Emma

EMMABYJANE AUSTEN

VOLUME ICHAPTER IEmma Woodhouse, handsome, clever, and rich, with a comfortablehome and happy disposition, seemed to unite some of the best blessings ofexistence; and had lived nearly twenty-one years in the world with verylittle 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, beenmistress of his house from a very early period. Her mother had died toolong ago for her to have more than an indistinct remembrance of hercaresses; and her place had been supplied by an excellent woman asgoverness, who had fallen little short of a mother in affection. Sixteen years had Miss Taylor been in Mr. Woodhouse's family, less asa governess than a friend, very fond of both daughters, but particularly ofEmma. Between them it was more the intimacy of sisters. Even before MissTaylor had ceased to hold the nominal office of governess, the mildness ofher temper had hardly allowed her to impose any restraint; and the shadowof authority being now long passed away, they had been living together asfriend and friend very mutually attached, and Emma doing just what sheliked; highly esteeming Miss Taylor's judgment, but directed chiefly by herown. The real evils, indeed, of Emma's situation were the power of havingrather too much her own way, and a disposition to think a little too well ofherself; these were the disadvantages which threatened alloy to her manyenjoyments. The danger, however, was at present so unperceived, that theydid not by any means rank as misfortunes with her. Sorrow came--a gentle sorrow--but not at all in the shape of anydisagreeable consciousness. --Miss Taylor married. It was Miss Taylor's losswhich first brought grief. It was on the wedding-day of this beloved friendthat Emma first sat in mournful thought of any continuance. The weddingover, and the bride-people gone, her father and herself were left to dinetogether, with no prospect of a third to cheer a long evening. Her fathercomposed himself to sleep after dinner, as usual, and she had then only tosit and think of what she had lost. The event had every promise of happiness for her friend. Mr. Westonwas a man of unexceptionable character, easy fortune, suitable age, andpleasant manners; and there was some satisfaction in considering with whatself-denying, generous friendship she had always wished and promoted thematch; but it was a black morning's work for her. The want of Miss Taylorwould be felt every hour of every day. She recalled her past kindness--thekindness, the affection of sixteen years--how she had taught and how shehad played with her from five years old--how she had devoted all herpowers to attach and amuse her in health--and how nursed her through thevarious illnesses of childhood. A large debt of gratitude was owing here; butthe intercourse of the last seven years, the equal footing and perfectunreserve which had soon followed Isabella's marriage, on their being left toeach other, was yet a dearer, tenderer recollection. She had been a friendand 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 ofhers--one to whom she could speak every thought as it arose, and who hadsuch an affection for her as could never find fault. How was she to bear the change?--It was true that her friend was goingonly half a mile from them; but Emma was aware that great must be thedifference between a Mrs. Weston, only half a mile from them, and a MissTaylor in the house; and with all her advantages, natural and domestic, shewas now in great danger of suffering from intellectual solitude. She dearlyloved her father, but he was no companion for her. He could not meet herin conversation, rational or playful. The evil of the actual disparity in their ages (and Mr. Woodhouse hadnot married early) was much increased by his constitution and habits; forhaving 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 everywherebeloved for the friendliness of his heart and his amiable temper, his talentscould 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 dailyreach; and many a long October and November evening must be struggledthrough at Hartfield, before Christmas brought the next visit from Isabellaand her husband, and their little children, to fill the house, and give herpleasant society again. Highbury, the large and populous village, almost amounting to a town, to which Hartfield, in spite of its separate lawn, and shrubberies, andname, did really belong, afforded her no equals. The Woodhouses were firstin consequence there. All looked up to them. She had many acquaintance inthe place, for her father was universally civil, but not one among them whocould be accepted in lieu of Miss Taylor for even half a day. It was amelancholy change; and Emma could not but sigh over it, and wish forimpossible things, till her father awoke, and made it necessary to becheerful. His spirits required support. He was a nervous man, easilydepressed; fond of every body that he was used to, and hating to part withthem; hating change of every kind. Matrimony, as the origin of change, wasalways disagreeable; and he was by no means yet reconciled to his owndaughter's marrying, nor could ever speak of her but with compassion, though it had been entirely a match of affection, when he was now obligedto part with Miss Taylor too; and from his habits of gentle selfishness, andof being never able to suppose that other people could feel differently fromhimself, he was very much disposed to think Miss Taylor had done as sad athing for herself as for them, and would have been a great deal happier ifshe had spent all the rest of her life at Hartfield. Emma smiled and chattedas cheerfully as she could, to keep him from such thoughts; but when teacame, 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 thatMr. Weston ever thought of her!""I cannot agree with you, papa; you know I cannot. Mr. Weston is sucha good-humoured, pleasant, excellent man, that he thoroughly deserves agood 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 herown? 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 weddingvisit very soon. ""My dear, how am I to get so far? Randalls is such a distance. I couldnot 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 alittle way;--and where are the poor horses to be while we are paying ourvisit?""They are to be put into Mr. Weston's stable, papa. You know we havesettled 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 toRandalls, because of his daughter's being housemaid there. I only doubtwhether he will ever take us anywhere else. That was your doing, papa. You got Hannah that good place. Nobody thought of Hannah till youmentioned her--James is so obliged to you!""I am very glad I did think of her. It was very lucky, for I would nothave had poor James think himself slighted upon any account; and I amsure she will make a very good servant: she is a civil, pretty-spoken girl; Ihave a great opinion of her. Whenever I see her, she always curtseys andasks me how I do, in a very pretty manner; and when you have had herhere to do needlework, I observe she always turns the lock of the door theright 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 abouther 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 allare. "Emma spared no exertions to maintain this happier flow of ideas, andhoped, by the help of backgammon, to get her father tolerably through theevening, and be attacked by no regrets but her own. The backgammon-tablewas placed; but a visitor immediately afterwards walked in and made itunnecessary. Mr. Knightley, a sensible man about seven or eight-and-thirty, was notonly a very old and intimate friend of the family, but particularly connectedwith it, as the elder brother of Isabella's husband. He lived about a milefrom Highbury, was a frequent visitor, and always welcome, and at thistime more welcome than usual, as coming directly from their mutualconnexions 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 inBrunswick Square. It was a happy circumstance, and animated Mr. Woodhouse for some time. Mr. Knightley had a cheerful manner, whichalways did him good; and his many inquiries after "poor Isabella" and herchildren were answered most satisfactorily. When this was over, Mr. Woodhouse gratefully observed, "It is very kind of you, Mr. Knightley, tocome out at this late hour to call upon us. I am afraid you must have had ashocking walk. ""Not at all, sir. It is a beautiful moonlight night; and so mild that I mustdraw back from your great fire. ""But you must have found it very damp and dirty. I wish you may notcatch 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. Iwanted them to put off the wedding. ""By the bye--I have not wished you joy. Being pretty well aware ofwhat sort of joy you must both be feeling, I have been in no hurry with mycongratulations; but I hope it all went off tolerably well. How did you allbehave? 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 itcomes to the question of dependence or independence!--At any rate, itmust be better to have only one to please than two. ""Especially when one of those two is such a fanciful, troublesomecreature!" said Emma playfully. "That is what you have in your head, Iknow--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 asigh. "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 ajoke. We always say what we like to one another. "Mr. Knightley, in fact, was one of the few people who could see faultsin Emma Woodhouse, and the only one who ever told her of them: andthough this was not particularly agreeable to Emma herself, she knew itwould be so much less so to her father, that she would not have him reallysuspect such a circumstance as her not being thought perfect by everybody. "Emma knows I never flatter her, " said Mr. Knightley, "but I meant noreflection on any body. Miss Taylor has been used to have two persons toplease; she will now have but one. The chances are that she must be againer. ""Well, " said Emma, willing to let it pass--"you want to hear about thewedding; 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, andhardly a long face to be seen. Oh no; we all felt that we were going to beonly 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 sureshe will miss her more than she thinks for. "Emma turned away her head, divided between tears and smiles. "It isimpossible that Emma should not miss such a companion, " said Mr. Knightley. "We should not like her so well as we do, sir, if we couldsuppose it; but she knows how much the marriage is to Miss Taylor'sadvantage; she knows how very acceptable it must be, at Miss Taylor's timeof life, to be settled in a home of her own, and how important to her to besecure of a comfortable provision, and therefore cannot allow herself to feelso much pain as pleasure. Every friend of Miss Taylor must be glad to haveher so happily married. ""And you have forgotten one matter of joy to me, " said Emma, "and avery 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 theright, when so many people said Mr. Weston would never marry again, maycomfort me for any thing. "Mr. Knightley shook his head at her. Her father fondly replied, "Ah! mydear, I wish you would not make matches and foretell things, for whateveryou 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, forother people. It is the greatest amusement in the world! And after suchsuccess, you know!--Every body said that Mr. Weston would never marryagain. Oh dear, no! Mr. Weston, who had been a widower so long, and whoseemed so perfectly comfortable without a wife, so constantly occupiedeither in his business in town or among his friends here, always acceptablewherever he went, always cheerful--Mr. Weston need not spend a singleevening in the year alone if he did not like it. Oh no! Mr. Weston certainlywould never marry again. Some people even talked of a promise to his wifeon her deathbed, and others of the son and the uncle not letting him. Allmanner of solemn nonsense was talked on the subject, but I believed noneof it. "Ever since the day--about four years ago--that Miss Taylor and I metwith him in Broadway Lane, when, because it began to drizzle, he dartedaway with so much gallantry, and borrowed two umbrellas for us fromFarmer Mitchell's, I made up my mind on the subject. I planned the matchfrom 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 delicatelyspent, if you have been endeavouring for the last four years to bring aboutthis marriage. A worthy employment for a young lady's mind! But if, whichI rather imagine, your making the match, as you call it, means only yourplanning it, your saying to yourself one idle day, 'I think it would be a verygood thing for Miss Taylor if Mr. Weston were to marry her, ' and saying itagain to yourself every now and then afterwards, why do you talk ofsuccess? Where is your merit? What are you proud of? You made a luckyguess; and that is all that can be said. ""And have you never known the pleasure and triumph of a luckyguess?-- I pity you. --I thought you cleverer--for, depend upon it a luckyguess is never merely luck. There is always some talent in it. And as to mypoor word 'success, ' which you quarrel with, I do not know that I am soentirely without any claim to it. You have drawn two pretty pictures; but Ithink there may be a third--a something between the do-nothing and thedo-all. If I had not promoted Mr. Weston's visits here, and given many littleencouragements, and smoothed many little matters, it might not have cometo any thing after all. I think you must know Hartfield enough tocomprehend that. ""A straightforward, open-hearted man like Weston, and a rational, unaffected woman like Miss Taylor, may be safely left to manage their ownconcerns. You are more likely to have done harm to yourself, than good tothem, by interference. ""Emma never thinks of herself, if she can do good to others, " rejoinedMr. Woodhouse, understanding but in part. "But, my dear, pray do notmake any more matches; they are silly things, and break up one's familycircle 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 inHighbury who deserves him--and he has been here a whole year, and hasfitted up his house so comfortably, that it would be a shame to have himsingle 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 officedone for him! I think very well of Mr. Elton, and this is the only way I haveof doing him a service. ""Mr. Elton is a very pretty young man, to be sure, and a very goodyoung man, and I have a great regard for him. But if you want to shew himany attention, my dear, ask him to come and dine with us some day. Thatwill be a much better thing. I dare say Mr. Knightley will be so kind as tomeet 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 thechicken, but leave him to chuse his own wife. Depend upon it, a man of sixor seven-and-twenty can take care of himself. "CHAPTER IIMr. Weston was a native of Highbury, and born of a respectable family, which for the last two or three generations had been rising into gentilityand property. He had received a good education, but, on succeeding earlyin life to a small independence, had become indisposed for any of the morehomely pursuits in which his brothers were engaged, and had satisfied anactive, cheerful mind and social temper by entering into the militia of hiscounty, then embodied. Captain Weston was a general favourite; and when the chances of hismilitary life had introduced him to Miss Churchill, of a great Yorkshirefamily, and Miss Churchill fell in love with him, nobody was surprized, except her brother and his wife, who had never seen him, and who werefull of pride and importance, which the connexion would offend. Miss Churchill, however, being of age, and with the full command ofher 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 infinitemortification of Mr. And Mrs. Churchill, who threw her off with duedecorum. It was an unsuitable connexion, and did not produce muchhappiness. Mrs. Weston ought to have found more in it, for she had ahusband whose warm heart and sweet temper made him think every thingdue to her in return for the great goodness of being in love with him; butthough she had one sort of spirit, she had not the best. She had resolutionenough to pursue her own will in spite of her brother, but not enough torefrain from unreasonable regrets at that brother's unreasonable anger, norfrom missing the luxuries of her former home. They lived beyond theirincome, but still it was nothing in comparison of Enscombe: she did notcease to love her husband, but she wanted at once to be the wife of CaptainWeston, 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 ofthe bargain; for when his wife died, after a three years' marriage, he wasrather a poorer man than at first, and with a child to maintain. From theexpense of the child, however, he was soon relieved. The boy had, with theadditional softening claim of a lingering illness of his mother's, been themeans of a sort of reconciliation; and Mr. And Mrs. Churchill, having nochildren of their own, nor any other young creature of equal kindred to carefor, offered to take the whole charge of the little Frank soon after herdecease. Some scruples and some reluctance the widower-father may besupposed 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 hehad only his own comfort to seek, and his own situation to improve as hecould. A complete change of life became desirable. He quitted the militia andengaged in trade, having brothers already established in a good way inLondon, which afforded him a favourable opening. It was a concern whichbrought just employment enough. He had still a small house in Highbury, where most of his leisure days were spent; and between useful occupationand the pleasures of society, the next eighteen or twenty years of his lifepassed cheerfully away. He had, by that time, realised an easycompetence--enough to secure the purchase of a little estate adjoiningHighbury, which he had always longed for--enough to marry a woman asportionless even as Miss Taylor, and to live according to the wishes of hisown friendly and social disposition. It was now some time since Miss Taylor had begun to influence hisschemes; but as it was not the tyrannic influence of youth on youth, it hadnot shaken his determination of never settling till he could purchaseRandalls, and the sale of Randalls was long looked forward to; but he hadgone steadily on, with these objects in view, till they were accomplished. He had made his fortune, bought his house, and obtained his wife; and wasbeginning a new period of existence, with every probability of greaterhappiness than in any yet passed through. He had never been an unhappyman; 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 trulyamiable woman could be, and must give him the pleasantest proof of itsbeing a great deal better to choose than to be chosen, to excite gratitudethan 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'sheir, it had become so avowed an adoption as to have him assume the nameof Churchill on coming of age. It was most unlikely, therefore, that heshould ever want his father's assistance. His father had no apprehension ofit. 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 bestrong enough to affect one so dear, and, as he believed, so deservedlydear. He saw his son every year in London, and was proud of him; and hisfond report of him as a very fine young man had made Highbury feel a sortof pride in him too. He was looked on as sufficiently belonging to the placeto make his merits and prospects a kind of common concern. Mr. Frank Churchill was one of the boasts of Highbury, and a livelycuriosity to see him prevailed, though the compliment was so little returnedthat he had never been there in his life. His coming to visit his father hadbeen often talked of but never achieved. Now, upon his father's marriage, it was very generally proposed, as amost proper attention, that the visit should take place. There was not adissentient voice on the subject, either when Mrs. Perry drank tea withMrs. And Miss Bates, or when Mrs. And Miss Bates returned the visit. Nowwas the time for Mr. Frank Churchill to come among them; and the hopestrengthened when it was understood that he had written to his newmother on the occasion. For a few days, every morning visit in Highburyincluded some mention of the handsome letter Mrs. Weston had received. "Isuppose you have heard of the handsome letter Mr. Frank Churchill haswritten to Mrs. Weston? I understand it was a very handsome letter, indeed. Mr. Woodhouse told me of it. Mr. Woodhouse saw the letter, andhe 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 pleasingattention was an irresistible proof of his great good sense, and a mostwelcome addition to every source and every expression of congratulationwhich her marriage had already secured. She felt herself a most fortunatewoman; and she had lived long enough to know how fortunate she mightwell be thought, where the only regret was for a partial separation fromfriends whose friendship for her had never cooled, and who could ill bear topart 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'sennui, from the want of her companionableness: but dear Emma was of nofeeble character; she was more equal to her situation than most girls wouldhave been, and had sense, and energy, and spirits that might be hopedwould bear her well and happily through its little difficulties and privations. And then there was such comfort in the very easy distance of Randalls fromHartfield, so convenient for even solitary female walking, and in Mr. Weston's disposition and circumstances, which would make the approachingseason no hindrance to their spending half the evenings in the weektogether. Her situation was altogether the subject of hours of gratitude to Mrs. Weston, and of moments only of regret; and her satisfaction--her morethan satisfaction--her cheerful enjoyment, was so just and so apparent, that Emma, well as she knew her father, was sometimes taken by surprizeat his being still able to pity 'poor Miss Taylor, ' when they left her atRandalls in the centre of every domestic comfort, or saw her go away in theevening attended by her pleasant husband to a carriage of her own. Butnever 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 ceasingto pity her; but a few weeks brought some alleviation to Mr. Woodhouse. The compliments of his neighbours were over; he was no longer teased bybeing wished joy of so sorrowful an event; and the wedding-cake, whichhad been a great distress to him, was all eat up. His own stomach couldbear nothing rich, and he could never believe other people to be differentfrom himself. What was unwholesome to him he regarded as unfit for anybody; and he had, therefore, earnestly tried to dissuade them from havingany wedding-cake at all, and when that proved vain, as earnestly tried toprevent 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-cakemight certainly disagree with many--perhaps with most people, unlesstaken moderately. With such an opinion, in confirmation of his own, Mr. Woodhouse hoped to influence every visitor of the newly married pair; butstill the cake was eaten; and there was no rest for his benevolent nerves tillit was all gone. There was a strange rumour in Highbury of all the little Perrys beingseen with a slice of Mrs. Weston's wedding-cake in their hands: but Mr. Woodhouse would never believe it. CHAPTER IIIMr. Woodhouse was fond of society in his own way. He liked verymuch to have his friends come and see him; and from various unitedcauses, from his long residence at Hartfield, and his good nature, from hisfortune, his house, and his daughter, he could command the visits of hisown little circle, in a great measure, as he liked. He had not muchintercourse with any families beyond that circle; his horror of late hours, and large dinner-parties, made him unfit for any acquaintance but such aswould visit him on his own terms. Fortunately for him, Highbury, includingRandalls 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 dinewith him: but evening parties were what he preferred; and, unless hefancied himself at any time unequal to company, there was scarcely anevening in the week in which Emma could not make up a card-table forhim. Real, long-standing regard brought the Westons and Mr. Knightley; andby Mr. Elton, a young man living alone without liking it, the privilege ofexchanging any vacant evening of his own blank solitude for the eleganciesand society of Mr. Woodhouse's drawing-room, and the smiles of his lovelydaughter, was in no danger of being thrown away. After these came a second set; among the most come-at-able of whomwere Mrs. And Miss Bates, and Mrs. Goddard, three ladies almost always atthe service of an invitation from Hartfield, and who were fetched andcarried home so often, that Mr. Woodhouse thought it no hardship foreither James or the horses. Had it taken place only once a year, it wouldhave been a grievance. Mrs. Bates, the widow of a former vicar of Highbury, was a very oldlady, almost past every thing but tea and quadrille. She lived with hersingle daughter in a very small way, and was considered with all the regardand respect which a harmless old lady, under such untowardcircumstances, can excite. Her daughter enjoyed a most uncommon degreeof popularity for a woman neither young, handsome, rich, nor married. Miss Bates stood in the very worst predicament in the world for havingmuch of the public favour; and she had no intellectual superiority to makeatonement to herself, or frighten those who might hate her into outwardrespect. She had never boasted either beauty or cleverness. Her youth hadpassed without distinction, and her middle of life was devoted to the careof a failing mother, and the endeavour to make a small income go as far aspossible. And yet she was a happy woman, and a woman whom no onenamed without good-will. It was her own universal good-will and contentedtemper which worked such wonders. She loved every body, was interestedin every body's happiness, quicksighted to every body's merits; thoughtherself a most fortunate creature, and surrounded with blessings in such anexcellent mother, and so many good neighbours and friends, and a homethat wanted for nothing. The simplicity and cheerfulness of her nature, hercontented and grateful spirit, were a recommendation to every body, and amine of felicity to herself. She was a great talker upon little matters, whichexactly suited Mr. Woodhouse, full of trivial communications and harmlessgossip. Mrs. Goddard was the mistress of a School--not of a seminary, or anestablishment, or any thing which professed, in long sentences of refinednonsense, to combine liberal acquirements with elegant morality, upon newprinciples and new systems--and where young ladies for enormous paymight be screwed out of health and into vanity--but a real, honest, old-fashioned Boarding-school, where a reasonable quantity of accomplishmentswere sold at a reasonable price, and where girls might be sent to be out ofthe way, and scramble themselves into a little education, without anydanger of coming back prodigies. Mrs. Goddard's school was in highrepute--and very deservedly; for Highbury was reckoned a particularlyhealthy spot: she had an ample house and garden, gave the children plentyof wholesome food, let them run about a great deal in the summer, and inwinter dressed their chilblains with her own hands. It was no wonder that atrain of twenty young couple now walked after her to church. She was aplain, motherly kind of woman, who had worked hard in her youth, andnow thought herself entitled to the occasional holiday of a tea-visit; andhaving formerly owed much to Mr. Woodhouse's kindness, felt hisparticular 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 tocollect; and happy was she, for her father's sake, in the power; though, asfar 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 verymuch pleased with herself for contriving things so well; but the quietprosings of three such women made her feel that every evening so spentwas indeed one of the long evenings she had fearfully anticipated. As she sat one morning, looking forward to exactly such a close of thepresent day, a note was brought from Mrs. Goddard, requesting, in mostrespectful terms, to be allowed to bring Miss Smith with her; a mostwelcome request: for Miss Smith was a girl of seventeen, whom Emmaknew very well by sight, and had long felt an interest in, on account of herbeauty. A very gracious invitation was returned, and the evening no longerdreaded by the fair mistress of the mansion. Harriet Smith was the natural daughter of somebody. Somebody hadplaced her, several years back, at Mrs. Goddard's school, and somebodyhad 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 novisible friends but what had been acquired at Highbury, and was now justreturned from a long visit in the country to some young ladies who hadbeen at school there with her. She was a very pretty girl, and her beauty happened to be of a sortwhich Emma particularly admired. She was short, plump, and fair, with afine bloom, blue eyes, light hair, regular features, and a look of greatsweetness, and, before the end of the evening, Emma was as much pleasedwith her manners as her person, and quite determined to continue theacquaintance. She was not struck by any thing remarkably clever in Miss Smith'sconversation, but she found her altogether very engaging--notinconveniently shy, not unwilling to talk--and yet so far from pushing, shewing so proper and becoming a deference, seeming so pleasantly gratefulfor being admitted to Hartfield, and so artlessly impressed by theappearance of every thing in so superior a style to what she had been usedto, that she must have good sense, and deserve encouragement. Encouragement should be given. Those soft blue eyes, and all those naturalgraces, should not be wasted on the inferior society of Highbury and itsconnexions. The acquaintance she had already formed were unworthy ofher. The friends from whom she had just parted, though very good sort ofpeople, 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, shebelieved--she knew Mr. Knightley thought highly of them--but they mustbe coarse and unpolished, and very unfit to be the intimates of a girl whowanted only a little more knowledge and elegance to be quite perfect. Shewould notice her; she would improve her; she would detach her from herbad acquaintance, and introduce her into good society; she would form heropinions and her manners. It would be an interesting, and certainly a verykind undertaking; highly becoming her own situation in life, her leisure, and powers. She was so busy in admiring those soft blue eyes, in talking andlistening, and forming all these schemes in the in-betweens, that theevening flew away at a very unusual rate; and the supper-table, whichalways closed such parties, and for which she had been used to sit andwatch the due time, was all set out and ready, and moved forwards to thefire, before she was aware. With an alacrity beyond the common impulse ofa spirit which yet was never indifferent to the credit of doing every thingwell and attentively, with the real good-will of a mind delighted with itsown ideas, did she then do all the honours of the meal, and help andrecommend the minced chicken and scalloped oysters, with an urgencywhich she knew would be acceptable to the early hours and civil scruples oftheir guests. Upon such occasions poor Mr. Woodhouses feelings were in sadwarfare. He loved to have the cloth laid, because it had been the fashion ofhis youth, but his conviction of suppers being very unwholesome made himrather sorry to see any thing put on it; and while his hospitality would havewelcomed his visitors to every thing, his care for their health made himgrieve 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 constrainhimself, while the ladies were comfortably clearing the nicer things, to say:"Mrs. Bates, let me propose your venturing on one of these eggs. An eggboiled very soft is not unwholesome. Serle understands boiling an egg betterthan any body. I would not recommend an egg boiled by any body else; butyou need not be afraid, they are very small, you see--one of our small eggswill not hurt you. Miss Bates, let Emma help you to a little bit of tart--avery little bit. Ours are all apple-tarts. You need not be afraid ofunwholesome 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 tumblerof water? I do not think it could disagree with you. "Emma allowed her father to talk--but supplied her visitors in a muchmore satisfactory style, and on the present evening had particular pleasurein sending them away happy. The happiness of Miss Smith was quite equalto 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 herall the evening, and actually shaken hands with her at last!CHAPTER IVHarriet Smith's intimacy at Hartfield was soon a settled thing. Quickand decided in her ways, Emma lost no time in inviting, encouraging, andtelling her to come very often; and as their acquaintance increased, so didtheir satisfaction in each other. As a walking companion, Emma had veryearly foreseen how useful she might find her. In that respect Mrs. Weston'sloss had been important. Her father never went beyond the shrubbery, where two divisions of the ground sufficed him for his long walk, or hisshort, as the year varied; and since Mrs. Weston's marriage her exercise hadbeen too much confined. She had ventured once alone to Randalls, but itwas not pleasant; and a Harriet Smith, therefore, one whom she couldsummon at any time to a walk, would be a valuable addition to herprivileges. 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, gratefuldisposition, was totally free from conceit, and only desiring to be guided byany one she looked up to. Her early attachment to herself was very amiable;and her inclination for good company, and power of appreciating what waselegant and clever, shewed that there was no want of taste, though strengthof understanding must not be expected. Altogether she was quite convincedof Harriet Smith's being exactly the young friend she wanted--exactly thesomething which her home required. Such a friend as Mrs. Weston was outof the question. Two such could never be granted. Two such she did notwant. It was quite a different sort of thing, a sentiment distinct andindependent. Mrs. Weston was the object of a regard which had its basis ingratitude and esteem. Harriet would be loved as one to whom she could beuseful. For Mrs. Weston there was nothing to be done; for Harriet everything. Her first attempts at usefulness were in an endeavour to find out whowere the parents, but Harriet could not tell. She was ready to tell everything in her power, but on this subject questions were vain. Emma wasobliged to fancy what she liked--but she could never believe that in thesame situation she should not have discovered the truth. Harriet had nopenetration. 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 theschool in general, formed naturally a great part of the conversation--andbut for her acquaintance with the Martins of Abbey-Mill Farm, it must havebeen the whole. But the Martins occupied her thoughts a good deal; shehad spent two very happy months with them, and now loved to talk of thepleasures of her visit, and describe the many comforts and wonders of theplace. Emma encouraged her talkativeness--amused by such a picture ofanother set of beings, and enjoying the youthful simplicity which couldspeak with so much exultation of Mrs. Martin's having "two parlours, twovery good parlours, indeed; one of them quite as large as Mrs. Goddard'sdrawing-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 themAlderneys, and one a little Welch cow, a very pretty little

