousness and double dealing seemed
-to meet him at every turn. These letters were but the vehicle for
-gallantry and trick. It was a child’s play, chosen to conceal a deeper
-game on Frank Churchill’s part.
-
-With great indignation did he continue to observe him; with great alarm
-and distrust, to observe also his two blinded companions. He saw a
-short word prepared for Emma, and given to her with a look sly and
-demure. He saw that Emma had soon made it out, and found it highly
-entertaining, though it was something which she judged it proper to
-appear to censure; for she said, “Nonsense! for shame!” He heard Frank
-Churchill next say, with a glance towards Jane, “I will give it to
-her—shall I?”—and as clearly heard Emma opposing it with eager laughing
-warmth. “No, no, you must not; you shall not, indeed.”
-
-It was done however. This gallant young man, who seemed to love without
-feeling, and to recommend himself without complaisance, directly handed
-over the word to Miss Fairfax, and with a particular degree of sedate
-civility entreated her to study it. Mr. Knightley’s excessive curiosity
-to know what this word might be, made him seize every possible moment
-for darting his eye towards it, and it was not long before he saw it to
-be _Dixon_. Jane Fairfax’s perception seemed to accompany his; her
-comprehension was certainly more equal to the covert meaning, the
-superior intelligence, of those five letters so arranged. She was
-evidently displeased; looked up, and seeing herself watched, blushed
-more deeply than he had ever perceived her, and saying only, “I did not
-know that proper names were allowed,” pushed away the letters with even
-an angry spirit, and looked resolved to be engaged by no other word
-that could be offered. Her face was averted from those who had made the
-attack, and turned towards her aunt.
-
-“Aye, very true, my dear,” cried the latter, though Jane had not spoken
-a word—“I was just going to say the same thing. It is time for us to be
-going indeed. The evening is closing in, and grandmama will be looking
-for us. My dear sir, you are too obliging. We really must wish you good
-night.”
-
-Jane’s alertness in moving, proved her as ready as her aunt had
-preconceived. She was immediately up, and wanting to quit the table;
-but so many were also moving, that she could not get away; and Mr.
-Knightley thought he saw another collection of letters anxiously pushed
-towards her, and resolutely swept away by her unexamined. She was
-afterwards looking for her shawl—Frank Churchill was looking also—it
-was growing dusk, and the room was in confusion; and how they parted,
-Mr. Knightley could not tell.
-
-He remained at Hartfield after all the rest, his thoughts full of what
-he had seen; so full, that when the candles came to assist his
-observations, he must—yes, he certainly must, as a friend—an anxious
-friend—give Emma some hint, ask her some question. He could not see her
-in a situation of such danger, without trying to preserve her. It was
-his duty.
-
-“Pray, Emma,” said he, “may I ask in what lay the great amusement, the
-poignant sting of the last word given to you and Miss Fairfax? I saw
-the word, and am curious to know how it could be so very entertaining
-to the one, and so very distressing to the other.”
-
-Emma was extremely confused. She could not endure to give him the true
-explanation; for though her suspicions were by no means removed, she
-was really ashamed of having ever imparted them.
-
-“Oh!” she cried in evident embarrassment, “it all meant nothing; a mere
-joke among ourselves.”
-
-“The joke,” he replied gravely, “seemed confined to you and Mr.
-Churchill.”
-
-He had hoped she would speak again, but she did not. She would rather
-busy herself about any thing than speak. He sat a little while in
-doubt. A variety of evils crossed his mind. Interference—fruitless
-interference. Emma’s confusion, and the acknowledged intimacy, seemed
-to declare her affection engaged. Yet he would speak. He owed it to
-her, to risk any thing that might be involved in an unwelcome
-interference, rather than her welfare; to encounter any thing, rather
-than the remembrance of neglect in such a cause.
-
-“My dear Emma,” said he at last, with earnest kindness, “do you think
-you perfectly understand the degree of acquaintance between the
-gentleman and lady we have been speaking of?”
-
-“Between Mr. Frank Churchill and Miss Fairfax? Oh! yes, perfectly.—Why
-do you make a doubt of it?”
-
-“Have you never at any time had reason to think that he admired her, or
-that she admired him?”
-
-“Never, never!” she cried with a most open eagerness—“Never, for the
-twentieth part of a moment, did such an idea occur to me. And how could
-it possibly come into your head?”
-
-“I have lately imagined that I saw symptoms of attachment between
-them—certain expressive looks, which I did not believe meant to be
-public.”
-
-“Oh! you amuse me excessively. I am delighted to find that you can
-vouchsafe to let your imagination wander—but it will not do—very sorry
-to check you in your first essay—but indeed it will not do. There is no
-admiration between them, I do assure you; and the appearances which
-have caught you, have arisen from some peculiar circumstances—feelings
-rather of a totally different nature—it is impossible exactly to
-explain:—there is a good deal of nonsense in it—but the part which is
-capable of being communicated, which is sense, is, that they are as far
-from any attachment or admiration for one another, as any two beings in
-the world can be. That is, I _presume_ it to be so on her side, and I
-can _answer_ for its being so on his. I will answer for the gentleman’s
-indifference.”
-
-She spoke with a confidence which staggered, with a satisfaction which
-silenced, Mr. Knightley. She was in gay spirits, and would have
-prolonged the conversation, wanting to hear the particulars of his
-suspicions, every look described, and all the wheres and hows of a
-circumstance which highly entertained her: but his gaiety did not meet
-hers. He found he could not be useful, and his feelings were too much
-irritated for talking. That he might not be irritated into an absolute
-fever, by the fire which Mr. Woodhouse’s tender habits required almost
-every evening throughout the year, he soon afterwards took a hasty
-leave, and walked home to the coolness and solitude of Donwell Abbey.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER VI
-
-
-After being long fed with hopes of a speedy visit from Mr. and Mrs.
-Suckling, the Highbury world were obliged to endure the mortification
-of hearing that they could not possibly come till the autumn. No such
-importation of novelties could enrich their intellectual stores at
-present. In the daily interchange of news, they must be again
-restricted to the other topics with which for a while the Sucklings’
-coming had been united, such as the last accounts of Mrs. Churchill,
-whose health seemed every day to supply a different report, and the
-situation of Mrs. Weston, whose happiness it was to be hoped might
-eventually be as much increased by the arrival of a child, as that of
-all her neighbours was by the approach of it.
-
-Mrs. Elton was very much disappointed. It was the delay of a great deal
-of pleasure and parade. Her introductions and recommendations must all
-wait, and every projected party be still only talked of. So she thought
-at first;—but a little consideration convinced her that every thing
-need not be put off. Why should not they explore to Box Hill though the
-Sucklings did not come? They could go there again with them in the
-autumn. It was settled that they should go to Box Hill. That there was
-to be such a party had been long generally known: it had even given the
-idea of another. Emma had never been to Box Hill; she wished to see
-what every body found so well worth seeing, and she and Mr. Weston had
-agreed to chuse some fine morning and drive thither. Two or three more
-of the chosen only were to be admitted to join them, and it was to be
-done in a quiet, unpretending, elegant way, infinitely superior to the
-bustle and preparation, the regular eating and drinking, and picnic
-parade of the Eltons and the Sucklings.
-
-This was so very well understood between them, that Emma could not but
-feel some surprise, and a little displeasure, on hearing from Mr.
-Weston that he had been proposing to Mrs. Elton, as her brother and
-sister had failed her, that the two parties should unite, and go
-together; and that as Mrs. Elton had very readily acceded to it, so it
-was to be, if she had no objection. Now, as her objection was nothing
-but her very great dislike of Mrs. Elton, of which Mr. Weston must
-already be perfectly aware, it was not worth bringing forward again:—it
-could not be done without a reproof to him, which would be giving pain
-to his wife; and she found herself therefore obliged to consent to an
-arrangement which she would have done a great deal to avoid; an
-arrangement which would probably expose her even to the degradation of
-being said to be of Mrs. Elton’s party! Every feeling was offended; and
-the forbearance of her outward submission left a heavy arrear due of
-secret severity in her reflections on the unmanageable goodwill of Mr.
-Weston’s temper.
-
-“I am glad you approve of what I have done,” said he very comfortably.
-“But I thought you would. Such schemes as these are nothing without
-numbers. One cannot have too large a party. A large party secures its
-own amusement. And she is a good-natured woman after all. One could not
-leave her out.”
-
-Emma denied none of it aloud, and agreed to none of it in private.
-
-It was now the middle of June, and the weather fine; and Mrs. Elton was
-growing impatient to name the day, and settle with Mr. Weston as to
-pigeon-pies and cold lamb, when a lame carriage-horse threw every thing
-into sad uncertainty. It might be weeks, it might be only a few days,
-before the horse were useable; but no preparations could be ventured
-on, and it was all melancholy stagnation. Mrs. Elton’s resources were
-inadequate to such an attack.
-
-“Is not this most vexatious, Knightley?” she cried.—“And such weather
-for exploring!—These delays and disappointments are quite odious. What
-are we to do?—The year will wear away at this rate, and nothing done.
-Before this time last year I assure you we had had a delightful
-exploring party from Maple Grove to Kings Weston.”
-
-“You had better explore to Donwell,” replied Mr. Knightley. “That may
-be done without horses. Come, and eat my strawberries. They are
-ripening fast.”
-
-If Mr. Knightley did not begin seriously, he was obliged to proceed so,
-for his proposal was caught at with delight; and the “Oh! I should like
-it of all things,” was not plainer in words than manner. Donwell was
-famous for its strawberry-beds, which seemed a plea for the invitation:
-but no plea was necessary; cabbage-beds would have been enough to tempt
-the lady, who only wanted to be going somewhere. She promised him again
-and again to come—much oftener than he doubted—and was extremely
-gratified by such a proof of intimacy, such a distinguishing compliment
-as she chose to consider it.
-
-“You may depend upon me,” said she. “I certainly will come. Name your
-day, and I will come. You will allow me to bring Jane Fairfax?”
-
-“I cannot name a day,” said he, “till I have spoken to some others whom
-I would wish to meet you.”
-
-“Oh! leave all that to me. Only give me a carte-blanche.—I am Lady
-Patroness, you know. It is my party. I will bring friends with me.”
-
-“I hope you will bring Elton,” said he: “but I will not trouble you to
-give any other invitations.”
-
-“Oh! now you are looking very sly. But consider—you need not be afraid
-of delegating power to _me_. I am no young lady on her preferment.
-Married women, you know, may be safely authorised. It is my party.
-Leave it all to me. I will invite your guests.”
-
-“No,”—he calmly replied,—“there is but one married woman in the world
-whom I can ever allow to invite what guests she pleases to Donwell, and
-that one is—”
-
-“—Mrs. Weston, I suppose,” interrupted Mrs. Elton, rather mortified.
-
-“No—Mrs. Knightley;—and till she is in being, I will manage such
-matters myself.”
-
-“Ah! you are an odd creature!” she cried, satisfied to have no one
-preferred to herself.—“You are a humourist, and may say what you like.
-Quite a humourist. Well, I shall bring Jane with me—Jane and her
-aunt.—The rest I leave to you. I have no objections at all to meeting
-the Hartfield family. Don’t scruple. I know you are attached to them.”
-
-“You certainly will meet them if I can prevail; and I shall call on
-Miss Bates in my way home.”
-
-“That’s quite unnecessary; I see Jane every day:—but as you like. It is
-to be a morning scheme, you know, Knightley; quite a simple thing. I
-shall wear a large bonnet, and bring one of my little baskets hanging
-on my arm. Here,—probably this basket with pink ribbon. Nothing can be
-more simple, you see. And Jane will have such another. There is to be
-no form or parade—a sort of gipsy party. We are to walk about your
-gardens, and gather the strawberries ourselves, and sit under
-trees;—and whatever else you may like to provide, it is to be all out
-of doors—a table spread in the shade, you know. Every thing as natural
-and simple as possible. Is not that your idea?”
-
-“Not quite. My idea of the simple and the natural will be to have the
-table spread in the dining-room. The nature and the simplicity of
-gentlemen and ladies, with their servants and furniture, I think is
-best observed by meals within doors. When you are tired of eating
-strawberries in the garden, there shall be cold meat in the house.”
-
-“Well—as you please; only don’t have a great set out. And, by the bye,
-can I or my housekeeper be of any use to you with our opinion?—Pray be
-sincere, Knightley. If you wish me to talk to Mrs. Hodges, or to
-inspect anything—”
-
-“I have not the least wish for it, I thank you.”
-
-“Well—but if any difficulties should arise, my housekeeper is extremely
-clever.”
-
-“I will answer for it, that mine thinks herself full as clever, and
-would spurn any body’s assistance.”
-
-“I wish we had a donkey. The thing would be for us all to come on
-donkeys, Jane, Miss Bates, and me—and my caro sposo walking by. I
-really must talk to him about purchasing a donkey. In a country life I
-conceive it to be a sort of necessary; for, let a woman have ever so
-many resources, it is not possible for her to be always shut up at
-home;—and very long walks, you know—in summer there is dust, and in
-winter there is dirt.”
-
-“You will not find either, between Donwell and Highbury. Donwell Lane
-is never dusty, and now it is perfectly dry. Come on a donkey, however,
-if you prefer it. You can borrow Mrs. Cole’s. I would wish every thing
-to be as much to your taste as possible.”
-
-“That I am sure you would. Indeed I do you justice, my good friend.
-Under that peculiar sort of dry, blunt manner, I know you have the
-warmest heart. As I tell Mr. E., you are a thorough humourist.—Yes,
-believe me, Knightley, I am fully sensible of your attention to me in
-the whole of this scheme. You have hit upon the very thing to please
-me.”
-
-Mr. Knightley had another reason for avoiding a table in the shade. He
-wished to persuade Mr. Woodhouse, as well as Emma, to join the party;
-and he knew that to have any of them sitting down out of doors to eat
-would inevitably make him ill. Mr. Woodhouse must not, under the
-specious pretence of a morning drive, and an hour or two spent at
-Donwell, be tempted away to his misery.
-
-He was invited on good faith. No lurking horrors were to upbraid him
-for his easy credulity. He did consent. He had not been at Donwell for
-two years. “Some very fine morning, he, and Emma, and Harriet, could go
-very well; and he could sit still with Mrs. Weston, while the dear
-girls walked about the gardens. He did not suppose they could be damp
-now, in the middle of the day. He should like to see the old house
-again exceedingly, and should be very happy to meet Mr. and Mrs. Elton,
-and any other of his neighbours.—He could not see any objection at all
-to his, and Emma’s, and Harriet’s going there some very fine morning.
-He thought it very well done of Mr. Knightley to invite them—very kind
-and sensible—much cleverer than dining out.—He was not fond of dining
-out.”
-
-Mr. Knightley was fortunate in every body’s most ready concurrence. The
-invitation was everywhere so well received, that it seemed as if, like
-Mrs. Elton, they were all taking the scheme as a particular compliment
-to themselves.—Emma and Harriet professed very high expectations of
-pleasure from it; and Mr. Weston, unasked, promised to get Frank over
-to join them, if possible; a proof of approbation and gratitude which
-could have been dispensed with.—Mr. Knightley was then obliged to say
-that he should be glad to see him; and Mr. Weston engaged to lose no
-time in writing, and spare no arguments to induce him to come.
-
-In the meanwhile the lame horse recovered so fast, that the party to
-Box Hill was again under happy consideration; and at last Donwell was
-settled for one day, and Box Hill for the next,—the weather appearing
-exactly right.
-
-Under a bright mid-day sun, at almost Midsummer, Mr. Woodhouse was
-safely conveyed in his carriage, with one window down, to partake of
-this al-fresco party; and in one of the most comfortable rooms in the
-Abbey, especially prepared for him by a fire all the morning, he was
-happily placed, quite at his ease, ready to talk with pleasure of what
-had been achieved, and advise every body to come and sit down, and not
-to heat themselves.—Mrs. Weston, who seemed to have walked there on
-purpose to be tired, and sit all the time with him, remained, when all
-the others were invited or persuaded out, his patient listener and
-sympathiser.
-
-It was so long since Emma had been at the Abbey, that as soon as she
-was satisfied of her father’s comfort, she was glad to leave him, and
-look around her; eager to refresh and correct her memory with more
-particular observation, more exact understanding of a house and grounds
-which must ever be so interesting to her and all her family.
-
-She felt all the honest pride and complacency which her alliance with
-the present and future proprietor could fairly warrant, as she viewed
-the respectable size and style of the building, its suitable, becoming,
-characteristic situation, low and sheltered—its ample gardens
-stretching down to meadows washed by a stream, of which the Abbey, with
-all the old neglect of prospect, had scarcely a sight—and its abundance
-of timber in rows and avenues, which neither fashion nor extravagance
-had rooted up.—The house was larger than Hartfield, and totally unlike
-it, covering a good deal of ground, rambling and irregular, with many
-comfortable, and one or two handsome rooms.—It was just what it ought
-to be, and it looked what it was—and Emma felt an increasing respect
-for it, as the residence of a family of such true gentility, untainted
-in blood and understanding.—Some faults of temper John Knightley had;
-but Isabella had connected herself unexceptionably. She had given them
-neither men, nor names, nor places, that could raise a blush. These
-were pleasant feelings, and she walked about and indulged them till it
-was necessary to do as the others did, and collect round the
-strawberry-beds.—The whole party were assembled, excepting Frank
-Churchill, who was expected every moment from Richmond; and Mrs. Elton,
-in all her apparatus of happiness, her large bonnet and her basket, was
-very ready to lead the way in gathering, accepting, or
-talking—strawberries, and only strawberries, could now be thought or
-spoken of.—“The best fruit in England—every body’s favourite—always
-wholesome.—These the finest beds and finest sorts.—Delightful to gather
-for one’s self—the only way of really enjoying them.—Morning decidedly
-the best time—never tired—every sort good—hautboy infinitely
-superior—no comparison—the others hardly eatable—hautboys very
-scarce—Chili preferred—white wood finest flavour of all—price of
-strawberries in London—abundance about Bristol—Maple
-Grove—cultivation—beds when to be renewed—gardeners thinking exactly
-different—no general rule—gardeners never to be put out of their
-way—delicious fruit—only too rich to be eaten much of—inferior to
-cherries—currants more refreshing—only objection to gathering
-strawberries the stooping—glaring sun—tired to death—could bear it no
-longer—must go and sit in the shade.”
-
-Such, for half an hour, was the conversation—interrupted only once by
-Mrs. Weston, who came out, in her solicitude after her son-in-law, to
-inquire if he were come—and she was a little uneasy.—She had some fears
-of his horse.
-
-Seats tolerably in the shade were found; and now Emma was obliged to
-overhear what Mrs. Elton and Jane Fairfax were talking of.—A situation,
-a most desirable situation, was in question. Mrs. Elton had received
-notice of it that morning, and was in raptures. It was not with Mrs.
-Suckling, it was not with Mrs. Bragge, but in felicity and splendour it
-fell short only of them: it was with a cousin of Mrs. Bragge, an
-acquaintance of Mrs. Suckling, a lady known at Maple Grove. Delightful,
-charming, superior, first circles, spheres, lines, ranks, every
-thing—and Mrs. Elton was wild to have the offer closed with
-immediately.—On her side, all was warmth, energy, and triumph—and she
-positively refused to take her friend’s negative, though Miss Fairfax
-continued to assure her that she would not at present engage in any
-thing, repeating the same motives which she had been heard to urge
-before.—Still Mrs. Elton insisted on being authorised to write an
-acquiescence by the morrow’s post.—How Jane could bear it at all, was
-astonishing to Emma.—She did look vexed, she did speak pointedly—and at
-last, with a decision of action unusual to her, proposed a
-removal.—“Should not they walk? Would not Mr. Knightley shew them the
-gardens—all the gardens?—She wished to see the whole extent.”—The
-pertinacity of her friend seemed more than she could bear.
-
-It was hot; and after walking some time over the gardens in a
-scattered, dispersed way, scarcely any three together, they insensibly
-followed one another to the delicious shade of a broad short avenue of
-limes, which stretching beyond the garden at an equal distance from the
-river, seemed the finish of the pleasure grounds.—It led to nothing;
-nothing but a view at the end over a low stone wall with high pillars,
-which seemed intended, in their erection, to give the appearance of an
-approach to the house, which never had been there. Disputable, however,
-as might be the taste of such a termination, it was in itself a
-charming walk, and the view which closed it extremely pretty.—The
-considerable slope, at nearly the foot of which the Abbey stood,
-gradually acquired a steeper form beyond its grounds; and at half a
-mile distant was a bank of considerable abruptness and grandeur, well
-clothed with wood;—and at the bottom of this bank, favourably placed
-and sheltered, rose the Abbey Mill Farm, with meadows in front, and the
-river making a close and handsome curve around it.
-
-It was a sweet view—sweet to the eye and the mind. English verdure,
-English culture, English comfort, seen under a sun bright, without
-being oppressive.
-
-In this walk Emma and Mr. Weston found all the others assembled; and
-towards this view she immediately perceived Mr. Knightley and Harriet
-distinct from the rest, quietly leading the way. Mr. Knightley and
-Harriet!—It was an odd tête-à-tête; but she was glad to see it.—There
-had been a time when he would have scorned her as a companion, and
-turned from her with little ceremony. Now they seemed in pleasant
-conversation. There had been a time also when Emma would have been
-sorry to see Harriet in a spot so favourable for the Abbey Mill Farm;
-but now she feared it not. It might be safely viewed with all its
-appendages of prosperity and beauty, its rich pastures, spreading
-flocks, orchard in blossom, and light column of smoke ascending.—She
-joined them at the wall, and found them more engaged in talking than in
-looking around. He was giving Harriet information as to modes of
-agriculture, etc. and Emma received a smile which seemed to say, “These
-are my own concerns. I have a right to talk on such subjects, without
-being suspected of introducing Robert Martin.”—She did not suspect him.
-It was too old a story.—Robert Martin had probably ceased to think of
-Harriet.—They took a few turns together along the walk.—The shade was
-most refreshing, and Emma found it the pleasantest part of the day.
-
-The next remove was to the house; they must all go in and eat;—and they
-were all seated and busy, and still Frank Churchill did not come. Mrs.
-Weston looked, and looked in vain. His father would not own himself
-uneasy, and laughed at her fears; but she could not be cured of wishing
-that he would part with his black mare. He had expressed himself as to
-coming, with more than common certainty. “His aunt was so much better,
-that he had not a doubt of getting over to them.”—Mrs. Churchill’s
-state, however, as many were ready to remind her, was liable to such
-sudden variation as might disappoint her nephew in the most reasonable
-dependence—and Mrs. Weston was at last persuaded to believe, or to say,
-that it must be by some attack of Mrs. Churchill that he was prevented
-coming.—Emma looked at Harriet while the point was under consideration;
-she behaved very well, and betrayed no emotion.
-
-The cold repast was over, and the party were to go out once more to see
-what had not yet been seen, the old Abbey fish-ponds; perhaps get as
-far as the clover, which was to be begun cutting on the morrow, or, at
-any rate, have the pleasure of being hot, and growing cool again.—Mr.
-Woodhouse, who had already taken his little round in the highest part
-of the gardens, where no damps from the river were imagined even by
-him, stirred no more; and his daughter resolved to remain with him,
-that Mrs. Weston might be persuaded away by her husband to the exercise
-and variety which her spirits seemed to need.
-
-Mr. Knightley had done all in his power for Mr. Woodhouse’s
-entertainment. Books of engravings, drawers of medals, cameos, corals,
-shells, and every other family collection within his cabinets, had been
-prepared for his old friend, to while away the morning; and the
-kindness had perfectly answered. Mr. Woodhouse had been exceedingly
-well amused. Mrs. Weston had been shewing them all to him, and now he
-would shew them all to Emma;—fortunate in having no other resemblance
-to a child, than in a total want of taste for what he saw, for he was
-slow, constant, and methodical.—Before this second looking over was
-begun, however, Emma walked into the hall for the sake of a few
-moments’ free observation of the entrance and ground-plot of the
-house—and was hardly there, when Jane Fairfax appeared, coming quickly
-in from the garden, and with a look of escape.—Little expecting to meet
-Miss Woodhouse so soon, there was a start at first; but Miss Woodhouse
-was the very person she was in quest of.
-
-“Will you be so kind,” said she, “when I am missed, as to say that I am
-gone home?—I am going this moment.—My aunt is not aware how late it is,
-nor how long we have been absent—but I am sure we shall be wanted, and
-I am determined to go directly.—I have said nothing about it to any
-body. It would only be giving trouble and distress. Some are gone to
-the ponds, and some to the lime walk. Till they all come in I shall not
-be missed; and when they do, will you have the goodness to say that I
-am gone?”
-
-“Certainly, if you wish it;—but you are not going to walk to Highbury
-alone?”
-
-“Yes—what should hurt me?—I walk fast. I shall be at home in twenty
-minutes.”
-
-“But it is too far, indeed it is, to be walking quite alone. Let my
-father’s servant go with you.—Let me order the carriage. It can be
-round in five minutes.”
-
-“Thank you, thank you—but on no account.—I would rather walk.—And for
-_me_ to be afraid of walking alone!—I, who may so soon have to guard
-others!”
-
-She spoke with great agitation; and Emma very feelingly replied, “That
-can be no reason for your being exposed to danger now. I must order the
-carriage. The heat even would be danger.—You are fatigued already.”
-
-“I am,”—she answered—“I am fatigued; but it is not the sort of
-fatigue—quick walking will refresh me.—Miss Woodhouse, we all know at
-times what it is to be wearied in spirits. Mine, I confess, are
-exhausted. The greatest kindness you can shew me, will be to let me
-have my own way, and only say that I am gone when it is necessary.”
-
-Emma had not another word to oppose. She saw it all; and entering into
-her feelings, promoted her quitting the house immediately, and watched
-her safely off with the zeal of a friend. Her parting look was
-grateful—and her parting words, “Oh! Miss Woodhouse, the comfort of
-being sometimes alone!”—seemed to burst from an overcharged heart, and
-to describe somewhat of the continual endurance to be practised by her,
-even towards some of those who loved her best.
-
-“Such a home, indeed! such an aunt!” said Emma, as she turned back into
-the hall again. “I do pity you. And the more sensibility you betray of
-their just horrors, the more I shall like you.”
-
-Jane had not been gone a quarter of an hour, and they had only
-accomplished some views of St. Mark’s Place, Venice, when Frank
-Churchill entered the room. Emma had not been thinking of him, she had
-forgotten to think of him—but she was very glad to see him. Mrs. Weston
-would be at ease. The black mare was blameless; _they_ were right who
-had named Mrs. Churchill as the cause. He had been detained by a
-temporary increase of illness in her; a nervous seizure, which had
-lasted some hours—and he had quite given up every thought of coming,
-till very late;—and had he known how hot a ride he should have, and how
-late, with all his hurry, he must be, he believed he should not have
-come at all. The heat was excessive; he had never suffered any thing
-like it—almost wished he had staid at home—nothing killed him like
-heat—he could bear any degree of cold, etc., but heat was
-intolerable—and he sat down, at the greatest possible distance from the
-slight remains of Mr. Woodhouse’s fire, looking very deplorable.
-
-“You will soon be cooler, if you sit still,” said Emma.
-
-“As soon as I am cooler I shall go back again. I could very ill be
-spared—but such a point had been made of my coming! You will all be
-going soon I suppose; the whole party breaking up. I met _one_ as I
-came—Madness in such weather!—absolute madness!”
-
-Emma listened, and looked, and soon perceived that Frank Churchill’s
-state might be best defined by the expressive phrase of being out of
-humour. Some people were always cross when they were hot. Such might be
-his constitution; and as she knew that eating and drinking were often
-the cure of such incidental complaints, she recommended his taking some
-refreshment; he would find abundance of every thing in the
-dining-room—and she humanely pointed out the door.
-
-“No—he should not eat. He was not hungry; it would only make him
-hotter.” In two minutes, however, he relented in his own favour; and
-muttering something about spruce-beer, walked off. Emma returned all
-her attention to her father, saying in secret—
-
-“I am glad I have done being in love with him. I should not like a man
-who is so soon discomposed by a hot morning. Harriet’s sweet easy
-temper will not mind it.”
-
-He was gone long enough to have had a very comfortable meal, and came
-back all the better—grown quite cool—and, with good manners, like
-himself—able to draw a chair close to them, take an interest in their
-employment; and regret, in a reasonable way, that he should be so late.