Welch cowindeed; and of Mrs. Martin's saying as she was so fond of it, it should becalled her cow; and of their having a very handsome summer-house in theirgarden, where some day next year they were all to drink tea:--a veryhandsome summer-house, large enough to hold a dozen people. "For some time she was amused, without thinking beyond the immediatecause; 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, ason and son's wife, who all lived together; but when it appeared that theMr. Martin, who bore a part in the narrative, and was always mentionedwith approbation for his great good-nature in doing something or other, wasa single man; that there was no young Mrs. Martin, no wife in the case; shedid suspect danger to her poor little friend from all this hospitality andkindness, and that, if she were not taken care of, she might be required tosink herself forever. With this inspiriting notion, her questions increased in number andmeaning; and she particularly led Harriet to talk more of Mr. Martin, andthere was evidently no dislike to it. Harriet was very ready to speak of theshare he had had in their moonlight walks and merry evening games; anddwelt a good deal upon his being so very good-humoured and obliging. Hehad 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 hewas so very obliging. He had his shepherd's son into the parlour one nighton purpose to sing to her. She was very fond of singing. He could sing alittle 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 bidmore for his wool than any body in the country. She believed every bodyspoke 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 itwas 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 wantedhim to marry. She was in no hurry at all. "Well done, Mrs. Martin!" thought Emma. "You know what you areabout. ""And when she had come away, Mrs. Martin was so very kind as tosend Mrs. Goddard a beautiful goose--the finest goose Mrs. Goddard hadever seen. Mrs. Goddard had dressed it on a Sunday, and asked all thethree teachers, Miss Nash, and Miss Prince, and Miss Richardson, to supwith her. ""Mr. Martin, I suppose, is not a man of information beyond the line ofhis own business? He does not read?""Oh yes!--that is, no--I do not know--but I believe he has read a gooddeal--but not what you would think any thing of. He reads the AgriculturalReports, and some other books that lay in one of the window seats--but hereads all them to himself. But sometimes of an evening, before we went tocards, he would read something aloud out of the Elegant Extracts, veryentertaining. And I know he has read the Vicar of Wakefield. He never readthe Romance of the Forest, nor The Children of the Abbey. He had neverheard of such books before I mentioned them, but he is determined to getthem 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 atfirst, but I do not think him so plain now. One does not, you know, after atime. 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 haspassed you very often. ""That may be, and I may have seen him fifty times, but without havingany idea of his name. A young farmer, whether on horseback or on foot, isthe very last sort of person to raise my curiosity. The yeomanry areprecisely the order of people with whom I feel I can have nothing to do. Adegree or two lower, and a creditable appearance might interest me; I mighthope to be useful to their families in some way or other. But a farmer canneed none of my help, and is, therefore, in one sense, as much above mynotice 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 hisage to be?""He was four-and-twenty the 8th of last June, and my birthday is the23rd just a fortnight and a day's difference--which is very odd. ""Only four-and-twenty. That is too young to settle. His mother isperfectly 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 repentit. Six years hence, if he could meet with a good sort of young woman inthe 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 arenot born to an independence. Mr. Martin, I imagine, has his fortuneentirely to make--cannot be at all beforehand with the world. Whatevermoney he might come into when his father died, whatever his share of thefamily property, it is, I dare say, all afloat, all employed in his stock, and soforth; and though, with diligence and good luck, he may be rich in time, itis next to impossible that he should have realised any thing yet. ""To be sure, so it is. But they live very comfortably. They have noindoors man, else they do not want for any thing; and Mrs. Martin talks oftaking a boy another year. ""I wish you may not get into a scrape, Harriet, whenever he doesmarry;--I mean, as to being acquainted with his wife--for though hissisters, from a superior education, are not to be altogether objected to, itdoes 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 toyour associates. There can be no doubt of your being a gentleman'sdaughter, and you must support your claim to that station by every thingwithin your own power, or there will be plenty of people who would takepleasure in degrading you. ""Yes, to be sure, I suppose there are. But while I visit at Hartfield, andyou are so kind to me, Miss Woodhouse, I am not afraid of what any bodycan do. ""You understand the force of influence pretty well, Harriet; but I wouldhave you so firmly established in good society, as to be independent even ofHartfield and Miss Woodhouse. I want to see you permanently wellconnected, and to that end it will be advisable to have as few oddacquaintance as may be; and, therefore, I say that if you should still be inthis country when Mr. Martin marries, I wish you may not be drawn in byyour intimacy with the sisters, to be acquainted with the wife, who willprobably be some mere farmer's daughter, without education. ""To be sure. Yes. Not that I think Mr. Martin would ever marry anybody but what had had some education--and been very well brought up. However, I do not mean to set up my opinion against your's--and I am sureI shall not wish for the acquaintance of his wife. I shall always have a greatregard for the Miss Martins, especially Elizabeth, and should be very sorryto give them up, for they are quite as well educated as me. But if he marriesa very ignorant, vulgar woman, certainly I had better not visit her, if I canhelp it. "Emma watched her through the fluctuations of this speech, and saw noalarming symptoms of love. The young man had been the first admirer, butshe trusted there was no other hold, and that there would be no seriousdifficulty, 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 theDonwell road. He was on foot, and after looking very respectfully at her, looked with most unfeigned satisfaction at her companion. Emma was notsorry to have such an opportunity of survey; and walking a few yardsforward, while they talked together, soon made her quick eye sufficientlyacquainted with Mr. Robert Martin. His appearance was very neat, and helooked like a sensible young man, but his person had no other advantage;and when he came to be contrasted with gentlemen, she thought he mustlose all the ground he had gained in Harriet's inclination. Harriet was notinsensible of manner; she had voluntarily noticed her father's gentlenesswith admiration as well as wonder. Mr. Martin looked as if he did notknow what manner was. They remained but a few minutes together, as Miss Woodhouse mustnot be kept waiting; and Harriet then came running to her with a smilingface, and in a flutter of spirits, which Miss Woodhouse hoped very soon tocompose. "Only think of our happening to meet him!--How very odd! It was quitea chance, he said, that he had not gone round by Randalls. He did not thinkwe ever walked this road. He thought we walked towards Randalls mostdays. He has not been able to get the Romance of the Forest yet. He was sobusy the last time he was at Kingston that he quite forgot it, but he goesagain to-morrow. So very odd we should happen to meet! Well, MissWoodhouse, is he like what you expected? What do you think of him? Doyou think him so very plain?""He is very plain, undoubtedly--remarkably plain:--but that is nothingcompared 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 veryclownish, so totally without air. I had imagined him, I confess, a degree ortwo nearer gentility. ""To be sure, " said Harriet, in a mortified voice, "he is not so genteel asreal gentlemen. ""I think, Harriet, since your acquaintance with us, you have beenrepeatedly in the company of some such very real gentlemen, that you mustyourself be struck with the difference in Mr. Martin. At Hartfield, you havehad very good specimens of well educated, well bred men. I should besurprized if, after seeing them, you could be in company with Mr. Martinagain without perceiving him to be a very inferior creature--and ratherwondering 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 youmust have been struck by his awkward look and abrupt manner, and theuncouthness of a voice which I heard to be wholly unmodulated as I stoodhere. ""Certainly, he is not like Mr. Knightley. He has not such a fine air andway 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 compareMr. Martin with him. You might not see one in a hundred with gentlemanso plainly written as in Mr. Knightley. But he is not the only gentleman youhave been lately used to. What say you to Mr. Weston and Mr. Elton?Compare Mr. Martin with either of them. Compare their manner of carryingthemselves; of walking; of speaking; of being silent. You must see thedifference. ""Oh yes!--there is a great difference. But Mr. Weston is almost an oldman. Mr. Weston must be between forty and fifty. ""Which makes his good manners the more valuable. The older a persongrows, Harriet, the more important it is that their manners should not bebad; the more glaring and disgusting any loudness, or coarseness, orawkwardness 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'stime 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 nothingbut profit and loss. ""Will he, indeed? That will be very bad. ""How much his business engrosses him already is very plain from thecircumstance of his forgetting to inquire for the book you recommended. Hewas a great deal too full of the market to think of any thing else--which isjust as it should be, for a thriving man. What has he to do with books? AndI have no doubt that he will thrive, and be a very rich man in time--and hisbeing 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 mightbe safely left to itself. She, therefore, said no more for some time. Her nextbeginning 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 bemore safely held up as a pattern. There is an openness, a quickness, almosta bluntness in Mr. Weston, which every body likes in him, because there isso much good-humour with it--but that would not do to be copied. Neitherwould Mr. Knightley's downright, decided, commanding sort of manner, though it suits him very well; his figure, and look, and situation in life seemto allow it; but if any young man were to set about copying him, he wouldnot be sufferable. On the contrary, I think a young man might be verysafely recommended to take Mr. Elton as a model. Mr. Elton is good-humoured, cheerful, obliging, and gentle. He seems to me to be grownparticularly gentle of late. I do not know whether he has any design ofingratiating himself with either of us, Harriet, by additional softness, but itstrikes me that his manners are softer than they used to be. If he meansany thing, it must be to please you. Did not I tell you what he said of youthe other day?"She then repeated some warm personal praise which she had drawnfrom Mr. Elton, and now did full justice to; and Harriet blushed andsmiled, and said she had always thought Mr. Elton very agreeable. Mr. Elton was the very person fixed on by Emma for driving the youngfarmer out of Harriet's head. She thought it would be an excellent match;and only too palpably desirable, natural, and probable, for her to havemuch merit in planning it. She feared it was what every body else mustthink of and predict. It was not likely, however, that any body should haveequalled her in the date of the plan, as it had entered her brain during thevery first evening of Harriet's coming to Hartfield. The longer sheconsidered it, the greater was her sense of its expediency. Mr. Elton'ssituation was most suitable, quite the gentleman himself, and without lowconnexions; at the same time, not of any family that could fairly object tothe doubtful birth of Harriet. He had a comfortable home for her, andEmma imagined a very sufficient income; for though the vicarage ofHighbury 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 orknowledge of the world. She had already satisfied herself that he thought Harriet a beautiful girl, which she trusted, with such frequent meetings at Hartfield, wasfoundation enough on his side; and on Harriet's there could be little doubtthat the idea of being preferred by him would have all the usual weight andefficacy. And he was really a very pleasing young man, a young man whomany woman not fastidious might like. He was reckoned very handsome; hisperson much admired in general, though not by her, there being a want ofelegance of feature which she could not dispense with:--but the girl whocould be gratified by a Robert Martin's riding about the country to getwalnuts 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 Ithink 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 herwith a new object of interest, Harriet may be said to do Emma good. I havebeen seeing their intimacy with the greatest pleasure. How very differentlywe feel!--Not think they will do each other any good! This will certainly bethe beginning of one of our quarrels about Emma, Mr. Knightley. ""Perhaps you think I am come on purpose to quarrel with you, knowingWeston to be out, and that you must still fight your own battle. ""Mr. Weston would undoubtedly support me, if he were here, for hethinks 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 agirl in Highbury for her to associate with. Mr. Knightley, I shall not allowyou to be a fair judge in this case. You are so much used to live alone, thatyou do not know the value of a companion; and, perhaps no man can be agood judge of the comfort a woman feels in the society of one of her ownsex, after being used to it all her life. I can imagine your objection toHarriet Smith. She is not the superior young woman which Emma's friendought to be. But on the other hand, as Emma wants to see her betterinformed, it will be an inducement to her to read more herself. They willread together. She means it, I know. ""Emma has been meaning to read more ever since she was twelve yearsold. I have seen a great many lists of her drawing-up at various times ofbooks that she meant to read regularly through--and very good lists theywere--very well chosen, and very neatly arranged--sometimesalphabetically, and sometimes by some other rule. The list she drew upwhen only fourteen--I remember thinking it did her judgment so muchcredit, that I preserved it some time; and I dare say she may have made outa very good list now. But I have done with expecting any course of steadyreading from Emma. She will never submit to any thing requiring industryand patience, and a subjection of the fancy to the understanding. WhereMiss Taylor failed to stimulate, I may safely affirm that Harriet Smith willdo nothing. --You never could persuade her to read half so much as youwished. --You know you could not. ""I dare say, " replied Mrs. Weston, smiling, "that I thought so then;--butsince we have parted, I can never remember Emma's omitting to do anything I wished. ""There is hardly any desiring to refresh such a memory as that, "--saidMr. Knightley, feelingly; and for a moment or two he had done. "But I, " hesoon added, "who have had no such charm thrown over my senses, muststill see, hear, and remember. Emma is spoiled by being the cleverest of herfamily. At ten years old, she had the misfortune of being able to answerquestions which puzzled her sister at seventeen. She was always quick andassured: Isabella slow and diffident. And ever since she was twelve, Emmahas been mistress of the house and of you all. In her mother she lost theonly person able to cope with her. She inherits her mother's talents, andmust have been under subjection to her. ""I should have been sorry, Mr. Knightley, to be dependent on yourrecommendation, had I quitted Mr. Woodhouse's family and wantedanother situation; I do not think you would have spoken a good word forme to any body. I am sure you always thought me unfit for the office Iheld. ""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 anexcellent wife all the time you were at Hartfield. You might not give Emmasuch a complete education as your powers would seem to promise; but youwere receiving a very good education from her, on the very materialmatrimonial 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 certainlyhave named Miss Taylor. ""Thank you. There will be very little merit in making a good wife tosuch a man as Mr. Weston. ""Why, to own the truth, I am afraid you are rather thrown away, andthat with every disposition to bear, there will be nothing to be borne. Wewill not despair, however. Weston may grow cross from the wantonness ofcomfort, or his son may plague him. ""I hope not that. --It is not likely. No, Mr. Knightley, do not foretellvexation from that quarter. ""Not I, indeed. I only name possibilities. I do not pretend to Emma'sgenius for foretelling and guessing. I hope, with all my heart, the youngman may be a Weston in merit, and a Churchill in fortune. --But HarrietSmith--I have not half done about Harriet Smith. I think her the very worstsort of companion that Emma could possibly have. She knows nothingherself, and looks upon Emma as knowing every thing. She is a flatterer inall her ways; and so much the worse, because undesigned. Her ignorance ishourly 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 willonly put her out of conceit with all the other places she belongs to. She willgrow just refined enough to be uncomfortable with those among whombirth and circumstances have placed her home. I am much mistaken ifEmma's doctrines give any strength of mind, or tend at all to make a girladapt herself rationally to the varieties of her situation in life. --They onlygive a little polish. ""I either depend more upon Emma's good sense than you do, or ammore 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 perfectbeauty than Emma altogether--face and figure?""I do not know what I could imagine, but I confess that I have seldomseen a face or figure more pleasing to me than hers. But I am a partial oldfriend. ""Such an eye!--the true hazle eye--and so brilliant! regular features, open countenance, with a complexion! oh! what a bloom of full health, andsuch a pretty height and size; such a firm and upright figure! There ishealth, not merely in her bloom, but in her air, her head, her glance. Onehears sometimes of a child being 'the picture of health;' now, Emma alwaysgives me the idea of being the complete picture of grown-up health. She isloveliness itself. Mr. Knightley, is not she?""I have not a fault to find with her person, " he replied. "I think her allyou describe. I love to look at her; and I will add this praise, that I do notthink her personally vain. Considering how very handsome she is, sheappears 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 mydread of its doing them both harm. ""And I, Mr. Knightley, am equally stout in my confidence of its notdoing them any harm. With all dear Emma's little faults, she is an excellentcreature. Where shall we see a better daughter, or a kinder sister, or a truerfriend? No, no; she has qualities which may be trusted; she will never leadany one really wrong; she will make no lasting blunder; where Emma errsonce, she is in the right a hundred times. ""Very well; I will not plague you any more. Emma shall be an angel, andI will keep my spleen to myself till Christmas brings John and Isabella. Johnloves Emma with a reasonable and therefore not a blind affection, andIsabella always thinks as he does; except when he is not quite frightenedenough 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; butexcuse 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 mighthave had) the liberty of hinting that I do not think any possible good canarise from Harriet Smith's intimacy being made a matter of much discussionamong you. Pray excuse me; but supposing any little inconvenience may beapprehended from the intimacy, it cannot be expected that Emma, accountable to nobody but her father, who perfectly approves theacquaintance, should put an end to it, so long as it is a source of pleasureto herself. It has been so many years my province to give advice, that youcannot 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 goodadvice, and it shall have a better fate than your advice has often found; forit shall be attended to. ""Mrs. John Knightley is easily alarmed, and might be made unhappyabout 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 notseem more my sister; has never excited a greater interest; perhaps hardly sogreat. There is an anxiety, a curiosity in what one feels for Emma. I wonderwhat will become of her!""So do I, " said Mrs. Weston gently, "very much. ""She always declares she will never marry, which, of course, means justnothing at all. But I have no idea that she has yet ever seen a man shecared for. It would not be a bad thing for her to be very much in love witha proper object. I should like to see Emma in love, and in some doubt of areturn; 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 resolutionat present, " said Mrs. Weston, "as can well be; and while she is so happy atHartfield, I cannot wish her to be forming any attachment which would becreating such difficulties on poor Mr. Woodhouse's account. I do notrecommend matrimony at present to Emma, though I mean no slight to thestate, I assure you. "Part of her meaning was to conceal some favourite thoughts of her ownand Mr. Weston's on the subject, as much as possible. There were wishes atRandalls respecting Emma's destiny, but it was not desirable to have themsuspected; and the quiet transition which Mr. Knightley soon afterwardsmade 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 VIEmma could not feel a doubt of having given Harriet's fancy a properdirection and raised the gratitude of her young vanity to a very goodpurpose, 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 hisadmiration by agreeable hints, she was soon pretty confident of creating asmuch liking on Harriet's side, as there could be any occasion for. She wasquite convinced of Mr. Elton's being in the fairest way of falling in love, ifnot in love already. She had no scruple with regard to him. He talked ofHarriet, and praised her so warmly, that she could not suppose any thingwanting which a little time would not add. His perception of the strikingimprovement of Harriet's manner, since her introduction at Hartfield, wasnot one of the least agreeable proofs of his growing attachment. "You have given Miss Smith all that she required, " said he; "you havemade her graceful and easy. She was a beautiful creature when she came toyou, but, in my opinion, the attractions you have added are infinitelysuperior to what she received from nature. ""I am glad you think I have been useful to her; but Harriet only wanteddrawing out, and receiving a few, very few hints. She had all the naturalgrace of sweetness of temper and artlessness in herself. I have done verylittle. ""If it were admissible to contradict a lady, " said the gallant Mr. Elton--"I have perhaps given her a little more decision of character, havetaught her to think on points which had not fallen in her way before. ""Exactly so; that is what principally strikes me. So much superaddeddecision of character! Skilful has been the hand!""Great has been the pleasure, I am sure. I never met with a dispositionmore truly amiable. ""I have no doubt of it. " And it was spoken with a sort of sighinganimation, which had a vast deal of the lover. She was not less pleasedanother 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 youever sit for your picture?"Harriet was on the point of leaving the room, and only stopt to say, with a very interesting naivete, "Oh! dear, no, never. "No sooner was she out of sight, than Emma exclaimed, "What an exquisite possession a good picture of her would be! I wouldgive any money for it. I almost long to attempt her likeness myself. You donot know it I dare say, but two or three years ago I had a great passion fortaking likenesses, and attempted several of my friends, and was thought tohave a tolerable eye in general. But from one cause or another, I gave it upin disgust. But really, I could almost venture, if Harriet would sit to me. Itwould be such a delight to have her picture!""Let me entreat you, " cried Mr. Elton; "it would indeed be a delight! Letme entreat you, Miss Woodhouse, to exercise so charming a talent in favourof your friend. I know what your drawings are. How could you suppose meignorant? Is not this room rich in specimens of your landscapes andflowers; and has not Mrs. Weston some inimitable figure-pieces in herdrawing-room, at Randalls?"Yes, good man!--thought Emma--but what has all that to do withtaking likenesses? You know nothing of drawing. Don't pretend to be inraptures about mine. Keep your raptures for Harriet's face. "Well, if yougive me such kind encouragement, Mr. Elton, I believe I shall try what I cando. 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 themouth which one ought to catch. ""Exactly so--The shape of the eye and the lines about the mouth--Ihave not a doubt of your success. Pray, pray attempt it. As you will do it, itwill indeed, to use your own words, be an exquisite possession. ""But I am afraid, Mr. Elton, Harriet will not like to sit. She thinks solittle 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 Icannot imagine she would not be persuaded. "Harriet was soon back again, and the proposal almost immediatelymade; and she had no scruples which could stand many minutes against theearnest pressing of both the others. Emma wished to go to work directly, and therefore produced the portfolio containing her various attempts atportraits, for not one of them had ever been finished, that they mightdecide together on the best size for Harriet. Her many beginnings weredisplayed. Miniatures, half-lengths, whole-lengths, pencil, crayon, andwater-colours had been all tried in turn. She had always wanted to do everything, and had made more progress both in drawing and music than manymight have done with so little labour as she would ever submit to. Sheplayed and sang;--and drew in almost every style; but steadiness hadalways been wanting; and in nothing had she approached the degree ofexcellence which she would have been glad to command, and ought not tohave failed of. She was not much deceived as to her own skill either as anartist or a musician, but she was not unwilling to have others deceived, orsorry to know her reputation for accomplishment often higher than itdeserved. There was merit in every drawing--in the least finished, perhaps themost; her style was spirited; but had there been much less, or had therebeen ten times more, the delight and admiration of her two companionswould have been the same. They were both in ecstasies. A likeness pleasesevery body; and Miss Woodhouse's performances must be capital. "No great variety of faces for you, " said Emma. "I had only my ownfamily to study from. There is my father--another of my father--but theidea of sitting for his picture made him so nervous, that I could only takehim by stealth; neither of them very like therefore. Mrs. Weston again, andagain, and again, you see. Dear Mrs. Weston! always my kindest friend onevery occasion. She would sit whenever I asked her. There is my sister; andreally quite her own little elegant figure!--and the face not unlike. I shouldhave made a good likeness of her, if she would have sat longer, but she wasin such a hurry to have me draw her four children that she would not bequiet. 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 theother, and any one of them might do for any one of the rest. She was soeager to have them drawn that I could not refuse; but there is no makingchildren of three or four years old stand still you know; nor can it be veryeasy to take any likeness of them, beyond the air and complexion, unlessthey are coarser featured than any of mama's children ever were. Here ismy sketch of the fourth, who was a baby. I took him as he was sleeping onthe sofa, and it is as strong a likeness of his cockade as you would wish tosee. He had nestled down his head most conveniently. That's very like. I amrather proud of little George. The corner of the sofa is very good. Then hereis 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 didnot want much of being finished, when I put it away in a pet, and vowed Iwould never take another likeness. I could not help being provoked; forafter 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 toohandsome--too flattering--but that was a fault on the right side--after allthis, came poor dear Isabella's cold approbation of--"Yes, it was a littlelike--but to be sure it did not do him justice. " We had had a great deal oftrouble in persuading him to sit at all. It was made a great favour of; andaltogether it was more than I could bear; and so I never would finish it, tohave it apologised over as an unfavourable likeness, to every morningvisitor in Brunswick Square;--and, as I said, I did then forswear everdrawing any body again. But for Harriet's sake, or rather for my own, andas there are no husbands and wives in the case at present, I will break myresolution now. "Mr. Elton seemed very properly struck and delighted by the idea, andwas repeating, "No husbands and wives in the case at present indeed, asyou observe. Exactly so. No husbands and wives, " with so interesting aconsciousness, that Emma began to consider whether she had not betterleave them together at once. But as she wanted to be drawing, thedeclaration must wait a little longer. She had soon fixed on the size and sort of portrait. It was to be awhole-length in water-colours, like Mr. John Knightley's, and was destined, if she could please herself, to hold a very honourable station over themantelpiece. The sitting began; and Harriet, smiling and blushing, and afraid of notkeeping her attitude and countenance, presented a very sweet mixture ofyouthful expression to the steady eyes of the artist. But there was no doingany thing, with Mr. Elton fidgeting behind her and watching every touch. She gave him credit for stationing himself where he might gaze and gazeagain without offence; but was really obliged to put an end to it, andrequest him to place himself elsewhere. It then occurred to her to employhim in reading. "If he would be so good as to read to them, it would be a kindnessindeed! It would amuse away the difficulties of her part, and lessen theirksomeness of Miss Smith's. "Mr. Elton was only too happy. Harriet listened, and Emma drew inpeace. She must allow him to be still frequently coming to look; any thingless would certainly have been too little in a lover; and he was ready at thesmallest intermission of the pencil, to jump up and see the progress, and becharmed. --There was no being displeased with such an encourager, for hisadmiration made him discern a likeness almost before it was possible. Shecould not respect his eye, but his love and his complaisance wereunexceptionable. The sitting was altogether very satisfactory; she was quite enoughpleased with the first day's sketch to wish to go on. There was no want oflikeness, she had been fortunate in the attitude, and as she meant to throwin a little improvement to the figure, to give a little more height, andconsiderably more elegance, she had great confidence of its being in everyway a pretty drawing at last, and of its filling its destined place with creditto them both--a standing memorial of the beauty of one, the skill of theother, and the friendship of both; with as many other agreeable associationsas 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 theparty. "The same civilities and courtesies, the same success and satisfaction, took place on the morrow, and accompanied the whole progress of thepicture, which was rapid and happy. Every body who saw it was pleased, but Mr. Elton was in continual raptures, and defended it through everycriticism. "Miss Woodhouse has given her friend the only beauty she wanted, "--observed Mrs. Weston to him--not in the least suspecting that she wasaddressing a lover. --"The expression of the eye is most correct, but MissSmith has not those eyebrows and eyelashes. It is the fault of her face thatshe has them not. ""Do you think so?" replied he. "I cannot agree with you. It appears tome a most perfect resemblance in every feature. I never saw such a likenessin 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 warmlyadded, "Oh no! certainly not too tall; not in the least too tall. Consider, she issitting down--which naturally presents a different--which in short givesexactly the idea--and the proportions must be preserved, you know. Proportions, fore-shortening. --Oh no! it gives one exactly the idea of such aheight as Miss Smith's. Exactly so indeed!""It is very pretty, " said Mr. Woodhouse. "So prettily done! Just as yourdrawings always are, my dear. I do not know any body who draws so wellas you do. The only thing I do not thoroughly like is, that she seems to besitting out of doors, with only a little shawl over her shoulders--and itmakes one think she must catch cold. ""But, my dear papa, it is supposed to be summer; a warm day insummer. 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 thatI 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 situationwould have been much less in character. The naivete of Miss Smith'smanners--and altogether--Oh, it is most admirable! I cannot keep my eyesfrom it. I never saw such a likeness. "The next thing wanted was to get the picture framed; and here were afew difficulties. It must be done directly; it must be done in London; theorder must go through the hands of some intelligent person whose tastecould be depended on; and Isabella, the usual doer of all commissions, must not be applied to, because it was December, and Mr. Woodhousecould not bear the idea of her stirring out of her house in the fogs ofDecember. But no sooner was the distress known to Mr. Elton, than it wasremoved. His gallantry was always on the alert. "Might he be trusted withthe commission, what infinite pleasure should he have in executing it! hecould ride to London at any time. It was impossible to say how much heshould be gratified by being employed on such an errand. ""He was too good!--she could not endure the thought!--she would notgive him such a troublesome office for the world, "--brought on the desiredrepetition of entreaties and assurances, --and a very few minutes settled thebusiness. Mr. Elton was to take the drawing to London, chuse the frame, andgive the directions; and Emma thought she could so pack it as to ensure itssafety without much incommoding him, while he seemed mostly fearful ofnot 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 shouldsay so, but that I suppose there may be a hundred different ways of beingin love. He is an excellent young man, and will suit Harriet exactly; it willbe an 'Exactly so, ' as he says himself; but he does sigh and languish, andstudy for compliments rather more than I could endure as a principal. Icome in for a pretty good share as a second. But it is his gratitude onHarriet's account. "CHAPTER VIIThe very day of Mr. Elton's going to London produced a fresh occasionfor Emma's services towards her friend. Harriet had been at Hartfield, asusual, soon after breakfast; and, after a time, had gone home to returnagain to dinner: she returned, and sooner than had been talked of, and withan agitated, hurried look, announcing something extraordinary to havehappened 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. Martinhad been there an hour before, and finding she was not at home, norparticularly 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, besidesthe two songs which she had lent Elizabeth to copy, a letter to herself; andthis letter was from him, from Mr. Martin, and contained a direct proposalof marriage. "Who could have thought it? She was so surprized she did notknow 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 askMiss Woodhouse what she should do. --" Emma was half-ashamed of herfriend for seeming so pleased and so doubtful. "Upon my word, " she cried, "the young man is determined not to loseany thing for want of asking. He will connect himself well if he can. ""Will you read the letter?" cried Harriet. "Pray do. I'd rather you would. "Emma was not sorry to be pressed. She read, and was surprized. Thestyle of the letter was much above her expectation. There were not merelyno grammatical errors, but as a composition it would not have disgraced agentleman; the language, though plain, was strong and unaffected, and thesentiments it conveyed very much to the credit of the writer. It was short, but expressed good sense, warm attachment, liberality, propriety, evendelicacy of feeling. She paused over it, while Harriet stood anxiouslywatching 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 gooda letter, Harriet, that every thing considered, I think one of his sisters musthave helped him. I can hardly imagine the young man whom I saw talkingwith you the other day could express himself so well, if left quite to his ownpowers, and yet it is not the style of a woman; no, certainly, it is too strongand concise; not diffuse enough for a woman. No doubt he is a sensibleman, and I suppose may have a natural talent for--thinks strongly andclearly--and when he takes a pen in hand, his thoughts naturally findproper 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 betterwritten letter, Harriet (returning it, ) than I had expected. ""Well, " said the still waiting Harriet;--"well--and--and what shall Ido?""What shall you do! In what respect? Do you mean with regard to thisletter?""Yes. ""But what are you in doubt of? You must answer it of course--andspeedily. ""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 willexpress yourself very properly, I am sure. There is no danger of your notbeing intelligible, which is the first thing. Your meaning must beunequivocal; no doubts or demurs: and such expressions of gratitude andconcern for the pain you are inflicting as propriety requires, will presentthemselves unbidden to your mind, I am persuaded. You need not beprompted 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 inany doubt as to that? I thought--but I beg your pardon, perhaps I havebeen under a mistake. I certainly have been misunderstanding you, if youfeel in doubt as to the purport of your answer. I had imagined you wereconsulting 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 youadvise 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 withit. 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 betoo powerful, she thought it best to say, "I lay it down as a general rule, Harriet, that if a woman doubts as towhether 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 stateto be safely entered into with doubtful feelings, with half a heart. I thoughtit 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 wouldjust advise me what I had best do--No, no, I do not mean that--As yousay, 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 youthink I had better say 'No?'""Not for the world, " said Emma, smiling graciously, "would I advise youeither way. You must be the best judge of your own happiness. If youprefer Mr. Martin to every other person; if you think him the mostagreeable man you have ever been in company with, why should youhesitate? You blush, Harriet. --Does any body else occur to you at thismoment under such a definition? Harriet, Harriet, do not deceive yourself;do not be run away with by gratitude and compassion. At this momentwhom are you thinking of?"The symptoms were favourable. --Instead of answering, Harriet turnedaway confused, and stood thoughtfully by the fire; and though the letterwas still in her hand, it was now mechanically twisted about withoutregard. Emma waited the result with impatience, but not without stronghopes. At last, with some hesitation, Harriet said--"Miss Woodhouse, as you will not give me your opinion, I must do aswell as I can by myself; and I have now quite determined, and really almostmade up my mind--to refuse Mr. Martin. Do you think I am right?""Perfectly, perfectly right, my dearest Harriet; you are doing just whatyou 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 inapproving. Dear Harriet, I give myself joy of this. It would have grieved meto lose your acquaintance, which must have been the consequence of yourmarrying Mr. Martin. While you were in the smallest degree wavering, Isaid nothing about it, because I would not influence; but it would havebeen the loss of a friend to me. I could not have visited Mrs. RobertMartin, 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 herforcibly. "You could not have visited me!" she cried, looking aghast. "No, to besure you could not; but I never thought of that before. That would havebeen too dreadful!--What an escape!--Dear Miss Woodhouse, I would notgive up the pleasure and honour of being intimate with you for any thing inthe world. ""Indeed, Harriet, it would have been a severe pang to lose you; but itmust have been. You would have thrown yourself out of all good society. Imust have given you up. ""Dear me!--How should I ever have borne it! It would have killed menever to come to Hartfield any more!""Dear affectionate creature!--You banished to Abbey-Mill Farm!--Youconfined to the society of the illiterate and vulgar all your life! I wonderhow the young man could have the assurance to ask it. He must have apretty good opinion of himself. ""I do not think he is conceited either, in general, " said Harriet, herconscience opposing such censure; "at least, he is very good natured, and Ishall always feel much obliged to him, and have a great regard for--but thatis quite a different thing from--and you know, though he may like me, itdoes not follow that I should--and certainly I must confess that since myvisiting here I have seen people--and if one comes to compare them, personand manners, there is no comparison at all, one is so very handsome andagreeable. However, I do really think Mr. Martin a very amiable youngman, and have a great opinion of him; and his being so much attached tome--and his writing such a letter--but as to leaving you, it is what I wouldnot do upon any consideration. ""Thank you, thank you, my own sweet little friend. We will not beparted. A woman is not to marry a man merely because she is asked, orbecause 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 whichmight be offending her every hour of the day, to know that her husbandcould write a good letter. ""Oh! yes, very. Nobody cares for a letter; the thing is, to be alwayshappy with pleasant companions. I am quite determined to refuse him. Buthow shall I do? What shall I say?"Emma assured her there would be no difficulty in the answer, andadvised its being written directly, which was agreed to, in the hope of herassistance; and though Emma continued to protest against any assistancebeing wanted, it was in fact given in the formation of every sentence. Thelooking over his letter again, in replying to it, had such a softeningtendency, that it was particularly necessary to brace her up with a fewdecisive expressions; and she was so very much concerned at the idea ofmaking him unhappy, and thought so much of what his mother and sisterswould think and say, and was so anxious that they should not fancy herungrateful, that Emma believed if the young man had come in her way atthat moment, he would have been accepted after all. This letter, however, was written, and sealed, and sent. The businesswas finished, and Harriet safe. She was rather low all the evening, butEmma could allow for her amiable regrets, and sometimes relieved them byspeaking of her own affection, sometimes by bringing forward the idea ofMr. Elton. "I shall never be invited to Abbey-Mill again, " was said in rather asorrowful tone. "Nor, if you were, could I ever bear to part with you, my Harriet. Youare 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 happybut at Hartfield. "Some time afterwards it was, "I think Mrs. Goddard would be verymuch surprized if she knew what had happened. I am sure Miss Nashwould--for Miss Nash thinks her own sister very well married, and it isonly a linen-draper. ""One should be sorry to see greater pride or refinement in the teacher ofa school, Harriet. I dare say Miss Nash would envy you such anopportunity as this of being married. Even this conquest would appearvaluable in her eyes. As to any thing superior for you, I suppose she is quitein the dark. The attentions of a certain person can hardly be among thetittle-tattle of Highbury yet. Hitherto I fancy you and I are the only peopleto whom his looks and manners have explained themselves. "Harriet blushed and smiled, and said something about wondering thatpeople should like her so much. The idea of Mr. Elton was certainlycheering; but still, after a time, she was tender-hearted again towards therejected Mr. Martin. "Now he has got my letter, " said she softly. "I wonder what they are alldoing--whether his sisters know--if he is unhappy, they will be unhappytoo. I hope he will not mind it so very much. ""Let us think of those among our absent friends who are morecheerfully employed, " cried Emma. "At this moment, perhaps, Mr. Elton isshewing your picture to his mother and sisters, telling how much morebeautiful 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 littlemodest Harriet, depend upon it the picture will not be in Bond-street tilljust before he mounts his horse to-morrow. It is his companion all thisevening, his solace, his delight. It opens his designs to his family, itintroduces you among them, it diffuses through the party those pleasantestfeelings of our nature, eager curiosity and warm prepossession. Howcheerful, how animated, how suspicious, how busy their imaginations allare!"Harriet smiled again, and her smiles grew stronger. CHAPTER VIIIHarriet slept at Hartfield that night. For some weeks past she had beenspending more than half her time there, and gradually getting to have abed-room appropriated to herself; and Emma judged it best in everyrespect, safest and kindest, to keep her with them as much as possible justat present. She was obliged to go the next morning for an hour or two toMrs. Goddard's, but it was then to be settled that she should return toHartfield, 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 uphis mind to walk out, was persuaded by his daughter not to defer it, andwas induced by the entreaties of both, though against the scruples of hisown civility, to leave Mr. Knightley for that purpose. Mr. Knightley, whohad nothing of ceremony about him, was offering by his short, decidedanswers, an amusing contrast to the protracted apologies and civilhesitations of the other. "Well, I believe, if you will excuse me, Mr. Knightley, if you will notconsider me as doing a very rude thing, I shall take Emma's advice and goout for a quarter of an hour. As the sun is out, I believe I had better takemy 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 toentertain you. And therefore I think I will beg your excuse and take mythree turns--my winter walk. ""You cannot do better, sir. ""I would ask for the pleasure of your company, Mr. Knightley, but I ama 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 thinkthe sooner you go the better. I will fetch your greatcoat and open thegarden door for you. "Mr. Woodhouse at last was off; but Mr. Knightley, instead of beingimmediately off likewise, sat down again, seemingly inclined for more chat. He began speaking of Harriet, and speaking of her with more voluntarypraise than Emma had ever heard before. "I cannot rate her beauty as you do, " said he; "but she is a pretty littlecreature, and I am inclined to think very well of her disposition. Hercharacter depends upon those she is with; but in good hands she will turnout a valuable woman. ""I am glad you think so; and the good hands, I hope, may not bewanting. ""Come, " said he, "you are anxious for a compliment, so I will tell youthat 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 beenof some use; but it is not every body who will bestow praise where theymay. 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 sheintended. ""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 saidnothing. He presently added, with a smile, "I do not pretend to fix on times or places, but I must tell you that Ihave good reason to believe your little friend will soon hear of something toher 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 havean offer of marriage, and from a most unexceptionable quarter:--RobertMartin is the man. Her visit to Abbey-Mill, this summer, seems to havedone 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 tomarry him?""Well, well, means to make her an offer then. Will that do? He came tothe Abbey two evenings ago, on purpose to consult me about it. He knows Ihave a thorough regard for him and all his family, and, I believe, considersme as one of his best friends. He came to ask me whether I thought itwould be imprudent in him to settle so early; whether I thought her tooyoung: in short, whether I approved his choice altogether; having someapprehension perhaps of her being considered (especially since your makingso much of her) as in a line of society above him. I was very much pleasedwith all that he said. I never hear better sense from any one than RobertMartin. He always speaks to the purpose; open, straightforward, and verywell judging. He told me every thing; his circumstances and plans, andwhat they all proposed doing in the event of his marriage. He is anexcellent young man, both as son and brother. I had no hesitation inadvising him to marry. He proved to me that he could afford it; and thatbeing the case, I was convinced he could not do better. I praised the fairlady too, and altogether sent him away very happy. If he had neveresteemed my opinion before, he would have thought highly of me then;and, I dare say, left the house thinking me the best friend and counsellorman ever had. This happened the night before last. Now, as we may fairlysuppose, 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 thathe should be at Mrs. Goddard's to-day; and she may be detained by avisitor, without thinking him at all a tiresome wretch. ""Pray, Mr. Knightley, " said Emma, who had been smiling to herselfthrough a great part of this speech, "how do you know that Mr. Martin didnot speak yesterday?""Certainly, " replied he, surprized, "I do not absolutely know it; but itmay be inferred. Was not she the whole day with you?""Come, " said she, "I will tell you something, in return for what you havetold 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 thefoolish girl about?""Oh! to be sure, " cried Emma, "it is always incomprehensible to a manthat a woman should ever refuse an offer of marriage. A man alwaysimagines a woman to be ready for any body who asks her. ""Nonsense! a man does not imagine any such thing. But what is themeaning 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 yourdoing. You persuaded her to refuse him. ""And if I did, (which, however, I am far from allowing) I should not feelthat I had done wrong. Mr. Martin is a very respectable young man, but Icannot admit him to be Harriet's equal; and am rather surprized indeed thathe should have ventured to address her. By your account, he does seem tohave had some scruples. It is a pity that they were ever got over. ""Not Harriet's equal!" exclaimed Mr. Knightley loudly and warmly; andwith calmer asperity, added, a few moments afterwards, "No, he is not herequal 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 RobertMartin? She is the natural daughter of nobody knows whom, with probablyno settled provision at all, and certainly no respectable relations. She isknown only as parlour-boarder at a common school. She is not a sensiblegirl, nor a girl of any information. She has been taught nothing useful, andis too young and too simple to have acquired any thing herself. At her ageshe can have no experience, and with her little wit, is not very likely ever tohave any that can avail her. She is pretty, and she is good tempered, andthat is all. My only scruple in advising the match was on his account, asbeing beneath his deserts, and a bad connexion for him. I felt that, as tofortune, in all probability he might do much better; and that as to a rationalcompanion or useful helpmate, he could not do worse. But I could notreason so to a man in love, and was willing to trust to there being no harmin 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 thematch I felt to be all on her side; and had not the smallest doubt (nor haveI 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 thatyou would not regret your friend's leaving Highbury, for the sake of herbeing settled so well. I remember saying to myself, 'Even Emma, with allher partiality for Harriet, will think this a good match. '""I cannot help wondering at your knowing so little of Emma as to sayany such thing. What! think a farmer, (and with all his sense and all hismerit 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 Icould never admit as an acquaintance of my own! I wonder you shouldthink it possible for me to have such feelings. I assure you mine are verydifferent. I must think your statement by no means fair. You are not just toHarriet's claims. They would be estimated very differently by others as wellas myself; Mr. Martin may be the richest of the two, but he is undoubtedlyher inferior as to rank in society. --The sphere in which she moves is muchabove his. --It would be a degradation. ""A degradation to illegitimacy and ignorance, to be married to arespectable, intelligent gentleman-farmer!""As to the circumstances of her birth, though in a legal sense she maybe called Nobody, it will not hold in common sense. She is not to pay forthe offence of others, by being held below the level of those with whom sheis brought up. --There can scarcely be a doubt that her father is agentleman--and a gentleman of fortune. --Her allowance is very liberal;nothing has ever been grudged for her improvement or comfort. --That sheis a gentleman's daughter, is indubitable to me; that she associates withgentlemen's daughters, no one, I apprehend, will deny. --She is superior toMr. Robert Martin. ""Whoever might be her parents, " said Mr. Knightley, "whoever may havehad the charge of her, it does not appear to have been any part of their planto introduce her into what you would call good society. After receiving avery indifferent education she is left in Mrs. Goddard's hands to shift asshe can;--to move, in short, in Mrs. Goddard's line, to have Mrs. Goddard's acquaintance. Her friends evidently thought this good enough forher; and it was good enough. She desired nothing better herself. Till youchose 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 Martinsin the summer. She had no sense of superiority then. If she has it now, youhave given it. You have been no friend to Harriet Smith, Emma. RobertMartin would never have proceeded so far, if he had not felt persuaded ofher not being disinclined to him. I know him well. He has too much realfeeling to address any woman on the haphazard of selfish passion. And asto conceit, he is the farthest from it of any man I know. Depend upon it hehad encouragement. "It was most convenient to Emma not to make a direct reply to thisassertion; 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, areunjust to Harriet. Harriet's claims to marry well are not so contemptible asyou represent them. She is not a clever girl, but she has better sense thanyou are aware of, and does not deserve to have her understanding spokenof so slightingly. Waiving that point, however, and supposing her to be, asyou describe her, only pretty and good-natured, let me tell you, that in thedegree she possesses them, they are not trivial recommendations to theworld in general, for she is, in fact, a beautiful girl, and must be thought soby ninety-nine people out of an hundred; and till it appears that men aremuch more philosophic on the subject of beauty than they are generallysupposed; till they do fall in love with well-informed minds instead ofhandsome faces, a girl, with such loveliness as Harriet, has a certainty ofbeing admired and sought after, of having the power of chusing from amongmany, consequently a claim to be nice. Her good-nature, too, is not so veryslight a claim, comprehending, as it does, real, thorough sweetness oftemper and manner, a very humble opinion of herself, and a great readinessto be pleased with other people. I am very much mistaken if your sex ingeneral would not think such beauty, and such temper, the highest claims awoman could possess. ""Upon my word, Emma, to hear you abusing the reason you have, isalmost enough to make me think so too. Better be without sense, thanmisapply it as you do. ""To be sure!" cried she playfully. "I know that is the feeling of you all. Iknow that such a girl as Harriet is exactly what every man delights in--what at once bewitches his senses and satisfies his judgment. Oh! Harrietmay pick and chuse. Were you, yourself, ever to marry, she is the verywoman for you. And is she, at seventeen, just entering into life, justbeginning to be known, to be wondered at because she does not accept thefirst offer she receives? No--pray let her have time to look about her. ""I have always thought it a very foolish intimacy, " said Mr. Knightleypresently, "though I have kept my thoughts to myself; but I now perceivethat it will be a very unfortunate one for Harriet. You will puff her up withsuch ideas of her own beauty, and of what she has a claim to, that, in alittle while, nobody within her reach will be good enough for her. Vanityworking on a weak head, produces every sort of mischief. Nothing so easyas for a young lady to raise her expectations too high. Miss Harriet Smithmay not find offers of marriage flow in so fast, though she is a very prettygirl. 