-He was not in his best spirits, but seemed trying to improve them; and,
-at last, made himself talk nonsense very agreeably. They were looking
-over views in Swisserland.
-
-“As soon as my aunt gets well, I shall go abroad,” said he. “I shall
-never be easy till I have seen some of these places. You will have my
-sketches, some time or other, to look at—or my tour to read—or my poem.
-I shall do something to expose myself.”
-
-“That may be—but not by sketches in Swisserland. You will never go to
-Swisserland. Your uncle and aunt will never allow you to leave
-England.”
-
-“They may be induced to go too. A warm climate may be prescribed for
-her. I have more than half an expectation of our all going abroad. I
-assure you I have. I feel a strong persuasion, this morning, that I
-shall soon be abroad. I ought to travel. I am tired of doing nothing. I
-want a change. I am serious, Miss Woodhouse, whatever your penetrating
-eyes may fancy—I am sick of England—and would leave it to-morrow, if I
-could.”
-
-“You are sick of prosperity and indulgence. Cannot you invent a few
-hardships for yourself, and be contented to stay?”
-
-“_I_ sick of prosperity and indulgence! You are quite mistaken. I do
-not look upon myself as either prosperous or indulged. I am thwarted in
-every thing material. I do not consider myself at all a fortunate
-person.”
-
-“You are not quite so miserable, though, as when you first came. Go and
-eat and drink a little more, and you will do very well. Another slice
-of cold meat, another draught of Madeira and water, will make you
-nearly on a par with the rest of us.”
-
-“No—I shall not stir. I shall sit by you. You are my best cure.”
-
-“We are going to Box Hill to-morrow;—you will join us. It is not
-Swisserland, but it will be something for a young man so much in want
-of a change. You will stay, and go with us?”
-
-“No, certainly not; I shall go home in the cool of the evening.”
-
-“But you may come again in the cool of to-morrow morning.”
-
-“No—It will not be worth while. If I come, I shall be cross.”
-
-“Then pray stay at Richmond.”
-
-“But if I do, I shall be crosser still. I can never bear to think of
-you all there without me.”
-
-“These are difficulties which you must settle for yourself. Chuse your
-own degree of crossness. I shall press you no more.”
-
-The rest of the party were now returning, and all were soon collected.
-With some there was great joy at the sight of Frank Churchill; others
-took it very composedly; but there was a very general distress and
-disturbance on Miss Fairfax’s disappearance being explained. That it
-was time for every body to go, concluded the subject; and with a short
-final arrangement for the next day’s scheme, they parted. Frank
-Churchill’s little inclination to exclude himself increased so much,
-that his last words to Emma were,
-
-“Well;—if _you_ wish me to stay and join the party, I will.”
-
-She smiled her acceptance; and nothing less than a summons from
-Richmond was to take him back before the following evening.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER VII
-
-
-They had a very fine day for Box Hill; and all the other outward
-circumstances of arrangement, accommodation, and punctuality, were in
-favour of a pleasant party. Mr. Weston directed the whole, officiating
-safely between Hartfield and the Vicarage, and every body was in good
-time. Emma and Harriet went together; Miss Bates and her niece, with
-the Eltons; the gentlemen on horseback. Mrs. Weston remained with Mr.
-Woodhouse. Nothing was wanting but to be happy when they got there.
-Seven miles were travelled in expectation of enjoyment, and every body
-had a burst of admiration on first arriving; but in the general amount
-of the day there was deficiency. There was a languor, a want of
-spirits, a want of union, which could not be got over. They separated
-too much into parties. The Eltons walked together; Mr. Knightley took
-charge of Miss Bates and Jane; and Emma and Harriet belonged to Frank
-Churchill. And Mr. Weston tried, in vain, to make them harmonise
-better. It seemed at first an accidental division, but it never
-materially varied. Mr. and Mrs. Elton, indeed, shewed no unwillingness
-to mix, and be as agreeable as they could; but during the two whole
-hours that were spent on the hill, there seemed a principle of
-separation, between the other parties, too strong for any fine
-prospects, or any cold collation, or any cheerful Mr. Weston, to
-remove.
-
-At first it was downright dulness to Emma. She had never seen Frank
-Churchill so silent and stupid. He said nothing worth hearing—looked
-without seeing—admired without intelligence—listened without knowing
-what she said. While he was so dull, it was no wonder that Harriet
-should be dull likewise; and they were both insufferable.
-
-When they all sat down it was better; to her taste a great deal better,
-for Frank Churchill grew talkative and gay, making her his first
-object. Every distinguishing attention that could be paid, was paid to
-her. To amuse her, and be agreeable in her eyes, seemed all that he
-cared for—and Emma, glad to be enlivened, not sorry to be flattered,
-was gay and easy too, and gave him all the friendly encouragement, the
-admission to be gallant, which she had ever given in the first and most
-animating period of their acquaintance; but which now, in her own
-estimation, meant nothing, though in the judgment of most people
-looking on it must have had such an appearance as no English word but
-flirtation could very well describe. “Mr. Frank Churchill and Miss
-Woodhouse flirted together excessively.” They were laying themselves
-open to that very phrase—and to having it sent off in a letter to Maple
-Grove by one lady, to Ireland by another. Not that Emma was gay and
-thoughtless from any real felicity; it was rather because she felt less
-happy than she had expected. She laughed because she was disappointed;
-and though she liked him for his attentions, and thought them all,
-whether in friendship, admiration, or playfulness, extremely judicious,
-they were not winning back her heart. She still intended him for her
-friend.
-
-“How much I am obliged to you,” said he, “for telling me to come
-to-day!—If it had not been for you, I should certainly have lost all
-the happiness of this party. I had quite determined to go away again.”
-
-“Yes, you were very cross; and I do not know what about, except that
-you were too late for the best strawberries. I was a kinder friend than
-you deserved. But you were humble. You begged hard to be commanded to
-come.”
-
-“Don’t say I was cross. I was fatigued. The heat overcame me.”
-
-“It is hotter to-day.”
-
-“Not to my feelings. I am perfectly comfortable to-day.”
-
-“You are comfortable because you are under command.”
-
-“Your command?—Yes.”
-
-“Perhaps I intended you to say so, but I meant self-command. You had,
-somehow or other, broken bounds yesterday, and run away from your own
-management; but to-day you are got back again—and as I cannot be always
-with you, it is best to believe your temper under your own command
-rather than mine.”
-
-“It comes to the same thing. I can have no self-command without a
-motive. You order me, whether you speak or not. And you can be always
-with me. You are always with me.”
-
-“Dating from three o’clock yesterday. My perpetual influence could not
-begin earlier, or you would not have been so much out of humour
-before.”
-
-“Three o’clock yesterday! That is your date. I thought I had seen you
-first in February.”
-
-“Your gallantry is really unanswerable. But (lowering her voice)—nobody
-speaks except ourselves, and it is rather too much to be talking
-nonsense for the entertainment of seven silent people.”
-
-“I say nothing of which I am ashamed,” replied he, with lively
-impudence. “I saw you first in February. Let every body on the Hill
-hear me if they can. Let my accents swell to Mickleham on one side, and
-Dorking on the other. I saw you first in February.” And then
-whispering—“Our companions are excessively stupid. What shall we do to
-rouse them? Any nonsense will serve. They _shall_ talk. Ladies and
-gentlemen, I am ordered by Miss Woodhouse (who, wherever she is,
-presides) to say, that she desires to know what you are all thinking
-of?”
-
-Some laughed, and answered good-humouredly. Miss Bates said a great
-deal; Mrs. Elton swelled at the idea of Miss Woodhouse’s presiding; Mr.
-Knightley’s answer was the most distinct.
-
-“Is Miss Woodhouse sure that she would like to hear what we are all
-thinking of?”
-
-“Oh! no, no”—cried Emma, laughing as carelessly as she could—“Upon no
-account in the world. It is the very last thing I would stand the brunt
-of just now. Let me hear any thing rather than what you are all
-thinking of. I will not say quite all. There are one or two, perhaps,
-(glancing at Mr. Weston and Harriet,) whose thoughts I might not be
-afraid of knowing.”
-
-“It is a sort of thing,” cried Mrs. Elton emphatically, “which _I_
-should not have thought myself privileged to inquire into. Though,
-perhaps, as the _Chaperon_ of the party—_I_ never was in any
-circle—exploring parties—young ladies—married women—”
-
-Her mutterings were chiefly to her husband; and he murmured, in reply,
-
-“Very true, my love, very true. Exactly so, indeed—quite unheard of—but
-some ladies say any thing. Better pass it off as a joke. Every body
-knows what is due to _you_.”
-
-“It will not do,” whispered Frank to Emma; “they are most of them
-affronted. I will attack them with more address. Ladies and gentlemen—I
-am ordered by Miss Woodhouse to say, that she waives her right of
-knowing exactly what you may all be thinking of, and only requires
-something very entertaining from each of you, in a general way. Here
-are seven of you, besides myself, (who, she is pleased to say, am very
-entertaining already,) and she only demands from each of you either one
-thing very clever, be it prose or verse, original or repeated—or two
-things moderately clever—or three things very dull indeed, and she
-engages to laugh heartily at them all.”
-
-“Oh! very well,” exclaimed Miss Bates, “then I need not be uneasy.
-‘Three things very dull indeed.’ That will just do for me, you know. I
-shall be sure to say three dull things as soon as ever I open my mouth,
-shan’t I? (looking round with the most good-humoured dependence on
-every body’s assent)—Do not you all think I shall?”
-
-Emma could not resist.
-
-“Ah! ma’am, but there may be a difficulty. Pardon me—but you will be
-limited as to number—only three at once.”
-
-Miss Bates, deceived by the mock ceremony of her manner, did not
-immediately catch her meaning; but, when it burst on her, it could not
-anger, though a slight blush shewed that it could pain her.
-
-“Ah!—well—to be sure. Yes, I see what she means, (turning to Mr.
-Knightley,) and I will try to hold my tongue. I must make myself very
-disagreeable, or she would not have said such a thing to an old
-friend.”
-
-“I like your plan,” cried Mr. Weston. “Agreed, agreed. I will do my
-best. I am making a conundrum. How will a conundrum reckon?”
-
-“Low, I am afraid, sir, very low,” answered his son;—“but we shall be
-indulgent—especially to any one who leads the way.”
-
-“No, no,” said Emma, “it will not reckon low. A conundrum of Mr.
-Weston’s shall clear him and his next neighbour. Come, sir, pray let me
-hear it.”
-
-“I doubt its being very clever myself,” said Mr. Weston. “It is too
-much a matter of fact, but here it is.—What two letters of the alphabet
-are there, that express perfection?”
-
-“What two letters!—express perfection! I am sure I do not know.”
-
-“Ah! you will never guess. You, (to Emma), I am certain, will never
-guess.—I will tell you.—M. and A.—Em-ma.—Do you understand?”
-
-Understanding and gratification came together. It might be a very
-indifferent piece of wit, but Emma found a great deal to laugh at and
-enjoy in it—and so did Frank and Harriet.—It did not seem to touch the
-rest of the party equally; some looked very stupid about it, and Mr.
-Knightley gravely said,
-
-“This explains the sort of clever thing that is wanted, and Mr. Weston
-has done very well for himself; but he must have knocked up every body
-else. _Perfection_ should not have come quite so soon.”
-
-“Oh! for myself, I protest I must be excused,” said Mrs. Elton; “_I_
-really cannot attempt—I am not at all fond of the sort of thing. I had
-an acrostic once sent to me upon my own name, which I was not at all
-pleased with. I knew who it came from. An abominable puppy!—You know
-who I mean (nodding to her husband). These kind of things are very well
-at Christmas, when one is sitting round the fire; but quite out of
-place, in my opinion, when one is exploring about the country in
-summer. Miss Woodhouse must excuse me. I am not one of those who have
-witty things at every body’s service. I do not pretend to be a wit. I
-have a great deal of vivacity in my own way, but I really must be
-allowed to judge when to speak and when to hold my tongue. Pass us, if
-you please, Mr. Churchill. Pass Mr. E., Knightley, Jane, and myself. We
-have nothing clever to say—not one of us.
-
-“Yes, yes, pray pass _me_,” added her husband, with a sort of sneering
-consciousness; “_I_ have nothing to say that can entertain Miss
-Woodhouse, or any other young lady. An old married man—quite good for
-nothing. Shall we walk, Augusta?”
-
-“With all my heart. I am really tired of exploring so long on one spot.
-Come, Jane, take my other arm.”
-
-Jane declined it, however, and the husband and wife walked off. “Happy
-couple!” said Frank Churchill, as soon as they were out of
-hearing:—“How well they suit one another!—Very lucky—marrying as they
-did, upon an acquaintance formed only in a public place!—They only knew
-each other, I think, a few weeks in Bath! Peculiarly lucky!—for as to
-any real knowledge of a person’s disposition that Bath, or any public
-place, can give—it is all nothing; there can be no knowledge. It is
-only by seeing women in their own homes, among their own set, just as
-they always are, that you can form any just judgment. Short of that, it
-is all guess and luck—and will generally be ill-luck. How many a man
-has committed himself on a short acquaintance, and rued it all the rest
-of his life!”
-
-Miss Fairfax, who had seldom spoken before, except among her own
-confederates, spoke now.
-
-“Such things do occur, undoubtedly.”—She was stopped by a cough. Frank
-Churchill turned towards her to listen.
-
-“You were speaking,” said he, gravely. She recovered her voice.
-
-“I was only going to observe, that though such unfortunate
-circumstances do sometimes occur both to men and women, I cannot
-imagine them to be very frequent. A hasty and imprudent attachment may
-arise—but there is generally time to recover from it afterwards. I
-would be understood to mean, that it can be only weak, irresolute
-characters, (whose happiness must be always at the mercy of chance,)
-who will suffer an unfortunate acquaintance to be an inconvenience, an
-oppression for ever.”
-
-He made no answer; merely looked, and bowed in submission; and soon
-afterwards said, in a lively tone,
-
-“Well, I have so little confidence in my own judgment, that whenever I
-marry, I hope some body will chuse my wife for me. Will you? (turning
-to Emma.) Will you chuse a wife for me?—I am sure I should like any
-body fixed on by you. You provide for the family, you know, (with a
-smile at his father). Find some body for me. I am in no hurry. Adopt
-her, educate her.”
-
-“And make her like myself.”
-
-“By all means, if you can.”
-
-“Very well. I undertake the commission. You shall have a charming
-wife.”
-
-“She must be very lively, and have hazle eyes. I care for nothing else.
-I shall go abroad for a couple of years—and when I return, I shall come
-to you for my wife. Remember.”
-
-Emma was in no danger of forgetting. It was a commission to touch every
-favourite feeling. Would not Harriet be the very creature described?
-Hazle eyes excepted, two years more might make her all that he wished.
-He might even have Harriet in his thoughts at the moment; who could
-say? Referring the education to her seemed to imply it.
-
-“Now, ma’am,” said Jane to her aunt, “shall we join Mrs. Elton?”
-
-“If you please, my dear. With all my heart. I am quite ready. I was
-ready to have gone with her, but this will do just as well. We shall
-soon overtake her. There she is—no, that’s somebody else. That’s one of
-the ladies in the Irish car party, not at all like her.—Well, I
-declare—”
-
-They walked off, followed in half a minute by Mr. Knightley. Mr.
-Weston, his son, Emma, and Harriet, only remained; and the young man’s
-spirits now rose to a pitch almost unpleasant. Even Emma grew tired at
-last of flattery and merriment, and wished herself rather walking
-quietly about with any of the others, or sitting almost alone, and
-quite unattended to, in tranquil observation of the beautiful views
-beneath her. The appearance of the servants looking out for them to
-give notice of the carriages was a joyful sight; and even the bustle of
-collecting and preparing to depart, and the solicitude of Mrs. Elton to
-have _her_ carriage first, were gladly endured, in the prospect of the
-quiet drive home which was to close the very questionable enjoyments of
-this day of pleasure. Such another scheme, composed of so many
-ill-assorted people, she hoped never to be betrayed into again.
-
-While waiting for the carriage, she found Mr. Knightley by her side. He
-looked around, as if to see that no one were near, and then said,
-
-“Emma, I must once more speak to you as I have been used to do: a
-privilege rather endured than allowed, perhaps, but I must still use
-it. I cannot see you acting wrong, without a remonstrance. How could
-you be so unfeeling to Miss Bates? How could you be so insolent in your
-wit to a woman of her character, age, and situation?—Emma, I had not
-thought it possible.”
-
-Emma recollected, blushed, was sorry, but tried to laugh it off.
-
-“Nay, how could I help saying what I did?—Nobody could have helped it.
-It was not so very bad. I dare say she did not understand me.”
-
-“I assure you she did. She felt your full meaning. She has talked of it
-since. I wish you could have heard how she talked of it—with what
-candour and generosity. I wish you could have heard her honouring your
-forbearance, in being able to pay her such attentions, as she was for
-ever receiving from yourself and your father, when her society must be
-so irksome.”
-
-“Oh!” cried Emma, “I know there is not a better creature in the world:
-but you must allow, that what is good and what is ridiculous are most
-unfortunately blended in her.”
-
-“They are blended,” said he, “I acknowledge; and, were she prosperous,
-I could allow much for the occasional prevalence of the ridiculous over
-the good. Were she a woman of fortune, I would leave every harmless
-absurdity to take its chance, I would not quarrel with you for any
-liberties of manner. Were she your equal in situation—but, Emma,
-consider how far this is from being the case. She is poor; she has sunk
-from the comforts she was born to; and, if she live to old age, must
-probably sink more. Her situation should secure your compassion. It was
-badly done, indeed! You, whom she had known from an infant, whom she
-had seen grow up from a period when her notice was an honour, to have
-you now, in thoughtless spirits, and the pride of the moment, laugh at
-her, humble her—and before her niece, too—and before others, many of
-whom (certainly _some_,) would be entirely guided by _your_ treatment
-of her.—This is not pleasant to you, Emma—and it is very far from
-pleasant to me; but I must, I will,—I will tell you truths while I can;
-satisfied with proving myself your friend by very faithful counsel, and
-trusting that you will some time or other do me greater justice than
-you can do now.”
-
-While they talked, they were advancing towards the carriage; it was
-ready; and, before she could speak again, he had handed her in. He had
-misinterpreted the feelings which had kept her face averted, and her
-tongue motionless. They were combined only of anger against herself,
-mortification, and deep concern. She had not been able to speak; and,
-on entering the carriage, sunk back for a moment overcome—then
-reproaching herself for having taken no leave, making no
-acknowledgment, parting in apparent sullenness, she looked out with
-voice and hand eager to shew a difference; but it was just too late. He
-had turned away, and the horses were in motion. She continued to look
-back, but in vain; and soon, with what appeared unusual speed, they
-were half way down the hill, and every thing left far behind. She was
-vexed beyond what could have been expressed—almost beyond what she
-could conceal. Never had she felt so agitated, mortified, grieved, at
-any circumstance in her life. She was most forcibly struck. The truth
-of this representation there was no denying. She felt it at her heart.
-How could she have been so brutal, so cruel to Miss Bates! How could
-she have exposed herself to such ill opinion in any one she valued! And
-how suffer him to leave her without saying one word of gratitude, of
-concurrence, of common kindness!
-
-Time did not compose her. As she reflected more, she seemed but to feel
-it more. She never had been so depressed. Happily it was not necessary
-to speak. There was only Harriet, who seemed not in spirits herself,
-fagged, and very willing to be silent; and Emma felt the tears running
-down her cheeks almost all the way home, without being at any trouble
-to check them, extraordinary as they were.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER VIII
-
-
-The wretchedness of a scheme to Box Hill was in Emma’s thoughts all the
-evening. How it might be considered by the rest of the party, she could
-not tell. They, in their different homes, and their different ways,
-might be looking back on it with pleasure; but in her view it was a
-morning more completely misspent, more totally bare of rational
-satisfaction at the time, and more to be abhorred in recollection, than
-any she had ever passed. A whole evening of back-gammon with her
-father, was felicity to it. _There_, indeed, lay real pleasure, for
-there she was giving up the sweetest hours of the twenty-four to his
-comfort; and feeling that, unmerited as might be the degree of his fond
-affection and confiding esteem, she could not, in her general conduct,
-be open to any severe reproach. As a daughter, she hoped she was not
-without a heart. She hoped no one could have said to her, “How could
-you be so unfeeling to your father?—I must, I will tell you truths
-while I can.” Miss Bates should never again—no, never! If attention, in
-future, could do away the past, she might hope to be forgiven. She had
-been often remiss, her conscience told her so; remiss, perhaps, more in
-thought than fact; scornful, ungracious. But it should be so no more.
-In the warmth of true contrition, she would call upon her the very next
-morning, and it should be the beginning, on her side, of a regular,
-equal, kindly intercourse.
-
-She was just as determined when the morrow came, and went early, that
-nothing might prevent her. It was not unlikely, she thought, that she
-might see Mr. Knightley in her way; or, perhaps, he might come in while
-she were paying her visit. She had no objection. She would not be
-ashamed of the appearance of the penitence, so justly and truly hers.
-Her eyes were towards Donwell as she walked, but she saw him not.
-
-“The ladies were all at home.” She had never rejoiced at the sound
-before, nor ever before entered the passage, nor walked up the stairs,
-with any wish of giving pleasure, but in conferring obligation, or of
-deriving it, except in subsequent ridicule.
-
-There was a bustle on her approach; a good deal of moving and talking.
-She heard Miss Bates’s voice, something was to be done in a hurry; the
-maid looked frightened and awkward; hoped she would be pleased to wait
-a moment, and then ushered her in too soon. The aunt and niece seemed
-both escaping into the adjoining room. Jane she had a distinct glimpse
-of, looking extremely ill; and, before the door had shut them out, she
-heard Miss Bates saying, “Well, my dear, I shall _say_ you are laid
-down upon the bed, and I am sure you are ill enough.”
-
-Poor old Mrs. Bates, civil and humble as usual, looked as if she did
-not quite understand what was going on.
-
-“I am afraid Jane is not very well,” said she, “but I do not know; they
-_tell_ me she is well. I dare say my daughter will be here presently,
-Miss Woodhouse. I hope you find a chair. I wish Hetty had not gone. I
-am very little able—Have you a chair, ma’am? Do you sit where you like?
-I am sure she will be here presently.”
-
-Emma seriously hoped she would. She had a moment’s fear of Miss Bates
-keeping away from her. But Miss Bates soon came—“Very happy and
-obliged”—but Emma’s conscience told her that there was not the same
-cheerful volubility as before—less ease of look and manner. A very
-friendly inquiry after Miss Fairfax, she hoped, might lead the way to a
-return of old feelings. The touch seemed immediate.
-
-“Ah! Miss Woodhouse, how kind you are!—I suppose you have heard—and are
-come to give us joy. This does not seem much like joy, indeed, in
-me—(twinkling away a tear or two)—but it will be very trying for us to
-part with her, after having had her so long, and she has a dreadful
-headache just now, writing all the morning:—such long letters, you
-know, to be written to Colonel Campbell, and Mrs. Dixon. ‘My dear,’
-said I, ‘you will blind yourself’—for tears were in her eyes
-perpetually. One cannot wonder, one cannot wonder. It is a great
-change; and though she is amazingly fortunate—such a situation, I
-suppose, as no young woman before ever met with on first going out—do
-not think us ungrateful, Miss Woodhouse, for such surprising good
-fortune—(again dispersing her tears)—but, poor dear soul! if you were
-to see what a headache she has. When one is in great pain, you know one
-cannot feel any blessing quite as it may deserve. She is as low as
-possible. To look at her, nobody would think how delighted and happy
-she is to have secured such a situation. You will excuse her not coming
-to you—she is not able—she is gone into her own room—I want her to lie
-down upon the bed. ‘My dear,’ said I, ‘I shall say you are laid down
-upon the bed:’ but, however, she is not; she is walking about the room.
-But, now that she has written her letters, she says she shall soon be
-well. She will be extremely sorry to miss seeing you, Miss Woodhouse,
-but your kindness will excuse her. You were kept waiting at the door—I
-was quite ashamed—but somehow there was a little bustle—for it so
-happened that we had not heard the knock, and till you were on the
-stairs, we did not know any body was coming. ‘It is only Mrs. Cole,’
-said I, ‘depend upon it. Nobody else would come so early.’ ‘Well,’ said
-she, ‘it must be borne some time or other, and it may as well be now.’
-But then Patty came in, and said it was you. ‘Oh!’ said I, ‘it is Miss
-Woodhouse: I am sure you will like to see her.’—‘I can see nobody,’
-said she; and up she got, and would go away; and that was what made us
-keep you waiting—and extremely sorry and ashamed we were. ‘If you must
-go, my dear,’ said I, ‘you must, and I will say you are laid down upon
-the bed.’”
-
-Emma was most sincerely interested. Her heart had been long growing
-kinder towards Jane; and this picture of her present sufferings acted
-as a cure of every former ungenerous suspicion, and left her nothing
-but pity; and the remembrance of the less just and less gentle
-sensations of the past, obliged her to admit that Jane might very
-naturally resolve on seeing Mrs. Cole or any other steady friend, when
-she might not bear to see herself. She spoke as she felt, with earnest
-regret and solicitude—sincerely wishing that the circumstances which
-she collected from Miss Bates to be now actually determined on, might
-be as much for Miss Fairfax’s advantage and comfort as possible. “It
-must be a severe trial to them all. She had understood it was to be
-delayed till Colonel Campbell’s return.”
-
-“So very kind!” replied Miss Bates. “But you are always kind.”
-
-There was no bearing such an “always;” and to break through her
-dreadful gratitude, Emma made the direct inquiry of—
-
-“Where—may I ask?—is Miss Fairfax going?”
-
-“To a Mrs. Smallridge—charming woman—most superior—to have the charge
-of her three little girls—delightful children. Impossible that any
-situation could be more replete with comfort; if we except, perhaps,
-Mrs. Suckling’s own family, and Mrs. Bragge’s; but Mrs. Smallridge is
-intimate with both, and in the very same neighbourhood:—lives only four
-miles from Maple Grove. Jane will be only four miles from Maple Grove.”
-
-“Mrs. Elton, I suppose, has been the person to whom Miss Fairfax owes—”
-
-“Yes, our good Mrs. Elton. The most indefatigable, true friend. She
-would not take a denial. She would not let Jane say, ‘No;’ for when
-Jane first heard of it, (it was the day before yesterday, the very
-morning we were at Donwell,) when Jane first heard of it, she was quite
-decided against accepting the offer, and for the reasons you mention;
-exactly as you say, she had made up her mind to close with nothing till
-Colonel Campbell’s return, and nothing should induce her to enter into
-any engagement at present—and so she told Mrs. Elton over and over
-again—and I am sure I had no more idea that she would change her
-mind!—but that good Mrs. Elton, whose judgment never fails her, saw
-farther than I did. It is not every body that would have stood out in
-such a kind way as she did, and refuse to take Jane’s answer; but she
-positively declared she would _not_ write any such denial yesterday, as
-Jane wished her; she would wait—and, sure enough, yesterday evening it
-was all settled that Jane should go. Quite a surprize to me! I had not
-the least idea!—Jane took Mrs. Elton aside, and told her at once, that
-upon thinking over the advantages of Mrs. Smallridge’s situation, she
-had come to the resolution of accepting it.—I did not know a word of it
-till it was all settled.”
-
-“You spent the evening with Mrs. Elton?”
-
-“Yes, all of us; Mrs. Elton would have us come. It was settled so, upon
-the hill, while we were walking about with Mr. Knightley. ‘You _must_
-_all_ spend your evening with us,’ said she—‘I positively must have you
-_all_ come.’”
-
-“Mr. Knightley was there too, was he?”
-
-“No, not Mr. Knightley; he declined it from the first; and though I
-thought he would come, because Mrs. Elton declared she would not let
-him off, he did not;—but my mother, and Jane, and I, were all there,
-and a very agreeable evening we had. Such kind friends, you know, Miss
-Woodhouse, one must always find agreeable, though every body seemed
-rather fagged after the morning’s party. Even pleasure, you know, is
-fatiguing—and I cannot say that any of them seemed very much to have
-enjoyed it. However, _I_ shall always think it a very pleasant party,
-and feel extremely obliged to the kind friends who included me in it.”