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 girlof such obscurity--and most prudent men would be afraid of theinconvenience and disgrace they might be involved in, when the mystery ofher parentage came to be revealed. Let her marry Robert Martin, and she issafe, respectable, and happy for ever; but if you encourage her to expect tomarry greatly, and teach her to be satisfied with nothing less than a man ofconsequence 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 girlwho will marry somebody or other, ) till she grow desperate, and is glad tocatch at the old writing-master's son. ""We think so very differently on this point, Mr. Knightley, that therecan be no use in canvassing it. We shall only be making each other moreangry. But as to my letting her marry Robert Martin, it is impossible; shehas refused him, and so decidedly, I think, as must prevent any secondapplication. She must abide by the evil of having refused him, whatever itmay be; and as to the refusal itself, I will not pretend to say that I mightnot influence her a little; but I assure you there was very little for me or forany body to do. His appearance is so much against him, and his manner sobad, that if she ever were disposed to favour him, she is not now. I canimagine, that before she had seen any body superior, she might toleratehim. 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 greatassistant) she might not, while she was at Abbey-Mill, find himdisagreeable. But the case is altered now. She knows now what gentlemenare; and nothing but a gentleman in education and manner has any chancewith Harriet. ""Nonsense, errant nonsense, as ever was talked!" cried Mr. Knightley. --"Robert Martin's manners have sense, sincerity, and good-humour torecommend them; and his mind has more true gentility than Harriet Smithcould understand. "Emma made no answer, and tried to look cheerfully unconcerned, butwas really feeling uncomfortable and wanting him very much to be gone. She did not repent what she had done; she still thought herself a betterjudge of such a point of female right and refinement than he could be; butyet she had a sort of habitual respect for his judgment in general, whichmade her dislike having it so loudly against her; and to have him sitting justopposite to her in angry state, was very disagreeable. Some minutes passedin this unpleasant silence, with only one attempt on Emma's side to talk ofthe weather, but he made no answer. He was thinking. The result of histhoughts appeared at last in these words. "Robert Martin has no great loss--if he can but think so; and I hope itwill not be long before he does. Your views for Harriet are best known toyourself; but as you make no secret of your love of match-making, it is fairto suppose that views, and plans, and projects you have;--and as a friend Ishall just hint to you that if Elton is the man, I think it will be all labour invain. "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 animprudent match. He knows the value of a good income as well as anybody. Elton may talk sentimentally, but he will act rationally. He is as wellacquainted with his own claims, as you can be with Harriet's. He knowsthat he is a very handsome young man, and a great favourite wherever hegoes; and from his general way of talking in unreserved moments, whenthere are only men present, I am convinced that he does not mean to throwhimself away. I have heard him speak with great animation of a large familyof young ladies that his sisters are intimate with, who have all twentythousand pounds apiece. ""I am very much obliged to you, " said Emma, laughing again. "If I hadset my heart on Mr. Elton's marrying Harriet, it would have been very kindto open my eyes; but at present I only want to keep Harriet to myself. Ihave done with match-making indeed. I could never hope to equal my owndoings at Randalls. I shall leave off while I am well. ""Good morning to you, "--said he, rising and walking off abruptly. Hewas very much vexed. He felt the disappointment of the young man, andwas mortified to have been the means of promoting it, by the sanction hehad given; and the part which he was persuaded Emma had taken in theaffair, was provoking him exceedingly. Emma remained in a state of vexation too; but there was moreindistinctness in the causes of her's, than in his. She did not always feel soabsolutely satisfied with herself, so entirely convinced that her opinionswere right and her adversary's wrong, as Mr. Knightley. He walked off inmore complete self-approbation than he left for her. She was not somaterially cast down, however, but that a little time and the return ofHarriet were very adequate restoratives. Harriet's staying away so long wasbeginning to make her uneasy. The possibility of the young man's coming toMrs. Goddard's that morning, and meeting with Harriet and pleading hisown cause, gave alarming ideas. The dread of such a failure after all becamethe prominent uneasiness; and when Harriet appeared, and in very goodspirits, and without having any such reason to give for her long absence, she felt a satisfaction which settled her with her own mind, and convincedher, that let Mr. Knightley think or say what he would, she had donenothing which woman's friendship and woman's feelings would not justify. He had frightened her a little about Mr. Elton; but when she consideredthat Mr. Knightley could not have observed him as she had done, neitherwith 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 aquestion as herself, that he had spoken it hastily and in anger, she was ableto 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. Eltonmight not be of an imprudent, inconsiderate disposition as to moneymatters; he might naturally be rather attentive than otherwise to them; butthen, Mr. Knightley did not make due allowance for the influence of astrong passion at war with all interested motives. Mr. Knightley saw nosuch passion, and of course thought nothing of its effects; but she saw toomuch of it to feel a doubt of its overcoming any hesitations that areasonable 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, notto think of Mr. Martin, but to talk of Mr. Elton. Miss Nash had been tellingher something, which she repeated immediately with great delight. Mr. Perry had been to Mrs. Goddard's to attend a sick child, and Miss Nashhad seen him, and he had told Miss Nash, that as he was coming backyesterday from Clayton Park, he had met Mr. Elton, and found to his greatsurprize, that Mr. Elton was actually on his road to London, and notmeaning to return till the morrow, though it was the whist-club night, which he had been never known to miss before; and Mr. Perry hadremonstrated 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 toput off his journey only one day; but it would not do; Mr. Elton had beendetermined to go on, and had said in a very particular way indeed, that hewas going on business which he would not put off for any inducement inthe world; and something about a very enviable commission, and being thebearer of something exceedingly precious. Mr. Perry could not quiteunderstand him, but he was very sure there must be a lady in the case, andhe told him so; and Mr. Elton only looked very conscious and smiling, androde off in great spirits. Miss Nash had told her all this, and had talked agreat deal more about Mr. Elton; and said, looking so very significantly ather, "that she did not pretend to understand what his business might be, but she only knew that any woman whom Mr. Elton could prefer, sheshould think the luckiest woman in the world; for, beyond a doubt, Mr. Elton had not his equal for beauty or agreeableness. "CHAPTER IXMr. Knightley might quarrel with her, but Emma could not quarrel withherself. He was so much displeased, that it was longer than usual before hecame to Hartfield again; and when they did meet, his grave looks shewedthat she was not forgiven. She was sorry, but could not repent. On thecontrary, her plans and proceedings were more and more justified andendeared 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 ofadmiration just as he ought; and as for Harriet's feelings, they were visiblyforming themselves into as strong and steady an attachment as her youthand sort of mind admitted. Emma was soon perfectly satisfied of Mr. Martin's being no otherwise remembered, than as he furnished a contrastwith Mr. Elton, of the utmost advantage to the latter. Her views of improving her little friend's mind, by a great deal of usefulreading and conversation, had never yet led to more than a few firstchapters, and the intention of going on to-morrow. It was much easier tochat than to study; much pleasanter to let her imagination range and workat Harriet's fortune, than to be labouring to enlarge her comprehension orexercise it on sober facts; and the only literary pursuit which engagedHarriet at present, the only mental provision she was making for theevening of life, was the collecting and transcribing all the riddles of everysort that she could meet with, into a thin quarto of hot-pressed paper, madeup by her friend, and ornamented with ciphers and trophies. In this age of literature, such collections on a very grand scale are notuncommon. Miss Nash, head-teacher at Mrs. Goddard's, had written out atleast three hundred; and Harriet, who had taken the first hint of it fromher, hoped, with Miss Woodhouse's help, to get a great many more. Emmaassisted with her invention, memory and taste; and as Harriet wrote a verypretty hand, it was likely to be an arrangement of the first order, in form aswell as quantity. Mr. Woodhouse was almost as much interested in the business as thegirls, and tried very often to recollect something worth their putting in. "Somany clever riddles as there used to be when he was young--he wonderedhe could not remember them! but he hoped he should in time. " And italways ended in "Kitty, a fair but frozen maid. "His good friend Perry, too, whom he had spoken to on the subject, didnot at present recollect any thing of the riddle kind; but he had desiredPerry to be upon the watch, and as he went about so much, something, hethought, might come from that quarter. It was by no means his daughter's wish that the intellects of Highburyin general should be put under requisition. Mr. Elton was the only onewhose assistance she asked. He was invited to contribute any really goodenigmas, charades, or conundrums that he might recollect; and she had thepleasure of seeing him most intently at work with his recollections; and atthe same time, as she could perceive, most earnestly careful that nothingungallant, nothing that did not breathe a compliment to the sex should passhis lips. They owed to him their two or three politest puzzles; and the joyand exultation with which at last he recalled, and rather sentimentallyrecited, that well-known charade, My first doth affliction denote, Which my second is destin'd to feelAnd my whole is the best antidoteThat affliction to soften and heal. --made her quite sorry to acknowledge that they had transcribed it somepages ago already. "Why will not you write one yourself for us, Mr. Elton?" said she; "thatis 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 hislife. The stupidest fellow! He was afraid not even Miss Woodhouse"--hestopt a moment--"or Miss Smith could inspire him. "The very next day however produced some proof of inspiration.

Hecalled for a few moments, just to leave a piece of paper on the tablecontaining, as he said, a charade, which a friend of his had addressed to ayoung 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 myfriend's, I have no right to expose it in any degree to the public eye, butperhaps you may not dislike looking at it. "The speech was more to Emma than to Harriet, which Emma couldunderstand. There was deep consciousness about him, and he found iteasier 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, neverloth 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 throughagain to be quite certain, and quite mistress of the lines, and then passing itto Harriet, sat happily smiling, and saying to herself, while Harriet waspuzzling 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 verygood hint. I give you credit for it. This is feeling your way. This is sayingvery 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, thejustest 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 muchin love, indeed, to describe her so. Ah! Mr. Knightley, I wish you had thebenefit of this; I think this would convince you. For once in your life youwould 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 ofHarriet's wondering questions. "What can it be, Miss Woodhouse?--what can it be? I have not anidea--I cannot guess it in the least. What can it possibly be? Do try to findit out, Miss Woodhouse. Do help me. I never saw any thing so hard. Is itkingdom? 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 onesyllable. It must be very clever, or he would not have brought it. Oh! MissWoodhouse, do you think we shall ever find it out?""Mermaids and sharks! Nonsense! My dear Harriet, what are youthinking of? Where would be the use of his bringing us a charade made by afriend 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 Ithink, my dear Harriet, you cannot find much difficulty in comprehending. Read it in comfort to yourself. There can be no doubt of its being writtenfor you and to you. "Harriet could not long resist so delightful a persuasion. She read theconcluding 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. Emmaspoke 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 arehis object--and you will soon receive the completest proof of it. I thought itmust be so. I thought I could not be so deceived; but now, it is clear; thestate of his mind is as clear and decided, as my wishes on the subject havebeen ever since I knew you. Yes, Harriet, just so long have I been wantingthe very circumstance to happen what has happened. I could never tellwhether an attachment between you and Mr. Elton were most desirable ormost natural. Its probability and its eligibility have really so equalled eachother! I am very happy. I congratulate you, my dear Harriet, with all myheart. 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 everything that you want--consideration, independence, a proper home--it willfix 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 cannever raise a blush in either of us. ""Dear Miss Woodhouse!"--and "Dear Miss Woodhouse, " was all thatHarriet, with many tender embraces could articulate at first; but when theydid arrive at something more like conversation, it was sufficiently clear toher friend that she saw, felt, anticipated, and remembered just as sheought. Mr. Elton's superiority had very ample acknowledgment. "Whatever you say is always right, " cried Harriet, "and therefore Isuppose, and believe, and hope it must be so; but otherwise I could nothave imagined it. It is so much beyond any thing I deserve. Mr. Elton, whomight marry any body! There cannot be two opinions about him. He is sovery 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 acertainty. Receive it on my judgment. It is a sort of prologue to the play, amotto 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, amonth ago, I had no more idea myself!--The strangest things do takeplace!""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 soevidently, so palpably desirable--what courts the pre-arrangement of otherpeople, should so immediately shape itself into the proper form. You andMr. Elton are by situation called together; you belong to one another byevery circumstance of your respective homes. Your marrying will be equalto the match at Randalls. There does seem to be a something in the air ofHartfield which gives love exactly the right direction, and sends it into thevery 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 thatpassage. ""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 veryhandsomest 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 sayshe need not eat a single meal by himself if he does not chuse it; that he hasmore invitations than there are days in the week. And so excellent in theChurch! Miss Nash has put down all the texts he has ever preached fromsince he came to Highbury. Dear me! When I look back to the first time Isaw him! How little did I think!--The two Abbots and I ran into the frontroom and peeped through the blind when we heard he was going by, andMiss 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 verygood-natured. And how beautiful we thought he looked! He was arm-in-armwith 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; andwe are not to be addressing our conduct to fools. If they are anxious to seeyou happily married, here is a man whose amiable character gives everyassurance of it;--if they wish to have you settled in the same country andcircle 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 wellmarried, here is the comfortable fortune, the respectable establishment, therise in the world which must satisfy them. ""Yes, very true. How nicely you talk; I love to hear you. Youunderstand 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 madeany thing like it. ""I thought he meant to try his skill, by his manner of declining ityesterday. ""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 ingeneral cannot be too short. "Harriet was too intent on the lines to hear. The most satisfactorycomparisons were rising in her mind. "It is one thing, " said she, presently--her cheeks in a glow--"to havevery good sense in a common way, like every body else, and if there is anything to say, to sit down and write a letter, and say just what you must, ina short way; and another, to write verses and charades like this. "Emma could not have desired a more spirited rejection of Mr. Martin'sprose. "Such sweet lines!" continued Harriet--"these two last!--But how shall Iever be able to return the paper, or say I have found it out?--Oh! MissWoodhouse, what can we do about that?""Leave it to me. You do nothing. He will be here this evening, I daresay, and then I will give it him back, and some nonsense or other will passbetween us, and you shall not be committed. --Your soft eyes shall chusetheir own time for beaming. Trust to me. ""Oh! Miss Woodhouse, what a pity that I must not write this beautifulcharade 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 notwrite it into your book. ""Oh! but those two lines are"----"The best of all. Granted;--for private enjoyment; and for privateenjoyment 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 itsmeaning change. But take it away, and all appropriation ceases, and a verypretty gallant charade remains, fit for any collection. Depend upon it, hewould not like to have his charade slighted, much better than his passion. Apoet in love must be encouraged in both capacities, or neither. Give me thebook, I will write it down, and then there can be no possible reflection onyou. "Harriet submitted, though her mind could hardly separate the parts, soas to feel quite sure that her friend were not writing down a declaration oflove. 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 itlasts, the better I shall be pleased. But here is my father coming: you willnot object to my reading the charade to him. It will be giving him so muchpleasure! He loves any thing of the sort, and especially any thing that payswoman a compliment. He has the tenderest spirit of gallantry towards usall!--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 tooquick, and appear to affix more meaning, or even quite all the meaningwhich may be affixed to it. Do not be overpowered by such a little tributeof admiration. If he had been anxious for secrecy, he would not have leftthe paper while I was by; but he rather pushed it towards me than towardsyou. Do not let us be too solemn on the business. He has encouragementenough 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 therecurrence of his very frequent inquiry of "Well, my dears, how does yourbook go on?--Have you got any thing fresh?""Yes, papa; we have something to read you, something quite fresh. Apiece of paper was found on the table this morning--(dropt, we suppose, bya 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 anddistinctly, and two or three times over, with explanations of every part asshe 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 caneasily 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 verytender sigh, he added, "Ah! it is no difficulty to see who you take after! Your dear mother wasso clever at all those things! If I had but her memory! But I can remembernothing;--not even that particular riddle which you have heard memention; 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 waythrough. 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 theElegant 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 beingchristened Catherine after her grandmama. I hope we shall have her herenext week. Have you thought, my dear, where you shall put her--and whatroom there will be for the children?""Oh! yes--she will have her own room, of course; the room she alwayshas;--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!--notsince last Easter, and then only for a few days. --Mr. John Knightley's beinga lawyer is very inconvenient. --Poor Isabella!--she is sadly taken awayfrom us all!--and how sorry she will be when she comes, not to see MissTaylor here!""She will not be surprized, papa, at least. ""I do not know, my dear. I am sure I was very much surprized when Ifirst heard she was going to be married. ""We must ask Mr. And Mrs. Weston to dine with us, while Isabella ishere. ""Yes, my dear, if there is time. --But--(in a very depressed tone)--she iscoming 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 ofnecessity. Mr. John Knightley must be in town again on the 28th, and weought to be thankful, papa, that we are to have the whole of the time theycan give to the country, that two or three days are not to be taken out forthe 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 beanywhere but at Hartfield. "Mr. Woodhouse could never allow for Mr. Knightley's claims on hisbrother, or any body's claims on Isabella, except his own. He sat musing alittle while, and then said, "But I do not see why poor Isabella should be obliged to go back sosoon, though he does. I think, Emma, I shall try and persuade her to staylonger with us. She and the children might stay very well. ""Ah! papa--that is what you never have been able to accomplish, and Ido not think you ever will. Isabella cannot bear to stay behind herhusband. "This was too true for contradiction. Unwelcome as it was, Mr. Woodhouse could only give a submissive sigh; and as Emma saw his spiritsaffected by the idea of his daughter's attachment to her husband, sheimmediately 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 mybrother 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 shewill think the handsomest, Henry or John?""Aye, I wonder which she will. Poor little dears, how glad they will beto 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 theeldest, he was named after me, not after his father. John, the second, isnamed after his father. Some people are surprized, I believe, that the eldestwas not, but Isabella would have him called Henry, which I thought verypretty of her. And he is a very clever boy, indeed. They are all remarkablyclever; and they have so many pretty ways. They will come and stand bymy chair, and say, 'Grandpapa, can you give me a bit of string?' and onceHenry asked me for a knife, but I told him knives were only made forgrandpapas. I think their father is too rough with them very often. ""He appears rough to you, " said Emma, "because you are so very gentleyourself; but if you could compare him with other papas, you would notthink him rough. He wishes his boys to be active and hardy; and if theymisbehave, can give them a sharp word now and then; but he is anaffectionate 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 avery frightful way!""But they like it, papa; there is nothing they like so much. It is suchenjoyment to them, that if their uncle did not lay down the rule of theirtaking 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 cannotunderstand the pleasures of the other. "Later in the morning, and just as the girls were going to separate inpreparation for the regular four o'clock dinner, the hero of this inimitablecharade walked in again. Harriet turned away; but Emma could receive himwith the usual smile, and her quick eye soon discerned in his theconsciousness of having made a push--of having thrown a die; and sheimagined 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 inthe evening without him, or whether he should be in the smallest degreenecessary at Hartfield. If he were, every thing else must give way; butotherwise his friend Cole had been saying so much about his dining withhim--had made such a point of it, that he had promised him conditionallyto come. Emma thanked him, but could not allow of his disappointing his friendon 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 thepaper from the table, she returned it--"Oh! here is the charade you were so obliging as to leave with us; thankyou for the sight of it. We admired it so much, that I have ventured to writeit into Miss Smith's collection. Your friend will not take it amiss I hope. Ofcourse I have not transcribed beyond the first eight lines. "Mr. Elton certainly did not very well know what to say. He lookedrather doubtingly--rather confused; said something about "honour, "--glanced at Emma and at Harriet, and then seeing the book open on thetable, took it up, and examined it very attentively. With the view of passingoff an awkward moment, Emma smilingly said, "You must make my apologies to your friend; but so good a charademust not be confined to one or two. He may be sure of every woman'sapprobation while he writes with such gallantry. ""I have no hesitation in saying, " replied Mr. Elton, though hesitating agood deal while he spoke; "I have no hesitation in saying--at least if myfriend feels at all as I do--I have not the smallest doubt that, could he seehis little effusion honoured as I see it, (looking at the book again, andreplacing it on the table), he would consider it as the proudest moment ofhis life. "After this speech he was gone as soon as possible. Emma could notthink it too soon; for with all his good and agreeable qualities, there was asort 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 sublimeof pleasure to Harriet's share. CHAPTER XThough now the middle of December, there had yet been no weather toprevent the young ladies from tolerably regular exercise; and on themorrow, Emma had a charitable visit to pay to a poor sick family, who liveda little way out of Highbury. Their road to this detached cottage was down Vicarage Lane, a laneleading at right angles from the broad, though irregular, main street of theplace; 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 quarterof 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, suchas it was, there could be no possibility of the two friends passing it withouta 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 yellowcurtains that Miss Nash admires so much. ""I do not often walk this way now, " said Emma, as they proceeded, "butthen there will be an inducement, and I shall gradually get intimatelyacquainted with all the hedges, gates, pools and pollards of this part ofHighbury. "Harriet, she found, had never in her life been within side the Vicarage, and her curiosity to see it was so extreme, that, considering exteriors andprobabilities, Emma could only class it, as a proof of love, with Mr. Elton'sseeing ready wit in her. "I wish we could contrive it, " said she; "but I cannot think of anytolerable pretence for going in;--no servant that I want to inquire about ofhis housekeeper--no message from my father. "She pondered, but could think of nothing. After a mutual silence ofsome minutes, Harriet thus began again--"I do so wonder, Miss Woodhouse, that you should not be married, orgoing to be married! so charming as you are!"