-
-“Miss Fairfax, I suppose, though you were not aware of it, had been
-making up her mind the whole day?”
-
-“I dare say she had.”
-
-“Whenever the time may come, it must be unwelcome to her and all her
-friends—but I hope her engagement will have every alleviation that is
-possible—I mean, as to the character and manners of the family.”
-
-“Thank you, dear Miss Woodhouse. Yes, indeed, there is every thing in
-the world that can make her happy in it. Except the Sucklings and
-Bragges, there is not such another nursery establishment, so liberal
-and elegant, in all Mrs. Elton’s acquaintance. Mrs. Smallridge, a most
-delightful woman!—A style of living almost equal to Maple Grove—and as
-to the children, except the little Sucklings and little Bragges, there
-are not such elegant sweet children anywhere. Jane will be treated with
-such regard and kindness!—It will be nothing but pleasure, a life of
-pleasure.—And her salary!—I really cannot venture to name her salary to
-you, Miss Woodhouse. Even you, used as you are to great sums, would
-hardly believe that so much could be given to a young person like
-Jane.”
-
-“Ah! madam,” cried Emma, “if other children are at all like what I
-remember to have been myself, I should think five times the amount of
-what I have ever yet heard named as a salary on such occasions, dearly
-earned.”
-
-“You are so noble in your ideas!”
-
-“And when is Miss Fairfax to leave you?”
-
-“Very soon, very soon, indeed; that’s the worst of it. Within a
-fortnight. Mrs. Smallridge is in a great hurry. My poor mother does not
-know how to bear it. So then, I try to put it out of her thoughts, and
-say, Come ma’am, do not let us think about it any more.”
-
-“Her friends must all be sorry to lose her; and will not Colonel and
-Mrs. Campbell be sorry to find that she has engaged herself before
-their return?”
-
-“Yes; Jane says she is sure they will; but yet, this is such a
-situation as she cannot feel herself justified in declining. I was so
-astonished when she first told me what she had been saying to Mrs.
-Elton, and when Mrs. Elton at the same moment came congratulating me
-upon it! It was before tea—stay—no, it could not be before tea, because
-we were just going to cards—and yet it was before tea, because I
-remember thinking—Oh! no, now I recollect, now I have it; something
-happened before tea, but not that. Mr. Elton was called out of the room
-before tea, old John Abdy’s son wanted to speak with him. Poor old
-John, I have a great regard for him; he was clerk to my poor father
-twenty-seven years; and now, poor old man, he is bed-ridden, and very
-poorly with the rheumatic gout in his joints—I must go and see him
-to-day; and so will Jane, I am sure, if she gets out at all. And poor
-John’s son came to talk to Mr. Elton about relief from the parish; he
-is very well to do himself, you know, being head man at the Crown,
-ostler, and every thing of that sort, but still he cannot keep his
-father without some help; and so, when Mr. Elton came back, he told us
-what John ostler had been telling him, and then it came out about the
-chaise having been sent to Randalls to take Mr. Frank Churchill to
-Richmond. That was what happened before tea. It was after tea that Jane
-spoke to Mrs. Elton.”
-
-Miss Bates would hardly give Emma time to say how perfectly new this
-circumstance was to her; but as without supposing it possible that she
-could be ignorant of any of the particulars of Mr. Frank Churchill’s
-going, she proceeded to give them all, it was of no consequence.
-
-What Mr. Elton had learned from the ostler on the subject, being the
-accumulation of the ostler’s own knowledge, and the knowledge of the
-servants at Randalls, was, that a messenger had come over from Richmond
-soon after the return of the party from Box Hill—which messenger,
-however, had been no more than was expected; and that Mr. Churchill had
-sent his nephew a few lines, containing, upon the whole, a tolerable
-account of Mrs. Churchill, and only wishing him not to delay coming
-back beyond the next morning early; but that Mr. Frank Churchill having
-resolved to go home directly, without waiting at all, and his horse
-seeming to have got a cold, Tom had been sent off immediately for the
-Crown chaise, and the ostler had stood out and seen it pass by, the boy
-going a good pace, and driving very steady.
-
-There was nothing in all this either to astonish or interest, and it
-caught Emma’s attention only as it united with the subject which
-already engaged her mind. The contrast between Mrs. Churchill’s
-importance in the world, and Jane Fairfax’s, struck her; one was every
-thing, the other nothing—and she sat musing on the difference of
-woman’s destiny, and quite unconscious on what her eyes were fixed,
-till roused by Miss Bates’s saying,
-
-“Aye, I see what you are thinking of, the pianoforte. What is to become
-of that?—Very true. Poor dear Jane was talking of it just now.—‘You
-must go,’ said she. ‘You and I must part. You will have no business
-here.—Let it stay, however,’ said she; ‘give it houseroom till Colonel
-Campbell comes back. I shall talk about it to him; he will settle for
-me; he will help me out of all my difficulties.’—And to this day, I do
-believe, she knows not whether it was his present or his daughter’s.”
-
-Now Emma was obliged to think of the pianoforte; and the remembrance of
-all her former fanciful and unfair conjectures was so little pleasing,
-that she soon allowed herself to believe her visit had been long
-enough; and, with a repetition of every thing that she could venture to
-say of the good wishes which she really felt, took leave.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER IX
-
-
-Emma’s pensive meditations, as she walked home, were not interrupted;
-but on entering the parlour, she found those who must rouse her. Mr.
-Knightley and Harriet had arrived during her absence, and were sitting
-with her father.—Mr. Knightley immediately got up, and in a manner
-decidedly graver than usual, said,
-
-“I would not go away without seeing you, but I have no time to spare,
-and therefore must now be gone directly. I am going to London, to spend
-a few days with John and Isabella. Have you any thing to send or say,
-besides the ‘love,’ which nobody carries?”
-
-“Nothing at all. But is not this a sudden scheme?”
-
-“Yes—rather—I have been thinking of it some little time.”
-
-Emma was sure he had not forgiven her; he looked unlike himself. Time,
-however, she thought, would tell him that they ought to be friends
-again. While he stood, as if meaning to go, but not going—her father
-began his inquiries.
-
-“Well, my dear, and did you get there safely?—And how did you find my
-worthy old friend and her daughter?—I dare say they must have been very
-much obliged to you for coming. Dear Emma has been to call on Mrs. and
-Miss Bates, Mr. Knightley, as I told you before. She is always so
-attentive to them!”
-
-Emma’s colour was heightened by this unjust praise; and with a smile,
-and shake of the head, which spoke much, she looked at Mr.
-Knightley.—It seemed as if there were an instantaneous impression in
-her favour, as if his eyes received the truth from hers, and all that
-had passed of good in her feelings were at once caught and honoured.—
-He looked at her with a glow of regard. She was warmly gratified—and in
-another moment still more so, by a little movement of more than common
-friendliness on his part.—He took her hand;—whether she had not herself
-made the first motion, she could not say—she might, perhaps, have
-rather offered it—but he took her hand, pressed it, and certainly was
-on the point of carrying it to his lips—when, from some fancy or other,
-he suddenly let it go.—Why he should feel such a scruple, why he should
-change his mind when it was all but done, she could not perceive.—He
-would have judged better, she thought, if he had not stopped.—The
-intention, however, was indubitable; and whether it was that his
-manners had in general so little gallantry, or however else it
-happened, but she thought nothing became him more.—It was with him, of
-so simple, yet so dignified a nature.—She could not but recall the
-attempt with great satisfaction. It spoke such perfect amity.—He left
-them immediately afterwards—gone in a moment. He always moved with the
-alertness of a mind which could neither be undecided nor dilatory, but
-now he seemed more sudden than usual in his disappearance.
-
-Emma could not regret her having gone to Miss Bates, but she wished she
-had left her ten minutes earlier;—it would have been a great pleasure
-to talk over Jane Fairfax’s situation with Mr. Knightley.—Neither would
-she regret that he should be going to Brunswick Square, for she knew
-how much his visit would be enjoyed—but it might have happened at a
-better time—and to have had longer notice of it, would have been
-pleasanter.—They parted thorough friends, however; she could not be
-deceived as to the meaning of his countenance, and his unfinished
-gallantry;—it was all done to assure her that she had fully recovered
-his good opinion.—He had been sitting with them half an hour, she
-found. It was a pity that she had not come back earlier!
-
-In the hope of diverting her father’s thoughts from the
-disagreeableness of Mr. Knightley’s going to London; and going so
-suddenly; and going on horseback, which she knew would be all very bad;
-Emma communicated her news of Jane Fairfax, and her dependence on the
-effect was justified; it supplied a very useful check,—interested,
-without disturbing him. He had long made up his mind to Jane Fairfax’s
-going out as governess, and could talk of it cheerfully, but Mr.
-Knightley’s going to London had been an unexpected blow.
-
-“I am very glad, indeed, my dear, to hear she is to be so comfortably
-settled. Mrs. Elton is very good-natured and agreeable, and I dare say
-her acquaintance are just what they ought to be. I hope it is a dry
-situation, and that her health will be taken good care of. It ought to
-be a first object, as I am sure poor Miss Taylor’s always was with me.
-You know, my dear, she is going to be to this new lady what Miss Taylor
-was to us. And I hope she will be better off in one respect, and not be
-induced to go away after it has been her home so long.”
-
-The following day brought news from Richmond to throw every thing else
-into the background. An express arrived at Randalls to announce the
-death of Mrs. Churchill! Though her nephew had had no particular reason
-to hasten back on her account, she had not lived above six-and-thirty
-hours after his return. A sudden seizure of a different nature from any
-thing foreboded by her general state, had carried her off after a short
-struggle. The great Mrs. Churchill was no more.
-
-It was felt as such things must be felt. Every body had a degree of
-gravity and sorrow; tenderness towards the departed, solicitude for the
-surviving friends; and, in a reasonable time, curiosity to know where
-she would be buried. Goldsmith tells us, that when lovely woman stoops
-to folly, she has nothing to do but to die; and when she stoops to be
-disagreeable, it is equally to be recommended as a clearer of ill-fame.
-Mrs. Churchill, after being disliked at least twenty-five years, was
-now spoken of with compassionate allowances. In one point she was fully
-justified. She had never been admitted before to be seriously ill. The
-event acquitted her of all the fancifulness, and all the selfishness of
-imaginary complaints.
-
-“Poor Mrs. Churchill! no doubt she had been suffering a great deal:
-more than any body had ever supposed—and continual pain would try the
-temper. It was a sad event—a great shock—with all her faults, what
-would Mr. Churchill do without her? Mr. Churchill’s loss would be
-dreadful indeed. Mr. Churchill would never get over it.”—Even Mr.
-Weston shook his head, and looked solemn, and said, “Ah! poor woman,
-who would have thought it!” and resolved, that his mourning should be
-as handsome as possible; and his wife sat sighing and moralising over
-her broad hems with a commiseration and good sense, true and steady.
-How it would affect Frank was among the earliest thoughts of both. It
-was also a very early speculation with Emma. The character of Mrs.
-Churchill, the grief of her husband—her mind glanced over them both
-with awe and compassion—and then rested with lightened feelings on how
-Frank might be affected by the event, how benefited, how freed. She saw
-in a moment all the possible good. Now, an attachment to Harriet Smith
-would have nothing to encounter. Mr. Churchill, independent of his
-wife, was feared by nobody; an easy, guidable man, to be persuaded into
-any thing by his nephew. All that remained to be wished was, that the
-nephew should form the attachment, as, with all her goodwill in the
-cause, Emma could feel no certainty of its being already formed.
-
-Harriet behaved extremely well on the occasion, with great
-self-command. What ever she might feel of brighter hope, she betrayed
-nothing. Emma was gratified, to observe such a proof in her of
-strengthened character, and refrained from any allusion that might
-endanger its maintenance. They spoke, therefore, of Mrs. Churchill’s
-death with mutual forbearance.
-
-Short letters from Frank were received at Randalls, communicating all
-that was immediately important of their state and plans. Mr. Churchill
-was better than could be expected; and their first removal, on the
-departure of the funeral for Yorkshire, was to be to the house of a
-very old friend in Windsor, to whom Mr. Churchill had been promising a
-visit the last ten years. At present, there was nothing to be done for
-Harriet; good wishes for the future were all that could yet be possible
-on Emma’s side.
-
-It was a more pressing concern to shew attention to Jane Fairfax, whose
-prospects were closing, while Harriet’s opened, and whose engagements
-now allowed of no delay in any one at Highbury, who wished to shew her
-kindness—and with Emma it was grown into a first wish. She had scarcely
-a stronger regret than for her past coldness; and the person, whom she
-had been so many months neglecting, was now the very one on whom she
-would have lavished every distinction of regard or sympathy. She wanted
-to be of use to her; wanted to shew a value for her society, and
-testify respect and consideration. She resolved to prevail on her to
-spend a day at Hartfield. A note was written to urge it. The invitation
-was refused, and by a verbal message. “Miss Fairfax was not well enough
-to write;” and when Mr. Perry called at Hartfield, the same morning, it
-appeared that she was so much indisposed as to have been visited,
-though against her own consent, by himself, and that she was suffering
-under severe headaches, and a nervous fever to a degree, which made him
-doubt the possibility of her going to Mrs. Smallridge’s at the time
-proposed. Her health seemed for the moment completely deranged—appetite
-quite gone—and though there were no absolutely alarming symptoms,
-nothing touching the pulmonary complaint, which was the standing
-apprehension of the family, Mr. Perry was uneasy about her. He thought
-she had undertaken more than she was equal to, and that she felt it so
-herself, though she would not own it. Her spirits seemed overcome. Her
-present home, he could not but observe, was unfavourable to a nervous
-disorder:—confined always to one room;—he could have wished it
-otherwise—and her good aunt, though his very old friend, he must
-acknowledge to be not the best companion for an invalid of that
-description. Her care and attention could not be questioned; they were,
-in fact, only too great. He very much feared that Miss Fairfax derived
-more evil than good from them. Emma listened with the warmest concern;
-grieved for her more and more, and looked around eager to discover some
-way of being useful. To take her—be it only an hour or two—from her
-aunt, to give her change of air and scene, and quiet rational
-conversation, even for an hour or two, might do her good; and the
-following morning she wrote again to say, in the most feeling language
-she could command, that she would call for her in the carriage at any
-hour that Jane would name—mentioning that she had Mr. Perry’s decided
-opinion, in favour of such exercise for his patient. The answer was
-only in this short note:
-
-“Miss Fairfax’s compliments and thanks, but is quite unequal to any
-exercise.”
-
-Emma felt that her own note had deserved something better; but it was
-impossible to quarrel with words, whose tremulous inequality shewed
-indisposition so plainly, and she thought only of how she might best
-counteract this unwillingness to be seen or assisted. In spite of the
-answer, therefore, she ordered the carriage, and drove to Mrs. Bates’s,
-in the hope that Jane would be induced to join her—but it would not
-do;—Miss Bates came to the carriage door, all gratitude, and agreeing
-with her most earnestly in thinking an airing might be of the greatest
-service—and every thing that message could do was tried—but all in
-vain. Miss Bates was obliged to return without success; Jane was quite
-unpersuadable; the mere proposal of going out seemed to make her
-worse.—Emma wished she could have seen her, and tried her own powers;
-but, almost before she could hint the wish, Miss Bates made it appear
-that she had promised her niece on no account to let Miss Woodhouse in.
-“Indeed, the truth was, that poor dear Jane could not bear to see any
-body—any body at all—Mrs. Elton, indeed, could not be denied—and Mrs.
-Cole had made such a point—and Mrs. Perry had said so much—but, except
-them, Jane would really see nobody.”
-
-Emma did not want to be classed with the Mrs. Eltons, the Mrs. Perrys,
-and the Mrs. Coles, who would force themselves anywhere; neither could
-she feel any right of preference herself—she submitted, therefore, and
-only questioned Miss Bates farther as to her niece’s appetite and diet,
-which she longed to be able to assist. On that subject poor Miss Bates
-was very unhappy, and very communicative; Jane would hardly eat any
-thing:—Mr. Perry recommended nourishing food; but every thing they
-could command (and never had any body such good neighbours) was
-distasteful.
-
-Emma, on reaching home, called the housekeeper directly, to an
-examination of her stores; and some arrowroot of very superior quality
-was speedily despatched to Miss Bates with a most friendly note. In
-half an hour the arrowroot was returned, with a thousand thanks from
-Miss Bates, but “dear Jane would not be satisfied without its being
-sent back; it was a thing she could not take—and, moreover, she
-insisted on her saying, that she was not at all in want of any thing.”
-
-When Emma afterwards heard that Jane Fairfax had been seen wandering
-about the meadows, at some distance from Highbury, on the afternoon of
-the very day on which she had, under the plea of being unequal to any
-exercise, so peremptorily refused to go out with her in the carriage,
-she could have no doubt—putting every thing together—that Jane was
-resolved to receive no kindness from _her_. She was sorry, very sorry.
-Her heart was grieved for a state which seemed but the more pitiable
-from this sort of irritation of spirits, inconsistency of action, and
-inequality of powers; and it mortified her that she was given so little
-credit for proper feeling, or esteemed so little worthy as a friend:
-but she had the consolation of knowing that her intentions were good,
-and of being able to say to herself, that could Mr. Knightley have been
-privy to all her attempts of assisting Jane Fairfax, could he even have
-seen into her heart, he would not, on this occasion, have found any
-thing to reprove.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER X
-
-
-One morning, about ten days after Mrs. Churchill’s decease, Emma was
-called downstairs to Mr. Weston, who “could not stay five minutes, and
-wanted particularly to speak with her.”—He met her at the parlour-door,
-and hardly asking her how she did, in the natural key of his voice,
-sunk it immediately, to say, unheard by her father,
-
-“Can you come to Randalls at any time this morning?—Do, if it be
-possible. Mrs. Weston wants to see you. She must see you.”
-
-“Is she unwell?”
-
-“No, no, not at all—only a little agitated. She would have ordered the
-carriage, and come to you, but she must see you _alone_, and that you
-know—(nodding towards her father)—Humph!—Can you come?”
-
-“Certainly. This moment, if you please. It is impossible to refuse what
-you ask in such a way. But what can be the matter?—Is she really not
-ill?”
-
-“Depend upon me—but ask no more questions. You will know it all in
-time. The most unaccountable business! But hush, hush!”
-
-To guess what all this meant, was impossible even for Emma. Something
-really important seemed announced by his looks; but, as her friend was
-well, she endeavoured not to be uneasy, and settling it with her
-father, that she would take her walk now, she and Mr. Weston were soon
-out of the house together and on their way at a quick pace for
-Randalls.
-
-“Now,”—said Emma, when they were fairly beyond the sweep gates,—“now
-Mr. Weston, do let me know what has happened.”
-
-“No, no,”—he gravely replied.—“Don’t ask me. I promised my wife to
-leave it all to her. She will break it to you better than I can. Do not
-be impatient, Emma; it will all come out too soon.”
-
-“Break it to me,” cried Emma, standing still with terror.—“Good
-God!—Mr. Weston, tell me at once.—Something has happened in Brunswick
-Square. I know it has. Tell me, I charge you tell me this moment what
-it is.”
-
-“No, indeed you are mistaken.”—
-
-“Mr. Weston do not trifle with me.—Consider how many of my dearest
-friends are now in Brunswick Square. Which of them is it?—I charge you
-by all that is sacred, not to attempt concealment.”
-
-“Upon my word, Emma.”—
-
-“Your word!—why not your honour!—why not say upon your honour, that it
-has nothing to do with any of them? Good Heavens!—What can be to be
-_broke_ to me, that does not relate to one of that family?”
-
-“Upon my honour,” said he very seriously, “it does not. It is not in
-the smallest degree connected with any human being of the name of
-Knightley.”
-
-Emma’s courage returned, and she walked on.
-
-“I was wrong,” he continued, “in talking of its being _broke_ to you. I
-should not have used the expression. In fact, it does not concern
-you—it concerns only myself,—that is, we hope.—Humph!—In short, my dear
-Emma, there is no occasion to be so uneasy about it. I don’t say that
-it is not a disagreeable business—but things might be much worse.—If we
-walk fast, we shall soon be at Randalls.”
-
-Emma found that she must wait; and now it required little effort. She
-asked no more questions therefore, merely employed her own fancy, and
-that soon pointed out to her the probability of its being some money
-concern—something just come to light, of a disagreeable nature in the
-circumstances of the family,—something which the late event at Richmond
-had brought forward. Her fancy was very active. Half a dozen natural
-children, perhaps—and poor Frank cut off!—This, though very
-undesirable, would be no matter of agony to her. It inspired little
-more than an animating curiosity.
-
-“Who is that gentleman on horseback?” said she, as they
-proceeded—speaking more to assist Mr. Weston in keeping his secret,
-than with any other view.
-
-“I do not know.—One of the Otways.—Not Frank;—it is not Frank, I assure
-you. You will not see him. He is half way to Windsor by this time.”
-
-“Has your son been with you, then?”
-
-“Oh! yes—did not you know?—Well, well, never mind.”
-
-For a moment he was silent; and then added, in a tone much more guarded
-and demure,
-
-“Yes, Frank came over this morning, just to ask us how we did.”
-
-They hurried on, and were speedily at Randalls.—“Well, my dear,” said
-he, as they entered the room—“I have brought her, and now I hope you
-will soon be better. I shall leave you together. There is no use in
-delay. I shall not be far off, if you want me.”—And Emma distinctly
-heard him add, in a lower tone, before he quitted the room,—“I have
-been as good as my word. She has not the least idea.”
-
-Mrs. Weston was looking so ill, and had an air of so much perturbation,
-that Emma’s uneasiness increased; and the moment they were alone, she
-eagerly said,
-
-“What is it my dear friend? Something of a very unpleasant nature, I
-find, has occurred;—do let me know directly what it is. I have been
-walking all this way in complete suspense. We both abhor suspense. Do
-not let mine continue longer. It will do you good to speak of your
-distress, whatever it may be.”
-
-“Have you indeed no idea?” said Mrs. Weston in a trembling voice.
-“Cannot you, my dear Emma—cannot you form a guess as to what you are to
-hear?”
-
-“So far as that it relates to Mr. Frank Churchill, I do guess.”
-
-“You are right. It does relate to him, and I will tell you directly;”
-(resuming her work, and seeming resolved against looking up.) “He has
-been here this very morning, on a most extraordinary errand. It is
-impossible to express our surprize. He came to speak to his father on a
-subject,—to announce an attachment—”
-
-She stopped to breathe. Emma thought first of herself, and then of
-Harriet.
-
-“More than an attachment, indeed,” resumed Mrs. Weston; “an
-engagement—a positive engagement.—What will you say, Emma—what will any
-body say, when it is known that Frank Churchill and Miss Fairfax are
-engaged;—nay, that they have been long engaged!”
-
-Emma even jumped with surprize;—and, horror-struck, exclaimed,
-
-“Jane Fairfax!—Good God! You are not serious? You do not mean it?”
-
-“You may well be amazed,” returned Mrs. Weston, still averting her
-eyes, and talking on with eagerness, that Emma might have time to
-recover— “You may well be amazed. But it is even so. There has been a
-solemn engagement between them ever since October—formed at Weymouth,
-and kept a secret from every body. Not a creature knowing it but
-themselves—neither the Campbells, nor her family, nor his.—It is so
-wonderful, that though perfectly convinced of the fact, it is yet
-almost incredible to myself. I can hardly believe it.—I thought I knew
-him.”
-
-Emma scarcely heard what was said.—Her mind was divided between two
-ideas—her own former conversations with him about Miss Fairfax; and
-poor Harriet;—and for some time she could only exclaim, and require
-confirmation, repeated confirmation.
-
-“Well,” said she at last, trying to recover herself; “this is a
-circumstance which I must think of at least half a day, before I can at
-all comprehend it. What!—engaged to her all the winter—before either of
-them came to Highbury?”
-
-“Engaged since October,—secretly engaged.—It has hurt me, Emma, very
-much. It has hurt his father equally. _Some_ _part_ of his conduct we
-cannot excuse.”
-
-Emma pondered a moment, and then replied, “I will not pretend _not_ to
-understand you; and to give you all the relief in my power, be assured
-that no such effect has followed his attentions to me, as you are
-apprehensive of.”
-
-Mrs. Weston looked up, afraid to believe; but Emma’s countenance was as
-steady as her words.
-
-“That you may have less difficulty in believing this boast, of my
-present perfect indifference,” she continued, “I will farther tell you,
-that there was a period in the early part of our acquaintance, when I
-did like him, when I was very much disposed to be attached to him—nay,
-was attached—and how it came to cease, is perhaps the wonder.
-Fortunately, however, it did cease. I have really for some time past,
-for at least these three months, cared nothing about him. You may
-believe me, Mrs. Weston. This is the simple truth.”
-
-Mrs. Weston kissed her with tears of joy; and when she could find
-utterance, assured her, that this protestation had done her more good
-than any thing else in the world could do.
-
-“Mr. Weston will be almost as much relieved as myself,” said she. “On
-this point we have been wretched. It was our darling wish that you
-might be attached to each other—and we were persuaded that it was so.—
-Imagine what we have been feeling on your account.”
-
-“I have escaped; and that I should escape, may be a matter of grateful
-wonder to you and myself. But this does not acquit _him_, Mrs. Weston;
-and I must say, that I think him greatly to blame. What right had he to
-come among us with affection and faith engaged, and with manners so
-_very_ disengaged? What right had he to endeavour to please, as he
-certainly did—to distinguish any one young woman with persevering
-attention, as he certainly did—while he really belonged to another?—How
-could he tell what mischief he might be doing?—How could he tell that
-he might not be making me in love with him?—very wrong, very wrong
-indeed.”
-
-“From something that he said, my dear Emma, I rather imagine—”
-
-“And how could _she_ bear such behaviour! Composure with a witness! to
-look on, while repeated attentions were offering to another woman,
-before her face, and not resent it.—That is a degree of placidity,
-which I can neither comprehend nor respect.”
-
-“There were misunderstandings between them, Emma; he said so expressly.
-He had not time to enter into much explanation. He was here only a
-quarter of an hour, and in a state of agitation which did not allow the
-full use even of the time he could stay—but that there had been
-misunderstandings he decidedly said. The present crisis, indeed, seemed
-to be brought on by them; and those misunderstandings might very
-possibly arise from the impropriety of his conduct.”
-
-“Impropriety! Oh! Mrs. Weston—it is too calm a censure. Much, much
-beyond impropriety!—It has sunk him, I cannot say how it has sunk him
-in my opinion. So unlike what a man should be!—None of that upright
-integrity, that strict adherence to truth and principle, that disdain
-of trick and littleness, which a man should display in every
-transaction of his life.”
-
-“Nay, dear Emma, now I must take his part; for though he has been wrong
-in this instance, I have known him long enough to answer for his having
-many, very many, good qualities; and—”
-
-“Good God!” cried Emma, not attending to her.—“Mrs. Smallridge, too!
-Jane actually on the point of going as governess! What could he mean by
-such horrible indelicacy? To suffer her to engage herself—to suffer her
-even to think of such a measure!”
-
-“He knew nothing about it, Emma. On this article I can fully acquit
-him. It was a private resolution of hers, not communicated to him—or at
-least not communicated in a way to carry conviction.—Till yesterday, I
-know he said he was in the dark as to her plans. They burst on him, I
-do not know how, but by some letter or message—and it was the discovery
-of what she was doing, of this very project of hers, which determined
-him to come forward at once, own it all to his uncle, throw himself on
-his kindness, and, in short, put an end to the miserable state of
-concealment that had been carrying on so long.”
-
-Emma began to listen better.
-
-“I am to hear from him soon,” continued Mrs. Weston. “He told me at
-parting, that he should soon write; and he spoke in a manner which
-seemed to promise me many particulars that could not be given now. Let
-us wait, therefore, for this letter. It may bring many extenuations. It
-may make many things intelligible and excusable which now are not to be
-understood. Don’t let us be severe, don’t let us be in a hurry to
-condemn him. Let us have patience. I must love him; and now that I am
-satisfied on one point, the one material point, I am sincerely anxious
-for its all turning out well, and ready to hope that it may. They must
-both have suffered a great deal under such a system of secresy and
-concealment.”
-
-“_His_ sufferings,” replied Emma dryly, “do not appear to have done him
-much harm. Well, and how did Mr. Churchill take it?”