--Emma laughed, and replied, "My being charming, Harriet, is not quite enough to induce me tomarry; I must find other people charming--one other person at least. And Iam not only, not going to be married, at present, but have very littleintention 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 betempted; 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. Icannot really change for the better. If I were to marry, I must expect torepent 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 tofall in love, indeed, it would be a different thing! but I never have been inlove; 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 asmine. Fortune I do not want; employment I do not want; consequence I donot want: I believe few married women are half as much mistress of theirhusband's house as I am of Hartfield; and never, never could I expect to beso truly beloved and important; so always first and always right in anyman'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 Ithought I should ever be like Miss Bates! so silly--so satisfied--so smiling--so prosing--so undistinguishing and unfastidious--and so apt to tell everything relative to every body about me, I would marry to-morrow. Butbetween us, I am convinced there never can be any likeness, except in beingunmarried. ""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 povertyonly which makes celibacy contemptible to a generous public! A singlewoman, with a very narrow income, must be a ridiculous, disagreeable oldmaid! the proper sport of boys and girls, but a single woman, of goodfortune, is always respectable, and may be as sensible and pleasant as anybody else. And the distinction is not quite so much against the candour andcommon sense of the world as appears at first; for a very narrow incomehas a tendency to contract the mind, and sour the temper. Those who canbarely live, and who live perforce in a very small, and generally veryinferior, 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 suitme; but, in general, she is very much to the taste of every body, thoughsingle and though poor. Poverty certainly has not contracted her mind: Ireally believe, if she had only a shilling in the world, she would be verylikely to give away sixpence of it; and nobody is afraid of her: that is agreat charm. ""Dear me! but what shall you do? how shall you employ yourself whenyou grow old?""If I know myself, Harriet, mine is an active, busy mind, with a greatmany independent resources; and I do not perceive why I should be more inwant of employment at forty or fifty than one-and-twenty. Woman's usualoccupations 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 upmusic, I shall take to carpet-work. And as for objects of interest, objects forthe affections, which is in truth the great point of inferiority, the want ofwhich is really the great evil to be avoided in not marrying, I shall be verywell 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 ofsensation that declining life can need. There will be enough for every hopeand every fear; and though my attachment to none can equal that of aparent, 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 seenher a hundred times--but are you acquainted?""Oh! yes; we are always forced to be acquainted whenever she comes toHighbury. By the bye, that is almost enough to put one out of conceit witha niece. Heaven forbid! at least, that I should ever bore people half so muchabout all the Knightleys together, as she does about Jane Fairfax. One issick of the very name of Jane Fairfax. Every letter from her is read fortytimes over; her compliments to all friends go round and round again; and ifshe does but send her aunt the pattern of a stomacher, or knit a pair ofgarters for her grandmother, one hears of nothing else for a month. I wishJane Fairfax very well; but she tires me to death. "They were now approaching the cottage, and all idle topics weresuperseded. Emma was very compassionate; and the distresses of the poorwere as sure of relief from her personal attention and kindness, her counseland her patience, as from her purse. She understood their ways, couldallow for their ignorance and their temptations, had no romanticexpectations of extraordinary virtue from those for whom education haddone so little; entered into their troubles with ready sympathy, and alwaysgave her assistance with as much intelligence as good-will. In the presentinstance, it was sickness and poverty together which she came to visit; andafter remaining there as long as she could give comfort or advice, shequitted the cottage with such an impression of the scene as made her say toHarriet, as they walked away, "These are the sights, Harriet, to do one good. How trifling they makeevery thing else appear!--I feel now as if I could think of nothing but thesepoor creatures all the rest of the day; and yet, who can say how soon it mayall vanish from my mind?""Very true, " said Harriet. "Poor creatures! one can think of nothingelse. ""And really, I do not think the impression will soon be over, " saidEmma, as she crossed the low hedge, and tottering footstep which endedthe narrow, slippery path through the cottage garden, and brought theminto the lane again. "I do not think it will, " stopping to look once more at allthe 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 waspassed, Mr. Elton was immediately in sight; and so near as to give Emmatime only to say farther, "Ah! Harriet, here comes a very sudden trial of our stability in goodthoughts. Well, (smiling, ) I hope it may be allowed that if compassion hasproduced exertion and relief to the sufferers, it has done all that is trulyimportant. 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 joinedthem. The wants and sufferings of the poor family, however, were the firstsubject on meeting. He had been going to call on them. His visit he wouldnow defer; but they had a very interesting parley about what could be doneand 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 oneach side. I should not wonder if it were to bring on the declaration. Itmust, if I were not here. I wish I were anywhere else. "Anxious to separate herself from them as far as she could, she soonafterwards took possession of a narrow footpath, a little raised on one sideof the lane, leaving them together in the main road. But she had not beenthere two minutes when she found that Harriet's habits of dependence andimitation were bringing her up too, and that, in short, they would both besoon after her. This would not do; she immediately stopped, under pretenceof having some alteration to make in the lacing of her half-boot, andstooping down in complete occupation of the footpath, begged them to havethe goodness to walk on, and she would follow in half a minute. They didas they were desired; and by the time she judged it reasonable to have donewith her boot, she had the comfort of farther delay in her power, beingovertaken by a child from the cottage, setting out, according to orders, withher 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, orwould have been the most natural, had she been acting just then withoutdesign; and by this means the others were still able to keep ahead, withoutany obligation of waiting for her. She gained on them, however, involuntarily: the child's pace was quick, and theirs rather slow; and shewas the more concerned at it, from their being evidently in a conversationwhich interested them. Mr. Elton was speaking with animation, Harrietlistening with a very pleased attention; and Emma, having sent the childon, was beginning to think how she might draw back a little more, whenthey both looked around, and she was obliged to join them. Mr. Elton was still talking, still engaged in some interesting detail; andEmma experienced some disappointment when she found that he was onlygiving his fair companion an account of the yesterday's party at his friendCole's, and that she was come in herself for the Stilton cheese, the northWiltshire, the butter, the cellery, the beet-root, and all the dessert. "This would soon have led to something better, of course, " was herconsoling reflection; "any thing interests between those who love; and anything will serve as introduction to what is near the heart. If I could buthave kept longer away!"They now walked on together quietly, till within view of the vicaragepales, when a sudden resolution, of at least getting Harriet into the house, made her again find something very much amiss about her boot, and fallbehind to arrange it once more. She then broke the lace off short, anddexterously throwing it into a ditch, was presently obliged to entreat themto stop, and acknowledged her inability to put herself to rights so as to beable to walk home in tolerable comfort. "Part of my lace is gone, " said she, "and I do not know how I am tocontrive. I really am a most troublesome companion to you both, but I hopeI am not often so ill-equipped. Mr. Elton, I must beg leave to stop at yourhouse, and ask your housekeeper for a bit of ribband or string, or any thingjust to keep my boot on. "Mr. Elton looked all happiness at this proposition; and nothing couldexceed his alertness and attention in conducting them into his house andendeavouring to make every thing appear to advantage. The room they weretaken into was the one he chiefly occupied, and looking forwards; behind itwas another with which it immediately communicated; the door betweenthem was open, and Emma passed into it with the housekeeper to receiveher assistance in the most comfortable manner. She was obliged to leave thedoor ajar as she found it; but she fully intended that Mr. Elton should closeit. It was not closed, however, it still remained ajar; but by engaging thehousekeeper in incessant conversation, she hoped to make it practicable forhim to chuse his own subject in the adjoining room. For ten minutes shecould hear nothing but herself. It could be protracted no longer. She wasthen obliged to be finished, and make her appearance. The lovers were standing together at one of the windows. It had a mostfavourable aspect; and, for half a minute, Emma felt the glory of havingschemed 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 hehad seen them go by, and had purposely followed them; other littlegallantries 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 heringenious device, she could not but flatter herself that it had been theoccasion of much present enjoyment to both, and must be leading themforward to the great event. CHAPTER XIMr. Elton must now be left to himself. It was no longer in Emma'spower to superintend his happiness or quicken his measures. The coming ofher sister's family was so very near at hand, that first in anticipation, andthen in reality, it became henceforth her prime object of interest; andduring the ten days of their stay at Hartfield it was not to be expected--shedid not herself expect--that any thing beyond occasional, fortuitousassistance could be afforded by her to the lovers. They might advancerapidly if they would, however; they must advance somehow or otherwhether they would or no. She hardly wished to have more leisure forthem. There are people, who the more you do for them, the less they willdo for themselves. Mr. And Mrs. John Knightley, from having been longer than usualabsent from Surry, were exciting of course rather more than the usualinterest. Till this year, every long vacation since their marriage had beendivided between Hartfield and Donwell Abbey; but all the holidays of thisautumn had been given to sea-bathing for the children, and it was thereforemany months since they had been seen in a regular way by their Surryconnexions, or seen at all by Mr. Woodhouse, who could not be induced toget so far as London, even for poor Isabella's sake; and who consequentlywas now most nervously and apprehensively happy in forestalling this tooshort visit. He thought much of the evils of the journey for her, and not a little ofthe fatigues of his own horses and coachman who were to bring some of theparty the last half of the way; but his alarms were needless; the sixteenmiles being happily accomplished, and Mr. And Mrs. John Knightley, theirfive children, and a competent number of nursery-maids, all reachingHartfield in safety. The bustle and joy of such an arrival, the many to betalked to, welcomed, encouraged, and variously dispersed and disposed of, produced a noise and confusion which his nerves could not have borneunder any other cause, nor have endured much longer even for this; but theways of Hartfield and the feelings of her father were so respected by Mrs. John Knightley, that in spite of maternal solicitude for the immediateenjoyment of her little ones, and for their having instantly all the libertyand attendance, all the eating and drinking, and sleeping and playing, which they could possibly wish for, without the smallest delay, the childrenwere never allowed to be long a disturbance to him, either in themselves orin any restless attendance on them. Mrs. John Knightley was a pretty, elegant little woman, of gentle, quietmanners, and a disposition remarkably amiable and affectionate; wrapt upin her family; a devoted wife, a doating mother, and so tenderly attached toher father and sister that, but for these higher ties, a warmer love mighthave seemed impossible. She could never see a fault in any of them. Shewas not a woman of strong understanding or any quickness; and with thisresemblance of her father, she inherited also much of his constitution; wasdelicate in her own health, over-careful of that of her children, had manyfears and many nerves, and was as fond of her own Mr. Wingfield in townas her father could be of Mr. Perry. They were alike too, in a generalbenevolence of temper, and a strong habit of regard for every oldacquaintance. 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-temperedman, not so often unreasonably cross as to deserve such a reproach; but histemper was not his great perfection; and, indeed, with such a worshippingwife, it was hardly possible that any natural defects in it should not beincreased. The extreme sweetness of her temper must hurt his. He had allthe clearness and quickness of mind which she wanted, and he couldsometimes act an ungracious, or say a severe thing. He was not a great favourite with his fair sister-in-law. Nothing wrongin him escaped her. She was quick in feeling the little injuries to Isabella, which Isabella never felt herself. Perhaps she might have passed over morehad his manners been flattering to Isabella's sister, but they were only thoseof a calmly kind brother and friend, without praise and without blindness;but hardly any degree of personal compliment could have made herregardless of that greatest fault of all in her eyes which he sometimes fellinto, the want of respectful forbearance towards her father. There he hadnot always the patience that could have been wished. Mr. Woodhouse'speculiarities and fidgetiness were sometimes provoking him to a rationalremonstrance 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, andgenerally a strong sense of what was due to him; but it was too often forEmma's charity, especially as there was all the pain of apprehensionfrequently to be endured, though the offence came not. The beginning, however, of every visit displayed none but the properest feelings, and thisbeing of necessity so short might be hoped to pass away in

unsulliedcordiality. They had not been long seated and composed when Mr. Woodhouse, with a melancholy shake of the head and a sigh, called hisdaughter's attention to the sad change at Hartfield since she had been therelast. "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 sogrieved for you. --I could not imagine how you could possibly do withouther. --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 theplace agrees with her tolerably. "Mr. John Knightley here asked Emma quietly whether there were anydoubts 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 plaintivetone which just suited her father. Mr. Woodhouse hesitated. --"Not near so often, my dear, as I couldwish. ""Oh! papa, we have missed seeing them but one entire day since theymarried. Either in the morning or evening of every day, excepting one, havewe seen either Mr. Weston or Mrs. Weston, and generally both, either atRandalls 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 asherself. Papa, if you speak in that melancholy way, you will be givingIsabella a false idea of us all. Every body must be aware that Miss Taylormust 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 weourselves anticipated--which is the exact truth. ""Just as it should be, " said Mr. John Knightley, "and just as I hoped itwas from your letters. Her wish of shewing you attention could not bedoubted, and his being a disengaged and social man makes it all easy. Ihave been always telling you, my love, that I had no idea of the changebeing so very material to Hartfield as you apprehended; and now you haveEmma's account, I hope you will be satisfied. ""Why, to be sure, " said Mr. Woodhouse--"yes, certainly--I cannot denythat 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. -- Youquite forget poor Mr. Weston. ""I think, indeed, " said John Knightley pleasantly, "that Mr. Weston hassome little claim. You and I, Emma, will venture to take the part of thepoor husband. I, being a husband, and you not being a wife, the claims ofthe man may very likely strike us with equal force. As for Isabella, she hasbeen 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, agreater advocate for matrimony than I am; and if it had not been for themisery of her leaving Hartfield, I should never have thought of Miss Taylorbut 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 notdeserve. 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. Ishall never forget his flying Henry's kite for him that very windy day lastEaster--and ever since his particular kindness last September twelvemonthin writing that note, at twelve o'clock at night, on purpose to assure me thatthere was no scarlet fever at Cobham, I have been convinced there couldnot be a more feeling heart nor a better man in existence. --If any body candeserve him, it must be Miss Taylor. ""Where is the young man?" said John Knightley. "Has he been here onthis occasion--or has he not?""He has not been here yet, " replied Emma. "There was a strongexpectation 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. "Hewrote 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 ofhim indeed. Whether it was his own idea you know, one cannot tell. He isbut 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 doesfly indeed!--and my memory is very bad. However, it was an exceedinggood, pretty letter, and gave Mr. And Mrs. Weston a great deal of pleasure. I remember it was written from Weymouth, and dated Sept. 28th--andbegan, '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 issomething so shocking in a child's being taken away from his parents andnatural home! I never could comprehend how Mr. Weston could part withhim. To give up one's child! I really never could think well of any body whoproposed 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 feltwhat you would feel in giving up Henry or John. Mr. Weston is rather aneasy, cheerful-tempered man, than a man of strong feelings; he takes thingsas he finds them, and makes enjoyment of them somehow or other, depending, I suspect, much more upon what is called society for hiscomforts, that is, upon the power of eating and drinking, and playing whistwith his neighbours five times a week, than upon family affection, or anything that home affords. "Emma could not like what bordered on a reflection on Mr. Weston, andhad half a mind to take it up; but she struggled, and let it pass. She wouldkeep the peace if possible; and there was something honourable andvaluable in the strong domestic habits, the all-sufficiency of home tohimself, whence resulted her brother's disposition to look down on thecommon rate of social intercourse, and those to whom it was important. --Ithad a high claim to forbearance. CHAPTER XIIMr. Knightley was to dine with them--rather against the inclination ofMr. Woodhouse, who did not like that any one should share with him inIsabella's first day. Emma's sense of right however had decided it; andbesides the consideration of what was due to each brother, she hadparticular pleasure, from the circumstance of the late disagreement betweenMr. Knightley and herself, in procuring him the proper invitation. She hoped they might now become friends again. She thought it wastime to make up. Making-up indeed would not do. She certainly had notbeen in the wrong, and he would never own that he had. Concession mustbe out of the question; but it was time to appear to forget that they hadever quarrelled; and she hoped it might rather assist the restoration offriendship, that when he came into the room she had one of the childrenwith her--the youngest, a nice little girl about eight months old, who wasnow making her first visit to Hartfield, and very happy to be danced aboutin her aunt's arms. It did assist; for though he began with grave looks andshort 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 ofperfect amity. Emma felt they were friends again; and the conviction givingher at first great satisfaction, and then a little sauciness, she could not helpsaying, as he was admiring the baby, "What a comfort it is, that we think alike about our nephews andnieces. 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 andwomen, and as little under the power of fancy and whim in your dealingswith them, as you are where these children are concerned, we might alwaysthink alike. ""To be sure--our discordancies must always arise from my being in thewrong. ""Yes, " said he, smiling--"and reason good. I was sixteen years old whenyou were born. ""A material difference then, " she replied--"and no doubt you were muchmy superior in judgment at that period of our lives; but does not the lapseof 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 wethink differently. ""I have still the advantage of you by sixteen years' experience, and bynot 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, thatshe 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 betterwoman 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 goodintentions went, we were both right, and I must say that no effects on myside 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 JohnKnightley made his appearance, and "How d'ye do, George?" and "John, howare you?" succeeded in the true English style, burying under a calmness thatseemed all but indifference, the real attachment which would have ledeither of them, if requisite, to do every thing for the good of the other. The evening was quiet and conversable, as Mr. Woodhouse declinedcards entirely for the sake of comfortable talk with his dear Isabella, andthe 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 veryrarely mixing--and Emma only occasionally joining in one or the other. The brothers talked of their own concerns and pursuits, but principallyof those of the elder, whose temper was by much the most communicative, and who was always the greater talker. As a magistrate, he had generallysome point of law to consult John about, or, at least, some curious anecdoteto give; and as a farmer, as keeping in hand the home-farm at Donwell, hehad to tell what every field was to bear next year, and to give all such localinformation as could not fail of being interesting to a brother whose home ithad equally been the longest part of his life, and whose attachments werestrong. The plan of a drain, the change of a fence, the felling of a tree, andthe destination of every acre for wheat, turnips, or spring corn, was enteredinto with as much equality of interest by John, as his cooler mannersrendered possible; and if his willing brother ever left him any thing toinquire about, his inquiries even approached a tone of eagerness. While they were thus comfortably occupied, Mr. Woodhouse wasenjoying a full flow of happy regrets and fearful affection with his daughter. "My poor dear Isabella, " said he, fondly taking her hand, andinterrupting, for a few moments, her busy labours for some one of her fivechildren--"How long it is, how terribly long since you were here! And howtired 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 anice basin of gruel together. My dear Emma, suppose we all have a littlegruel. "Emma could not suppose any such thing, knowing as she did, that boththe Mr. Knightleys were as unpersuadable on that article as herself;--andtwo basins only were ordered. After a little more discourse in praise ofgruel, with some wondering at its not being taken every evening by everybody, he proceeded to say, with an air of grave reflection, "It was an awkward business, my dear, your spending the autumn atSouth End instead of coming here. I never had much opinion of the sea air. ""Mr. Wingfield most strenuously recommended it, sir--or we should nothave gone. He recommended it for all the children, but particularly for theweakness in little Bella's throat, --both sea air and bathing. ""Ah! my dear, but Perry had many doubts about the sea doing her anygood; and as to myself, I have been long perfectly convinced, thoughperhaps I never told you so before, that the sea is very rarely of use to anybody. I am sure it almost killed me once. ""Come, come, " cried Emma, feeling this to be an unsafe subject, "I mustbeg you not to talk of the sea. It makes me envious and miserable;--I whohave 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 neverforgets you. ""Oh! good Mr. Perry--how is he, sir?""Why, pretty well; but not quite well. Poor Perry is bilious, and he hasnot time to take care of himself--he tells me he has not time to take care ofhimself--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 isnot 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 willbe so pleased to see my little ones. ""I hope he will be here to-morrow, for I have a question or two to askhim 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 anyuneasiness 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 toher--and if I had known you were wanting an embrocation, I would havespoken to--"You seem to me to have forgotten Mrs. And Miss Bates, " said Emma, "Ihave not heard one inquiry after them. ""Oh! the good Bateses--I am quite ashamed of myself--but you mentionthem 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 arealways 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 abad cold about a month ago. ""How sorry I am! But colds were never so prevalent as they have beenthis autumn. Mr. Wingfield told me that he has never known them moregeneral 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 youmention. Perry says that colds have been very general, but not so heavy ashe has very often known them in November. Perry does not call italtogether 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 asickly season. Nobody is healthy in London, nobody can be. It is a dreadfulthing 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 verysuperior to most others!--You must not confound us with London ingeneral, my dear sir. The neighbourhood of Brunswick Square is verydifferent from almost all the rest. We are so very airy! I should beunwilling, I own, to live in any other part of the town;--there is hardly anyother that I could be satisfied to have my children in: but we are soremarkably airy!--Mr. Wingfield thinks the vicinity of Brunswick Squaredecidedly the most favourable as to air. ""Ah! my dear, it is not like Hartfield. You make the best of it--but afteryou 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 ofyou looking well at present. ""I am sorry to hear you say so, sir; but I assure you, excepting thoselittle nervous head-aches and palpitations which I am never entirely freefrom anywhere, I am quite well myself; and if the children were rather palebefore they went to bed, it was only because they were a little more tiredthan usual, from their journey and the happiness of coming. I hope you willthink better of their looks to-morrow; for I assure you Mr. Wingfield toldme, that he did not believe he had ever sent us off altogether, in such goodcase. 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. JohnKnightley very far from looking well. ""What is the matter, sir?--Did you speak to me?" cried Mr. JohnKnightley, hearing his own name. "I am sorry to find, my love, that my father does not think you lookingwell--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 lefthome. ""My dear Isabella, "--exclaimed he hastily--"pray do not concernyourself about my looks. Be satisfied with doctoring and coddling yourselfand 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 bailifffrom Scotland, to look after his new estate. What will it answer? Will notthe old prejudice be too strong?"And she talked in this way so long and successfully that, when forcedto give her attention again to her father and sister, she had nothing worseto 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 veryhappy to assist in praising. "That sweet, amiable Jane Fairfax!" said Mrs. John Knightley. -- "It is solong since I have seen her, except now and then for a moment accidentallyin town! What happiness it must be to her good old grandmother andexcellent aunt, when she comes to visit them! I always regret excessively ondear Emma's account that she cannot be more at Highbury; but now theirdaughter is married, I suppose Colonel and Mrs. Campbell will not be ableto part with her at all. She would be such a delightful companion forEmma. "Mr. Woodhouse agreed to it all, but added, "Our little friend Harriet Smith, however, is just such another prettykind of young person. You will like Harriet. Emma could not have a bettercompanion than Harriet. ""I am most happy to hear it--but only Jane Fairfax one knows to be sovery accomplished and superior!--and exactly Emma's age. "This topic was discussed very happily, and others succeeded of similarmoment, and passed away with similar harmony; but the evening did notclose without a little return of agitation. The gruel came and supplied agreat deal to be said--much praise and many comments-- undoubtingdecision of its wholesomeness for every constitution, and pretty severePhilippics upon the many houses where it was never met with tolerable;--but, unfortunately, among the failures which the daughter had to instance, the most recent, and therefore most prominent, was in her own cook atSouth End, a young woman hired for the time, who never had been able tounderstand what she meant by a basin of nice smooth gruel, thin, but nottoo thin. Often as she had wished for and ordered it, she had never beenable to get any thing tolerable. Here was a dangerous opening. "Ah!" said Mr. Woodhouse, shaking his head and fixing his eyes on herwith tender concern. --The ejaculation in Emma's ear expressed, "Ah! thereis no end of the sad consequences of your going to South End. It does notbear 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 hisown smooth gruel. After an interval of some minutes, however, he beganwith, "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 agreat deal of good. ""And, moreover, if you must go to the sea, it had better not have beento South End. South End is an unhealthy place. Perry was surprized to hearyou had fixed upon South End. ""I know there is such an idea with many people, but indeed it is quite amistake, sir. --We all had our health perfectly well there, never found theleast inconvenience from the mud; and Mr. Wingfield says it is entirely amistake to suppose the place unhealthy; and I am sure he may be dependedon, for he thoroughly understands the nature of the air, and his ownbrother 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 thesea-bathing places. A fine open sea, he says, and very pure air. And, bywhat I understand, you might have had lodgings there quite away from thesea--a quarter of a mile off--very comfortable. You should have consultedPerry. ""But, my dear sir, the difference of the journey;--only consider howgreat it would have been. --An hundred miles, perhaps, instead of forty. ""Ah! my dear, as Perry says, where health is at stake, nothing elseshould be considered; and if one is to travel, there is not much to chusebetween forty miles and an hundred. --Better not move at all, better stay inLondon altogether than travel forty miles to get into a worse air. This is justwhat Perry said. It seemed to him a very ill-judged measure. "Emma's attempts to stop her father had been vain; and when he hadreached such a point as this, she could not wonder at her brother-in-law'sbreaking out. "Mr. Perry, " said he, in a voice of very strong displeasure, "would do aswell to keep his opinion till it is asked for. Why does he make it anybusiness of his, to wonder at what I do?--at my taking my family to onepart of the coast or another?--I may be allowed, I hope, the use of myjudgment as well as Mr. Perry. -- I want his directions no more than hisdrugs. " He paused--and growing cooler in a moment, added, with onlysarcastic dryness, "If Mr. Perry can tell me how to convey a wife and fivechildren a distance of an hundred and thirty miles with no greater expenseor inconvenience than a distance of forty, I should be as willing to preferCromer to South End as he could himself. ""True, true, " cried Mr. Knightley, with most ready interposition-- "verytrue. That's a consideration indeed. --But John, as to what I was telling youof my idea of moving the path to Langham, of turning it more to the rightthat it may not cut through the home meadows, I cannot conceive anydifficulty. I should not attempt it, if it were to be the means ofinconvenience to the Highbury people, but if you call to mind exactly thepresent line of the path. . . . The only way of proving it, however, will be toturn 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 hisfriend Perry, to whom he had, in fact, though unconsciously, beenattributing many of his own feelings and expressions;--but the soothingattentions of his daughters gradually removed the present evil, and theimmediate alertness of one brother, and better recollections of the other, prevented any renewal of it. CHAPTER XIIIThere could hardly be a happier creature in the world than Mrs. JohnKnightley, in this short visit to Hartfield, going about every morning amongher old acquaintance with her five children, and talking over what she haddone every evening with her father and sister. She had nothing to wishotherwise, but that the days did not pass so swiftly. It was a delightfulvisit;--perfect, in being much too short. In general their evenings were less engaged with friends than theirmornings; but one complete dinner engagement, and out of the house too, there was no avoiding, though at Christmas. Mr. Weston would take nodenial; they must all dine at Randalls one day;--even Mr. Woodhouse waspersuaded to think it a possible thing in preference to a division of theparty. How they were all to be conveyed, he would have made a difficulty ifhe could, but as his son and daughter's carriage and horses were actually atHartfield, he was not able to make more than a simple question on thathead; it hardly amounted to a doubt; nor did it occupy Emma long toconvince him that they might in one of the carriages find room for Harrietalso. Harriet, Mr. Elton, and Mr. Knightley, their own especial set, were theonly persons invited to meet them;--the hours were to be early, as well asthe numbers few; Mr. Woodhouse's habits and inclination being consultedin every thing. The evening before this great event (for it was a very great event thatMr. Woodhouse should dine out, on the 24th of December) had been spentby Harriet at Hartfield, and she had gone home so much indisposed with acold, 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 herthe 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 ofcare and affection, Mr. Perry was talked of, and Harriet herself was too illand low to resist the authority which excluded her from this delightfulengagement, 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 howmuch Mr. Elton's would be depressed when he knew her state; and left herat last tolerably comfortable, in the sweet dependence of his having a mostcomfortless visit, and of their all missing her very much. She had notadvanced many yards from Mrs. Goddard's door, when she was met by Mr. Elton himself, evidently coming towards it, and as they walked on slowlytogether in conversation about the invalid--of whom he, on the rumour ofconsiderable illness, had been going to inquire, that he might carry somereport of her to Hartfield--they were overtaken by Mr. John Knightleyreturning from the daily visit to Donwell, with his two eldest boys, whosehealthy, glowing faces shewed all the benefit of a country run, and seemedto ensure a quick despatch of the roast mutton and rice pudding they werehastening home for. They joined company and proceeded together. Emmawas just describing the nature of her friend's complaint;--"a throat verymuch 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 tovery bad sore-throats, and had often alarmed her with them. " Mr. Eltonlooked all alarm on the occasion, as he exclaimed, "A sore-throat!--I hope not infectious. I hope not of a putrid infectioussort. Has Perry seen her? Indeed you should take care of yourself as well asof your friend. Let me entreat you to run no risks. Why does not Perry seeher?"Emma, who was not really at all frightened herself, tranquillised thisexcess of apprehension by assurances of Mrs. Goddard's experience andcare; but as there must still remain a degree of uneasiness which she couldnot 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 trynot to go out to-day--and dissuade my father from venturing; but as he hasmade up his mind, and does not seem to feel the cold himself, I do not liketo interfere, as I know it would be so great a disappointment to Mr. AndMrs. Weston. But, upon my word, Mr. Elton, in your case, I shouldcertainly excuse myself. You appear to me a little hoarse already, and whenyou 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 andtake 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 careof such a fair lady, and not liking to resist any advice of her's, he had notreally the least inclination to give up the visit;--but Emma, too eager andbusy in her own previous conceptions and views to hear him impartially, orsee him with clear vision, was very well satisfied with his mutteringacknowledgment of its being "very cold, certainly very cold, " and walkedon, rejoicing in having extricated him from Randalls, and secured him thepower 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 civillyoffering a seat in his carriage, if the weather were Mr. Elton's onlyobjection, and Mr. Elton actually accepting the offer with much promptsatisfaction. It was a done thing; Mr. Elton was to go, and never had hisbroad handsome face expressed more pleasure than at this moment; neverhad his smile been stronger, nor his eyes more exulting than when he nextlooked at her. "Well, " said she to herself, "this is most strange!--After I had got himoff so well, to chuse to go into company, and leave Harriet ill behind!--Most strange indeed!--But there is, I believe, in many men, especiallysingle men, such an inclination--such a passion for dining out--a dinnerengagement is so high in the class of their pleasures, their employments, their dignities, almost their duties, that any thing gives way to it--and thismust be the case with Mr. Elton; a most valuable, amiable, pleasing youngman undoubtedly, and very much in love with Harriet; but still, he cannotrefuse an invitation, he must dine out wherever he is asked. What a strangething love is! he can see ready wit in Harriet, but will not dine alone forher. "Soon afterwards Mr. Elton quitted them, and she could not but do himthe justice of feeling that there was a great deal of sentiment in his mannerof naming Harriet at parting; in the tone of his voice while assuring her thathe should call at Mrs. Goddard's for news of her fair friend, the last thingbefore he prepared for the happiness of meeting her again, when he hopedto be able to give a better report; and he sighed and smiled himself off in away that left the balance of approbation much in his favour. After a few minutes of entire silence between them, John Knightleybegan 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 menhe can be rational and unaffected, but when he has ladies to please, everyfeature works. ""Mr. Elton's manners are not perfect, " replied Emma; "but where thereis a wish to please, one ought to overlook, and one does overlook a greatdeal. Where a man does his best with only moderate powers, he will havethe advantage over negligent superiority. There is such perfect good-temperand good-will in Mr. Elton as one cannot but value. ""Yes, " said Mr. John Knightley presently, with some slyness, "he seemsto have a great deal of good-will towards you. ""Me!" she replied with a smile of astonishment, "are you imagining meto be Mr. Elton's object?""Such an imagination has crossed me, I own, Emma; and if it neveroccurred 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 ornot, and to regulate your behaviour accordingly. I think your manners tohim encouraging. I speak as a friend, Emma. You had better look aboutyou, 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 Iare very good friends, and nothing more;" and she walked on, amusingherself in the consideration of the blunders which often arise from a partialknowledge of circumstances, of the mistakes which people of highpretensions to judgment are for ever falling into; and not very well pleasedwith her brother for imagining her blind and ignorant, and in want ofcounsel. He said no more. Mr. Woodhouse had so completely made up his mind to the visit, thatin spite of the increasing coldness, he seemed to have no idea of shrinkingfrom it, and set forward at last most punctually with his eldest daughter inhis own carriage, with less apparent consciousness of the weather thaneither of the others; too full of the wonder of his own going, and thepleasure it was to afford at Randalls to see that it was cold, and too wellwrapt up to feel it. The cold, however, was severe; and by the time thesecond carriage was in motion, a few flakes of snow were finding their waydown, and the sky had the appearance of being so overcharged as to wantonly 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 ofhis children after dinner, were evils, were disagreeables at least, which Mr. John Knightley did not by any means like; he anticipated nothing in thevisit that could be at all worth the purchase; and the whole of their drive tothe vicarage was spent by him in expressing his discontent. "A man, " said he, "must have a very good opinion of himself when heasks 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 agreeablefellow; I could not do such a thing. It is the greatest absurdity--Actuallysnowing at this moment!-- The folly of not allowing people to becomfortable at home--and the folly of people's not staying comfortably athome 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;--andhere are we, probably with rather thinner clothing than usual, settingforward 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 athome himself, and keep all under shelter that he can;--here are we settingforward to spend five dull hours in another man's house, with nothing tosay or to hear that was not said and heard yesterday, and may not be saidand heard again to-morrow. Going in dismal weather, to return probably inworse;--four horses and four servants taken out for nothing but to conveyfive idle, shivering creatures into colder rooms and worse company thanthey might have had at home. "Emma did not find herself equal to give the pleased assent, which nodoubt 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 heroismreached 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 thoughtwith pleasure of some change of subject. Mr. Elton was all obligation andcheerfulness; he was so very cheerful in his civilities indeed, that she beganto think he must have received a different account of Harriet from what hadreached her. She had sent while dressing, and the answer had been, "Muchthe same--not better. ""My report from Mrs. Goddard's, " said she presently, "was not sopleasant as I had hoped--'Not better' was my answer. "His face lengthened immediately; and his voice was the voice ofsentiment as he answered. "Oh! no--I am grieved to find--I was on the point of telling you thatwhen I called at Mrs. Goddard's door, which I did the very last thing beforeI returned to dress, I was told that Miss Smith was not better, by no meansbetter, rather worse. Very much grieved and concerned-- I had flatteredmyself that she must be better after such a cordial as I knew had beengiven her in the morning. "Emma smiled and answered--"My visit was of use to the nervous partof her complaint, I hope; but not even I can charm away a sore throat; it isa most severe cold indeed. Mr. Perry has been with her, as you probablyheard. ""Yes--I imagined--that is--I did not--""He has been used to her in these complaints, and I hope to-morrowmorning will bring us both a more comfortable report. But it is impossiblenot 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 reallyestimable; but it should have lasted longer. Emma was rather in dismaywhen only half a minute afterwards he began to speak of other things, andin a voice of the greatest alacrity and enjoyment. "What an excellent device, " said he, "the use of a sheepskin forcarriages. How very comfortable they make it;--impossible to feel cold withsuch precautions. The contrivances of modern days indeed have rendered agentleman's carriage perfectly complete. One is so fenced and guarded fromthe weather, that not a breath of air can find its way unpermitted. Weatherbecomes absolutely of no consequence. It is a very cold afternoon--but inthis 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; andextremely fortunate we may think ourselves that it did not begin yesterday, and prevent this day's party, which it might very possibly have done, forMr. Woodhouse would hardly have ventured had there been much snow onthe ground; but now it is of no consequence. This is quite the season indeedfor friendly meetings. At Christmas every body invites their friends aboutthem, and people think little of even the worst weather. I was snowed up ata friend's house once for a week. Nothing could be pleasanter. I went foronly 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 muchastonished now at Mr. Elton's spirits for other feelings. Harriet seemedquite forgotten in the expectation of a pleasant party. "We are sure of excellent fires, " continued he, "and every thing in thegreatest comfort. Charming people, Mr. And Mrs. Weston;--Mrs. Westonindeed is much beyond praise, and he is exactly what one values, sohospitable, and so fond of society;--it will be a small party, but wheresmall 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 bytwo than exceed by two. I think you will agree with me, (turning with a softair to Emma, ) I think I shall certainly have your approbation, though Mr. Knightley perhaps, from being used to the large parties of London, may notquite enter into our feelings. ""I know nothing of the large parties of London, sir--I never dine withany body. ""Indeed! (in a tone of wonder and pity, ) I had no idea that the law hadbeen so great a slavery. Well, sir, the time must come when you will bepaid for all this, when you will have little labour and great enjoyment. ""My first enjoyment, " replied John Knightley, as they passed throughthe sweep-gate, "will be to

find myself safe at Hartfield again. "CHAPTER XIVSome change of countenance was necessary for each gentleman as theywalked into Mrs. Weston's drawing-room;--Mr. Elton must compose hisjoyous looks, and Mr. John Knightley disperse his ill-humour. Mr. Eltonmust 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 asshe was. To her it was real enjoyment to be with the Westons. Mr. Westonwas a great favourite, and there was not a creature in the world to whomshe spoke with such unreserve, as to his wife; not any one, to whom sherelated with such conviction of being listened to and understood, of beingalways interesting and always intelligible, the little affairs, arrangements, perplexities, and pleasures of her father and herself. She could tell nothingof Hartfield, in which Mrs. Weston had not a lively concern; and half anhour's uninterrupted communication of all those little matters on which thedaily happiness of private life depends, was one of the first gratifications ofeach. This was a pleasure which perhaps the whole day's visit might notafford, which certainly did not belong to the present half-hour; but the verysight 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, orof any thing else unpleasant, and enjoy all that was enjoyable to theutmost. The misfortune of Harriet's cold had been pretty well gone throughbefore her arrival. Mr. Woodhouse had been safely seated long enough togive the history of it, besides all the history of his own and Isabella'scoming, and of Emma's being to follow, and had indeed just got to the endof his satisfaction that James should come and see his daughter, when theothers appeared, and Mrs. Weston, who had been almost wholly engrossedby her attentions to him, was able to turn away and welcome her dearEmma. Emma's project of forgetting Mr. Elton for a while made her rather sorryto find, when they had all taken their places, that he was close to her. Thedifficulty was great of driving his strange insensibility towards Harriet, from her mind, while he not only sat at her elbow, but was continuallyobtruding his happy countenance on her notice, and solicitously addressingher upon every occasion. Instead of forgetting him, his behaviour was suchthat she could not avoid the internal suggestion of "Can it really be as mybrother imagined? can it be possible for this man to be beginning totransfer his affections from Harriet to me?--Absurd and insufferable!"-- Yethe would be so anxious for her being perfectly warm, would be sointerested about her father, and so delighted with Mrs. Weston; and at lastwould begin admiring her drawings with so much zeal and so littleknowledge as seemed terribly like a would-be lover, and made it some effortwith her to preserve her good manners. For her own sake she could not berude; and for Harriet's, in the hope that all would yet turn out right, shewas even positively civil; but it was an effort; especially as something wasgoing on amongst the others, in the most overpowering period of Mr. Elton's nonsense, which she particularly wished to listen to. She heardenough to know that Mr. Weston was giving some information about hisson; she heard the words "my son, " and "Frank, " and "my son, " repeatedseveral times over; and, from a few other half-syllables very muchsuspected that he was announcing an early visit from his son; but beforeshe could quiet Mr. Elton, the subject was so completely past that anyreviving question from her would have been awkward. Now, it so happened that in spite of Emma's resolution of nevermarrying, there was something in the name, in the idea of Mr. FrankChurchill, which always interested her. She had frequently thought--especially since his father's marriage with Miss Taylor--that if she were tomarry, 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 themmust think of. That Mr. And Mrs. Weston did think of it, she was verystrongly persuaded; and though not meaning to be induced by him, or byany body else, to give up a situation which she believed more replete withgood 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 acertain degree, and a sort of pleasure in the idea of their being coupled intheir 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 withoutbringing forward the same information again, or the substance of it, fromthe open-hearted Mr. Weston. --So it proved;--for when happily releasedfrom Mr. Elton, and seated by Mr. Weston, at dinner, he made use of thevery first interval in the cares of hospitality, the very first leisure from thesaddle of mutton, to say to her, "We want only two more to be just the right number. I should like tosee two more here, --your pretty little friend, Miss Smith, and my son--andthen I should say we were quite complete. I believe you did not hear metelling the others in the drawing-room that we are expecting Frank. I had aletter from him this morning, and he will be with us within a fortnight. "Emma spoke with a very proper degree of pleasure; and fully assentedto his proposition of Mr. Frank Churchill and Miss Smith making theirparty quite complete. "He has been wanting to come to us, " continued Mr. Weston, "eversince September: every letter has been full of it; but he cannot commandhis own time. He has those to please who must be pleased, and who(between ourselves) are sometimes to be pleased only by a good manysacrifices. But now I have no doubt of seeing him here about the secondweek in January. ""What a very great pleasure it will be to you! and Mrs. Weston is soanxious to be acquainted with him, that she must be almost as happy asyourself. ""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 notknow the parties so well as I do. The case, you see, is--(but this is quitebetween 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 offriends are invited to pay a visit at Enscombe in January; and that Frank'scoming depends upon their being put off. If they are not put off, he cannotstir. But I know they will, because it is a family that a certain lady, of someconsequence, at Enscombe, has a particular dislike to: and though it isthought necessary to invite them once in two or three years, they alwaysare put off when it comes to the point. I have not the smallest doubt of theissue. 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 towardsthe upper end of the table) has so few vagaries herself, and has been solittle used to them at Hartfield, that she cannot calculate on their effects, asI have been long in the practice of doing. ""I am sorry there should be any thing like doubt in the case, " repliedEmma; "but am disposed to side with you, Mr. Weston. If you think he willcome, I shall think so too; for you know Enscombe. ""Yes--I have some right to that knowledge; though I have never been atthe place in my life. --She is an odd woman!--But I never allow myself tospeak ill of her, on Frank's account; for I do believe her to be very fond ofhim. I used to think she was not capable of being fond of any body, exceptherself: but she has always been kind to him (in her way--allowing for littlewhims and caprices, and expecting every thing to be as she likes). And it isno small credit, in my opinion, to him, that he should excite such anaffection; for, though I would not say it to any body else, she has no moreheart 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--yetobserving, 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 ofundergoing the anxiety of a first meeting at the time talked of: "for I cannotdepend upon his coming. I cannot be so sanguine as Mr. Weston. I am verymuch afraid that it will all end in nothing. Mr. Weston, I dare say, has beentelling 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 ofcaprice?" Then turning to Isabella, who had not been attending before--"You must know, my dear Mrs. Knightley, that we are by no means so sureof seeing Mr. Frank Churchill, in my opinion, as his father thinks. Itdepends entirely upon his aunt's spirits and pleasure; in short, upon hertemper. 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 hiscoming now, depends upon her being willing to spare him. ""Oh, Mrs. Churchill; every body knows Mrs. Churchill, " repliedIsabella: "and I am sure I never think of that poor young man without thegreatest compassion. To be constantly living with an ill-tempered person, must be dreadful. It is what we happily have never known any thing of; butit must be a life of misery. What a blessing, that she never had anychildren! Poor little creatures, how unhappy she would have made them!"Emma wished she had been alone with Mrs. Weston. She should thenhave heard more: Mrs. Weston would speak to her, with a degree ofunreserve which she would not hazard with Isabella; and, she reallybelieved, would scarcely try to conceal any thing relative to the Churchillsfrom her, excepting those views on the young man, of which her ownimagination had already given her such instinctive knowledge. But atpresent there was nothing more to be said. Mr. Woodhouse very soonfollowed them into the drawing-room. To be sitting long after dinner, was aconfinement that he could not endure. Neither wine nor conversation wasany thing to him; and gladly did he move to those with whom he wasalways comfortable. While he talked to Isabella, however, Emma found an opportunity ofsaying, "And so you do not consider this visit from your son as by any meanscertain. I am sorry for it. The introduction must be unpleasant, whenever ittakes 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 someexcuse may be found for disappointing us. I cannot bear to imagine anyreluctance 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 hisregard for his father. In short, I can feel no dependence on his coming, andI 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 itin his power to do as much as that. A young woman, if she fall into badhands, may be teazed, and kept at a distance from those she wants to bewith; but one cannot comprehend a young man's being under suchrestraint, 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, beforeone decides upon what he can do, " replied Mrs. Weston. "One ought to usethe same caution, perhaps, in judging of the conduct of any one individualof any one family; but Enscombe, I believe, certainly must not be judged bygeneral rules: she is so very unreasonable; and every thing gives way toher. ""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 whileshe makes no sacrifice for the comfort of the husband, to whom she owesevery thing, while she exercises incessant caprice towards him, she shouldfrequently be governed by the nephew, to whom she owes nothing at all. ""My dearest Emma, do not pretend, with your sweet temper, tounderstand a bad one, or to lay down rules for it: you must let it go its ownway. I have no doubt of his having, at times, considerable influence; but itmay be perfectly impossible for him to know beforehand when it will be. "Emma listened, and then coolly said, "I shall not be satisfied, unless hecomes. ""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 isbeyond his reach, it is but too likely, may be this very circumstance of hiscoming away from them to visit us. "CHAPTER XVMr. Woodhouse was soon ready for his tea; and when he had drank histea he was quite ready to go home; and it was as much as his threecompanions could do, to entertain away his notice of the lateness of thehour, before the other gentlemen appeared. Mr. Weston was chatty andconvivial, and no friend to early separations of any sort; but at last thedrawing-room party did receive an augmentation. Mr. Elton, in very goodspirits, was one of the first to walk in. Mrs. Weston and Emma were sittingtogether on a sofa. He joined them immediately, and, with scarcely aninvitation, seated himself between them. Emma, in good spirits too, from the amusement afforded her mind bythe expectation of Mr. Frank Churchill, was willing to forget his lateimproprieties, and be as well satisfied with him as before, and on hismaking Harriet his very first subject, was ready to listen with most friendlysmiles. 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 thatthe nature of her complaint alarmed him considerably. " And in this style hetalked on for some time very properly, not much attending to any answer, but altogether sufficiently awake to the terror of a bad sore throat; andEmma was quite in charity with him. But at last there seemed a perverse turn; it seemed all at once as if hewere more afraid of its being a bad sore throat on her account, than onHarriet's--more anxious that she should escape the infection, than thatthere should be no infection in the complaint. He began with greatearnestness to entreat her to refrain from visiting the sick-chamber again, for the present--to entreat her to promise him not to venture into suchhazard till he had seen Mr. Perry and learnt his opinion; and though shetried to laugh it off and bring the subject back into its proper course, therewas 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 beingin love with her, instead of Harriet; an inconstancy, if real, the mostcontemptible and abominable! and she had difficulty in behaving withtemper. He turned to Mrs. Weston to implore her assistance, "Would notshe give him her support?--would not she add her persuasions to his, toinduce Miss Woodhouse not to go to Mrs. Goddard's till it were certain thatMiss Smith's disorder had no infection? He could not be satisfied without apromise--would not she give him her influence in procuring it?""So scrupulous for others, " he continued, "and yet so careless forherself! She wanted me to nurse my cold by staying at home to-day, and yetwill not promise to avoid the danger of catching an ulcerated sore throatherself. Is this fair, Mrs. Weston?