-
-“Most favourably for his nephew—gave his consent with scarcely a
-difficulty. Conceive what the events of a week have done in that
-family! While poor Mrs. Churchill lived, I suppose there could not have
-been a hope, a chance, a possibility;—but scarcely are her remains at
-rest in the family vault, than her husband is persuaded to act exactly
-opposite to what she would have required. What a blessing it is, when
-undue influence does not survive the grave!—He gave his consent with
-very little persuasion.”
-
-“Ah!” thought Emma, “he would have done as much for Harriet.”
-
-“This was settled last night, and Frank was off with the light this
-morning. He stopped at Highbury, at the Bates’s, I fancy, some time—and
-then came on hither; but was in such a hurry to get back to his uncle,
-to whom he is just now more necessary than ever, that, as I tell you,
-he could stay with us but a quarter of an hour.—He was very much
-agitated—very much, indeed—to a degree that made him appear quite a
-different creature from any thing I had ever seen him before.—In
-addition to all the rest, there had been the shock of finding her so
-very unwell, which he had had no previous suspicion of—and there was
-every appearance of his having been feeling a great deal.”
-
-“And do you really believe the affair to have been carrying on with
-such perfect secresy?—The Campbells, the Dixons, did none of them know
-of the engagement?”
-
-Emma could not speak the name of Dixon without a little blush.
-
-“None; not one. He positively said that it had been known to no being
-in the world but their two selves.”
-
-“Well,” said Emma, “I suppose we shall gradually grow reconciled to the
-idea, and I wish them very happy. But I shall always think it a very
-abominable sort of proceeding. What has it been but a system of
-hypocrisy and deceit,—espionage, and treachery?—To come among us with
-professions of openness and simplicity; and such a league in secret to
-judge us all!—Here have we been, the whole winter and spring,
-completely duped, fancying ourselves all on an equal footing of truth
-and honour, with two people in the midst of us who may have been
-carrying round, comparing and sitting in judgment on sentiments and
-words that were never meant for both to hear.—They must take the
-consequence, if they have heard each other spoken of in a way not
-perfectly agreeable!”
-
-“I am quite easy on that head,” replied Mrs. Weston. “I am very sure
-that I never said any thing of either to the other, which both might
-not have heard.”
-
-“You are in luck.—Your only blunder was confined to my ear, when you
-imagined a certain friend of ours in love with the lady.”
-
-“True. But as I have always had a thoroughly good opinion of Miss
-Fairfax, I never could, under any blunder, have spoken ill of her; and
-as to speaking ill of him, there I must have been safe.”
-
-At this moment Mr. Weston appeared at a little distance from the
-window, evidently on the watch. His wife gave him a look which invited
-him in; and, while he was coming round, added, “Now, dearest Emma, let
-me intreat you to say and look every thing that may set his heart at
-ease, and incline him to be satisfied with the match. Let us make the
-best of it—and, indeed, almost every thing may be fairly said in her
-favour. It is not a connexion to gratify; but if Mr. Churchill does not
-feel that, why should we? and it may be a very fortunate circumstance
-for him, for Frank, I mean, that he should have attached himself to a
-girl of such steadiness of character and good judgment as I have always
-given her credit for—and still am disposed to give her credit for, in
-spite of this one great deviation from the strict rule of right. And
-how much may be said in her situation for even that error!”
-
-“Much, indeed!” cried Emma feelingly. “If a woman can ever be excused
-for thinking only of herself, it is in a situation like Jane
-Fairfax’s.—Of such, one may almost say, that ‘the world is not their’s,
-nor the world’s law.’”
-
-She met Mr. Weston on his entrance, with a smiling countenance,
-exclaiming,
-
-“A very pretty trick you have been playing me, upon my word! This was a
-device, I suppose, to sport with my curiosity, and exercise my talent
-of guessing. But you really frightened me. I thought you had lost half
-your property, at least. And here, instead of its being a matter of
-condolence, it turns out to be one of congratulation.—I congratulate
-you, Mr. Weston, with all my heart, on the prospect of having one of
-the most lovely and accomplished young women in England for your
-daughter.”
-
-A glance or two between him and his wife, convinced him that all was as
-right as this speech proclaimed; and its happy effect on his spirits
-was immediate. His air and voice recovered their usual briskness: he
-shook her heartily and gratefully by the hand, and entered on the
-subject in a manner to prove, that he now only wanted time and
-persuasion to think the engagement no very bad thing. His companions
-suggested only what could palliate imprudence, or smooth objections;
-and by the time they had talked it all over together, and he had talked
-it all over again with Emma, in their walk back to Hartfield, he was
-become perfectly reconciled, and not far from thinking it the very best
-thing that Frank could possibly have done.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XI
-
-
-“Harriet, poor Harriet!”—Those were the words; in them lay the
-tormenting ideas which Emma could not get rid of, and which constituted
-the real misery of the business to her. Frank Churchill had behaved
-very ill by herself—very ill in many ways,—but it was not so much _his_
-behaviour as her _own_, which made her so angry with him. It was the
-scrape which he had drawn her into on Harriet’s account, that gave the
-deepest hue to his offence.—Poor Harriet! to be a second time the dupe
-of her misconceptions and flattery. Mr. Knightley had spoken
-prophetically, when he once said, “Emma, you have been no friend to
-Harriet Smith.”—She was afraid she had done her nothing but
-disservice.—It was true that she had not to charge herself, in this
-instance as in the former, with being the sole and original author of
-the mischief; with having suggested such feelings as might otherwise
-never have entered Harriet’s imagination; for Harriet had acknowledged
-her admiration and preference of Frank Churchill before she had ever
-given her a hint on the subject; but she felt completely guilty of
-having encouraged what she might have repressed. She might have
-prevented the indulgence and increase of such sentiments. Her influence
-would have been enough. And now she was very conscious that she ought
-to have prevented them.—She felt that she had been risking her friend’s
-happiness on most insufficient grounds. Common sense would have
-directed her to tell Harriet, that she must not allow herself to think
-of him, and that there were five hundred chances to one against his
-ever caring for her.—“But, with common sense,” she added, “I am afraid
-I have had little to do.”
-
-She was extremely angry with herself. If she could not have been angry
-with Frank Churchill too, it would have been dreadful.—As for Jane
-Fairfax, she might at least relieve her feelings from any present
-solicitude on her account. Harriet would be anxiety enough; she need no
-longer be unhappy about Jane, whose troubles and whose ill-health
-having, of course, the same origin, must be equally under cure.—Her
-days of insignificance and evil were over.—She would soon be well, and
-happy, and prosperous.—Emma could now imagine why her own attentions
-had been slighted. This discovery laid many smaller matters open. No
-doubt it had been from jealousy.—In Jane’s eyes she had been a rival;
-and well might any thing she could offer of assistance or regard be
-repulsed. An airing in the Hartfield carriage would have been the rack,
-and arrowroot from the Hartfield storeroom must have been poison. She
-understood it all; and as far as her mind could disengage itself from
-the injustice and selfishness of angry feelings, she acknowledged that
-Jane Fairfax would have neither elevation nor happiness beyond her
-desert. But poor Harriet was such an engrossing charge! There was
-little sympathy to be spared for any body else. Emma was sadly fearful
-that this second disappointment would be more severe than the first.
-Considering the very superior claims of the object, it ought; and
-judging by its apparently stronger effect on Harriet’s mind, producing
-reserve and self-command, it would.—She must communicate the painful
-truth, however, and as soon as possible. An injunction of secresy had
-been among Mr. Weston’s parting words. “For the present, the whole
-affair was to be completely a secret. Mr. Churchill had made a point of
-it, as a token of respect to the wife he had so very recently lost; and
-every body admitted it to be no more than due decorum.”—Emma had
-promised; but still Harriet must be excepted. It was her superior duty.
-
-In spite of her vexation, she could not help feeling it almost
-ridiculous, that she should have the very same distressing and delicate
-office to perform by Harriet, which Mrs. Weston had just gone through
-by herself. The intelligence, which had been so anxiously announced to
-her, she was now to be anxiously announcing to another. Her heart beat
-quick on hearing Harriet’s footstep and voice; so, she supposed, had
-poor Mrs. Weston felt when _she_ was approaching Randalls. Could the
-event of the disclosure bear an equal resemblance!—But of that,
-unfortunately, there could be no chance.
-
-“Well, Miss Woodhouse!” cried Harriet, coming eagerly into the room—“is
-not this the oddest news that ever was?”
-
-“What news do you mean?” replied Emma, unable to guess, by look or
-voice, whether Harriet could indeed have received any hint.
-
-“About Jane Fairfax. Did you ever hear any thing so strange? Oh!—you
-need not be afraid of owning it to me, for Mr. Weston has told me
-himself. I met him just now. He told me it was to be a great secret;
-and, therefore, I should not think of mentioning it to any body but
-you, but he said you knew it.”
-
-“What did Mr. Weston tell you?”—said Emma, still perplexed.
-
-“Oh! he told me all about it; that Jane Fairfax and Mr. Frank Churchill
-are to be married, and that they have been privately engaged to one
-another this long while. How very odd!”
-
-It was, indeed, so odd; Harriet’s behaviour was so extremely odd, that
-Emma did not know how to understand it. Her character appeared
-absolutely changed. She seemed to propose shewing no agitation, or
-disappointment, or peculiar concern in the discovery. Emma looked at
-her, quite unable to speak.
-
-“Had you any idea,â�� cried Harriet, “of his being in love with her?—You,
-perhaps, might.—You (blushing as she spoke) who can see into every
-body’s heart; but nobody else—”
-
-“Upon my word,” said Emma, “I begin to doubt my having any such talent.
-Can you seriously ask me, Harriet, whether I imagined him attached to
-another woman at the very time that I was—tacitly, if not
-openly—encouraging you to give way to your own feelings?—I never had
-the slightest suspicion, till within the last hour, of Mr. Frank
-Churchill’s having the least regard for Jane Fairfax. You may be very
-sure that if I had, I should have cautioned you accordingly.”
-
-“Me!” cried Harriet, colouring, and astonished. “Why should you caution
-me?—You do not think I care about Mr. Frank Churchill.”
-
-“I am delighted to hear you speak so stoutly on the subject,” replied
-Emma, smiling; “but you do not mean to deny that there was a time—and
-not very distant either—when you gave me reason to understand that you
-did care about him?”
-
-“Him!—never, never. Dear Miss Woodhouse, how could you so mistake me?”
-turning away distressed.
-
-“Harriet!” cried Emma, after a moment’s pause—“What do you mean?—Good
-Heaven! what do you mean?—Mistake you!—Am I to suppose then?—”
-
-She could not speak another word.—Her voice was lost; and she sat down,
-waiting in great terror till Harriet should answer.
-
-Harriet, who was standing at some distance, and with face turned from
-her, did not immediately say any thing; and when she did speak, it was
-in a voice nearly as agitated as Emma’s.
-
-“I should not have thought it possible,” she began, “that you could
-have misunderstood me! I know we agreed never to name him—but
-considering how infinitely superior he is to every body else, I should
-not have thought it possible that I could be supposed to mean any other
-person. Mr. Frank Churchill, indeed! I do not know who would ever look
-at him in the company of the other. I hope I have a better taste than
-to think of Mr. Frank Churchill, who is like nobody by his side. And
-that you should have been so mistaken, is amazing!—I am sure, but for
-believing that you entirely approved and meant to encourage me in my
-attachment, I should have considered it at first too great a
-presumption almost, to dare to think of him. At first, if you had not
-told me that more wonderful things had happened; that there had been
-matches of greater disparity (those were your very words);—I should not
-have dared to give way to—I should not have thought it possible—But if
-_you_, who had been always acquainted with him—”
-
-“Harriet!” cried Emma, collecting herself resolutely—“Let us understand
-each other now, without the possibility of farther mistake. Are you
-speaking of—Mr. Knightley?”
-
-“To be sure I am. I never could have an idea of any body else—and so I
-thought you knew. When we talked about him, it was as clear as
-possible.”
-
-“Not quite,” returned Emma, with forced calmness, “for all that you
-then said, appeared to me to relate to a different person. I could
-almost assert that you had _named_ Mr. Frank Churchill. I am sure the
-service Mr. Frank Churchill had rendered you, in protecting you from
-the gipsies, was spoken of.”
-
-“Oh! Miss Woodhouse, how you do forget!”
-
-“My dear Harriet, I perfectly remember the substance of what I said on
-the occasion. I told you that I did not wonder at your attachment; that
-considering the service he had rendered you, it was extremely
-natural:—and you agreed to it, expressing yourself very warmly as to
-your sense of that service, and mentioning even what your sensations
-had been in seeing him come forward to your rescue.—The impression of
-it is strong on my memory.”
-
-“Oh, dear,” cried Harriet, “now I recollect what you mean; but I was
-thinking of something very different at the time. It was not the
-gipsies—it was not Mr. Frank Churchill that I meant. No! (with some
-elevation) I was thinking of a much more precious circumstance—of Mr.
-Knightley’s coming and asking me to dance, when Mr. Elton would not
-stand up with me; and when there was no other partner in the room. That
-was the kind action; that was the noble benevolence and generosity;
-that was the service which made me begin to feel how superior he was to
-every other being upon earth.”
-
-“Good God!” cried Emma, “this has been a most unfortunate—most
-deplorable mistake!—What is to be done?”
-
-“You would not have encouraged me, then, if you had understood me? At
-least, however, I cannot be worse off than I should have been, if the
-other had been the person; and now—it _is_ possible—”
-
-She paused a few moments. Emma could not speak.
-
-“I do not wonder, Miss Woodhouse,” she resumed, “that you should feel a
-great difference between the two, as to me or as to any body. You must
-think one five hundred million times more above me than the other. But
-I hope, Miss Woodhouse, that supposing—that if—strange as it may
-appear—. But you know they were your own words, that _more_ wonderful
-things had happened, matches of _greater_ disparity had taken place
-than between Mr. Frank Churchill and me; and, therefore, it seems as if
-such a thing even as this, may have occurred before—and if I should be
-so fortunate, beyond expression, as to—if Mr. Knightley should
-really—if _he_ does not mind the disparity, I hope, dear Miss
-Woodhouse, you will not set yourself against it, and try to put
-difficulties in the way. But you are too good for that, I am sure.”
-
-Harriet was standing at one of the windows. Emma turned round to look
-at her in consternation, and hastily said,
-
-“Have you any idea of Mr. Knightley’s returning your affection?”
-
-“Yes,” replied Harriet modestly, but not fearfully—“I must say that I
-have.”
-
-Emma’s eyes were instantly withdrawn; and she sat silently meditating,
-in a fixed attitude, for a few minutes. A few minutes were sufficient
-for making her acquainted with her own heart. A mind like hers, once
-opening to suspicion, made rapid progress. She touched—she admitted—she
-acknowledged the whole truth. Why was it so much worse that Harriet
-should be in love with Mr. Knightley, than with Frank Churchill? Why
-was the evil so dreadfully increased by Harriet’s having some hope of a
-return? It darted through her, with the speed of an arrow, that Mr.
-Knightley must marry no one but herself!
-
-Her own conduct, as well as her own heart, was before her in the same
-few minutes. She saw it all with a clearness which had never blessed
-her before. How improperly had she been acting by Harriet! How
-inconsiderate, how indelicate, how irrational, how unfeeling had been
-her conduct! What blindness, what madness, had led her on! It struck
-her with dreadful force, and she was ready to give it every bad name in
-the world. Some portion of respect for herself, however, in spite of
-all these demerits—some concern for her own appearance, and a strong
-sense of justice by Harriet—(there would be no need of _compassion_ to
-the girl who believed herself loved by Mr. Knightley—but justice
-required that she should not be made unhappy by any coldness now,) gave
-Emma the resolution to sit and endure farther with calmness, with even
-apparent kindness.—For her own advantage indeed, it was fit that the
-utmost extent of Harriet’s hopes should be enquired into; and Harriet
-had done nothing to forfeit the regard and interest which had been so
-voluntarily formed and maintained—or to deserve to be slighted by the
-person, whose counsels had never led her right.—Rousing from
-reflection, therefore, and subduing her emotion, she turned to Harriet
-again, and, in a more inviting accent, renewed the conversation; for as
-to the subject which had first introduced it, the wonderful story of
-Jane Fairfax, that was quite sunk and lost.—Neither of them thought but
-of Mr. Knightley and themselves.
-
-Harriet, who had been standing in no unhappy reverie, was yet very glad
-to be called from it, by the now encouraging manner of such a judge,
-and such a friend as Miss Woodhouse, and only wanted invitation, to
-give the history of her hopes with great, though trembling
-delight.—Emma’s tremblings as she asked, and as she listened, were
-better concealed than Harriet’s, but they were not less. Her voice was
-not unsteady; but her mind was in all the perturbation that such a
-development of self, such a burst of threatening evil, such a confusion
-of sudden and perplexing emotions, must create.—She listened with much
-inward suffering, but with great outward patience, to Harriet’s
-detail.—Methodical, or well arranged, or very well delivered, it could
-not be expected to be; but it contained, when separated from all the
-feebleness and tautology of the narration, a substance to sink her
-spirit—especially with the corroborating circumstances, which her own
-memory brought in favour of Mr. Knightley’s most improved opinion of
-Harriet.
-
-Harriet had been conscious of a difference in his behaviour ever since
-those two decisive dances.—Emma knew that he had, on that occasion,
-found her much superior to his expectation. From that evening, or at
-least from the time of Miss Woodhouse’s encouraging her to think of
-him, Harriet had begun to be sensible of his talking to her much more
-than he had been used to do, and of his having indeed quite a different
-manner towards her; a manner of kindness and sweetness!—Latterly she
-had been more and more aware of it. When they had been all walking
-together, he had so often come and walked by her, and talked so very
-delightfully!—He seemed to want to be acquainted with her. Emma knew it
-to have been very much the case. She had often observed the change, to
-almost the same extent.—Harriet repeated expressions of approbation and
-praise from him—and Emma felt them to be in the closest agreement with
-what she had known of his opinion of Harriet. He praised her for being
-without art or affectation, for having simple, honest, generous,
-feelings.—She knew that he saw such recommendations in Harriet; he had
-dwelt on them to her more than once.—Much that lived in Harriet’s
-memory, many little particulars of the notice she had received from
-him, a look, a speech, a removal from one chair to another, a
-compliment implied, a preference inferred, had been unnoticed, because
-unsuspected, by Emma. Circumstances that might swell to half an hour’s
-relation, and contained multiplied proofs to her who had seen them, had
-passed undiscerned by her who now heard them; but the two latest
-occurrences to be mentioned, the two of strongest promise to Harriet,
-were not without some degree of witness from Emma herself.—The first,
-was his walking with her apart from the others, in the lime-walk at
-Donwell, where they had been walking some time before Emma came, and he
-had taken pains (as she was convinced) to draw her from the rest to
-himself—and at first, he had talked to her in a more particular way
-than he had ever done before, in a very particular way indeed!—(Harriet
-could not recall it without a blush.) He seemed to be almost asking
-her, whether her affections were engaged.—But as soon as she (Miss
-Woodhouse) appeared likely to join them, he changed the subject, and
-began talking about farming:—The second, was his having sat talking
-with her nearly half an hour before Emma came back from her visit, the
-very last morning of his being at Hartfield—though, when he first came
-in, he had said that he could not stay five minutes—and his having told
-her, during their conversation, that though he must go to London, it
-was very much against his inclination that he left home at all, which
-was much more (as Emma felt) than he had acknowledged to _her_. The
-superior degree of confidence towards Harriet, which this one article
-marked, gave her severe pain.
-
-On the subject of the first of the two circumstances, she did, after a
-little reflection, venture the following question. “Might he not?—Is
-not it possible, that when enquiring, as you thought, into the state of
-your affections, he might be alluding to Mr. Martin—he might have Mr.
-Martin’s interest in view? But Harriet rejected the suspicion with
-spirit.
-
-“Mr. Martin! No indeed!—There was not a hint of Mr. Martin. I hope I
-know better now, than to care for Mr. Martin, or to be suspected of
-it.”
-
-When Harriet had closed her evidence, she appealed to her dear Miss
-Woodhouse, to say whether she had not good ground for hope.
-
-“I never should have presumed to think of it at first,” said she, “but
-for you. You told me to observe him carefully, and let his behaviour be
-the rule of mine—and so I have. But now I seem to feel that I may
-deserve him; and that if he does chuse me, it will not be any thing so
-very wonderful.”
-
-The bitter feelings occasioned by this speech, the many bitter
-feelings, made the utmost exertion necessary on Emma’s side, to enable
-her to say on reply,
-
-“Harriet, I will only venture to declare, that Mr. Knightley is the
-last man in the world, who would intentionally give any woman the idea
-of his feeling for her more than he really does.”
-
-Harriet seemed ready to worship her friend for a sentence so
-satisfactory; and Emma was only saved from raptures and fondness, which
-at that moment would have been dreadful penance, by the sound of her
-father’s footsteps. He was coming through the hall. Harriet was too
-much agitated to encounter him. “She could not compose herself— Mr.
-Woodhouse would be alarmed—she had better go;”—with most ready
-encouragement from her friend, therefore, she passed off through
-another door—and the moment she was gone, this was the spontaneous
-burst of Emma’s feelings: “Oh God! that I had never seen her!”
-
-The rest of the day, the following night, were hardly enough for her
-thoughts.—She was bewildered amidst the confusion of all that had
-rushed on her within the last few hours. Every moment had brought a
-fresh surprize; and every surprize must be matter of humiliation to
-her.—How to understand it all! How to understand the deceptions she had
-been thus practising on herself, and living under!—The blunders, the
-blindness of her own head and heart!—she sat still, she walked about,
-she tried her own room, she tried the shrubbery—in every place, every
-posture, she perceived that she had acted most weakly; that she had
-been imposed on by others in a most mortifying degree; that she had
-been imposing on herself in a degree yet more mortifying; that she was
-wretched, and should probably find this day but the beginning of
-wretchedness.
-
-To understand, thoroughly understand her own heart, was the first
-endeavour. To that point went every leisure moment which her father’s
-claims on her allowed, and every moment of involuntary absence of mind.
-
-How long had Mr. Knightley been so dear to her, as every feeling
-declared him now to be? When had his influence, such influence begun?—
-When had he succeeded to that place in her affection, which Frank
-Churchill had once, for a short period, occupied?—She looked back; she
-compared the two—compared them, as they had always stood in her
-estimation, from the time of the latter’s becoming known to her—and as
-they must at any time have been compared by her, had it—oh! had it, by
-any blessed felicity, occurred to her, to institute the comparison.—She
-saw that there never had been a time when she did not consider Mr.
-Knightley as infinitely the superior, or when his regard for her had
-not been infinitely the most dear. She saw, that in persuading herself,
-in fancying, in acting to the contrary, she had been entirely under a
-delusion, totally ignorant of her own heart—and, in short, that she had
-never really cared for Frank Churchill at all!
-
-This was the conclusion of the first series of reflection. This was the
-knowledge of herself, on the first question of inquiry, which she
-reached; and without being long in reaching it.—She was most
-sorrowfully indignant; ashamed of every sensation but the one revealed
-to her—her affection for Mr. Knightley.—Every other part of her mind
-was disgusting.
-
-With insufferable vanity had she believed herself in the secret of
-every body’s feelings; with unpardonable arrogance proposed to arrange
-every body’s destiny. She was proved to have been universally mistaken;
-and she had not quite done nothing—for she had done mischief. She had
-brought evil on Harriet, on herself, and she too much feared, on Mr.
-Knightley.—Were this most unequal of all connexions to take place, on
-her must rest all the reproach of having given it a beginning; for his
-attachment, she must believe to be produced only by a consciousness of
-Harriet’s;—and even were this not the case, he would never have known
-Harriet at all but for her folly.
-
-Mr. Knightley and Harriet Smith!—It was a union to distance every
-wonder of the kind.—The attachment of Frank Churchill and Jane Fairfax
-became commonplace, threadbare, stale in the comparison, exciting no
-surprize, presenting no disparity, affording nothing to be said or
-thought.—Mr. Knightley and Harriet Smith!—Such an elevation on her
-side! Such a debasement on his! It was horrible to Emma to think how it
-must sink him in the general opinion, to foresee the smiles, the
-sneers, the merriment it would prompt at his expense; the mortification
-and disdain of his brother, the thousand inconveniences to
-himself.—Could it be?—No; it was impossible. And yet it was far, very
-far, from impossible.—Was it a new circumstance for a man of first-rate
-abilities to be captivated by very inferior powers? Was it new for one,
-perhaps too busy to seek, to be the prize of a girl who would seek
-him?—Was it new for any thing in this world to be unequal,
-inconsistent, incongruous—or for chance and circumstance (as second
-causes) to direct the human fate?
-
-Oh! had she never brought Harriet forward! Had she left her where she
-ought, and where he had told her she ought!—Had she not, with a folly
-which no tongue could express, prevented her marrying the
-unexceptionable young man who would have made her happy and respectable
-in the line of life to which she ought to belong—all would have been
-safe; none of this dreadful sequel would have been.
-
-How Harriet could ever have had the presumption to raise her thoughts
-to Mr. Knightley!—How she could dare to fancy herself the chosen of
-such a man till actually assured of it!—But Harriet was less humble,
-had fewer scruples than formerly.—Her inferiority, whether of mind or
-situation, seemed little felt.—She had seemed more sensible of Mr.
-Elton’s being to stoop in marrying her, than she now seemed of Mr.
-Knightley’s.—Alas! was not that her own doing too? Who had been at
-pains to give Harriet notions of self-consequence but herself?—Who but
-herself had taught her, that she was to elevate herself if possible,
-and that her claims were great to a high worldly establishment?—If
-Harriet, from being humble, were grown vain, it was her doing too.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XII
-
-
-Till now that she was threatened with its loss, Emma had never known
-how much of her happiness depended on being _first_ with Mr. Knightley,
-first in interest and affection.—Satisfied that it was so, and feeling
-it her due, she had enjoyed it without reflection; and only in the
-dread of being supplanted, found how inexpressibly important it had
-been.—Long, very long, she felt she had been first; for, having no
-female connexions of his own, there had been only Isabella whose claims
-could be compared with hers, and she had always known exactly how far
-he loved and esteemed Isabella. She had herself been first with him for
-many years past. She had not deserved it; she had often been negligent
-or perverse, slighting his advice, or even wilfully opposing him,
-insensible of half his merits, and quarrelling with him because he
-would not acknowledge her false and insolent estimate of her own—but
-still, from family attachment and habit, and thorough excellence of
-mind, he had loved her, and watched over her from a girl, with an
-endeavour to improve her, and an anxiety for her doing right, which no
-other creature had at all shared. In spite of all her faults, she knew
-she was dear to him; might she not say, very dear?—When the suggestions
-of hope, however, which must follow here, presented themselves, she
-could not presume to indulge them. Harriet Smith might think herself
-not unworthy of being peculiarly, exclusively, passionately loved by
-Mr. Knightley. _She_ could not. She could not flatter herself with any
-idea of blindness in his attachment to _her_. She had received a very
-recent proof of its impartiality.—How shocked had he been by her
-behaviour to Miss Bates! How directly, how strongly had he expressed
-himself to her on the subject!—Not too strongly for the offence—but
-far, far too strongly to issue from any feeling softer than upright
-justice and clear-sighted goodwill.—She had no hope, nothing to deserve
-the name of hope, that he could have that sort of affection for herself
-which was now in question; but there was a hope (at times a slight one,
-at times much stronger,) that Harriet might have deceived herself, and
-be overrating his regard for _her_.—Wish it she must, for his sake—be
-the consequence nothing to herself, but his remaining single all his
-life. Could she be secure of that, indeed, of his never marrying at
-all, she believed she should be perfectly satisfied.—Let him but
-continue the same Mr. Knightley to her and her father, the same Mr.
-Knightley to all the world; let Donwell and Hartfield lose none of
-their precious intercourse of friendship and confidence, and her peace
-would be fully secured.—Marriage, in fact, would not do for her. It
-would be incompatible with what she owed to her father, and with what
-she felt for him. Nothing should separate her from her father. She
-would not marry, even if she were asked by Mr. Knightley.