--Judge between us. Have not I someright 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 anaddress which, in words and manner, was assuming to himself the right offirst interest in her; and as for herself, she was too much provoked andoffended to have the power of directly saying any thing to the purpose. Shecould only give him a look; but it was such a look as she thought mustrestore him to his senses, and then left the sofa, removing to a seat by hersister, and giving her all her attention. She had not time to know how Mr. Elton took the reproof, so rapidlydid another subject succeed; for Mr. John Knightley now came into theroom from examining the weather, and opened on them all with theinformation of the ground being covered with snow, and of its still snowingfast, 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 waythrough a storm of snow. "Poor Mr. Woodhouse was silent from consternation; but every body elsehad something to say; every body was either surprized or not surprized, andhad some question to ask, or some comfort to offer. Mrs. Weston andEmma 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 insuch weather, for of course you saw there would be snow very soon. Everybody must have seen the snow coming on. I admired your spirit; and I daresay we shall get home very well. Another hour or two's snow can hardlymake the road impassable; and we are two carriages; if one is blown over inthe bleak part of the common field there will be the other at hand. I daresay we shall be all safe at Hartfield before midnight. "Mr. Weston, with triumph of a different sort, was confessing that hehad known it to be snowing some time, but had not said a word, lest itshould make Mr. Woodhouse uncomfortable, and be an excuse for hishurrying away. As to there being any quantity of snow fallen or likely to fallto impede their return, that was a mere joke; he was afraid they would findno difficulty. He wished the road might be impassable, that he might beable to keep them all at Randalls; and with the utmost good-will was surethat accommodation might be found for every body, calling on his wife toagree with him, that with a little contrivance, every body might be lodged, which she hardly knew how to do, from the consciousness of there beingbut 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. Toher he looked for comfort; and her assurances of safety, her representationof the excellence of the horses, and of James, and of their having so manyfriends about them, revived him a little. His eldest daughter's alarm was equal to his own. The horror of beingblocked up at Randalls, while her children were at Hartfield, was full in herimagination; and fancying the road to be now just passable for adventurouspeople, but in a state that admitted no delay, she was eager to have itsettled, that her father and Emma should remain at Randalls, while she andher husband set forward instantly through all the possible accumulations ofdrifted snow that might impede them. "You had better order the carriage directly, my love, " said she; "I daresay we shall be able to get along, if we set off directly; and if we do come toany thing very bad, I can get out and walk. I am not at all afraid. I shouldnot mind walking half the way. I could change my shoes, you know, themoment 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 mostextraordinary sort of thing in the world, for in general every thing does giveyou 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 couldnot so entirely give up the hope of their being all able to get away; and theywere still discussing the point, when Mr. Knightley, who had left the roomimmediately 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 answerfor there not being the smallest difficulty in their getting home, wheneverthey liked it, either now or an hour hence. He had gone beyond thesweep--some way along the Highbury road--the snow was nowhere abovehalf an inch deep--in many places hardly enough to whiten the ground; avery few flakes were falling at present, but the clouds were parting, andthere was every appearance of its being soon over. He had seen thecoachmen, and they both agreed with him in there being nothing toapprehend. To Isabella, the relief of such tidings was very great, and they werescarcely less acceptable to Emma on her father's account, who wasimmediately set as much at ease on the subject as his nervous constitutionallowed; but the alarm that had been raised could not be appeased so as toadmit of any comfort for him while he continued at Randalls. He wassatisfied of there being no present danger in returning home, but noassurances could convince him that it was safe to stay; and while the otherswere variously urging and recommending, Mr. Knightley and Emma settledit 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 minutesmore, and Emma hoped to see one troublesome companion deposited in hisown house, to get sober and cool, and the other recover his temper andhappiness when this visit of hardship were over. The carriage came: and Mr. Woodhouse, always the first object on suchoccasions, was carefully attended to his own by Mr. Knightley and Mr. Weston; but not all that either could say could prevent some renewal ofalarm at the sight of the snow which had actually fallen, and the discoveryof a much darker night than he had been prepared for. "He was afraid theyshould 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 knowwhat 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 forthe other carriage. Isabella stept in after her father; John Knightley, forgetting that he didnot belong to their party, stept in after his wife very naturally; so thatEmma found, on being escorted and followed into the second carriage byMr. Elton, that the door was to be lawfully shut on them, and that theywere to have a tete-a-tete drive. It would not have been the awkwardness ofa moment, it would have been rather a pleasure, previous to the suspicionsof 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 ithad 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 talkingnonsense. To restrain him as much as might be, by her own manners, she wasimmediately preparing to speak with exquisite calmness and gravity of theweather and the night; but scarcely had she begun, scarcely had theypassed the sweep-gate and joined the other carriage, than she found hersubject cut up--her hand seized--her attention demanded, and Mr. Eltonactually making violent love to her: availing himself of the preciousopportunity, declaring sentiments which must be already well known, hoping--fearing--adoring--ready to die if she refused him; but flatteringhimself that his ardent attachment and unequalled love and unexampledpassion could not fail of having some effect, and in short, very muchresolved 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 tostop him; but vainly; he would go on, and say it all. Angry as she was, thethought of the moment made her resolve to restrain herself when she didspeak. She felt that half this folly must be drunkenness, and therefore couldhope that it might belong only to the passing hour. Accordingly, with amixture of the serious and the playful, which she hoped would best suit hishalf and half state, she replied, "I am very much astonished, Mr. Elton. This to me! you forgetyourself--you take me for my friend--any message to Miss Smith I shall behappy to deliver; but no more of this to me, if you please. ""Miss Smith!--message to Miss Smith!--What could she possiblymean!"-- And he repeated her words with such assurance of accent, suchboastful pretence of amazement, that she could not help replying withquickness, "Mr. Elton, this is the most extraordinary conduct! and I can accountfor it only in one way; you are not yourself, or you could not speak eitherto me, or of Harriet, in such a manner. Command yourself enough to say nomore, and I will endeavour to forget it. "But Mr. Elton had only drunk wine enough to elevate his spirits, not atall to confuse his intellects. He perfectly knew his own meaning; and havingwarmly protested against her suspicion as most injurious, and slightlytouched upon his respect for Miss Smith as her friend, --but acknowledginghis wonder that Miss Smith should be mentioned at all, --he resumed thesubject of his own passion, and was very urgent for a favourable answer. As she thought less of his inebriety, she thought more of hisinconstancy and presumption; and with fewer struggles for politeness, replied, "It is impossible for me to doubt any longer. You have made yourselftoo clear. Mr. Elton, my astonishment is much beyond any thing I canexpress. After such behaviour, as I have witnessed during the last month, toMiss Smith--such attentions as I have been in the daily habit ofobserving--to be addressing me in this manner--this is an unsteadiness ofcharacter, indeed, which I had not supposed possible! Believe me, sir, I amfar, 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 myexistence--never paid her any attentions, but as your friend: never caredwhether she were dead or alive, but as your friend. If she has fanciedotherwise, her own wishes have misled her, and I am very sorry--extremelysorry--But, Miss Smith, indeed!--Oh! Miss Woodhouse! who can think ofMiss Smith, when Miss Woodhouse is near! No, upon my honour, there isno unsteadiness of character. I have thought only of you. I protest againsthaving paid the smallest attention to any one else. Every thing that I havesaid or done, for many weeks past, has been with the sole view of markingmy adoration of yourself. You cannot really, seriously, doubt it. No!--(in anaccent meant to be insinuating)--I am sure you have seen and understoodme. "It would be impossible to say what Emma felt, on hearing this--whichof all her unpleasant sensations was uppermost. She was too completelyoverpowered to be immediately able to reply: and two moments of silencebeing ample encouragement for Mr. Elton's sanguine state of mind, he triedto take her hand again, as he joyously exclaimed--"Charming Miss Woodhouse! allow me to interpret this interestingsilence. It confesses that you have long understood me. ""No, sir, " cried Emma, "it confesses no such thing. So far from havinglong understood you, I have been in a most complete error with respect toyour views, till this moment. As to myself, I am very sorry that you shouldhave been giving way to any feelings-- Nothing could be farther from mywishes--your attachment to my friend Harriet--your pursuit of her, (pursuit, it appeared, ) gave me great pleasure, and I have been veryearnestly wishing you success: but had I supposed that she were not yourattraction to Hartfield, I should certainly have thought you judged ill inmaking your visits so frequent. Am I to believe that you have never soughtto recommend yourself particularly to Miss Smith?--that you have neverthought seriously of her?""Never, madam, " cried he, affronted in his turn: "never, I assure you. Ithink seriously of Miss Smith!--Miss Smith is a very good sort of girl; and Ishould 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 hastheir level: but as for myself, I am not, I think, quite so much at a loss. Ineed not so totally despair of an equal alliance, as to be addressing myselfto Miss Smith!-- No, madam, my visits to Hartfield have been for yourselfonly; and the encouragement I received--""Encouragement!--I give you encouragement!--Sir, you have beenentirely mistaken in supposing it. I have seen you only as the admirer of myfriend. In no other light could you have been more to me than a commonacquaintance. I am exceedingly sorry: but it is well that the mistake endswhere it does. Had the same behaviour continued, Miss Smith might havebeen led into a misconception of your views; not being aware, probably, any more than myself, of the very great inequality which you are so sensibleof. But, as it is, the disappointment is single, and, I trust, will not belasting. I have no thoughts of matrimony at present. "He was too angry to say another word; her manner too decided to invitesupplication; and in this state of swelling resentment, and mutually deepmortification, they had to continue together a few minutes longer, for thefears of Mr. Woodhouse had confined them to a foot-pace. If there had notbeen so much anger, there would have been desperate awkwardness; buttheir straightforward emotions left no room for the little zigzags ofembarrassment. Without knowing when the carriage turned into VicarageLane, or when it stopped, they found themselves, all at once, at the door ofhis house; and he was out before another syllable passed. --Emma then feltit indispensable to wish him a good night. The compliment was justreturned, 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, whohad 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 strangehands--a mere common coachman--no James; and there it seemed as if herreturn only were wanted to make every thing go well: for Mr. JohnKnightley, ashamed of his ill-humour, was now all kindness and attention;and so particularly solicitous for the comfort of her father, as to seem--ifnot quite ready to join him in a basin of gruel--perfectly sensible of itsbeing exceedingly wholesome; and the day was concluding in peace andcomfort to all their little party, except herself. --But her mind had neverbeen in such perturbation; and it needed a very strong effort to appearattentive and cheerful till the usual hour of separating allowed her the reliefof quiet reflection. CHAPTER XVIThe hair was curled, and the maid sent away, and Emma sat down tothink and be miserable. --It was a wretched business indeed!--Such anoverthrow of every thing she had been wishing for!--Such a development ofevery thing most unwelcome!--Such a blow for Harriet!--that was theworst of all. Every part of it brought pain and humiliation, of some sort orother; but, compared with the evil to Harriet, all was light; and she wouldgladly have submitted to feel yet more mistaken--more in error--moredisgraced by mis-judgment, than she actually was, could the effects of herblunders have been confined to herself. "If I had not persuaded Harriet into liking the man, I could have borneany thing. He might have doubled his presumption to me--but poorHarriet!"How she could have been so deceived!--He protested that he had neverthought 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, andmade every thing bend to it. His manners, however, must have beenunmarked, wavering, dubious, or she could not have been so misled. The picture!--How eager he had been about the picture!--and thecharade!--and an hundred other circumstances;--how clearly they hadseemed 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 withouttaste or truth. Who could have seen through such thick-headed nonsense?Certainly she had often, especially of late, thought his manners toherself unnecessarily gallant; but it had passed as his way, as a mere errorof judgment, of knowledge, of taste, as one proof among others that he hadnot always lived in the best society, that with all the gentleness of hisaddress, true elegance was sometimes wanting; but, till this very day, shehad never, for an instant, suspected it to mean any thing but gratefulrespect to her as Harriet's friend. To Mr. John Knightley was she indebted for her first idea on thesubject, for the first start of its possibility. There was no denying that thosebrothers had penetration. She remembered what Mr. Knightley had oncesaid to her about Mr. Elton, the caution he had given, the conviction he hadprofessed that Mr. Elton would never marry indiscreetly; and blushed tothink how much truer a knowledge of his character had been there shewnthan any she had reached herself. It was dreadfully mortifying; but Mr. Elton was proving himself, in many respects, the very reverse of what shehad meant and believed him; proud, assuming, conceited; very full of hisown claims, and little concerned about the feelings of others. Contrary to the usual course of things, Mr. Elton's wanting to pay hisaddresses to her had sunk him in her opinion. His professions and hisproposals did him no service. She thought nothing of his attachment, andwas insulted by his hopes. He wanted to marry well, and having thearrogance to raise his eyes to her, pretended to be in love; but she wasperfectly easy as to his not suffering any disappointment that need be caredfor. There had been no real affection either in his language or manners. Sighs and fine words had been given in abundance; but she could hardlydevise any set of expressions, or fancy any tone of voice, less allied withreal love. She need not trouble herself to pity him. He only wanted toaggrandise and enrich himself; and if Miss Woodhouse of Hartfield, theheiress of thirty thousand pounds, were not quite so easily obtained as hehad fancied, he would soon try for Miss Somebody else with twenty, orwith ten. But--that he should talk of encouragement, should consider her asaware of his views, accepting his attentions, meaning (in short), to marryhim!--should suppose himself her equal in connexion or mind!--look downupon her friend, so well understanding the gradations of rank below him, and be so blind to what rose above, as to fancy himself shewing nopresumption in addressing her!-- It was most provoking. Perhaps it was not fair to expect him to feel how very much he was herinferior in talent, and all the elegancies of mind. The very want of suchequality might prevent his perception of it; but he must know that infortune and consequence she was greatly his superior. He must know thatthe Woodhouses had been settled for several generations at Hartfield, theyounger branch of a very ancient family--and that the Eltons were nobody. The landed property of Hartfield certainly was inconsiderable, being but asort of notch in the Donwell Abbey estate, to which all the rest of Highburybelonged; but their fortune, from other sources, was such as to make themscarcely secondary to Donwell Abbey itself, in every other kind ofconsequence; and the Woodhouses had long held a high place in theconsideration of the neighbourhood which Mr. Elton had first entered nottwo years ago, to make his way as he could, without any alliances but intrade, or any thing to recommend him to notice but his situation and hiscivility. -- But he had fancied her in love with him; that evidently musthave been his dependence; and after raving a little about the seemingincongruity of gentle manners and a conceited head, Emma was obliged incommon honesty to stop and admit that her own behaviour to him hadbeen so complaisant and obliging, so full of courtesy and attention, as(supposing her real motive unperceived) might warrant a man of ordinaryobservation and delicacy, like Mr. Elton, in fancying himself a very decidedfavourite. If she had so misinterpreted his feelings, she had little right towonder 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 waswrong, to take so active a part in bringing any two people together. It wasadventuring too far, assuming too much, making light of what ought to beserious, a trick of what ought to be simple. She was quite concerned andashamed, and resolved to do such things no more. "Here have I, " said she, "actually talked poor Harriet into being verymuch attached to this man. She might never have thought of him but forme; and certainly never would have thought of him with hope, if I had notassured her of his attachment, for she is as modest and humble as I used tothink him. Oh! that I had been satisfied with persuading her not to acceptyoung Martin. There I was quite right. That was well done of me; but thereI should have stopped, and left the rest to time and chance. I wasintroducing her into good company, and giving her the opportunity ofpleasing some one worth having; I ought not to have attempted more. Butnow, poor girl, her peace is cut up for some time. I have been but half afriend 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 desirablefor her;--William Coxe--Oh! no, I could not endure William Coxe--a pertyoung lawyer. "She stopt to blush and laugh at her own relapse, and then resumed amore serious, more dispiriting cogitation upon what had been, and mightbe, and must be. The distressing explanation she had to make to Harriet, and all that poor Harriet would be suffering, with the awkwardness offuture meetings, the difficulties of continuing or discontinuing theacquaintance, of subduing feelings, concealing resentment, and avoidingeclat, were enough to occupy her in most unmirthful reflections some timelonger, and she went to bed at last with nothing settled but the convictionof her having blundered most dreadfully. To youth and natural cheerfulness like Emma's, though undertemporary gloom at night, the return of day will hardly fail to bring returnof spirits. The youth and cheerfulness of morning are in happy analogy, andof powerful operation; and if the distress be not poignant enough to keepthe eyes unclosed, they will be sure to open to sensations of softened painand brighter hope. Emma got up on the morrow more disposed for comfort than she hadgone to bed, more ready to see alleviations of the evil before her, and todepend on getting tolerably out of it. It was a great consolation that Mr. Elton should not be really in lovewith her, or so particularly amiable as to make it shocking to disappointhim--that Harriet's nature should not be of that superior sort in which thefeelings are most acute and retentive--and that there could be no necessityfor any body's knowing what had passed except the three principals, andespecially for her father's being given a moment's uneasiness about it. These were very cheering thoughts; and the sight of a great deal ofsnow on the ground did her further service, for any thing was welcome thatmight justify their all three being quite asunder at present. The weather was most favourable for her; though Christmas Day, shecould not go to church. Mr. Woodhouse would have been miserable had hisdaughter attempted it, and she was therefore safe from either exciting orreceiving unpleasant and most unsuitable ideas. The ground covered withsnow, and the atmosphere in that unsettled state between frost and thaw, which is of all others the most unfriendly for exercise, every morningbeginning in rain or snow, and every evening setting in to freeze, she wasfor many days a most honourable prisoner. No intercourse with Harrietpossible but by note; no church for her on Sunday any more than onChristmas Day; and no need to find excuses for Mr. Elton's absentinghimself. It was weather which might fairly confine every body at home; andthough she hoped and believed him to be really taking comfort in somesociety or other, it was very pleasant to have her father so well satisfiedwith his being all alone in his own house, too wise to stir out; and to hearhim say to Mr. Knightley, whom no weather could keep

entirely fromthem, --"Ah! Mr. Knightley, why do not you stay at home like poor Mr. Elton?"These days of confinement would have been, but for her privateperplexities, remarkably comfortable, as such seclusion exactly suited herbrother, whose feelings must always be of great importance to hiscompanions; and he had, besides, so thoroughly cleared off his ill-humourat Randalls, that his amiableness never failed him during the rest of his stayat Hartfield. He was always agreeable and obliging, and speaking pleasantlyof every body. But with all the hopes of cheerfulness, and all the presentcomfort of delay, there was still such an evil hanging over her in the hour ofexplanation with Harriet, as made it impossible for Emma to be everperfectly at ease. CHAPTER XVIIMr. And Mrs. John Knightley were not detained long at Hartfield. Theweather soon improved enough for those to move who must move; and Mr. Woodhouse having, as usual, tried to persuade his daughter to stay behindwith all her children, was obliged to see the whole party set off, and returnto 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 theirfaults, and always innocently busy, might have been a model of rightfeminine happiness. The evening of the very day on which they went brought a note fromMr. Elton to Mr. Woodhouse, a long, civil, ceremonious note, to say, withMr. Elton's best compliments, "that he was proposing to leave Highbury thefollowing morning in his way to Bath; where, in compliance with thepressing entreaties of some friends, he had engaged to spend a few weeks, and very much regretted the impossibility he was under, from variouscircumstances of weather and business, of taking a personal leave of Mr. Woodhouse, of whose friendly civilities he should ever retain a gratefulsense--and had Mr. Woodhouse any commands, should be happy to attendto them. "Emma was most agreeably surprized. --Mr. Elton's absence just at thistime 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 wasannounced. Resentment could not have been more plainly spoken than in acivility to her father, from which she was so pointedly excluded. She hadnot even a share in his opening compliments. --Her name was notmentioned;--and there was so striking a change in all this, and such an ill-judged solemnity of leave-taking in his graceful acknowledgments, as shethought, at first, could not escape her father's suspicion. It did, however. --Her father was quite taken up with the surprize of sosudden a journey, and his fears that Mr. Elton might never get safely to theend of it, and saw nothing extraordinary in his language. It was a veryuseful note, for it supplied them with fresh matter for thought andconversation during the rest of their lonely evening. Mr. Woodhouse talkedover his alarms, and Emma was in spirits to persuade them away with allher usual promptitude. She now resolved to keep Harriet no longer in the dark. She had reasonto believe her nearly recovered from her cold, and it was desirable that sheshould have as much time as possible for getting the better of her othercomplaint before the gentleman's return. She went to Mrs. Goddard'saccordingly the very next day, to undergo the necessary penance ofcommunication; and a severe one it was. -- She had to destroy all the hopeswhich she had been so industriously feeding--to appear in the ungraciouscharacter of the one preferred--and acknowledge herself grossly mistakenand mis-judging in all her ideas on one subject, all her observations, all herconvictions, all her prophecies for the last six weeks. The confession completely renewed her first shame--and the sight ofHarriet's tears made her think that she should never be in charity withherself again. Harriet bore the intelligence very well--blaming nobody--and in everything testifying such an ingenuousness of disposition and lowly opinion ofherself, as must appear with particular advantage at that moment to herfriend. Emma was in the humour to value simplicity and modesty to theutmost; and all that was amiable, all that ought to be attaching, seemed onHarriet's side, not her own. Harriet did not consider herself as having anything to complain of. The affection of such a man as Mr. Elton would havebeen too great a distinction. -- She never could have deserved him--andnobody but so partial and kind a friend as Miss Woodhouse would havethought it possible. Her tears fell abundantly--but her grief was so truly artless, that nodignity could have made it more respectable in Emma's eyes--and shelistened to her and tried to console her with all her heart andunderstanding--really for the time convinced that Harriet was the superiorcreature of the two--and that to resemble her would be more for her ownwelfare and happiness than all that genius or intelligence could do. It was rather too late in the day to set about being simple-minded andignorant; but she left her with every previous resolution confirmed of beinghumble and discreet, and repressing imagination all the rest of her life. Hersecond duty now, inferior only to her father's claims, was to promoteHarriet's comfort, and endeavour to prove her own affection in some bettermethod than by match-making. She got her to Hartfield, and shewed herthe most unvarying kindness, striving to occupy and amuse her, and bybooks and conversation, to drive Mr. Elton from her thoughts. Time, she knew, must be allowed for this being thoroughly done; andshe could suppose herself but an indifferent judge of such matters ingeneral, and very inadequate to sympathise in an attachment to Mr. Eltonin particular; but it seemed to her reasonable that at Harriet's age, and withthe entire extinction of all hope, such a progress might be made towards astate of composure by the time of Mr. Elton's return, as to allow them all tomeet again in the common routine of acquaintance, without any danger ofbetraying sentiments or increasing them. Harriet did think him all perfection, and maintained the non-existenceof any body equal to him in person or goodness--and did, in truth, proveherself more resolutely in love than Emma had foreseen; but yet it appearedto her so natural, so inevitable to strive against an inclination of that sortunrequited, that she could not comprehend its continuing very long in equalforce. If Mr. Elton, on his return, made his own indifference as evident andindubitable as she could not doubt he would anxiously do, she could notimagine Harriet's persisting to place her happiness in the sight or therecollection of him. Their being fixed, so absolutely fixed, in the same place, was bad foreach, for all three. Not one of them had the power of removal, or ofeffecting 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 girlsin the school; and it must be at Hartfield only that she could have anychance of hearing him spoken of with cooling moderation or repellent truth. Where the wound had been given, there must the cure be found ifanywhere; and Emma felt that, till she saw her in the way of cure, therecould be no true peace for herself. CHAPTER XVIIIMr. 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 thepresent, 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 nodistant period. "Mrs. Weston was exceedingly disappointed--much more disappointed, in fact, than her husband, though her dependence on seeing the young manhad been so much more sober: but a sanguine temper, though for everexpecting more good than occurs, does not always pay for its hopes by anyproportionate depression. It soon flies over the present failure, and beginsto hope again. For half an hour Mr. Weston was surprized and sorry; butthen he began to perceive that Frank's coming two or three months laterwould be a much better plan; better time of year; better weather; and thathe would be able, without any doubt, to stay considerably longer with themthan if he had come sooner. These feelings rapidly restored his comfort, while Mrs. Weston, of amore apprehensive disposition, foresaw nothing but a repetition of excusesand 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. Theacquaintance at present had no charm for her. She wanted, rather, to bequiet, and out of temptation; but still, as it was desirable that she shouldappear, in general, like her usual self, she took care to express as muchinterest 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 quiteas much as was necessary, (or, being acting a part, perhaps rather more, ) atthe conduct of the Churchills, in keeping him away. She then proceeded tosay a good deal more than she felt, of the advantage of such an addition totheir 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 directlyinvolved in a disagreement with Mr. Knightley; and, to her greatamusement, perceived that she was taking the other side of the questionfrom her real opinion, and making use of Mrs. Weston's arguments againstherself. "The Churchills are very likely in fault, " said Mr. Knightley, coolly; "butI 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 apoint 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 yousuppose him such an unnatural creature?""I am not supposing him at all an unnatural creature, in suspecting thathe may have learnt to be above his connexions, and to care very little forany thing but his own pleasure, from living with those who have always sethim 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, andselfish, should be proud, luxurious, and selfish too. If Frank Churchill hadwanted to see his father, he would have contrived it between Septemberand 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 yourown master. You are the worst judge in the world, Mr. Knightley, of thedifficulties of dependence. You do not know what it is to have tempers tomanage. ""It is not to be conceived that a man of three or four-and-twenty shouldnot 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 ofboth, 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; wheneverthere is any temptation of pleasure. ""It is very unfair to judge of any body's conduct, without an intimateknowledge of their situation. Nobody, who has not been in the interior of afamily, can say what the difficulties of any individual of that family may be. We ought to be acquainted with Enscombe, and with Mrs. Churchill'stemper, before we pretend to decide upon what her nephew can do. Hemay, 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 andresolution. It is Frank Churchill's duty to pay this attention to his father. Heknows 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 andresolutely, to Mrs. Churchill-- 'Every sacrifice of mere pleasure you willalways find me ready to make to your convenience; but I must go and seemy father immediately. I know he would be hurt by my failing in such amark 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 decisionbecoming a man, there would be no opposition made to his going. ""No, " said Emma, laughing; "but perhaps there might be some made tohis coming back again. Such language for a young man entirely dependent, to use!