-
-It must be her ardent wish that Harriet might be disappointed; and she
-hoped, that when able to see them together again, she might at least be
-able to ascertain what the chances for it were.—She should see them
-henceforward with the closest observance; and wretchedly as she had
-hitherto misunderstood even those she was watching, she did not know
-how to admit that she could be blinded here.—He was expected back every
-day. The power of observation would be soon given—frightfully soon it
-appeared when her thoughts were in one course. In the meanwhile, she
-resolved against seeing Harriet.—It would do neither of them good, it
-would do the subject no good, to be talking of it farther.—She was
-resolved not to be convinced, as long as she could doubt, and yet had
-no authority for opposing Harriet’s confidence. To talk would be only
-to irritate.—She wrote to her, therefore, kindly, but decisively, to
-beg that she would not, at present, come to Hartfield; acknowledging it
-to be her conviction, that all farther confidential discussion of _one_
-topic had better be avoided; and hoping, that if a few days were
-allowed to pass before they met again, except in the company of
-others—she objected only to a tête-à-tête—they might be able to act as
-if they had forgotten the conversation of yesterday.—Harriet submitted,
-and approved, and was grateful.
-
-This point was just arranged, when a visitor arrived to tear Emma’s
-thoughts a little from the one subject which had engrossed them,
-sleeping or waking, the last twenty-four hours—Mrs. Weston, who had
-been calling on her daughter-in-law elect, and took Hartfield in her
-way home, almost as much in duty to Emma as in pleasure to herself, to
-relate all the particulars of so interesting an interview.
-
-Mr. Weston had accompanied her to Mrs. Bates’s, and gone through his
-share of this essential attention most handsomely; but she having then
-induced Miss Fairfax to join her in an airing, was now returned with
-much more to say, and much more to say with satisfaction, than a
-quarter of an hour spent in Mrs. Bates’s parlour, with all the
-encumbrance of awkward feelings, could have afforded.
-
-A little curiosity Emma had; and she made the most of it while her
-friend related. Mrs. Weston had set off to pay the visit in a good deal
-of agitation herself; and in the first place had wished not to go at
-all at present, to be allowed merely to write to Miss Fairfax instead,
-and to defer this ceremonious call till a little time had passed, and
-Mr. Churchill could be reconciled to the engagement’s becoming known;
-as, considering every thing, she thought such a visit could not be paid
-without leading to reports:—but Mr. Weston had thought differently; he
-was extremely anxious to shew his approbation to Miss Fairfax and her
-family, and did not conceive that any suspicion could be excited by it;
-or if it were, that it would be of any consequence; for “such things,”
-he observed, “always got about.” Emma smiled, and felt that Mr. Weston
-had very good reason for saying so. They had gone, in short—and very
-great had been the evident distress and confusion of the lady. She had
-hardly been able to speak a word, and every look and action had shewn
-how deeply she was suffering from consciousness. The quiet, heart-felt
-satisfaction of the old lady, and the rapturous delight of her
-daughter—who proved even too joyous to talk as usual, had been a
-gratifying, yet almost an affecting, scene. They were both so truly
-respectable in their happiness, so disinterested in every sensation;
-thought so much of Jane; so much of every body, and so little of
-themselves, that every kindly feeling was at work for them. Miss
-Fairfax’s recent illness had offered a fair plea for Mrs. Weston to
-invite her to an airing; she had drawn back and declined at first, but,
-on being pressed had yielded; and, in the course of their drive, Mrs.
-Weston had, by gentle encouragement, overcome so much of her
-embarrassment, as to bring her to converse on the important subject.
-Apologies for her seemingly ungracious silence in their first
-reception, and the warmest expressions of the gratitude she was always
-feeling towards herself and Mr. Weston, must necessarily open the
-cause; but when these effusions were put by, they had talked a good
-deal of the present and of the future state of the engagement. Mrs.
-Weston was convinced that such conversation must be the greatest relief
-to her companion, pent up within her own mind as every thing had so
-long been, and was very much pleased with all that she had said on the
-subject.
-
-“On the misery of what she had suffered, during the concealment of so
-many months,” continued Mrs. Weston, “she was energetic. This was one
-of her expressions. ‘I will not say, that since I entered into the
-engagement I have not had some happy moments; but I can say, that I
-have never known the blessing of one tranquil hour:’—and the quivering
-lip, Emma, which uttered it, was an attestation that I felt at my
-heart.”
-
-“Poor girl!” said Emma. “She thinks herself wrong, then, for having
-consented to a private engagement?”
-
-“Wrong! No one, I believe, can blame her more than she is disposed to
-blame herself. ‘The consequence,’ said she, ‘has been a state of
-perpetual suffering to me; and so it ought. But after all the
-punishment that misconduct can bring, it is still not less misconduct.
-Pain is no expiation. I never can be blameless. I have been acting
-contrary to all my sense of right; and the fortunate turn that every
-thing has taken, and the kindness I am now receiving, is what my
-conscience tells me ought not to be.’ ‘Do not imagine, madam,’ she
-continued, ‘that I was taught wrong. Do not let any reflection fall on
-the principles or the care of the friends who brought me up. The error
-has been all my own; and I do assure you that, with all the excuse that
-present circumstances may appear to give, I shall yet dread making the
-story known to Colonel Campbell.’”
-
-“Poor girl!” said Emma again. “She loves him then excessively, I
-suppose. It must have been from attachment only, that she could be led
-to form the engagement. Her affection must have overpowered her
-judgment.”
-
-“Yes, I have no doubt of her being extremely attached to him.”
-
-“I am afraid,” returned Emma, sighing, “that I must often have
-contributed to make her unhappy.”
-
-“On your side, my love, it was very innocently done. But she probably
-had something of that in her thoughts, when alluding to the
-misunderstandings which he had given us hints of before. One natural
-consequence of the evil she had involved herself in,” she said, “was
-that of making her _unreasonable_. The consciousness of having done
-amiss, had exposed her to a thousand inquietudes, and made her captious
-and irritable to a degree that must have been—that had been—hard for
-him to bear. ‘I did not make the allowances,’ said she, ‘which I ought
-to have done, for his temper and spirits—his delightful spirits, and
-that gaiety, that playfulness of disposition, which, under any other
-circumstances, would, I am sure, have been as constantly bewitching to
-me, as they were at first.’ She then began to speak of you, and of the
-great kindness you had shewn her during her illness; and with a blush
-which shewed me how it was all connected, desired me, whenever I had an
-opportunity, to thank you—I could not thank you too much—for every wish
-and every endeavour to do her good. She was sensible that you had never
-received any proper acknowledgment from herself.”
-
-“If I did not know her to be happy now,” said Emma, seriously, “which,
-in spite of every little drawback from her scrupulous conscience, she
-must be, I could not bear these thanks;—for, oh! Mrs. Weston, if there
-were an account drawn up of the evil and the good I have done Miss
-Fairfax!—Well (checking herself, and trying to be more lively), this is
-all to be forgotten. You are very kind to bring me these interesting
-particulars. They shew her to the greatest advantage. I am sure she is
-very good—I hope she will be very happy. It is fit that the fortune
-should be on his side, for I think the merit will be all on hers.”
-
-Such a conclusion could not pass unanswered by Mrs. Weston. She thought
-well of Frank in almost every respect; and, what was more, she loved
-him very much, and her defence was, therefore, earnest. She talked with
-a great deal of reason, and at least equal affection—but she had too
-much to urge for Emma’s attention; it was soon gone to Brunswick Square
-or to Donwell; she forgot to attempt to listen; and when Mrs. Weston
-ended with, “We have not yet had the letter we are so anxious for, you
-know, but I hope it will soon come,” she was obliged to pause before
-she answered, and at last obliged to answer at random, before she could
-at all recollect what letter it was which they were so anxious for.
-
-“Are you well, my Emma?” was Mrs. Weston’s parting question.
-
-“Oh! perfectly. I am always well, you know. Be sure to give me
-intelligence of the letter as soon as possible.”
-
-Mrs. Weston’s communications furnished Emma with more food for
-unpleasant reflection, by increasing her esteem and compassion, and her
-sense of past injustice towards Miss Fairfax. She bitterly regretted
-not having sought a closer acquaintance with her, and blushed for the
-envious feelings which had certainly been, in some measure, the cause.
-Had she followed Mr. Knightley’s known wishes, in paying that attention
-to Miss Fairfax, which was every way her due; had she tried to know her
-better; had she done her part towards intimacy; had she endeavoured to
-find a friend there instead of in Harriet Smith; she must, in all
-probability, have been spared from every pain which pressed on her
-now.—Birth, abilities, and education, had been equally marking one as
-an associate for her, to be received with gratitude; and the other—what
-was she?—Supposing even that they had never become intimate friends;
-that she had never been admitted into Miss Fairfax’s confidence on this
-important matter—which was most probable—still, in knowing her as she
-ought, and as she might, she must have been preserved from the
-abominable suspicions of an improper attachment to Mr. Dixon, which she
-had not only so foolishly fashioned and harboured herself, but had so
-unpardonably imparted; an idea which she greatly feared had been made a
-subject of material distress to the delicacy of Jane’s feelings, by the
-levity or carelessness of Frank Churchill’s. Of all the sources of evil
-surrounding the former, since her coming to Highbury, she was persuaded
-that she must herself have been the worst. She must have been a
-perpetual enemy. They never could have been all three together, without
-her having stabbed Jane Fairfax’s peace in a thousand instances; and on
-Box Hill, perhaps, it had been the agony of a mind that would bear no
-more.
-
-The evening of this day was very long, and melancholy, at Hartfield.
-The weather added what it could of gloom. A cold stormy rain set in,
-and nothing of July appeared but in the trees and shrubs, which the
-wind was despoiling, and the length of the day, which only made such
-cruel sights the longer visible.
-
-The weather affected Mr. Woodhouse, and he could only be kept tolerably
-comfortable by almost ceaseless attention on his daughter’s side, and
-by exertions which had never cost her half so much before. It reminded
-her of their first forlorn tête-à-tête, on the evening of Mrs. Weston’s
-wedding-day; but Mr. Knightley had walked in then, soon after tea, and
-dissipated every melancholy fancy. Alas! such delightful proofs of
-Hartfield’s attraction, as those sort of visits conveyed, might shortly
-be over. The picture which she had then drawn of the privations of the
-approaching winter, had proved erroneous; no friends had deserted them,
-no pleasures had been lost.—But her present forebodings she feared
-would experience no similar contradiction. The prospect before her now,
-was threatening to a degree that could not be entirely dispelled—that
-might not be even partially brightened. If all took place that might
-take place among the circle of her friends, Hartfield must be
-comparatively deserted; and she left to cheer her father with the
-spirits only of ruined happiness.
-
-The child to be born at Randalls must be a tie there even dearer than
-herself; and Mrs. Weston’s heart and time would be occupied by it. They
-should lose her; and, probably, in great measure, her husband
-also.—Frank Churchill would return among them no more; and Miss
-Fairfax, it was reasonable to suppose, would soon cease to belong to
-Highbury. They would be married, and settled either at or near
-Enscombe. All that were good would be withdrawn; and if to these
-losses, the loss of Donwell were to be added, what would remain of
-cheerful or of rational society within their reach? Mr. Knightley to be
-no longer coming there for his evening comfort!—No longer walking in at
-all hours, as if ever willing to change his own home for their’s!—How
-was it to be endured? And if he were to be lost to them for Harriet’s
-sake; if he were to be thought of hereafter, as finding in Harriet’s
-society all that he wanted; if Harriet were to be the chosen, the
-first, the dearest, the friend, the wife to whom he looked for all the
-best blessings of existence; what could be increasing Emma’s
-wretchedness but the reflection never far distant from her mind, that
-it had been all her own work?
-
-When it came to such a pitch as this, she was not able to refrain from
-a start, or a heavy sigh, or even from walking about the room for a few
-seconds—and the only source whence any thing like consolation or
-composure could be drawn, was in the resolution of her own better
-conduct, and the hope that, however inferior in spirit and gaiety might
-be the following and every future winter of her life to the past, it
-would yet find her more rational, more acquainted with herself, and
-leave her less to regret when it were gone.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XIII
-
-
-The weather continued much the same all the following morning; and the
-same loneliness, and the same melancholy, seemed to reign at
-Hartfield—but in the afternoon it cleared; the wind changed into a
-softer quarter; the clouds were carried off; the sun appeared; it was
-summer again. With all the eagerness which such a transition gives,
-Emma resolved to be out of doors as soon as possible. Never had the
-exquisite sight, smell, sensation of nature, tranquil, warm, and
-brilliant after a storm, been more attractive to her. She longed for
-the serenity they might gradually introduce; and on Mr. Perry’s coming
-in soon after dinner, with a disengaged hour to give her father, she
-lost no time in hurrying into the shrubbery.—There, with spirits
-freshened, and thoughts a little relieved, she had taken a few turns,
-when she saw Mr. Knightley passing through the garden door, and coming
-towards her.—It was the first intimation of his being returned from
-London. She had been thinking of him the moment before, as
-unquestionably sixteen miles distant.—There was time only for the
-quickest arrangement of mind. She must be collected and calm. In half a
-minute they were together. The “How d’ye do’s” were quiet and
-constrained on each side. She asked after their mutual friends; they
-were all well.—When had he left them?—Only that morning. He must have
-had a wet ride.—Yes.—He meant to walk with her, she found. “He had just
-looked into the dining-room, and as he was not wanted there, preferred
-being out of doors.”—She thought he neither looked nor spoke
-cheerfully; and the first possible cause for it, suggested by her
-fears, was, that he had perhaps been communicating his plans to his
-brother, and was pained by the manner in which they had been received.
-
-They walked together. He was silent. She thought he was often looking
-at her, and trying for a fuller view of her face than it suited her to
-give. And this belief produced another dread. Perhaps he wanted to
-speak to her, of his attachment to Harriet; he might be watching for
-encouragement to begin.—She did not, could not, feel equal to lead the
-way to any such subject. He must do it all himself. Yet she could not
-bear this silence. With him it was most unnatural. She
-considered—resolved—and, trying to smile, began—
-
-“You have some news to hear, now you are come back, that will rather
-surprize you.”
-
-“Have I?” said he quietly, and looking at her; “of what nature?”
-
-“Oh! the best nature in the world—a wedding.”
-
-After waiting a moment, as if to be sure she intended to say no more,
-he replied,
-
-“If you mean Miss Fairfax and Frank Churchill, I have heard that
-already.”
-
-“How is it possible?” cried Emma, turning her glowing cheeks towards
-him; for, while she spoke, it occurred to her that he might have called
-at Mrs. Goddard’s in his way.
-
-“I had a few lines on parish business from Mr. Weston this morning, and
-at the end of them he gave me a brief account of what had happened.”
-
-Emma was quite relieved, and could presently say, with a little more
-composure,
-
-“_You_ probably have been less surprized than any of us, for you have
-had your suspicions.—I have not forgotten that you once tried to give
-me a caution.—I wish I had attended to it—but—(with a sinking voice and
-a heavy sigh) I seem to have been doomed to blindness.”
-
-For a moment or two nothing was said, and she was unsuspicious of
-having excited any particular interest, till she found her arm drawn
-within his, and pressed against his heart, and heard him thus saying,
-in a tone of great sensibility, speaking low,
-
-“Time, my dearest Emma, time will heal the wound.—Your own excellent
-sense—your exertions for your father’s sake—I know you will not allow
-yourself—.” Her arm was pressed again, as he added, in a more broken
-and subdued accent, “The feelings of the warmest
-friendship—Indignation—Abominable scoundrel!”—And in a louder, steadier
-tone, he concluded with, “He will soon be gone. They will soon be in
-Yorkshire. I am sorry for _her_. She deserves a better fate.”
-
-Emma understood him; and as soon as she could recover from the flutter
-of pleasure, excited by such tender consideration, replied,
-
-“You are very kind—but you are mistaken—and I must set you right.— I am
-not in want of that sort of compassion. My blindness to what was going
-on, led me to act by them in a way that I must always be ashamed of,
-and I was very foolishly tempted to say and do many things which may
-well lay me open to unpleasant conjectures, but I have no other reason
-to regret that I was not in the secret earlier.”
-
-“Emma!” cried he, looking eagerly at her, “are you, indeed?”—but
-checking himself—“No, no, I understand you—forgive me—I am pleased that
-you can say even so much.—He is no object of regret, indeed! and it
-will not be very long, I hope, before that becomes the acknowledgment
-of more than your reason.—Fortunate that your affections were not
-farther entangled!—I could never, I confess, from your manners, assure
-myself as to the degree of what you felt—I could only be certain that
-there was a preference—and a preference which I never believed him to
-deserve.—He is a disgrace to the name of man.—And is he to be rewarded
-with that sweet young woman?—Jane, Jane, you will be a miserable
-creature.”
-
-“Mr. Knightley,” said Emma, trying to be lively, but really confused—“I
-am in a very extraordinary situation. I cannot let you continue in your
-error; and yet, perhaps, since my manners gave such an impression, I
-have as much reason to be ashamed of confessing that I never have been
-at all attached to the person we are speaking of, as it might be
-natural for a woman to feel in confessing exactly the reverse.—But I
-never have.”
-
-He listened in perfect silence. She wished him to speak, but he would
-not. She supposed she must say more before she were entitled to his
-clemency; but it was a hard case to be obliged still to lower herself
-in his opinion. She went on, however.
-
-“I have very little to say for my own conduct.—I was tempted by his
-attentions, and allowed myself to appear pleased.—An old story,
-probably—a common case—and no more than has happened to hundreds of my
-sex before; and yet it may not be the more excusable in one who sets up
-as I do for Understanding. Many circumstances assisted the temptation.
-He was the son of Mr. Weston—he was continually here—I always found him
-very pleasant—and, in short, for (with a sigh) let me swell out the
-causes ever so ingeniously, they all centre in this at last—my vanity
-was flattered, and I allowed his attentions. Latterly, however—for some
-time, indeed—I have had no idea of their meaning any thing.—I thought
-them a habit, a trick, nothing that called for seriousness on my side.
-He has imposed on me, but he has not injured me. I have never been
-attached to him. And now I can tolerably comprehend his behaviour. He
-never wished to attach me. It was merely a blind to conceal his real
-situation with another.—It was his object to blind all about him; and
-no one, I am sure, could be more effectually blinded than myself—except
-that I was _not_ blinded—that it was my good fortune—that, in short, I
-was somehow or other safe from him.”
-
-She had hoped for an answer here—for a few words to say that her
-conduct was at least intelligible; but he was silent; and, as far as
-she could judge, deep in thought. At last, and tolerably in his usual
-tone, he said,
-
-“I have never had a high opinion of Frank Churchill.—I can suppose,
-however, that I may have underrated him. My acquaintance with him has
-been but trifling.—And even if I have not underrated him hitherto, he
-may yet turn out well.—With such a woman he has a chance.—I have no
-motive for wishing him ill—and for her sake, whose happiness will be
-involved in his good character and conduct, I shall certainly wish him
-well.”
-
-“I have no doubt of their being happy together,” said Emma; “I believe
-them to be very mutually and very sincerely attached.”
-
-“He is a most fortunate man!” returned Mr. Knightley, with energy. “So
-early in life—at three-and-twenty—a period when, if a man chuses a
-wife, he generally chuses ill. At three-and-twenty to have drawn such a
-prize! What years of felicity that man, in all human calculation, has
-before him!—Assured of the love of such a woman—the disinterested love,
-for Jane Fairfax’s character vouches for her disinterestedness; every
-thing in his favour,—equality of situation—I mean, as far as regards
-society, and all the habits and manners that are important; equality in
-every point but one—and that one, since the purity of her heart is not
-to be doubted, such as must increase his felicity, for it will be his
-to bestow the only advantages she wants.—A man would always wish to
-give a woman a better home than the one he takes her from; and he who
-can do it, where there is no doubt of _her_ regard, must, I think, be
-the happiest of mortals.—Frank Churchill is, indeed, the favourite of
-fortune. Every thing turns out for his good.—He meets with a young
-woman at a watering-place, gains her affection, cannot even weary her
-by negligent treatment—and had he and all his family sought round the
-world for a perfect wife for him, they could not have found her
-superior.—His aunt is in the way.—His aunt dies.—He has only to
-speak.—His friends are eager to promote his happiness.—He had used
-every body ill—and they are all delighted to forgive him.—He is a
-fortunate man indeed!”
-
-“You speak as if you envied him.”
-
-“And I do envy him, Emma. In one respect he is the object of my envy.”
-
-Emma could say no more. They seemed to be within half a sentence of
-Harriet, and her immediate feeling was to avert the subject, if
-possible. She made her plan; she would speak of something totally
-different—the children in Brunswick Square; and she only waited for
-breath to begin, when Mr. Knightley startled her, by saying,
-
-“You will not ask me what is the point of envy.—You are determined, I
-see, to have no curiosity.—You are wise—but _I_ cannot be wise. Emma, I
-must tell you what you will not ask, though I may wish it unsaid the
-next moment.”
-
-“Oh! then, don’t speak it, don’t speak it,” she eagerly cried. “Take a
-little time, consider, do not commit yourself.”
-
-“Thank you,” said he, in an accent of deep mortification, and not
-another syllable followed.
-
-Emma could not bear to give him pain. He was wishing to confide in
-her—perhaps to consult her;—cost her what it would, she would listen.
-She might assist his resolution, or reconcile him to it; she might give
-just praise to Harriet, or, by representing to him his own
-independence, relieve him from that state of indecision, which must be
-more intolerable than any alternative to such a mind as his.—They had
-reached the house.
-
-“You are going in, I suppose?” said he.
-
-“No,”—replied Emma—quite confirmed by the depressed manner in which he
-still spoke—“I should like to take another turn. Mr. Perry is not
-gone.” And, after proceeding a few steps, she added—“I stopped you
-ungraciously, just now, Mr. Knightley, and, I am afraid, gave you
-pain.—But if you have any wish to speak openly to me as a friend, or to
-ask my opinion of any thing that you may have in contemplation—as a
-friend, indeed, you may command me.—I will hear whatever you like. I
-will tell you exactly what I think.”
-
-“As a friend!”—repeated Mr. Knightley.—“Emma, that I fear is a word—No,
-I have no wish—Stay, yes, why should I hesitate?—I have gone too far
-already for concealment.—Emma, I accept your offer—Extraordinary as it
-may seem, I accept it, and refer myself to you as a friend.—Tell me,
-then, have I no chance of ever succeeding?”
-
-He stopped in his earnestness to look the question, and the expression
-of his eyes overpowered her.
-
-“My dearest Emma,” said he, “for dearest you will always be, whatever
-the event of this hour’s conversation, my dearest, most beloved
-Emma—tell me at once. Say ‘No,’ if it is to be said.”—She could really
-say nothing.—“You are silent,” he cried, with great animation;
-“absolutely silent! at present I ask no more.”
-
-Emma was almost ready to sink under the agitation of this moment. The
-dread of being awakened from the happiest dream, was perhaps the most
-prominent feeling.
-
-“I cannot make speeches, Emma:” he soon resumed; and in a tone of such
-sincere, decided, intelligible tenderness as was tolerably
-convincing.—“If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it
-more. But you know what I am.—You hear nothing but truth from me.—I
-have blamed you, and lectured you, and you have borne it as no other
-woman in England would have borne it.—Bear with the truths I would tell
-you now, dearest Emma, as well as you have borne with them. The manner,
-perhaps, may have as little to recommend them. God knows, I have been a
-very indifferent lover.—But you understand me.—Yes, you see, you
-understand my feelings—and will return them if you can. At present, I
-ask only to hear, once to hear your voice.”
-
-While he spoke, Emma’s mind was most busy, and, with all the wonderful
-velocity of thought, had been able—and yet without losing a word—to
-catch and comprehend the exact truth of the whole; to see that
-Harriet’s hopes had been entirely groundless, a mistake, a delusion, as
-complete a delusion as any of her own—that Harriet was nothing; that
-she was every thing herself; that what she had been saying relative to
-Harriet had been all taken as the language of her own feelings; and
-that her agitation, her doubts, her reluctance, her discouragement, had
-been all received as discouragement from herself.—And not only was
-there time for these convictions, with all their glow of attendant
-happiness; there was time also to rejoice that Harriet’s secret had not
-escaped her, and to resolve that it need not, and should not.—It was
-all the service she could now render her poor friend; for as to any of
-that heroism of sentiment which might have prompted her to entreat him
-to transfer his affection from herself to Harriet, as infinitely the
-most worthy of the two—or even the more simple sublimity of resolving
-to refuse him at once and for ever, without vouchsafing any motive,
-because he could not marry them both, Emma had it not. She felt for
-Harriet, with pain and with contrition; but no flight of generosity run
-mad, opposing all that could be probable or reasonable, entered her
-brain. She had led her friend astray, and it would be a reproach to her
-for ever; but her judgment was as strong as her feelings, and as strong
-as it had ever been before, in reprobating any such alliance for him,
-as most unequal and degrading. Her way was clear, though not quite
-smooth.—She spoke then, on being so entreated.—What did she say?—Just
-what she ought, of course. A lady always does.—She said enough to shew
-there need not be despair—and to invite him to say more himself. He
-_had_ despaired at one period; he had received such an injunction to
-caution and silence, as for the time crushed every hope;—she had begun
-by refusing to hear him.—The change had perhaps been somewhat
-sudden;—her proposal of taking another turn, her renewing the
-conversation which she had just put an end to, might be a little
-extraordinary!—She felt its inconsistency; but Mr. Knightley was so
-obliging as to put up with it, and seek no farther explanation.
-
-Seldom, very seldom, does complete truth belong to any human
-disclosure; seldom can it happen that something is not a little
-disguised, or a little mistaken; but where, as in this case, though the
-conduct is mistaken, the feelings are not, it may not be very
-material.—Mr. Knightley could not impute to Emma a more relenting heart
-than she possessed, or a heart more disposed to accept of his.
-
-He had, in fact, been wholly unsuspicious of his own influence. He had
-followed her into the shrubbery with no idea of trying it. He had come,
-in his anxiety to see how she bore Frank Churchill’s engagement, with
-no selfish view, no view at all, but of endeavouring, if she allowed
-him an opening, to soothe or to counsel her.—The rest had been the work
-of the moment, the immediate effect of what he heard, on his feelings.
-The delightful assurance of her total indifference towards Frank
-Churchill, of her having a heart completely disengaged from him, had
-given birth to the hope, that, in time, he might gain her affection
-himself;—but it had been no present hope—he had only, in the momentary
-conquest of eagerness over judgment, aspired to be told that she did
-not forbid his attempt to attach her.—The superior hopes which
-gradually opened were so much the more enchanting.—The affection, which
-he had been asking to be allowed to create, if he could, was already
-his!—Within half an hour, he had passed from a thoroughly distressed
-state of mind, to something so like perfect happiness, that it could
-bear no other name.
-
-_Her_ change was equal.—This one half-hour had given to each the same
-precious certainty of being beloved, had cleared from each the same
-degree of ignorance, jealousy, or distrust.—On his side, there had been
-a long-standing jealousy, old as the arrival, or even the expectation,
-of Frank Churchill.—He had been in love with Emma, and jealous of Frank
-Churchill, from about the same period, one sentiment having probably
-enlightened him as to the other. It was his jealousy of Frank Churchill
-that had taken him from the country.—The Box Hill party had decided him
-on going away. He would save himself from witnessing again such
-permitted, encouraged attentions.—He had gone to learn to be
-indifferent.—But he had gone to a wrong place. There was too much
-domestic happiness in his brother’s house; woman wore too amiable a
-form in it; Isabella was too much like Emma—differing only in those
-striking inferiorities, which always brought the other in brilliancy
-before him, for much to have been done, even had his time been
-longer.—He had stayed on, however, vigorously, day after day—till this
-very morning’s post had conveyed the history of Jane Fairfax.—Then,
-with the gladness which must be felt, nay, which he did not scruple to
-feel, having never believed Frank Churchill to be at all deserving
-Emma, was there so much fond solicitude, so much keen anxiety for her,
-that he could stay no longer. He had ridden home through the rain; and
-had walked up directly after dinner, to see how this sweetest and best
-of all creatures, faultless in spite of all her faults, bore the
-discovery.
-
-He had found her agitated and low.—Frank Churchill was a villain.— He
-heard her declare that she had never loved him. Frank Churchill’s
-character was not desperate.—She was his own Emma, by hand and word,
-when they returned into the house; and if he could have thought of
-Frank Churchill then, he might have deemed him a very good sort of
-fellow.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XIV
-
-
-What totally different feelings did Emma take back into the house from
-what she had brought out!—she had then been only daring to hope for a
-little respite of suffering;—she was now in an exquisite flutter of
-happiness, and such happiness moreover as she believed must still be
-greater when the flutter should have passed away.
-
-They sat down to tea—the same party round the same table—how often it
-had been collected!—and how often had her eyes fallen on the same
-shrubs in the lawn, and observed the same beautiful effect of the
-western sun!—But never in such a state of spirits, never in any thing
-like it; and it was with difficulty that she could summon enough of her
-usual self to be the attentive lady of the house, or even the attentive
-daughter.
-
-Poor Mr. Woodhouse little suspected what was plotting against him in
-the breast of that man whom he was so cordially welcoming, and so
-anxiously hoping might not have taken cold from his ride.—Could he have
-seen the heart, he would have cared very little for the lungs; but
-without the most distant imagination of the impending evil, without the
-slightest perception of any thing extraordinary in the looks or ways of
-either, he repeated to them very comfortably all the articles of news
-he had received from Mr. Perry, and talked on with much
-self-contentment, totally unsuspicious of what they could have told him
-in return.
-
-As long as Mr. Knightley remained with them, Emma’s fever continued;
-but when he was gone, she began to be a little tranquillised and
-subdued—and in the course of the sleepless night, which was the tax for
-such an evening, she found one or two such very serious points to
-consider, as made her feel, that even her happiness must have some
-alloy. Her father—and Harriet. She could not be alone without feeling
-the full weight of their separate claims; and how to guard the comfort
-of both to the utmost, was the question. With respect to her father, it
-was a question soon answered. She hardly knew yet what Mr. Knightley
-would ask; but a very short parley with her own heart produced the most
-solemn resolution of never quitting her father.—She even wept over the
-idea of it, as a sin of thought. While he lived, it must be only an
-engagement; but she flattered herself, that if divested of the danger
-of drawing her away, it might become an increase of comfort to him.—How
-to do her best by Harriet, was of more difficult decision;—how to spare
-her from any unnecessary pain; how to make her any possible atonement;
-how to appear least her enemy?—On these subjects, her perplexity and
-distress were very great—and her mind had to pass again and again
-through every bitter reproach and sorrowful regret that had ever
-surrounded it.—She could only resolve at last, that she would still
-avoid a meeting with her, and communicate all that need be told by
-letter; that it would be inexpressibly desirable to have her removed
-just now for a time from Highbury, and—indulging in one scheme
-more—nearly resolve, that it might be practicable to get an invitation
-for her to Brunswick Square.—Isabella had been pleased with Harriet;
-and a few weeks spent in London must give her some amusement.—She did
-not think it in Harriet’s nature to escape being benefited by novelty
-and variety, by the streets, the shops, and the children.—At any rate,
-it would be a proof of attention and kindness in herself, from whom
-every thing was due; a separation for the present; an averting of the
-evil day, when they must all be together again.
-
-She rose early, and wrote her letter to Harriet; an employment which
-left her so very serious, so nearly sad, that Mr. Knightley, in walking
-up to Hartfield to breakfast, did not arrive at all too soon; and half
-an hour stolen afterwards to go over the same ground again with him,
-literally and figuratively, was quite necessary to reinstate her in a
-proper share of the happiness of the evening before.
-
-He had not left her long, by no means long enough for her to have the
-slightest inclination for thinking of any body else, when a letter was
-brought her from Randalls—a very thick letter;—she guessed what it must
-contain, and deprecated the necessity of reading it.—She was now in
-perfect charity with Frank Churchill; she wanted no explanations, she
-wanted only to have her thoughts to herself—and as for understanding
-any thing he wrote, she was sure she was incapable of it.—It must be
-waded through, however. She opened the packet; it was too surely so;—a
-note from Mrs. Weston to herself, ushered in the letter from Frank to
-Mrs. Weston.
-
-“I have the greatest pleasure, my dear Emma, in forwarding to you the
-enclosed. I know what thorough justice you will do it, and have
-scarcely a doubt of its happy effect.—I think we shall never materially
-disagree about the writer again; but I will not delay you by a long
-preface.—We are quite well.—This letter has been the cure of all the
-little nervousness I have been feeling lately.—I did not quite like
-your looks on Tuesday, but it was an ungenial morning; and though you
-will never own being affected by weather, I think every body feels a
-north-east wind.—I felt for your dear father very much in the storm of
-Tuesday afternoon and yesterday morning, but had the comfort of hearing
-last night, by Mr. Perry, that it had not made him ill.
-
-“Yours ever,
-“A. W.”
-
-
-[_To Mrs. Weston_.]
-
-
-Windsor—July.
-
-
-MY DEAR MADAM,
-
-
-“If I made myself intelligible yesterday, this letter will be expected;
-but expected or not, I know it will be read with candour and
-indulgence.—You are all goodness, and I believe there will be need of
-even all your goodness to allow for some parts of my past conduct.—But
-I have been forgiven by one who had still more to resent. My courage
-rises while I write. It is very difficult for the prosperous to be
-humble. I have already met with such success in two applications for
-pardon, that I may be in danger of thinking myself too sure of yours,
-and of those among your friends who have had any ground of offence.—You
-must all endeavour to comprehend the exact nature of my situation when
-I first arrived at Randalls; you must consider me as having a secret
-which was to be kept at all hazards. This was the fact. My right to
-place myself in a situation requiring such concealment, is another
-question. I shall not discuss it here. For my temptation to _think_ it
-a right, I refer every caviller to a brick house, sashed windows below,
-and casements above, in Highbury. I dared not address her openly; my
-difficulties in the then state of Enscombe must be too well known to
-require definition; and I was fortunate enough to prevail, before we
-parted at Weymouth, and to induce the most upright female mind in the
-creation to stoop in charity to a secret engagement.—Had she refused, I
-should have gone mad.—But you will be ready to say, what was your hope
-in doing this?—What did you look forward to?—To any thing, every
-thing—to time, chance, circumstance, slow effects, sudden bursts,
-perseverance and weariness, health and sickness. Every possibility of
-good was before me, and the first of blessings secured, in obtaining
-her promises of faith and correspondence. If you need farther
-explanation, I have the honour, my dear madam, of being your husband’s
-son, and the advantage of inheriting a disposition to hope for good,
-which no inheritance of houses or lands can ever equal the value
-of.—See me, then, under these circumstances, arriving on my first visit
-to Randalls;—and here I am conscious of wrong, for that visit might
-have been sooner paid. You will look back and see that I did not come
-till Miss Fairfax was in Highbury; and as _you_ were the person
-slighted, you will forgive me instantly; but I must work on my father’s
-compassion, by reminding him, that so long as I absented myself from
-his house, so long I lost the blessing of knowing you. My behaviour,
-during the very happy fortnight which I spent with you, did not, I
-hope, lay me open to reprehension, excepting on one point. And now I
-come to the principal, the only important part of my conduct while
-belonging to you, which excites my own anxiety, or requires very
-solicitous explanation. With the greatest respect, and the warmest
-friendship, do I mention Miss Woodhouse; my father perhaps will think I
-ought to add, with the deepest humiliation.—A few words which dropped
-from him yesterday spoke his opinion, and some censure I acknowledge
-myself liable to.—My behaviour to Miss Woodhouse indicated, I believe,
-more than it ought.—In order to assist a concealment so essential to
-me, I was led on to make more than an allowable use of the sort of
-intimacy into which we were immediately thrown.—I cannot deny that Miss
-Woodhouse was my ostensible object—but I am sure you will believe the
-declaration, that had I not been convinced of her indifference, I would
-not have been induced by any selfish views to go on.—Amiable and
-delightful as Miss Woodhouse is, she never gave me the idea of a young
-woman likely to be attached; and that she was perfectly free from any
-tendency to being attached to me, was as much my conviction as my
-wish.—She received my attentions with an easy, friendly, goodhumoured
-playfulness, which exactly suited me. We seemed to understand each
-other. From our relative situation, those attentions were her due, and
-were felt to be so.—Whether Miss Woodhouse began really to understand
-me before the expiration of that fortnight, I cannot say;—when I called
-to take leave of her, I remember that I was within a moment of
-confessing the truth, and I then fancied she was not without suspicion;
-but I have no doubt of her having since detected me, at least in some
-degree.—She may not have surmised the whole, but her quickness must
-have penetrated a part. I cannot doubt it. You will find, whenever the
-subject becomes freed from its present restraints, that it did not take
-her wholly by surprize. She frequently gave me hints of it. I remember
-her telling me at the ball, that I owed Mrs. Elton gratitude for her
-attentions to Miss Fairfax.—I hope this history of my conduct towards
-her will be admitted by you and my father as great extenuation of what
-you saw amiss. While you considered me as having sinned against Emma
-Woodhouse, I could deserve nothing from either. Acquit me here, and
-procure for me, when it is allowable, the acquittal and good wishes of
-that said Emma Woodhouse, whom I regard with so much brotherly
-affection, as to long to have her as deeply and as happily in love as
-myself.—Whatever strange things I said or did during that fortnight,
-you have now a key to. My heart was in Highbury, and my business was to
-get my body thither as often as might be, and with the least suspicion.
-If you remember any queernesses, set them all to the right account.—Of
-the pianoforte so much talked of, I feel it only necessary to say, that
-its being ordered was absolutely unknown to Miss F—, who would never
-have allowed me to send it, had any choice been given her.—The delicacy
-of her mind throughout the whole engagement, my dear madam, is much
-beyond my power of doing justice to. You will soon, I earnestly hope,
-know her thoroughly yourself.—No description can describe her. She must
-tell you herself what she is—yet not by word, for never was there a
-human creature who would so designedly suppress her own merit.—Since I
-began this letter, which will be longer than I foresaw, I have heard
-from her.—She gives a good account of her own health; but as she never
-complains, I dare not depend. I want to have your opinion of her looks.
-I know you will soon call on her; she is living in dread of the visit.
-Perhaps it is paid already. Let me hear from you without delay; I am
-impatient for a thousand particulars. Remember how few minutes I was at
-Randalls, and in how bewildered, how mad a state: and I am not much
-better yet; still insane either from happiness or misery. When I think
-of the kindness and favour I have met with, of her excellence and
-patience, and my uncle’s generosity, I am mad with joy: but when I
-recollect all the uneasiness I occasioned her, and how little I deserve
-to be forgiven, I am mad with anger. If I could but see her again!—But
-I must not propose it yet. My uncle has been too good for me to
-encroach.—I must still add to this long letter. You have not heard all
-that you ought to hear. I could not give any connected detail
-yesterday; but the suddenness, and, in one light, the unseasonableness
-with which the affair burst out, needs explanation; for though the
-event of the 26th ult., as you will conclude, immediately opened to me
-the happiest prospects, I should not have presumed on such early
-measures, but from the very particular circumstances, which left me not
-an hour to lose. I should myself have shrunk from any thing so hasty,
-and she would have felt every scruple of mine with multiplied strength
-and refinement.—But I had no choice. The hasty engagement she had
-entered into with that woman—Here, my dear madam, I was obliged to
-leave off abruptly, to recollect and compose myself.—I have been
-walking over the country, and am now, I hope, rational enough to make
-the rest of my letter what it ought to be.—It is, in fact, a most
-mortifying retrospect for me. I behaved shamefully. And here I can
-admit, that my manners to Miss W., in being unpleasant to Miss F., were
-highly blameable. _She_ disapproved them, which ought to have been
-enough.—My plea of concealing the truth she did not think
-sufficient.—She was displeased; I thought unreasonably so: I thought
-her, on a thousand occasions, unnecessarily scrupulous and cautious: I
-thought her even cold. But she was always right. If I had followed her
-judgment, and subdued my spirits to the level of what she deemed
-proper, I should have escaped the greatest unhappiness I have ever
-known.—We quarrelled.— Do you remember the morning spent at
-Donwell?—_There_ every little dissatisfaction that had occurred before
-came to a crisis. I was late; I met her walking home by herself, and
-wanted to walk with her, but she would not suffer it. She absolutely
-refused to allow me, which I then thought most unreasonable. Now,
-however, I see nothing in it but a very natural and consistent degree
-of discretion. While I, to blind the world to our engagement, was
-behaving one hour with objectionable particularity to another woman,
-was she to be consenting the next to a proposal which might have made
-every previous caution useless?—Had we been met walking together
-between Donwell and Highbury, the truth must have been suspected.—I was
-mad enough, however, to resent.—I doubted her affection. I doubted it
-more the next day on Box Hill; when, provoked by such conduct on my
-side, such shameful, insolent neglect of her, and such apparent
-devotion to Miss W., as it would have been impossible for any woman of
-sense to endure, she spoke her resentment in a form of words perfectly
-intelligible to me.—In short, my dear madam, it was a quarrel blameless
-on her side, abominable on mine; and I returned the same evening to
-Richmond, though I might have staid with you till the next morning,
-merely because I would be as angry with her as possible. Even then, I
-was not such a fool as not to mean to be reconciled in time; but I was
-the injured person, injured by her coldness, and I went away determined
-that she should make the first advances.—I shall always congratulate
-myself that you were not of the Box Hill party. Had you witnessed my
-behaviour there, I can hardly suppose you would ever have thought well
-of me again. Its effect upon her appears in the immediate resolution it
-produced: as soon as she found I was really gone from Randalls, she
-closed with the offer of that officious Mrs. Elton; the whole system of
-whose treatment of her, by the bye, has ever filled me with indignation
-and hatred. I must not quarrel with a spirit of forbearance which has
-been so richly extended towards myself; but, otherwise, I should loudly
-protest against the share of it which that woman has known.—‘Jane,’
-indeed!—You will observe that I have not yet indulged myself in calling
-her by that name, even to you. Think, then, what I must have endured in
-hearing it bandied between the Eltons with all the vulgarity of
-needless repetition, and all the insolence of imaginary superiority.
-Have patience with me, I shall soon have done.—She closed with this
-offer, resolving to break with me entirely, and wrote the next day to
-tell me that we never were to meet again.—_She_ _felt_ _the_
-_engagement_ _to_ _be_ _a_ _source_ _of_ _repentance_ _and_ _misery_
-_to_ _each_: _she_ _dissolved_ _it_.—This letter reached me on the very
-morning of my poor aunt’s death. I answered it within an hour; but from
-the confusion of my mind, and the multiplicity of business falling on
-me at once, my answer, instead of being sent with all the many other
-letters of that day, was locked up in my writing-desk; and I, trusting
-that I had written enough, though but a few lines, to satisfy her,
-remained without any uneasiness.—I was rather disappointed that I did
-not hear from her again speedily; but I made excuses for her, and was
-too busy, and—may I add?—too cheerful in my views to be captious.—We
-removed to Windsor; and two days afterwards I received a parcel from
-her, my own letters all returned!—and a few lines at the same time by
-the post, stating her extreme surprize at not having had the smallest
-reply to her last; and adding, that as silence on such a point could
-not be misconstrued, and as it must be equally desirable to both to
-have every subordinate arrangement concluded as soon as possible, she
-now sent me, by a safe conveyance, all my letters, and requested, that
-if I could not directly command hers, so as to send them to Highbury
-within a week, I would forward them after that period to her at—: in
-short, the full direction to Mr. Smallridge’s, near Bristol, stared me
-in the face. I knew the name, the place, I knew all about it, and
-instantly saw what she had been doing. It was perfectly accordant with
-that resolution of character which I knew her to possess; and the
-secrecy she had maintained, as to any such design in her former letter,
-was equally descriptive of its anxious delicacy. For the world would
-not she have seemed to threaten me.—Imagine the shock; imagine how,
-till I had actually detected my own blunder, I raved at the blunders of
-the post.—What was to be done?—One thing only.—I must speak to my
-uncle. Without his sanction I could not hope to be listened to again.—I
-spoke; circumstances were in my favour; the late event had softened
-away his pride, and he was, earlier than I could have anticipated,
-wholly reconciled and complying; and could say at last, poor man! with
-a deep sigh, that he wished I might find as much happiness in the
-marriage state as he had done.—I felt that it would be of a different
-sort.—Are you disposed to pity me for what I must have suffered in
-opening the cause to him, for my suspense while all was at stake?—No;
-do not pity me till I reached Highbury, and saw how ill I had made her.
-Do not pity me till I saw her wan, sick looks.—I reached Highbury at
-the time of day when, from my knowledge of their late breakfast hour, I
-was certain of a good chance of finding her alone.—I was not
-disappointed; and at last I was not disappointed either in the object
-of my journey. A great deal of very reasonable, very just displeasure I
-had to persuade away. But it is done; we are reconciled, dearer, much
-dearer, than ever, and no moment’s uneasiness can ever occur between us
-again. Now, my dear madam, I will release you; but I could not conclude
-before. A thousand and a thousand thanks for all the kindness you have
-ever shewn me, and ten thousand for the attentions your heart will
-dictate towards her.—If you think me in a way to be happier than I
-deserve, I am quite of your opinion.—Miss W. calls me the child of good
-fortune. I hope she is right.—In one respect, my good fortune is
-undoubted, that of being able to subscribe myself,
-
-Your obliged and affectionate Son,
-
-F. C. WESTON CHURCHILL.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XV
-
-
-This letter must make its way to Emma’s feelings. She was obliged, in
-spite of her previous determination to the contrary, to do it all the
-justice that Mrs. Weston foretold. As soon as she came to her own name,
-it was irresistible; every line relating to herself was interesting,
-and almost every line agreeable; and when this charm ceased, the
-subject could still maintain itself, by the natural return of her
-former regard for the writer, and the very strong attraction which any
-picture of love must have for her at that moment. She never stopt till
-she had gone through the whole; and though it was impossible not to
-feel that he had been wrong, yet he had been less wrong than she had
-supposed—and he had suffered, and was very sorry—and he was so grateful
-to Mrs. Weston, and so much in love with Miss Fairfax, and she was so
-happy herself, that there was no being severe; and could he have
-entered the room, she must have shaken hands with him as heartily as
-ever.
-
-She thought so well of the letter, that when Mr. Knightley came again,
-she desired him to read it. She was sure of Mrs. Weston’s wishing it to
-be communicated; especially to one, who, like Mr. Knightley, had seen
-so much to blame in his conduct.
-
-“I shall be very glad to look it over,” said he; “but it seems long. I
-will take it home with me at night.”
-
-But that would not do. Mr. Weston was to call in the evening, and she
-must return it by him.
-
-“I would rather be talking to you,” he replied; “but as it seems a
-matter of justice, it shall be done.”
-
-He began—stopping, however, almost directly to say, “Had I been offered
-the sight of one of this gentleman’s letters to his mother-in-law a few
-months ago, Emma, it would not have been taken with such indifference.”
-
-He proceeded a little farther, reading to himself; and then, with a
-smile, observed, “Humph! a fine complimentary opening: But it is his
-way. One man’s style must not be the rule of another’s. We will not be
-severe.”
-
-“It will be natural for me,” he added shortly afterwards, “to speak my
-opinion aloud as I read. By doing it, I shall feel that I am near you.
-It will not be so great a loss of time: but if you dislike it—”
-
-“Not at all. I should wish it.”
-
-Mr. Knightley returned to his reading with greater alacrity.
-
-“He trifles here,” said he, “as to the temptation. He knows he is
-wrong, and has nothing rational to urge.—Bad.—He ought not to have
-formed the engagement.—‘His father’s disposition:’—he is unjust,
-however, to his father. Mr. Weston’s sanguine temper was a blessing on
-all his upright and honourable exertions; but Mr. Weston earned every
-present comfort before he endeavoured to gain it.—Very true; he did not
-come till Miss Fairfax was here.”
-
-“And I have not forgotten,” said Emma, “how sure you were that he might
-have come sooner if he would. You pass it over very handsomely—but you
-were perfectly right.”
-
-“I was not quite impartial in my judgment, Emma:—but yet, I think—had
-_you_ not been in the case—I should still have distrusted him.”
-
-When he came to Miss Woodhouse, he was obliged to read the whole of it
-aloud—all that related to her, with a smile; a look; a shake of the
-head; a word or two of assent, or disapprobation; or merely of love, as
-the subject required; concluding, however, seriously, and, after steady
-reflection, thus—
-
-“Very bad—though it might have been worse.—Playing a most dangerous
-game. Too much indebted to the event for his acquittal.—No judge of his
-own manners by you.—Always deceived in fact by his own wishes, and
-regardless of little besides his own convenience.—Fancying you to have
-fathomed his secret. Natural enough!—his own mind full of intrigue,
-that he should suspect it in others.—Mystery; Finesse—how they pervert
-the understanding! My Emma, does not every thing serve to prove more
-and more the beauty of truth and sincerity in all our dealings with
-each other?”
-
-Emma agreed to it, and with a blush of sensibility on Harriet’s
-account, which she could not give any sincere explanation of.
-
-“You had better go on,” said she.
-
-He did so, but very soon stopt again to say, “the pianoforte! Ah! That
-was the act of a very, very young man, one too young to consider
-whether the inconvenience of it might not very much exceed the
-pleasure. A boyish scheme, indeed!—I cannot comprehend a man’s wishing
-to give a woman any proof of affection which he knows she would rather
-dispense with; and he did know that she would have prevented the
-instrument’s coming if she could.”
-
-After this, he made some progress without any pause. Frank Churchill’s
-confession of having behaved shamefully was the first thing to call for
-more than a word in passing.
-
-“I perfectly agree with you, sir,”—was then his remark. “You did behave
-very shamefully. You never wrote a truer line.” And having gone through
-what immediately followed of the basis of their disagreement, and his
-persisting to act in direct opposition to Jane Fairfax’s sense of
-right, he made a fuller pause to say, “This is very bad.—He had induced
-her to place herself, for his sake, in a situation of extreme
-difficulty and uneasiness, and it should have been his first object to
-prevent her from suffering unnecessarily.—She must have had much more
-to contend with, in carrying on the correspondence, than he could. He
-should have respected even unreasonable scruples, had there been such;
-but hers were all reasonable. We must look to her one fault, and
-remember that she had done a wrong thing in consenting to the
-engagement, to bear that she should have been in such a state of
-punishment.”
-
-Emma knew that he was now getting to the Box Hill party, and grew
-uncomfortable. Her own behaviour had been so very improper! She was
-deeply ashamed, and a little afraid of his next look. It was all read,
-however, steadily, attentively, and without the smallest remark; and,
-excepting one momentary glance at her, instantly withdrawn, in the fear
-of giving pain—no remembrance of Box Hill seemed to exist.
-
-“There is no saying much for the delicacy of our good friends, the
-Eltons,” was his next observation.—“His feelings are natural.—What!
-actually resolve to break with him entirely!—She felt the engagement to
-be a source of repentance and misery to each—she dissolved it.—What a
-view this gives of her sense of his behaviour!—Well, he must be a most
-extraordinary—”
-
-“Nay, nay, read on.—You will find how very much he suffers.”
-
-“I hope he does,” replied Mr. Knightley coolly, and resuming the
-letter. “‘Smallridge!’—What does this mean? What is all this?”
-
-“She had engaged to go as governess to Mrs. Smallridge’s children—a
-dear friend of Mrs. Elton’s—a neighbour of Maple Grove; and, by the
-bye, I wonder how Mrs. Elton bears the disappointment?”
-
-“Say nothing, my dear Emma, while you oblige me to read—not even of
-Mrs. Elton. Only one page more. I shall soon have done. What a letter
-the man writes!”
-
-“I wish you would read it with a kinder spirit towards him.”
-
-“Well, there _is_ feeling here.—He does seem to have suffered in
-finding her ill.—Certainly, I can have no doubt of his being fond of
-her. ‘Dearer, much dearer than ever.’ I hope he may long continue to
-feel all the value of such a reconciliation.—He is a very liberal
-thanker, with his thousands and tens of thousands.—‘Happier than I
-deserve.’ Come, he knows himself there. ‘Miss Woodhouse calls me the
-child of good fortune.’—Those were Miss Woodhouse’s words, were they?—
-And a fine ending—and there is the letter. The child of good fortune!
-That was your name for him, was it?”
-
-“You do not appear so well satisfied with his letter as I am; but still
-you must, at least I hope you must, think the better of him for it. I
-hope it does him some service with you.”
-
-“Yes, certainly it does. He has had great faults, faults of
-inconsideration and thoughtlessness; and I am very much of his opinion
-in thinking him likely to be happier than he deserves: but still as he
-is, beyond a doubt, really attached to Miss Fairfax, and will soon, it
-may be hoped, have the advantage of being constantly with her, I am
-very ready to believe his character will improve, and acquire from hers
-the steadiness and delicacy of principle that it wants. And now, let me
-talk to you of something else. I have another person’s interest at
-present so much at heart, that I cannot think any longer about Frank
-Churchill. Ever since I left you this morning, Emma, my mind has been
-hard at work on one subject.”
-
-The subject followed; it was in plain, unaffected, gentlemanlike
-English, such as Mr. Knightley used even to the woman he was in love
-with, how to be able to ask her to marry him, without attacking the
-happiness of her father. Emma’s answer was ready at the first word.
-“While her dear father lived, any change of condition must be
-impossible for her. She could never quit him.” Part only of this
-answer, however, was admitted. The impossibility of her quitting her
-father, Mr. Knightley felt as strongly as herself; but the
-inadmissibility of any other change, he could not agree to. He had been
-thinking it over most deeply, most intently; he had at first hoped to
-induce Mr. Woodhouse to remove with her to Donwell; he had wanted to
-believe it feasible, but his knowledge of Mr. Woodhouse would not
-suffer him to deceive himself long; and now he confessed his
-persuasion, that such a transplantation would be a risk of her father’s
-comfort, perhaps even of his life, which must not be hazarded. Mr.
-Woodhouse taken from Hartfield!—No, he felt that it ought not to be
-attempted. But the plan which had arisen on the sacrifice of this, he
-trusted his dearest Emma would not find in any respect objectionable;
-it was, that he should be received at Hartfield; that so long as her
-father’s happiness—in other words, his life—required Hartfield to
-continue her home, it should be his likewise.
-
-Of their all removing to Donwell, Emma had already had her own passing
-thoughts. Like him, she had tried the scheme and rejected it; but such
-an alternative as this had not occurred to her. She was sensible of all
-the affection it evinced. She felt that, in quitting Donwell, he must
-be sacrificing a great deal of independence of hours and habits; that
-in living constantly with her father, and in no house of his own, there
-would be much, very much, to be borne with. She promised to think of
-it, and advised him to think of it more; but he was fully convinced,
-that no reflection could alter his wishes or his opinion on the
-subject. He had given it, he could assure her, very long and calm
-consideration; he had been walking away from William Larkins the whole
-morning, to have his thoughts to himself.
-
-“Ah! there is one difficulty unprovided for,” cried Emma. “I am sure
-William Larkins will not like it. You must get his consent before you
-ask mine.”
-
-She promised, however, to think of it; and pretty nearly promised,
-moreover, to think of it, with the intention of finding it a very good
-scheme.
-
-It is remarkable, that Emma, in the many, very many, points of view in
-which she was now beginning to consider Donwell Abbey, was never struck
-with any sense of injury to her nephew Henry, whose rights as
-heir-expectant had formerly been so tenaciously regarded. Think she
-must of the possible difference to the poor little boy; and yet she
-only gave herself a saucy conscious smile about it, and found amusement
-in detecting the real cause of that violent dislike of Mr. Knightley’s
-marrying Jane Fairfax, or any body else, which at the time she had
-wholly imputed to the amiable solicitude of the sister and the aunt.
-
-This proposal of his, this plan of marrying and continuing at
-Hartfield—the more she contemplated it, the more pleasing it became.
-His evils seemed to lessen, her own advantages to increase, their
-mutual good to outweigh every drawback. Such a companion for herself in
-the periods of anxiety and cheerlessness before her!—Such a partner in
-all those duties and cares to which time must be giving increase of
-melancholy!
-
-She would have been too happy but for poor Harriet; but every blessing
-of her own seemed to involve and advance the sufferings of her friend,
-who must now be even excluded from Hartfield. The delightful family
-party which Emma was securing for herself, poor Harriet must, in mere
-charitable caution, be kept at a distance from. She would be a loser in
-every way. Emma could not deplore her future absence as any deduction
-from her own enjoyment. In such a party, Harriet would be rather a dead
-weight than otherwise; but for the poor girl herself, it seemed a
-peculiarly cruel necessity that was to be placing her in such a state
-of unmerited punishment.
-
-In time, of course, Mr. Knightley would be forgotten, that is,
-supplanted; but this could not be expected to happen very early. Mr.
-Knightley himself would be doing nothing to assist the cure;—not like
-Mr. Elton. Mr. Knightley, always so kind, so feeling, so truly
-considerate for every body, would never deserve to be less worshipped
-than now; and it really was too much to hope even of Harriet, that she
-could be in love with more than _three_ men in one year.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XVI
-
-
-It was a very great relief to Emma to find Harriet as desirous as
-herself to avoid a meeting. Their intercourse was painful enough by
-letter. How much worse, had they been obliged to meet!
-
-Harriet expressed herself very much as might be supposed, without
-reproaches, or apparent sense of ill-usage; and yet Emma fancied there
-was a something of resentment, a something bordering on it in her
-style, which increased the desirableness of their being separate.—It
-might be only her own consciousness; but it seemed as if an angel only
-could have been quite without resentment under such a stroke.
-
-She had no difficulty in procuring Isabella’s invitation; and she was
-fortunate in having a sufficient reason for asking it, without
-resorting to invention.—There was a tooth amiss. Harriet really wished,
-and had wished some time, to consult a dentist. Mrs. John Knightley was
-delighted to be of use; any thing of ill health was a recommendation to
-her—and though not so fond of a dentist as of a Mr. Wingfield, she was
-quite eager to have Harriet under her care.—When it was thus settled on
-her sister’s side, Emma proposed it to her friend, and found her very
-persuadable.—Harriet was to go; she was invited for at least a
-fortnight; she was to be conveyed in Mr. Woodhouse’s carriage.—It was
-all arranged, it was all completed, and Harriet was safe in Brunswick
-Square.
-
-Now Emma could, indeed, enjoy Mr. Knightley’s visits; now she could
-talk, and she could listen with true happiness, unchecked by that sense
-of injustice, of guilt, of something most painful, which had haunted
-her when remembering how disappointed a heart was near her, how much
-might at that moment, and at a little distance, be enduring by the
-feelings which she had led astray herself.
-
-The difference of Harriet at Mrs. Goddard’s, or in London, made perhaps
-an unreasonable difference in Emma’s sensations; but she could not
-think of her in London without objects of curiosity and employment,
-which must be averting the past, and carrying her out of herself.
-
-She would not allow any other anxiety to succeed directly to the place
-in her mind which Harriet had occupied. There was a communication
-before her, one which _she_ only could be competent to make—the
-confession of her engagement to her father; but she would have nothing
-to do with it at present.—She had resolved to defer the disclosure till
-Mrs. Weston were safe and well. No additional agitation should be
-thrown at this period among those she loved—and the evil should not act
-on herself by anticipation before the appointed time.—A fortnight, at
-least, of leisure and peace of mind, to crown every warmer, but more
-agitating, delight, should be hers.
-
-She soon resolved, equally as a duty and a pleasure, to employ half an
-hour of this holiday of spirits in calling on Miss Fairfax.—She ought
-to go—and she was longing to see her; the resemblance of their present
-situations increasing every other motive of goodwill. It would be a
-_secret_ satisfaction; but the consciousness of a similarity of
-prospect would certainly add to the interest with which she should
-attend to any thing Jane might communicate.
-
-She went—she had driven once unsuccessfully to the door, but had not
-been into the house since the morning after Box Hill, when poor Jane
-had been in such distress as had filled her with compassion, though all
-the worst of her sufferings had been unsuspected.—The fear of being
-still unwelcome, determined her, though assured of their being at home,
-to wait in the passage, and send up her name.—She heard Patty
-announcing it; but no such bustle succeeded as poor Miss Bates had
-before made so happily intelligible.—No; she heard nothing but the
-instant reply of, “Beg her to walk up;”—and a moment afterwards she was
-met on the stairs by Jane herself, coming eagerly forward, as if no
-other reception of her were felt sufficient.—Emma had never seen her
-look so well, so lovely, so engaging. There was consciousness,
-animation, and warmth; there was every thing which her countenance or
-manner could ever have wanted.— She came forward with an offered hand;
-and said, in a low, but very feeling tone,
-
-“This is most kind, indeed!—Miss Woodhouse, it is impossible for me to
-express—I hope you will believe—Excuse me for being so entirely without
-words.”
-
-Emma was gratified, and would soon have shewn no want of words, if the
-sound of Mrs. Elton’s voice from the sitting-room had not checked her,
-and made it expedient to compress all her friendly and all her
-congratulatory sensations into a very, very earnest shake of the hand.
-
-Mrs. Bates and Mrs. Elton were together. Miss Bates was out, which
-accounted for the previous tranquillity. Emma could have wished Mrs.
-Elton elsewhere; but she was in a humour to have patience with every
-body; and as Mrs. Elton met her with unusual graciousness, she hoped
-the rencontre would do them no harm.
-
-She soon believed herself to penetrate Mrs. Elton’s thoughts, and
-understand why she was, like herself, in happy spirits; it was being in
-Miss Fairfax’s confidence, and fancying herself acquainted with what
-was still a secret to other people. Emma saw symptoms of it immediately
-in the expression of her face; and while paying her own compliments to
-Mrs. Bates, and appearing to attend to the good old lady’s replies, she
-saw her with a sort of anxious parade of mystery fold up a letter which
-she had apparently been reading aloud to Miss Fairfax, and return it
-into the purple and gold reticule by her side, saying, with significant
-nods,
-
-“We can finish this some other time, you know. You and I shall not want
-opportunities. And, in fact, you have heard all the essential already.
-I only wanted to prove to you that Mrs. S. admits our apology, and is
-not offended. You see how delightfully she writes. Oh! she is a sweet
-creature! You would have doated on her, had you gone.—But not a word
-more. Let us be discreet—quite on our good behaviour.—Hush!—You
-remember those lines—I forget the poem at this moment:
-
-“For when a lady’s in the case,
-“You know all other things give place.”
-
-
-Now I say, my dear, in _our_ case, for _lady_, read——mum! a word to the
-wise.—I am in a fine flow of spirits, an’t I? But I want to set your
-heart at ease as to Mrs. S.—_My_ representation, you see, has quite
-appeased her.”
-
-And again, on Emma’s merely turning her head to look at Mrs. Bates’s
-knitting, she added, in a half whisper,
-
-“I mentioned no _names_, you will observe.—Oh! no; cautious as a
-minister of state. I managed it extremely well.”
-
-Emma could not doubt. It was a palpable display, repeated on every
-possible occasion. When they had all talked a little while in harmony
-of the weather and Mrs. Weston, she found herself abruptly addressed
-with,
-
-“Do not you think, Miss Woodhouse, our saucy little friend here is
-charmingly recovered?—Do not you think her cure does Perry the highest
-credit?—(here was a side-glance of great meaning at Jane.) Upon my
-word, Perry has restored her in a wonderful short time!—Oh! if you had
-seen her, as I did, when she was at the worst!”—And when Mrs. Bates was
-saying something to Emma, whispered farther, “We do not say a word of
-any _assistance_ that Perry might have; not a word of a certain young
-physician from Windsor.—Oh! no; Perry shall have all the credit.”
-
-“I have scarce had the pleasure of seeing you, Miss Woodhouse,” she
-shortly afterwards began, “since the party to Box Hill. Very pleasant
-party. But yet I think there was something wanting. Things did not
-seem—that is, there seemed a little cloud upon the spirits of some.—So
-it appeared to me at least, but I might be mistaken. However, I think
-it answered so far as to tempt one to go again. What say you both to
-our collecting the same party, and exploring to Box Hill again, while
-the fine weather lasts?—It must be the same party, you know, quite the
-same party, not _one_ exception.”
-
-Soon after this Miss Bates came in, and Emma could not help being
-diverted by the perplexity of her first answer to herself, resulting,
-she supposed, from doubt of what might be said, and impatience to say
-every thing.
-
-“Thank you, dear Miss Woodhouse, you are all kindness.—It is impossible
-to say—Yes, indeed, I quite understand—dearest Jane’s prospects—that
-is, I do not mean.—But she is charmingly recovered.—How is Mr.
-Woodhouse?—I am so glad.—Quite out of my power.—Such a happy little
-circle as you find us here.—Yes, indeed.—Charming young man!—that is—so
-very friendly; I mean good Mr. Perry!—such attention to Jane!”—And from
-her great, her more than commonly thankful delight towards Mrs. Elton
-for being there, Emma guessed that there had been a little show of
-resentment towards Jane, from the vicarage quarter, which was now
-graciously overcome.—After a few whispers, indeed, which placed it
-beyond a guess, Mrs. Elton, speaking louder, said,
-
-“Yes, here I am, my good friend; and here I have been so long, that
-anywhere else I should think it necessary to apologise; but, the truth
-is, that I am waiting for my lord and master. He promised to join me
-here, and pay his respects to you.”
-
-“What! are we to have the pleasure of a call from Mr. Elton?—That will
-be a favour indeed! for I know gentlemen do not like morning visits,
-and Mr. Elton’s time is so engaged.”
-
-“Upon my word it is, Miss Bates.—He really is engaged from morning to
-night.—There is no end of people’s coming to him, on some pretence or
-other.—The magistrates, and overseers, and churchwardens, are always
-wanting his opinion. They seem not able to do any thing without
-him.—‘Upon my word, Mr. E.,’ I often say, ‘rather you than I.—I do not
-know what would become of my crayons and my instrument, if I had half
-so many applicants.’—Bad enough as it is, for I absolutely neglect them
-both to an unpardonable degree.—I believe I have not played a bar this
-fortnight.—However, he is coming, I assure you: yes, indeed, on purpose
-to wait on you all.” And putting up her hand to screen her words from
-Emma—“A congratulatory visit, you know.—Oh! yes, quite indispensable.”
-
-Miss Bates looked about her, so happily—!
-
-“He promised to come to me as soon as he could disengage himself from
-Knightley; but he and Knightley are shut up together in deep
-consultation.—Mr. E. is Knightley’s right hand.”
-
-Emma would not have smiled for the world, and only said, “Is Mr. Elton
-gone on foot to Donwell?—He will have a hot walk.”
-
-“Oh! no, it is a meeting at the Crown, a regular meeting. Weston and
-Cole will be there too; but one is apt to speak only of those who
-lead.—I fancy Mr. E. and Knightley have every thing their own way.”
-
-“Have not you mistaken the day?” said Emma. “I am almost certain that
-the meeting at the Crown is not till to-morrow.—Mr. Knightley was at
-Hartfield yesterday, and spoke of it as for Saturday.”
-
-“Oh! no, the meeting is certainly to-day,” was the abrupt answer, which
-denoted the impossibility of any blunder on Mrs. Elton’s side.—“I do
-believe,” she continued, “this is the most troublesome parish that ever
-was. We never heard of such things at Maple Grove.”
-
-“Your parish there was small,” said Jane.
-
-“Upon my word, my dear, I do not know, for I never heard the subject
-talked of.”
-
-“But it is proved by the smallness of the school, which I have heard
-you speak of, as under the patronage of your sister and Mrs. Bragge;
-the only school, and not more than five-and-twenty children.”
-
-“Ah! you clever creature, that’s very true. What a thinking brain you
-have! I say, Jane, what a perfect character you and I should make, if
-we could be shaken together. My liveliness and your solidity would
-produce perfection.—Not that I presume to insinuate, however, that
-_some_ people may not think _you_ perfection already.—But hush!—not a
-word, if you please.”
-
-It seemed an unnecessary caution; Jane was wanting to give her words,
-not to Mrs. Elton, but to Miss Woodhouse, as the latter plainly saw.
-The wish of distinguishing her, as far as civility permitted, was very
-evident, though it could not often proceed beyond a look.
-
-Mr. Elton made his appearance. His lady greeted him with some of her
-sparkling vivacity.
-
-“Very pretty, sir, upon my word; to send me on here, to be an
-encumbrance to my friends, so long before you vouchsafe to come!—But
-you knew what a dutiful creature you had to deal with. You knew I
-should not stir till my lord and master appeared.—Here have I been
-sitting this hour, giving these young ladies a sample of true conjugal
-obedience—for who can say, you know, how soon it may be wanted?”
-
-Mr. Elton was so hot and tired, that all this wit seemed thrown away.
-His civilities to the other ladies must be paid; but his subsequent
-object was to lament over himself for the heat he was suffering, and
-the walk he had had for nothing.
-
-“When I got to Donwell,” said he, “Knightley could not be found. Very
-odd! very unaccountable! after the note I sent him this morning, and
-the message he returned, that he should certainly be at home till one.”
-
-“Donwell!” cried his wife.—“My dear Mr. E., you have not been to
-Donwell!—You mean the Crown; you come from the meeting at the Crown.”
-
-“No, no, that’s to-morrow; and I particularly wanted to see Knightley
-to-day on that very account.—Such a dreadful broiling morning!—I went
-over the fields too—(speaking in a tone of great ill-usage,) which made
-it so much the worse. And then not to find him at home! I assure you I
-am not at all pleased. And no apology left, no message for me. The
-housekeeper declared she knew nothing of my being expected.—Very
-extraordinary!—And nobody knew at all which way he was gone. Perhaps to
-Hartfield, perhaps to the Abbey Mill, perhaps into his woods.—Miss
-Woodhouse, this is not like our friend Knightley!—Can you explain it?”
-
-Emma amused herself by protesting that it was very extraordinary,
-indeed, and that she had not a syllable to say for him.
-
-“I cannot imagine,” said Mrs. Elton, (feeling the indignity as a wife
-ought to do,) “I cannot imagine how he could do such a thing by you, of
-all people in the world! The very last person whom one should expect to
-be forgotten!—My dear Mr. E., he must have left a message for you, I am
-sure he must.—Not even Knightley could be so very eccentric;—and his
-servants forgot it. Depend upon it, that was the case: and very likely
-to happen with the Donwell servants, who are all, I have often
-observed, extremely awkward and remiss.—I am sure I would not have such
-a creature as his Harry stand at our sideboard for any consideration.
-And as for Mrs. Hodges, Wright holds her very cheap indeed.—She
-promised Wright a receipt, and never sent it.”
-
-“I met William Larkins,” continued Mr. Elton, “as I got near the house,
-and he told me I should not find his master at home, but I did not
-believe him.—William seemed rather out of humour. He did not know what
-was come to his master lately, he said, but he could hardly ever get
-the speech of him. I have nothing to do with William’s wants, but it
-really is of very great importance that _I_ should see Knightley
-to-day; and it becomes a matter, therefore, of very serious
-inconvenience that I should have had this hot walk to no purpose.”
-
-Emma felt that she could not do better than go home directly. In all
-probability she was at this very time waited for there; and Mr.
-Knightley might be preserved from sinking deeper in aggression towards
-Mr. Elton, if not towards William Larkins.
-
-She was pleased, on taking leave, to find Miss Fairfax determined to
-attend her out of the room, to go with her even downstairs; it gave her
-an opportunity which she immediately made use of, to say,
-
-“It is as well, perhaps, that I have not had the possibility. Had you
-not been surrounded by other friends, I might have been tempted to
-introduce a subject, to ask questions, to speak more openly than might
-have been strictly correct.—I feel that I should certainly have been
-impertinent.”
-
-“Oh!” cried Jane, with a blush and an hesitation which Emma thought
-infinitely more becoming to her than all the elegance of all her usual
-composure—“there would have been no danger. The danger would have been
-of my wearying you. You could not have gratified me more than by
-expressing an interest—. Indeed, Miss Woodhouse, (speaking more
-collectedly,) with the consciousness which I have of misconduct, very
-great misconduct, it is particularly consoling to me to know that those
-of my friends, whose good opinion is most worth preserving, are not
-disgusted to such a degree as to—I have not time for half that I could
-wish to say. I long to make apologies, excuses, to urge something for
-myself. I feel it so very due. But, unfortunately—in short, if your
-compassion does not stand my friend—”
-
-“Oh! you are too scrupulous, indeed you are,” cried Emma warmly, and
-taking her hand. “You owe me no apologies; and every body to whom you
-might be supposed to owe them, is so perfectly satisfied, so delighted
-even—”
-
-“You are very kind, but I know what my manners were to you.—So cold and
-artificial!—I had always a part to act.—It was a life of deceit!—I know
-that I must have disgusted you.”
-
-“Pray say no more. I feel that all the apologies should be on my side.
-Let us forgive each other at once. We must do whatever is to be done
-quickest, and I think our feelings will lose no time there. I hope you
-have pleasant accounts from Windsor?”
-
-“Very.”
-
-“And the next news, I suppose, will be, that we are to lose you—just as
-I begin to know you.”
-
-“Oh! as to all that, of course nothing can be thought of yet. I am here
-till claimed by Colonel and Mrs. Campbell.”
-
-“Nothing can be actually settled yet, perhaps,” replied Emma,
-smiling—“but, excuse me, it must be thought of.”
-
-The smile was returned as Jane answered,
-
-“You are very right; it has been thought of. And I will own to you, (I
-am sure it will be safe), that so far as our living with Mr. Churchill
-at Enscombe, it is settled. There must be three months, at least, of
-deep mourning; but when they are over, I imagine there will be nothing
-more to wait for.”
-
-“Thank you, thank you.—This is just what I wanted to be assured of.—Oh!
-if you knew how much I love every thing that is decided and
-open!—Good-bye, good-bye.”
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XVII
-
-
-Mrs. Weston’s friends were all made happy by her safety; and if the
-satisfaction of her well-doing could be increased to Emma, it was by
-knowing her to be the mother of a little girl. She had been decided in
-wishing for a Miss Weston. She would not acknowledge that it was with
-any view of making a match for her, hereafter, with either of
-Isabella’s sons; but she was convinced that a daughter would suit both
-father and mother best. It would be a great comfort to Mr. Weston, as
-he grew older—and even Mr. Weston might be growing older ten years
-hence—to have his fireside enlivened by the sports and the nonsense,
-the freaks and the fancies of a child never banished from home; and
-Mrs. Weston—no one could doubt that a daughter would be most to her;
-and it would be quite a pity that any one who so well knew how to
-teach, should not have their powers in exercise again.
-
-“She has had the advantage, you know, of practising on me,” she
-continued—“like La Baronne d’Almane on La Comtesse d’Ostalis, in Madame
-de Genlis’ Adelaide and Theodore, and we shall now see her own little
-Adelaide educated on a more perfect plan.”
-
-“That is,” replied Mr. Knightley, “she will indulge her even more than
-she did you, and believe that she does not indulge her at all. It will
-be the only difference.”
-
-“Poor child!” cried Emma; “at that rate, what will become of her?”
-
-“Nothing very bad.—The fate of thousands. She will be disagreeable in
-infancy, and correct herself as she grows older. I am losing all my
-bitterness against spoilt children, my dearest Emma. I, who am owing
-all my happiness to _you_, would not it be horrible ingratitude in me
-to be severe on them?”
-
-Emma laughed, and replied: “But I had the assistance of all your
-endeavours to counteract the indulgence of other people. I doubt
-whether my own sense would have corrected me without it.”
-
-“Do you?—I have no doubt. Nature gave you understanding:—Miss Taylor
-gave you principles. You must have done well. My interference was quite
-as likely to do harm as good. It was very natural for you to say, what
-right has he to lecture me?—and I am afraid very natural for you to
-feel that it was done in a disagreeable manner. I do not believe I did
-you any good. The good was all to myself, by making you an object of
-the tenderest affection to me. I could not think about you so much
-without doating on you, faults and all; and by dint of fancying so many
-errors, have been in love with you ever since you were thirteen at
-least.”
-
-“I am sure you were of use to me,” cried Emma. “I was very often
-influenced rightly by you—oftener than I would own at the time. I am
-very sure you did me good. And if poor little Anna Weston is to be
-spoiled, it will be the greatest humanity in you to do as much for her
-as you have done for me, except falling in love with her when she is
-thirteen.”
-
-“How often, when you were a girl, have you said to me, with one of your
-saucy looks—‘Mr. Knightley, I am going to do so-and-so; papa says I
-may, or I have Miss Taylor’s leave’—something which, you knew, I did
-not approve. In such cases my interference was giving you two bad
-feelings instead of one.”
-
-“What an amiable creature I was!—No wonder you should hold my speeches
-in such affectionate remembrance.”
-
-“‘Mr. Knightley.’—You always called me, ‘Mr. Knightley;’ and, from
-habit, it has not so very formal a sound.—And yet it is formal. I want
-you to call me something else, but I do not know what.”
-
-“I remember once calling you ‘George,’ in one of my amiable fits, about
-ten years ago. I did it because I thought it would offend you; but, as
-you made no objection, I never did it again.”
-
-“And cannot you call me ‘George’ now?”
-
-“Impossible!—I never can call you any thing but ‘Mr. Knightley.’ I will
-not promise even to equal the elegant terseness of Mrs. Elton, by
-calling you Mr. K.—But I will promise,” she added presently, laughing
-and blushing—“I will promise to call you once by your Christian name. I
-do not say when, but perhaps you may guess where;—in the building in
-which N. takes M. for better, for worse.”
-
-Emma grieved that she could not be more openly just to one important
-service which his better sense would have rendered her, to the advice
-which would have saved her from the worst of all her womanly
-follies—her wilful intimacy with Harriet Smith; but it was too tender a
-subject.—She could not enter on it.—Harriet was very seldom mentioned
-between them. This, on his side, might merely proceed from her not
-being thought of; but Emma was rather inclined to attribute it to
-delicacy, and a suspicion, from some appearances, that their friendship
-were declining. She was aware herself, that, parting under any other
-circumstances, they certainly should have corresponded more, and that
-her intelligence would not have rested, as it now almost wholly did, on
-Isabella’s letters. He might observe that it was so. The pain of being
-obliged to practise concealment towards him, was very little inferior
-to the pain of having made Harriet unhappy.
-
-Isabella sent quite as good an account of her visitor as could be
-expected; on her first arrival she had thought her out of spirits,
-which appeared perfectly natural, as there was a dentist to be
-consulted; but, since that business had been over, she did not appear
-to find Harriet different from what she had known her before.—Isabella,
-to be sure, was no very quick observer; yet if Harriet had not been
-equal to playing with the children, it would not have escaped her.
-Emma’s comforts and hopes were most agreeably carried on, by Harriet’s
-being to stay longer; her fortnight was likely to be a month at least.
-Mr. and Mrs. John Knightley were to come down in August, and she was
-invited to remain till they could bring her back.
-
-“John does not even mention your friend,” said Mr. Knightley. “Here is
-his answer, if you like to see it.”
-
-It was the answer to the communication of his intended marriage. Emma
-accepted it with a very eager hand, with an impatience all alive to
-know what he would say about it, and not at all checked by hearing that
-her friend was unmentioned.
-
-“John enters like a brother into my happiness,” continued Mr.
-Knightley, “but he is no complimenter; and though I well know him to
-have, likewise, a most brotherly affection for you, he is so far from
-making flourishes, that any other young woman might think him rather
-cool in her praise. But I am not afraid of your seeing what he writes.”
-
-“He writes like a sensible man,” replied Emma, when she had read the
-letter. “I honour his sincerity. It is very plain that he considers the
-good fortune of the engagement as all on my side, but that he is not
-without hope of my growing, in time, as worthy of your affection, as
-you think me already. Had he said any thing to bear a different
-construction, I should not have believed him.”
-
-“My Emma, he means no such thing. He only means—”
-
-“He and I should differ very little in our estimation of the two,”
-interrupted she, with a sort of serious smile—“much less, perhaps, than
-he is aware of, if we could enter without ceremony or reserve on the
-subject.”
-
-“Emma, my dear Emma—”
-
-“Oh!” she cried with more thorough gaiety, “if you fancy your brother
-does not do me justice, only wait till my dear father is in the secret,
-and hear his opinion. Depend upon it, he will be much farther from
-doing _you_ justice. He will think all the happiness, all the
-advantage, on your side of the question; all the merit on mine. I wish
-I may not sink into ‘poor Emma’ with him at once.—His tender compassion
-towards oppressed worth can go no farther.”
-
-“Ah!” he cried, “I wish your father might be half as easily convinced
-as John will be, of our having every right that equal worth can give,
-to be happy together. I am amused by one part of John’s letter—did you
-notice it?—where he says, that my information did not take him wholly
-by surprize, that he was rather in expectation of hearing something of
-the kind.”
-
-“If I understand your brother, he only means so far as your having some
-thoughts of marrying. He had no idea of me. He seems perfectly
-unprepared for that.”
-
-“Yes, yes—but I am amused that he should have seen so far into my
-feelings. What has he been judging by?—I am not conscious of any
-difference in my spirits or conversation that could prepare him at this
-time for my marrying any more than at another.—But it was so, I
-suppose. I dare say there was a difference when I was staying with them
-the other day. I believe I did not play with the children quite so much
-as usual. I remember one evening the poor boys saying, ‘Uncle seems
-always tired now.’”
-
-The time was coming when the news must spread farther, and other
-persons’ reception of it tried. As soon as Mrs. Weston was sufficiently
-recovered to admit Mr. Woodhouse’s visits, Emma having it in view that
-her gentle reasonings should be employed in the cause, resolved first
-to announce it at home, and then at Randalls.—But how to break it to
-her father at last!—She had bound herself to do it, in such an hour of
-Mr. Knightley’s absence, or when it came to the point her heart would
-have failed her, and she must have put it off; but Mr. Knightley was to
-come at such a time, and follow up the beginning she was to make.—She
-was forced to speak, and to speak cheerfully too. She must not make it
-a more decided subject of misery to him, by a melancholy tone herself.
-She must not appear to think it a misfortune.—With all the spirits she
-could command, she prepared him first for something strange, and then,
-in a few words, said, that if his consent and approbation could be
-obtained—which, she trusted, would be attended with no difficulty,
-since it was a plan to promote the happiness of all—she and Mr.
-Knightley meant to marry; by which means Hartfield would receive the
-constant addition of that person’s company whom she knew he loved, next
-to his daughters and Mrs. Weston, best in the world.
-
-Poor man!—it was at first a considerable shock to him, and he tried
-earnestly to dissuade her from it. She was reminded, more than once, of
-having always said she would never marry, and assured that it would be
-a great deal better for her to remain single; and told of poor
-Isabella, and poor Miss Taylor.—But it would not do. Emma hung about
-him affectionately, and smiled, and said it must be so; and that he
-must not class her with Isabella and Mrs. Weston, whose marriages
-taking them from Hartfield, had, indeed, made a melancholy change: but
-she was not going from Hartfield; she should be always there; she was
-introducing no change in their numbers or their comforts but for the
-better; and she was very sure that he would be a great deal the happier
-for having Mr. Knightley always at hand, when he were once got used to
-the idea.—Did he not love Mr. Knightley very much?—He would not deny
-that he did, she was sure.—Whom did he ever want to consult on business
-but Mr. Knightley?—Who was so useful to him, who so ready to write his
-letters, who so glad to assist him?—Who so cheerful, so attentive, so
-attached to him?—Would not he like to have him always on the spot?—Yes.
-That was all very true. Mr. Knightley could not be there too often; he
-should be glad to see him every day;—but they did see him every day as
-it was.—Why could not they go on as they had done?
-
-Mr. Woodhouse could not be soon reconciled; but the worst was overcome,
-the idea was given; time and continual repetition must do the rest.—To
-Emma’s entreaties and assurances succeeded Mr. Knightley’s, whose fond
-praise of her gave the subject even a kind of welcome; and he was soon
-used to be talked to by each, on every fair occasion.—They had all the
-assistance which Isabella could give, by letters of the strongest
-approbation; and Mrs. Weston was ready, on the first meeting, to
-consider the subject in the most serviceable light—first, as a settled,
-and, secondly, as a good one—well aware of the nearly equal importance
-of the two recommendations to Mr. Woodhouse’s mind.—It was agreed upon,
-as what was to be; and every body by whom he was used to be guided
-assuring him that it would be for his happiness; and having some
-feelings himself which almost admitted it, he began to think that some
-time or other—in another year or two, perhaps—it might not be so very
-bad if the marriage did take place.
-
-Mrs. Weston was acting no part, feigning no feelings in all that she
-said to him in favour of the event.—She had been extremely surprized,
-never more so, than when Emma first opened the affair to her; but she
-saw in it only increase of happiness to all, and had no scruple in
-urging him to the utmost.—She had such a regard for Mr. Knightley, as
-to think he deserved even her dearest Emma; and it was in every respect
-so proper, suitable, and unexceptionable a connexion, and in one
-respect, one point of the highest importance, so peculiarly eligible,
-so singularly fortunate, that now it seemed as if Emma could not safely
-have attached herself to any other creature, and that she had herself
-been the stupidest of beings in not having thought of it, and wished it
-long ago.—How very few of those men in a rank of life to address Emma
-would have renounced their own home for Hartfield! And who but Mr.
-Knightley could know and bear with Mr. Woodhouse, so as to make such an
-arrangement desirable!—The difficulty of disposing of poor Mr.
-Woodhouse had been always felt in her husband’s plans and her own, for
-a marriage between Frank and Emma. How to settle the claims of Enscombe
-and Hartfield had been a continual impediment—less acknowledged by Mr.
-Weston than by herself—but even he had never been able to finish the
-subject better than by saying—“Those matters will take care of
-themselves; the young people will find a way.” But here there was
-nothing to be shifted off in a wild speculation on the future. It was
-all right, all open, all equal. No sacrifice on any side worth the
-name. It was a union of the highest promise of felicity in itself, and
-without one real, rational difficulty to oppose or delay it.
-
-Mrs. Weston, with her baby on her knee, indulging in such reflections
-as these, was one of the happiest women in the world. If any thing
-could increase her delight, it was perceiving that the baby would soon
-have outgrown its first set of caps.
-
-The news was universally a surprize wherever it spread; and Mr. Weston
-had his five minutes share of it; but five minutes were enough to
-familiarise the idea to his quickness of mind.—He saw the advantages of
-the match, and rejoiced in them with all the constancy of his wife; but
-the wonder of it was very soon nothing; and by the end of an hour he
-was not far from believing that he had always foreseen it.
-
-“It is to be a secret, I conclude,” said he. “These matters are always
-a secret, till it is found out that every body knows them. Only let me
-be told when I may speak out.—I wonder whether Jane has any suspicion.”
-
-He went to Highbury the next morning, and satisfied himself on that
-point. He told her the news. Was not she like a daughter, his eldest
-daughter?—he must tell her; and Miss Bates being present, it passed, of
-course, to Mrs. Cole, Mrs. Perry, and Mrs. Elton, immediately
-afterwards. It was no more than the principals were prepared for; they
-had calculated from the time of its being known at Randalls, how soon
-it would be over Highbury; and were thinking of themselves, as the
-evening wonder in many a family circle, with great sagacity.
-
-In general, it was a very well approved match. Some might think him,
-and others might think her, the most in luck. One set might recommend
-their all removing to Donwell, and leaving Hartfield for the John
-Knightleys; and another might predict disagreements among their
-servants; but yet, upon the whole, there was no serious objection
-raised, except in one habitation, the Vicarage.—There, the surprize was
-not softened by any satisfaction. Mr. Elton cared little about it,
-compared with his wife; he only hoped “the young lady’s pride would now
-be contented;” and supposed “she had always meant to catch Knightley if
-she could;” and, on the point of living at Hartfield, could daringly
-exclaim, “Rather he than I!”—But Mrs. Elton was very much discomposed
-indeed.—“Poor Knightley! poor fellow!—sad business for him.”—She was
-extremely concerned; for, though very eccentric, he had a thousand good
-qualities.—How could he be so taken in?—Did not think him at all in
-love—not in the least.—Poor Knightley!—There would be an end of all
-pleasant intercourse with him.—How happy he had been to come and dine
-with them whenever they asked him! But that would be all over now.—Poor
-fellow!—No more exploring parties to Donwell made for _her_. Oh! no;
-there would be a Mrs. Knightley to throw cold water on every
-thing.—Extremely disagreeable! But she was not at all sorry that she
-had abused the housekeeper the other day.—Shocking plan, living
-together. It would never do. She knew a family near Maple Grove who had
-tried it, and been obliged to separate before the end of the first
-quarter.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XVIII
-
-
-Time passed on. A few more to-morrows, and the party from London would
-be arriving. It was an alarming change; and Emma was thinking of it one
-morning, as what must bring a great deal to agitate and grieve her,
-when Mr. Knightley came in, and distressing thoughts were put by. After
-the first chat of pleasure he was silent; and then, in a graver tone,
-began with,
-
-“I have something to tell you, Emma; some news.”
-
-“Good or bad?” said she, quickly, looking up in his face.
-
-“I do not know which it ought to be called.”
-
-“Oh! good I am sure.—I see it in your countenance. You are trying not
-to smile.”
-
-“I am afraid,” said he, composing his features, “I am very much afraid,
-my dear Emma, that you will not smile when you hear it.”
-
-“Indeed! but why so?—I can hardly imagine that any thing which pleases
-or amuses you, should not please and amuse me too.”
-
-“There is one subject,” he replied, “I hope but one, on which we do not
-think alike.” He paused a moment, again smiling, with his eyes fixed on
-her face. “Does nothing occur to you?—Do not you recollect?—Harriet
-Smith.”
-
-Her cheeks flushed at the name, and she felt afraid of something,
-though she knew not what.
-
-“Have you heard from her yourself this morning?” cried he. “You have, I
-believe, and know the whole.”
-
-“No, I have not; I know nothing; pray tell me.”
-
-“You are prepared for the worst, I see—and very bad it is. Harriet
-Smith marries Robert Martin.”
-
-Emma gave a start, which did not seem like being prepared—and her eyes,
-in eager gaze, said, “No, this is impossible!” but her lips were
-closed.
-
-“It is so, indeed,” continued Mr. Knightley; “I have it from Robert
-Martin himself. He left me not half an hour ago.”
-
-She was still looking at him with the most speaking amazement.
-
-“You like it, my Emma, as little as I feared.—I wish our opinions were
-the same. But in time they will. Time, you may be sure, will make one
-or the other of us think differently; and, in the meanwhile, we need
-not talk much on the subject.”
-
-“You mistake me, you quite mistake me,” she replied, exerting herself.
-“It is not that such a circumstance would now make me unhappy, but I
-cannot believe it. It seems an impossibility!—You cannot mean to say,
-that Harriet Smith has accepted Robert Martin. You cannot mean that he
-has even proposed to her again—yet. You only mean, that he intends it.”
-
-“I mean that he has done it,” answered Mr. Knightley, with smiling but
-determined decision, “and been accepted.”
-
-“Good God!” she cried.—“Well!”—Then having recourse to her workbasket,
-in excuse for leaning down her face, and concealing all the exquisite
-feelings of delight and entertainment which she knew she must be
-expressing, she added, “Well, now tell me every thing; make this
-intelligible to me. How, where, when?—Let me know it all. I never was
-more surprized—but it does not make me unhappy, I assure you.—How—how
-has it been possible?”
-
-“It is a very simple story. He went to town on business three days ago,
-and I got him to take charge of some papers which I was wanting to send
-to John.—He delivered these papers to John, at his chambers, and was
-asked by him to join their party the same evening to Astley’s. They
-were going to take the two eldest boys to Astley’s. The party was to be
-our brother and sister, Henry, John—and Miss Smith. My friend Robert
-could not resist. They called for him in their way; were all extremely
-amused; and my brother asked him to dine with them the next day—which
-he did—and in the course of that visit (as I understand) he found an
-opportunity of speaking to Harriet; and certainly did not speak in
-vain.—She made him, by her acceptance, as happy even as he is
-deserving. He came down by yesterday’s coach, and was with me this
-morning immediately after breakfast, to report his proceedings, first
-on my affairs, and then on his own. This is all that I can relate of
-the how, where, and when. Your friend Harriet will make a much longer
-history when you see her.—She will give you all the minute particulars,
-which only woman’s language can make interesting.—In our communications
-we deal only in the great.—However, I must say, that Robert Martin’s
-heart seemed for _him_, and to _me_, very overflowing; and that he did
-mention, without its being much to the purpose, that on quitting their
-box at Astley’s, my brother took charge of Mrs. John Knightley and
-little John, and he followed with Miss Smith and Henry; and that at one
-time they were in such a crowd, as to make Miss Smith rather uneasy.”
-
-He stopped.—Emma dared not attempt any immediate reply. To speak, she
-was sure would be to betray a most unreasonable degree of happiness.
-She must wait a moment, or he would think her mad. Her silence
-disturbed him; and after observing her a little while, he added,
-
-“Emma, my love, you said that this circumstance would not now make you
-unhappy; but I am afraid it gives you more pain than you expected. His
-situation is an evil—but you must consider it as what satisfies your
-friend; and I will answer for your thinking better and better of him as
-you know him more. His good sense and good principles would delight
-you.—As far as the man is concerned, you could not wish your friend in
-better hands. His rank in society I would alter if I could, which is
-saying a great deal I assure you, Emma.—You laugh at me about William
-Larkins; but I could quite as ill spare Robert Martin.”
-
-He wanted her to look up and smile; and having now brought herself not
-to smile too broadly—she did—cheerfully answering,
-
-“You need not be at any pains to reconcile me to the match. I think
-Harriet is doing extremely well. _Her_ connexions may be worse than
-_his_. In respectability of character, there can be no doubt that they
-are. I have been silent from surprize merely, excessive surprize. You
-cannot imagine how suddenly it has come on me! how peculiarly
-unprepared I was!—for I had reason to believe her very lately more
-determined against him, much more, than she was before.”
-
-“You ought to know your friend best,” replied Mr. Knightley; “but I
-should say she was a good-tempered, soft-hearted girl, not likely to be
-very, very determined against any young man who told her he loved her.”
-
-Emma could not help laughing as she answered, “Upon my word, I believe
-you know her quite as well as I do.—But, Mr. Knightley, are you
-perfectly sure that she has absolutely and downright _accepted_ him. I
-could suppose she might in time—but can she already?—Did not you
-misunderstand him?—You were both talking of other things; of business,
-shows of cattle, or new drills—and might not you, in the confusion of
-so many subjects, mistake him?—It was not Harriet’s hand that he was
-certain of—it was the dimensions of some famous ox.”
-
-The contrast between the countenance and air of Mr. Knightley and
-Robert Martin was, at this moment, so strong to Emma’s feelings, and so
-strong was the recollection of all that had so recently passed on
-Harriet’s side, so fresh the sound of those words, spoken with such
-emphasis, “No, I hope I know better than to think of Robert Martin,”
-that she was really expecting the intelligence to prove, in some
-measure, premature. It could not be otherwise.
-
-“Do you dare say this?” cried Mr. Knightley. “Do you dare to suppose me
-so great a blockhead, as not to know what a man is talking of?—What do
-you deserve?”
-
-“Oh! I always deserve the best treatment, because I never put up with
-any other; and, therefore, you must give me a plain, direct answer. Are
-you quite sure that you understand the terms on which Mr. Martin and
-Harriet now are?”
-
-“I am quite sure,” he replied, speaking very distinctly, “that he told
-me she had accepted him; and that there was no obscurity, nothing
-doubtful, in the words he used; and I think I can give you a proof that
-it must be so. He asked my opinion as to what he was now to do. He knew
-of no one but Mrs. Goddard to whom he could apply for information of
-her relations or friends. Could I mention any thing more fit to be
-done, than to go to Mrs. Goddard? I assured him that I could not. Then,
-he said, he would endeavour to see her in the course of this day.”
-
-“I am perfectly satisfied,” replied Emma, with the brightest smiles,
-“and most sincerely wish them happy.”
-
-“You are materially changed since we talked on this subject before.”
-
-“I hope so—for at that time I was a fool.”
-
-“And I am changed also; for I am now very willing to grant you all
-Harriet’s good qualities. I have taken some pains for your sake, and
-for Robert Martin’s sake, (whom I have always had reason to believe as
-much in love with her as ever,) to get acquainted with her. I have
-often talked to her a good deal. You must have seen that I did.
-Sometimes, indeed, I have thought you were half suspecting me of
-pleading poor Martin’s cause, which was never the case; but, from all
-my observations, I am convinced of her being an artless, amiable girl,
-with very good notions, very seriously good principles, and placing her
-happiness in the affections and utility of domestic life.—Much of this,
-I have no doubt, she may thank you for.”
-
-“Me!” cried Emma, shaking her head.—“Ah! poor Harriet!”
-
-She checked herself, however, and submitted quietly to a little more
-praise than she deserved.
-
-Their conversation was soon afterwards closed by the entrance of her
-father. She was not sorry. She wanted to be alone. Her mind was in a
-state of flutter and wonder, which made it impossible for her to be
-collected. She was in dancing, singing, exclaiming spirits; and till
-she had moved about, and talked to herself, and laughed and reflected,
-she could be fit for nothing rational.
-
-Her father’s business was to announce James’s being gone out to put the
-horses to, preparatory to their now daily drive to Randalls; and she
-had, therefore, an immediate excuse for disappearing.
-
-The joy, the gratitude, the exquisite delight of her sensations may be
-imagined. The sole grievance and alloy thus removed in the prospect of
-Harriet’s welfare, she was really in danger of becoming too happy for
-security.—What had she to wish for? Nothing, but to grow more worthy of
-him, whose intentions and judgment had been ever so superior to her
-own. Nothing, but that the lessons of her past folly might teach her
-humility and circumspection in future.
-
-Serious she was, very serious in her thankfulness, and in her
-resolutions; and yet there was no preventing a laugh, sometimes in the
-very midst of them. She must laugh at such a close! Such an end of the
-doleful disappointment of five weeks back! Such a heart—such a Harriet!
-
-Now there would be pleasure in her returning—Every thing would be a
-pleasure. It would be a great pleasure to know Robert Martin.
-
-High in the rank of her most serious and heartfelt felicities, was the
-reflection that all necessity of concealment from Mr. Knightley would
-soon be over. The disguise, equivocation, mystery, so hateful to her to
-practise, might soon be over. She could now look forward to giving him
-that full and perfect confidence which her disposition was most ready
-to welcome as a duty.
-
-In the gayest and happiest spirits she set forward with her father; not
-always listening, but always agreeing to what he said; and, whether in
-speech or silence, conniving at the comfortable persuasion of his being
-obliged to go to Randalls every day, or poor Mrs. Weston would be
-disappointed.
-
-They arrived.—Mrs. Weston was alone in the drawing-room:—but hardly had
-they been told of the baby, and Mr. Woodhouse received the thanks for
-coming, which he asked for, when a glimpse was caught through the
-blind, of two figures passing near the window.
-
-“It is Frank and Miss Fairfax,” said Mrs. Weston. “I was just going to
-tell you of our agreeable surprize in seeing him arrive this morning.
-He stays till to-morrow, and Miss Fairfax has been persuaded to spend
-the day with us.—They are coming in, I hope.”
-
-In half a minute they were in the room. Emma was extremely glad to see
-him—but there was a degree of confusion—a number of embarrassing
-recollections on each side. They met readily and smiling, but with a
-consciousness which at first allowed little to be said; and having all
-sat down again, there was for some time such a blank in the circle,
-that Emma began to doubt whether the wish now indulged, which she had
-long felt, of seeing Frank Churchill once more, and of seeing him with
-Jane, would yield its proportion of pleasure. When Mr. Weston joined
-the party, however, and when the baby was fetched, there was no longer
-a want of subject or animation—or of courage and opportunity for Frank
-Churchill to draw near her and say,
-
-“I have to thank you, Miss Woodhouse, for a very kind forgiving message
-in one of Mrs. Weston’s letters. I hope time has not made you less
-willing to pardon. I hope you do not retract what you then said.”
-
-“No, indeed,” cried Emma, most happy to begin, “not in the least. I am
-particularly glad to see and shake hands with you—and to give you joy
-in person.”
-
-He thanked her with all his heart, and continued some time to speak
-with serious feeling of his gratitude and happiness.
-
-“Is not she looking well?” said he, turning his eyes towards Jane.
-“Better than she ever used to do?—You see how my father and Mrs. Weston
-doat upon her.”
-
-But his spirits were soon rising again, and with laughing eyes, after
-mentioning the expected return of the Campbells, he named the name of
-Dixon.—Emma blushed, and forbade its being pronounced in her hearing.
-
-“I can never think of it,” she cried, “without extreme shame.”
-
-“The shame,” he answered, “is all mine, or ought to be. But is it
-possible that you had no suspicion?—I mean of late. Early, I know, you
-had none.”
-
-“I never had the smallest, I assure you.”
-
-“That appears quite wonderful. I was once very near—and I wish I had—it
-would have been better. But though I was always doing wrong things,
-they were very bad wrong things, and such as did me no service.—It
-would have been a much better transgression had I broken the bond of
-secrecy and told you every thing.”
-
-“It is not now worth a regret,” said Emma.
-
-“I have some hope,” resumed he, “of my uncle’s being persuaded to pay a
-visit at Randalls; he wants to be introduced to her. When the Campbells
-are returned, we shall meet them in London, and continue there, I
-trust, till we may carry her northward.—But now, I am at such a
-distance from her—is not it hard, Miss Woodhouse?—Till this morning, we
-have not once met since the day of reconciliation. Do not you pity me?”
-
-Emma spoke her pity so very kindly, that with a sudden accession of gay
-thought, he cried,
-
-“Ah! by the bye,” then sinking his voice, and looking demure for the
-moment—“I hope Mr. Knightley is well?” He paused.—She coloured and
-laughed.—“I know you saw my letter, and think you may remember my wish
-in your favour. Let me return your congratulations.—I assure you that I
-have heard the news with the warmest interest and satisfaction.—He is a
-man whom I cannot presume to praise.”
-
-Emma was delighted, and only wanted him to go on in the same style; but
-his mind was the next moment in his own concerns and with his own Jane,
-and his next words were,
-
-“Did you ever see such a skin?—such smoothness! such delicacy!—and yet
-without being actually fair.—One cannot call her fair. It is a most
-uncommon complexion, with her dark eye-lashes and hair—a most
-distinguishing complexion! So peculiarly the lady in it.—Just colour
-enough for beauty.”
-
-“I have always admired her complexion,” replied Emma, archly; “but do
-not I remember the time when you found fault with her for being so
-pale?—When we first began to talk of her.—Have you quite forgotten?”
-
-“Oh! no—what an impudent dog I was!—How could I dare—”
-
-But he laughed so heartily at the recollection, that Emma could not
-help saying,
-
-“I do suspect that in the midst of your perplexities at that time, you
-had very great amusement in tricking us all.—I am sure you had.—I am
-sure it was a consolation to you.”
-
-“Oh! no, no, no—how can you suspect me of such a thing? I was the most
-miserable wretch!”
-
-“Not quite so miserable as to be insensible to mirth. I am sure it was
-a source of high entertainment to you, to feel that you were taking us
-all in.—Perhaps I am the readier to suspect, because, to tell you the
-truth, I think it might have been some amusement to myself in the same
-situation. I think there is a little likeness between us.”
-
-He bowed.
-
-“If not in our dispositions,” she presently added, with a look of true
-sensibility, “there is a likeness in our destiny; the destiny which
-bids fair to connect us with two characters so much superior to our
-own.”
-
-“True, true,” he answered, warmly. “No, not true on your side. You can
-have no superior, but most true on mine.—She is a complete angel. Look
-at her. Is not she an angel in every gesture? Observe the turn of her
-throat. Observe her eyes, as she is looking up at my father.—You will
-be glad to hear (inclining his head, and whispering seriously) that my
-uncle means to give her all my aunt’s jewels. They are to be new set. I
-am resolved to have some in an ornament for the head. Will not it be
-beautiful in her dark hair?”
-
-“Very beautiful, indeed,” replied Emma; and she spoke so kindly, that
-he gratefully burst out,
-
-“How delighted I am to see you again! and to see you in such excellent
-looks!—I would not have missed this meeting for the world. I should
-certainly have called at Hartfield, had you failed to come.”
-
-The others had been talking of the child, Mrs. Weston giving an account
-of a little alarm she had been under, the evening before, from the
-infant’s appearing not quite well. She believed she had been foolish,
-but it had alarmed her, and she had been within half a minute of
-sending for Mr. Perry. Perhaps she ought to be ashamed, but Mr. Weston
-had been almost as uneasy as herself.—In ten minutes, however, the
-child had been perfectly well again. This was her history; and
-particularly interesting it was to Mr. Woodhouse, who commended her
-very much for thinking of sending for Perry, and only regretted that
-she had not done it. “She should always send for Perry, if the child
-appeared in the slightest degree disordered, were it only for a moment.
-She could not be too soon alarmed, nor send for Perry too often. It was
-a pity, perhaps, that he had not come last night; for, though the child
-seemed well now, very well considering, it would probably have been
-better if Perry had seen it.”
-
-Frank Churchill caught the name.
-
-“Perry!” said he to Emma, and trying, as he spoke, to catch Miss
-Fairfax’s eye. “My friend Mr. Perry! What are they saying about Mr.
-Perry?—Has he been here this morning?—And how does he travel now?—Has
-he set up his carriage?”
-
-Emma soon recollected, and understood him; and while she joined in the
-laugh, it was evident from Jane’s countenance that she too was really
-hearing him, though trying to seem deaf.
-
-“Such an extraordinary dream of mine!” he cried. “I can never think of
-it without laughing.—She hears us, she hears us, Miss Woodhouse. I see
-it in her cheek, her smile, her vain attempt to frown. Look at her. Do
-not you see that, at this instant, the very passage of her own letter,
-which sent me the report, is passing under her eye—that the whole
-blunder is spread before her—that she can attend to nothing else,
-though pretending to listen to the others?”
-
-Jane was forced to smile completely, for a moment; and the smile partly
-remained as she turned towards him, and said in a conscious, low, yet
-steady voice,
-
-“How you can bear such recollections, is astonishing to me!—They _will_
-sometimes obtrude—but how you can court them!”
-
-He had a great deal to say in return, and very entertainingly; but
-Emma’s feelings were chiefly with Jane, in the argument; and on leaving
-Randalls, and falling naturally into a comparison of the two men, she
-felt, that pleased as she had been to see Frank Churchill, and really
-regarding him as she did with friendship, she had never been more
-sensible of Mr. Knightley’s high superiority of character. The
-happiness of this most happy day, received its completion, in the
-animated contemplation of his worth which this comparison produced.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XIX
-
-
-If Emma had still, at intervals, an anxious feeling for Harriet, a
-momentary doubt of its being possible for her to be really cured of her
-attachment to Mr. Knightley, and really able to accept another man from
-unbiased inclination, it was not long that she had to suffer from the
-recurrence of any such uncertainty. A very few days brought the party
-from London, and she had no sooner an opportunity of being one hour
-alone with Harriet, than she became perfectly satisfied—unaccountable
-as it was!—that Robert Martin had thoroughly supplanted Mr. Knightley,
-and was now forming all her views of happiness.
-
-Harriet was a little distressed—did look a little foolish at first: but
-having once owned that she had been presumptuous and silly, and
-self-deceived, before, her pain and confusion seemed to die away with
-the words, and leave her without a care for the past, and with the
-fullest exultation in the present and future; for, as to her friend’s
-approbation, Emma had instantly removed every fear of that nature, by
-meeting her with the most unqualified congratulations.—Harriet was most
-happy to give every particular of the evening at Astley’s, and the
-dinner the next day; she could dwell on it all with the utmost delight.
-But what did such particulars explain?—The fact was, as Emma could now
-acknowledge, that Harriet had always liked Robert Martin; and that his
-continuing to love her had been irresistible.—Beyond this, it must ever
-be unintelligible to Emma.
-
-The event, however, was most joyful; and every day was giving her fresh
-reason for thinking so.—Harriet’s parentage became known. She proved to
-be the daughter of a tradesman, rich enough to afford her the
-comfortable maintenance which had ever been hers, and decent enough to
-have always wished for concealment.—Such was the blood of gentility
-which Emma had formerly been so ready to vouch for!—It was likely to be
-as untainted, perhaps, as the blood of many a gentleman: but what a
-connexion had she been preparing for Mr. Knightley—or for the
-Churchills—or even for Mr. Elton!—The stain of illegitimacy, unbleached
-by nobility or wealth, would have been a stain indeed.
-
-No objection was raised on the father’s side; the young man was treated
-liberally; it was all as it should be: and as Emma became acquainted
-with Robert Martin, who was now introduced at Hartfield, she fully
-acknowledged in him all the appearance of sense and worth which could
-bid fairest for her little friend. She had no doubt of Harriet’s
-happiness with any good-tempered man; but with him, and in the home he
-offered, there would be the hope of more, of security, stability, and
-improvement. She would be placed in the midst of those who loved her,
-and who had better sense than herself; retired enough for safety, and
-occupied enough for cheerfulness. She would be never led into
-temptation, nor left for it to find her out. She would be respectable
-and happy; and Emma admitted her to be the luckiest creature in the
-world, to have created so steady and persevering an affection in such a
-man;—or, if not quite the luckiest, to yield only to herself.
-
-Harriet, necessarily drawn away by her engagements with the Martins,
-was less and less at Hartfield; which was not to be regretted.—The
-intimacy between her and Emma must sink; their friendship must change
-into a calmer sort of goodwill; and, fortunately, what ought to be, and
-must be, seemed already beginning, and in the most gradual, natural
-manner.
-
-Before the end of September, Emma attended Harriet to church, and saw
-her hand bestowed on Robert Martin with so complete a satisfaction, as
-no remembrances, even connected with Mr. Elton as he stood before them,
-could impair.—Perhaps, indeed, at that time she scarcely saw Mr. Elton,
-but as the clergyman whose blessing at the altar might next fall on
-herself.—Robert Martin and Harriet Smith, the latest couple engaged of
-the three, were the first to be married.
-
-Jane Fairfax had already quitted Highbury, and was restored to the
-comforts of her beloved home with the Campbells.—The Mr. Churchills
-were also in town; and they were only waiting for November.
-
-The intermediate month was the one fixed on, as far as they dared, by
-Emma and Mr. Knightley.—They had determined that their marriage ought
-to be concluded while John and Isabella were still at Hartfield, to
-allow them the fortnight’s absence in a tour to the seaside, which was
-the plan.—John and Isabella, and every other friend, were agreed in
-approving it. But Mr. Woodhouse—how was Mr. Woodhouse to be induced to
-consent?—he, who had never yet alluded to their marriage but as a
-distant event.
-
-When first sounded on the subject, he was so miserable, that they were
-almost hopeless.—A second allusion, indeed, gave less pain.—He began to
-think it was to be, and that he could not prevent it—a very promising
-step of the mind on its way to resignation. Still, however, he was not
-happy. Nay, he appeared so much otherwise, that his daughter’s courage
-failed. She could not bear to see him suffering, to know him fancying
-himself neglected; and though her understanding almost acquiesced in
-the assurance of both the Mr. Knightleys, that when once the event were
-over, his distress would be soon over too, she hesitated—she could not
-proceed.
-
-In this state of suspense they were befriended, not by any sudden
-illumination of Mr. Woodhouse’s mind, or any wonderful change of his
-nervous system, but by the operation of the same system in another
-way.—Mrs. Weston’s poultry-house was robbed one night of all her
-turkeys—evidently by the ingenuity of man. Other poultry-yards in the
-neighbourhood also suffered.—Pilfering was _housebreaking_ to Mr.
-Woodhouse’s fears.—He was very uneasy; and but for the sense of his
-son-in-law’s protection, would have been under wretched alarm every
-night of his life. The strength, resolution, and presence of mind of
-the Mr. Knightleys, commanded his fullest dependence. While either of
-them protected him and his, Hartfield was safe.—But Mr. John Knightley
-must be in London again by the end of the first week in November.
-
-The result of this distress was, that, with a much more voluntary,
-cheerful consent than his daughter had ever presumed to hope for at the
-moment, she was able to fix her wedding-day—and Mr. Elton was called
-on, within a month from the marriage of Mr. and Mrs. Robert Martin, to
-join the hands of Mr. Knightley and Miss Woodhouse.
-
-The wedding was very much like other weddings, where the parties have
-no taste for finery or parade; and Mrs. Elton, from the particulars
-detailed by her husband, thought it all extremely shabby, and very
-inferior to her own.—“Very little white satin, very few lace veils; a
-most pitiful business!—Selina would stare when she heard of it.”—But,
-in spite of these deficiencies, the wishes, the hopes, the confidence,
-the predictions of the small band of true friends who witnessed the
-ceremony, were fully answered in the perfect happiness of the union.
-
-FINIS
-
-
-
-
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