--Nobody but you, Mr. Knightley, would imagine it possible. Butyou have not an idea of what is requisite in situations directly opposite toyour own. Mr. Frank Churchill to be making such a speech as that to theuncle 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 ashe 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, asa man of sense would make it, in a proper manner--would do him moregood, raise him higher, fix his interest stronger with the people hedepended 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 trusthim; that the nephew who had done rightly by his father, would do rightlyby them; for they know, as well as he does, as well as all the world mustknow, that he ought to pay this visit to his father; and while meanlyexerting their power to delay it, are in their hearts not thinking the better ofhim for submitting to their whims. Respect for right conduct is felt by everybody. 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; butwhere little minds belong to rich people in authority, I think they have aknack of swelling out, till they are quite as unmanageable as great ones. Ican imagine, that if you, as you are, Mr. Knightley, were to be transportedand placed all at once in Mr. Frank Churchill's situation, you would be ableto say and do just what you have been recommending for him; and it mighthave a very good effect. The Churchills might not have a word to say inreturn; but then, you would have no habits of early obedience and longobservance to break through. To him who has, it might not be so easy toburst forth at once into perfect independence, and set all their claims on hisgratitude and regard at nought. He may have as strong a sense of whatwould be right, as you can have, without being so equal, under particularcircumstances, to act up to it. ""Then it would not be so strong a sense. If it failed to produce equalexertion, it could not be an equal conviction. ""Oh, the difference of situation and habit! I wish you would try tounderstand what an amiable young man may be likely to feel in directlyopposing those, whom as child and boy he has been looking up to all hislife. ""Our amiable young man is a very weak young man, if this be the firstoccasion of his carrying through a resolution to do right against the will ofothers. It ought to have been a habit with him by this time, of following hisduty, instead of consulting expediency. I can allow for the fears of thechild, but not of the man. As he became rational, he ought to have rousedhimself and shaken off all that was unworthy in their authority. He oughtto have opposed the first attempt on their side to make him slight hisfather. Had he begun as he ought, there would have been no difficultynow. ""We shall never agree about him, " cried Emma; "but that is nothingextraordinary. I have not the least idea of his being a weak young man: Ifeel sure that he is not. Mr. Weston would not be blind to folly, though inhis own son; but he is very likely to have a more yielding, complying, milddisposition than would suit your notions of man's perfection. I dare say hehas; and though it may cut him off from some advantages, it will securehim many others. ""Yes; all the advantages of sitting still when he ought to move, and ofleading a life of mere idle pleasure, and fancying himself extremely expertin 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 hitupon the very best method in the world of preserving peace at home andpreventing 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 awoman 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 thatattention 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 daresay; and it would not have signified whether he did or no. Can you thinkyour friend behindhand in these sort of considerations? Do you suppose shedoes not often say all this to herself? No, Emma, your amiable young mancan be amiable only in French, not in English. He may be very 'aimable, 'have very good manners, and be very agreeable; but he can have no Englishdelicacy towards the feelings of other people: nothing really amiable abouthim. ""You seem determined to think ill of him. ""Me!--not at all, " replied Mr. Knightley, rather displeased; "I do notwant to think ill of him. I should be as ready to acknowledge his merits asany other man; but I hear of none, except what are merely personal; that heis well-grown and good-looking, with smooth, plausible manners. ""Well, if he have nothing else to recommend him, he will be a treasureat Highbury. We do not often look upon fine young men, well-bred andagreeable. We must not be nice and ask for all the virtues into the bargain. Cannot you imagine, Mr. Knightley, what a sensation his coming willproduce? There will be but one subject throughout the parishes of Donwelland 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 himconversable, I shall be glad of his acquaintance; but if he is only achattering 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 ofevery body, and has the power as well as the wish of being universallyagreeable. To you, he will talk of farming; to me, of drawing or music; andso on to every body, having that general information on all subjects whichwill enable him to follow the lead, or take the lead, just as propriety mayrequire, 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 anything like it, he will be the most insufferable fellow breathing! What! atthree-and-twenty to be the king of his company--the great man--thepractised politician, who is to read every body's character, and make everybody's talents conduce to the display of his own superiority; to bedispensing his flatteries around, that he may make all appear like foolscompared with himself! My dear Emma, your own good sense could notendure such a puppy when it came to the point. ""I will say no more about him, " cried Emma, "you turn every thing toevil. We are both prejudiced; you against, I for him; and we have no chanceof 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 lovefor 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, " saidMr. Knightley, with a degree of vexation, which made Emma immediatelytalk of something else, though she could not comprehend why he should beangry. To take a dislike to a young man, only because he appeared to be of adifferent disposition from himself, was unworthy the real liberality of mindwhich she was always used to acknowledge in him; for with all the highopinion of himself, which she had often laid to his charge, she had neverbefore for a moment supposed it could make him unjust to the merit ofanother. VOLUME IICHAPTER IEmma and Harriet had been walking together one morning, and, inEmma's opinion, had been talking enough of Mr. Elton for that day. Shecould not think that Harriet's solace or her own sins required more; and shewas therefore industriously getting rid of the subject as they returned;--butit burst out again when she thought she had succeeded, and after speakingsome time of what the poor must suffer in winter, and receiving no otheranswer than a very plaintive-- "Mr. Elton is so good to the poor!" she foundsomething 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 wasalways sufficient reason for such an attention; Mrs. And Miss Bates loved tobe called on, and she knew she was considered by the very few whopresumed ever to see imperfection in her, as rather negligent in thatrespect, and as not contributing what she ought to the stock of their scantycomforts. She had had many a hint from Mr. Knightley and some from her ownheart, as to her deficiency--but none were equal to counteract thepersuasion of its being very disagreeable, --a waste of time--tiresomewomen--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, andtherefore she seldom went near them. But now she made the suddenresolution of not passing their door without going in--observing, as sheproposed it to Harriet, that, as well as she could calculate, they were justnow quite safe from any letter from Jane Fairfax. The house belonged to people in business. Mrs. And Miss Batesoccupied the drawing-room floor; and there, in the very moderate-sizedapartment, which was every thing to them, the visitors were most cordiallyand even gratefully welcomed; the quiet neat old lady, who with herknitting was seated in the warmest corner, wanting even to give up herplace to Miss Woodhouse, and her more active, talking daughter, almostready 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 thebeaufet--"Mrs. Cole had just been there, just called in for ten minutes, andhad been so good as to sit an hour with them, and she had taken a piece ofcake and been so kind as to say she liked it very much; and, therefore, shehoped Miss Woodhouse and Miss Smith would do them the favour to eat apiece 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. Eltonsince his going away. Emma knew what was coming; they must have theletter over again, and settle how long he had been gone, and how much hewas 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 wentthrough it very well, with all the interest and all the commendation thatcould be requisite, and always putting forward to prevent Harriet's beingobliged 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 byany troublesome topic, and to wander at large amongst all the Mistressesand Misses of Highbury, and their card-parties. She had not been preparedto have Jane Fairfax succeed Mr. Elton; but he was actually hurried off byMiss Bates, she jumped away from him at last abruptly to the Coles, tousher in a letter from her niece. "Oh! yes--Mr. Elton, I understand--certainly as to dancing-- Mrs. Colewas telling me that dancing at the rooms at Bath was-- Mrs. Cole was sokind 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 herkindness enough; and I must say that Jane deserves it as much as any bodycan. And so she began inquiring after her directly, saying, 'I know youcannot 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 verymorning, ' I do not know that I ever saw any body more surprized. 'Haveyou, upon your honour?' said she; 'well, that is quite unexpected. Do let mehear 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. Ihope she is well?""Thank you. You are so kind!" replied the happily deceived aunt, whileeagerly hunting for the letter. --"Oh! here it is. I was sure it could not be faroff; but I had put my huswife upon it, you see, without being aware, and soit was quite hid, but I had it in my hand so very lately that I was almostsure it must be on the table. I was reading it to Mrs. Cole, and since shewent away, I was reading it again to my mother, for it is such a pleasure toher--a letter from Jane--that she can never hear it often enough; so I knewit could not be far off, and here it is, only just under my huswife--andsince you are so kind as to wish to hear what she says;--but, first of all, Ireally 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 wholepaper and crosses half. My mother often wonders that I can make it out sowell. She often says, when the letter is first opened, 'Well, Hetty, now Ithink 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 outherself, if she had nobody to do it for her--every word of it--I am sure shewould pore over it till she had made out every word. And, indeed, thoughmy mother's eyes are not so good as they were, she can see amazingly wellstill, thank God! with the help of spectacles. It is such a blessing! Mymother's are really very good indeed. Jane often says, when she is here, 'Iam sure, grandmama, you must have had very strong eyes to see as youdo--and so much fine work as you have done too!--I only wish my eyesmay last me as well. '"All this spoken extremely fast obliged Miss Bates to stop for breath; andEmma said something very civil about the excellence of Miss Fairfax'shandwriting. "You are extremely kind, " replied Miss Bates, highly gratified; "you whoare such a judge, and write so beautifully yourself. I am sure there isnobody'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, " addressingher, "do you hear what Miss Woodhouse is so obliging to say about Jane'shandwriting?"And Emma had the advantage of hearing her own silly complimentrepeated twice over before the good old lady could comprehend it. She waspondering, in the meanwhile, upon the possibility, without seeming veryrude, of making her escape from Jane Fairfax's letter, and had almostresolved on hurrying away directly under some slight excuse, when MissBates turned to her again and seized her attention. "My mother's deafness is very trifling you see--just nothing at all. Byonly raising my voice, and saying any thing two or three times over, she issure to hear; but then she is used to my voice. But it is very remarkablethat she should always hear Jane better than she does me. Jane speaks sodistinct! However, she will not find her grandmama at all deafer than shewas two years ago; which is saying a great deal at my mother's time oflife--and it really is full two years, you know, since she was here. We neverwere so long without seeing her before, and as I was telling Mrs. Cole, weshall 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 sosurprized; and every body says the same obliging things. I am sure she willbe 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 bewanting the carriage himself one of those days. So very good of them tosend her the whole way! But they always do, you know. Oh yes, Friday orSaturday next. That is what she writes about. That is the reason of herwriting out of rule, as we call it; for, in the common course, we should nothave heard from her before next Tuesday or Wednesday. ""Yes, so I imagined. I was afraid there could be little chance of myhearing any thing of Miss Fairfax to-day. ""So obliging of you! No, we should not have heard, if it had not beenfor this particular circumstance, of her being to come here so soon. Mymother 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 ofreading to you. The case is, you see, that the Campbells are going toIreland. Mrs. Dixon has persuaded her father and mother to come over andsee her directly. They had not intended to go over till the summer, but sheis so impatient to see them again--for till she married, last October, shewas never away from them so much as a week, which must make it verystrange to be in different kingdoms, I was going to say, but howeverdifferent countries, and so she wrote a very urgent letter to her mother--orher father, I declare I do not know which it was, but we shall see presentlyin Jane's letter--wrote in Mr. Dixon's name as well as her own, to presstheir 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, Ifancy. Jane has heard a great deal of its beauty; from Mr. Dixon, I mean-- Ido not know that she ever heard about it from any body else; but it wasvery natural, you know, that he should like to speak of his own place whilehe was paying his addresses--and as Jane used to be very often walking outwith them--for Colonel and Mrs. Campbell were very particular about theirdaughter's not walking out often with only Mr. Dixon, for which I do not atall blame them; of course she heard every thing he might be telling MissCampbell about his own home in Ireland; and I think she wrote us wordthat he had shewn them some drawings of the place, views that he hadtaken himself. He is a most amiable, charming young man, I believe. Janewas quite longing to go to Ireland, from his account of things. "At this moment, an ingenious and animating suspicion entering Emma'sbrain with regard to Jane Fairfax, this charming Mr. Dixon, and the notgoing to Ireland, she said, with the insidious design of farther discovery, "You must feel it very fortunate that Miss Fairfax should be allowed tocome to you at such a time. Considering the very particular friendshipbetween her and Mrs. Dixon, you could hardly have expected her to beexcused from accompanying Colonel and Mrs. Campbell. ""Very true, very true, indeed. The very thing that we have always beenrather afraid of; for we should not have liked to have her at such a distancefrom 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. AndMrs. Dixon) excessively to come over with Colonel and Mrs. Campbell;quite depend upon it; nothing can be more kind or pressing than their jointinvitation, Jane says, as you will hear presently; Mr. Dixon does not seemin 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 outin that party on the water, and she, by the sudden whirling round ofsomething or other among the sails, would have been dashed into the sea atonce, and actually was all but gone, if he had not, with the greatestpresence of mind, caught hold of her habit-- (I can never think of itwithout trembling!)--But ever since we had the history of that day, I havebeen so fond of Mr. Dixon!""But, in spite of all her friends' urgency, and her own wish of seeingIreland, Miss Fairfax prefers devoting the time to you and Mrs. Bates?""Yes--entirely her own doing, entirely her own choice; and Colonel andMrs. Campbell think she does quite right, just what they shouldrecommend; and indeed they particularly wish her to try her native air, asshe has not been quite so well as usual lately. ""I am concerned to hear of it. I think they judge wisely. But Mrs. Dixonmust be very much disappointed. Mrs. Dixon, I understand, has noremarkable degree of personal beauty; is not, by any means, to becompared 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 wasabsolutely plain--but extremely elegant and amiable. ""Yes, that of course. ""Jane caught a bad cold, poor thing! so long ago as the 7th ofNovember, (as I am going to read to you, ) and has never been well since. Along time, is not it, for a cold to hang upon her? She never mentioned itbefore, because she would not alarm us. Just like her! so considerate!--Buthowever, she is so far from well, that her kind friends the Campbells thinkshe had better come home, and try an air that always agrees with her; andthey have no doubt that three or four months at Highbury will entirely cureher--and it is certainly a great deal better that she should come here, thango 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 theCampbells leave town in their way to Holyhead the Monday following--asyou will find from Jane's letter. So sudden!--You may guess, dear MissWoodhouse, what a flurry it has thrown me in! If it was not for thedrawback of her illness--but I am afraid we must expect to see her grownthin, and looking very poorly. I must tell you what an unlucky thinghappened to me, as to that. I always make a point of reading Jane's lettersthrough 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 todo it, so I always do: and so I began to-day with my usual caution; but nosooner 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, beingon the watch, heard distinctly, and was sadly alarmed at. However, when Iread on, I found it was not near so bad as I had fancied at first; and I makeso light of it now to her, that she does not think much about it. But Icannot imagine how I could be so off my guard. If Jane does not get wellsoon, we will call in Mr. Perry. The expense shall not be thought of; andthough he is so liberal, and so fond of Jane that I dare say he would notmean 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 givingaway his time. Well, now I have just given you a hint of what Jane writesabout, we will turn to her letter, and I am sure she tells her own story agreat 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, Ithought I had no power of staying more than five minutes, when I firstentered the house. I merely called, because I would not pass the doorwithout 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 regainedthe street--happy in this, that though much had been forced on her againsther will, though she had in fact heard the whole substance of Jane Fairfax'sletter, she had been able to escape the letter itself. CHAPTER IIJane Fairfax was an orphan, the only child of Mrs. Bates's youngestdaughter. The marriage of Lieut. Fairfax of the ---- regiment of infantry, andMiss Jane Bates, had had its day of fame and pleasure, hope and interest;but nothing now remained of it, save the melancholy remembrance of himdying in action abroad--of his widow sinking under consumption and griefsoon afterwards--and this girl. By birth she belonged to Highbury: and when at three years old, onlosing her mother, she became the property, the charge, the consolation, the fondling of her grandmother and aunt, there had seemed everyprobability of her being permanently fixed there; of her being taught onlywhat very limited means could command, and growing up with noadvantages of connexion or improvement, to be engrafted on what naturehad 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 changeto her destiny. This was Colonel Campbell, who had very highly regardedFairfax, 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 learnto 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 didreturn, he sought out the child and took notice of her. He was a marriedman, with only one living child, a girl, about Jane's age: and Jane becametheir guest, paying them long visits and growing a favourite with all; andbefore she was nine years old, his daughter's great fondness for her, and hisown wish of being a real friend, united to produce an offer from ColonelCampbell of undertaking the whole charge of her education. It wasaccepted; and from that period Jane had belonged to Colonel Campbell'sfamily, and had lived with them entirely, only visiting her grandmotherfrom time to time. The plan was that she should be brought up for educating others; thevery few hundred pounds which she inherited from her father makingindependence impossible. To provide for her otherwise was out of ColonelCampbell's power; for though his income, by pay and appointments, washandsome, his fortune was moderate and must be all his daughter's; but, bygiving her an education, he hoped to be supplying the means of respectablesubsistence hereafter. Such was Jane Fairfax's history. She had fallen into good hands, knownnothing but kindness from the Campbells, and been given an excellenteducation. Living constantly with right-minded and well-informed people, her heart and understanding had received every advantage of discipline andculture; and Colonel Campbell's residence being in London, every lightertalent had been done full justice to, by the attendance of first-rate masters. Her disposition and abilities were equally worthy of all that friendshipcould do; and at eighteen or nineteen she was, as far as such an early agecan be qualified for the care of children, fully competent to the office ofinstruction herself; but she was too much beloved to be parted with. Neither father nor mother could promote, and the daughter could notendure it. The evil day was put off. It was easy to decide that she was stilltoo young; and Jane remained with them, sharing, as another daughter, inall the rational pleasures of an elegant society, and a judicious mixture ofhome and amusement, with only the drawback of the future, the soberingsuggestions of her own good understanding to remind her that all this mightsoon be over. The affection of the whole family, the warm attachment of MissCampbell in particular, was the more honourable to each party from thecircumstance of Jane's decided superiority both in beauty and acquirements. That nature had given it in feature could not be unseen by the youngwoman, nor could her higher powers of mind be unfelt by the

parents. Theycontinued together with unabated regard however, till the marriage of MissCampbell, who by that chance, that luck which so often defies anticipationin matrimonial affairs, giving attraction to what is moderate rather than towhat is superior, engaged the affections of Mr. Dixon, a young man, richand agreeable, almost as soon as they were acquainted; and was eligiblyand 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 yetattempted 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 onfor beginning. She had long resolved that one-and-twenty should be theperiod. With the fortitude of a devoted novitiate, she had resolved at one-and-twenty to complete the sacrifice, and retire from all the pleasures oflife, of rational intercourse, equal society, peace and hope, to penance andmortification for ever. The good sense of Colonel and Mrs. Campbell could not oppose such aresolution, though their feelings did. As long as they lived, no exertionswould be necessary, their home might be hers for ever; and for their owncomfort they would have retained her wholly; but this would beselfishness:--what must be at last, had better be soon. Perhaps they beganto feel it might have been kinder and wiser to have resisted the temptationof any delay, and spared her from a taste of such enjoyments of ease andleisure as must now be relinquished. Still, however, affection was glad tocatch 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 mustforbid her engaging in duties, which, so far from being compatible with aweakened frame and varying spirits, seemed, under the most favourablecircumstances, to require something more than human perfection of bodyand mind to be discharged with tolerable comfort. With regard to her not accompanying them to Ireland, her account toher aunt contained nothing but truth, though there might be some truthsnot told. It was her own choice to give the time of their absence toHighbury; to spend, perhaps, her last months of perfect liberty with thosekind relations to whom she was so very dear: and the Campbells, whatevermight be their motive or motives, whether single, or double, or treble, gavethe arrangement their ready sanction, and said, that they depended moreon a few months spent in her native air, for the recovery of her health, thanon 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 promisedit--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 likethrough three long months!--to be always doing more than she wished, andless than she ought! Why she did not like Jane Fairfax might be a difficultquestion to answer; Mr. Knightley had once told her it was because she sawin her the really accomplished young woman, which she wanted to bethought herself; and though the accusation had been eagerly refuted at thetime, there were moments of self-examination in which her consciencecould 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 auntwas such an eternal talker!--and she was made such a fuss with by everybody!--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 beso 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 byfancy, that she never saw Jane Fairfax the first time after any considerableabsence, without feeling that she had injured her; and now, when the duevisit was paid, on her arrival, after a two years' interval, she wasparticularly struck with the very appearance and manners, which for thosetwo whole years she had been depreciating. Jane Fairfax was very elegant, remarkably elegant; and she had herself the highest value for elegance. Herheight was pretty, just such as almost every body would think tall, andnobody could think very tall; her figure particularly graceful; her size amost becoming medium, between fat and thin, though a slight appearanceof ill-health seemed to point out the likeliest evil of the two. Emma couldnot but feel all this; and then, her face--her features--there was morebeauty in them altogether than she had remembered; it was not regular, butit was very pleasing beauty. Her eyes, a deep grey, with dark eye-lashes andeyebrows, had never been denied their praise; but the skin, which she hadbeen used to cavil at, as wanting colour, had a clearness and delicacy whichreally needed no fuller bloom. It was a style of beauty, of which elegancewas the reigning character, and as such, she must, in honour, by all herprinciples, admire it:--elegance, which, whether of person or of mind, shesaw so little in Highbury. There, not to be vulgar, was distinction, andmerit. In short, she sat, during the first visit, looking at Jane Fairfax withtwofold complacency; the sense of pleasure and the sense of renderingjustice, and was determining that she would dislike her no longer. Whenshe took in her history, indeed, her situation, as well as her beauty; whenshe considered what all this elegance was destined to, what she was goingto sink from, how she was going to live, it seemed impossible to feel anything but compassion and respect; especially, if to every well-knownparticular entitling her to interest, were added the highly probablecircumstance of an attachment to Mr. Dixon, which she had so naturallystarted to herself. In that case, nothing could be more pitiable or morehonourable than the sacrifices she had resolved on. Emma was very willingnow to acquit her of having seduced Mr. Dixon's actions from his wife, orof any thing mischievous which her imagination had suggested at first. If itwere love, it might be simple, single, successless love on her side alone. Shemight have been unconsciously sucking in the sad poison, while a sharer ofhis conversation with her friend; and from the best, the purest of motives, might now be denying herself this visit to Ireland, and resolving to divideherself effectually from him and his connexions by soon beginning hercareer 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 Highburyafforded no young man worthy of giving her independence; nobody that shecould wish to scheme about for her. These were charming feelings--but not lasting. Before she hadcommitted herself by any public profession of eternal friendship for JaneFairfax, or done more towards a recantation of past prejudices and errors, than saying to Mr. Knightley, "She certainly is handsome; she is better thanhandsome!" Jane had spent an evening at Hartfield with her grandmotherand aunt, and every thing was relapsing much into its usual state. Formerprovocations 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 andbutter she ate for breakfast, and how small a slice of mutton for dinner, aswell as to see exhibitions of new caps and new workbags for her motherand herself; and Jane's offences rose again. They had music; Emma wasobliged to play; and the thanks and praise which necessarily followedappeared to her an affectation of candour, an air of greatness, meaning onlyto 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 nogetting at her real opinion. Wrapt up in a cloak of politeness, she seemeddetermined to hazard nothing. She was disgustingly, was suspiciouslyreserved. If any thing could be more, where all was most, she was more reservedon the subject of Weymouth and the Dixons than any thing. She seemedbent on giving no real insight into Mr. Dixon's character, or her own valuefor his company, or opinion of the suitableness of the match. It was allgeneral approbation and smoothness; nothing delineated or distinguished. Itdid her no service however. Her caution was thrown away. Emma saw itsartifice, and returned to her first surmises. There probably was somethingmore to conceal than her own preference; Mr. Dixon, perhaps, had beenvery near changing one friend for the other, or been fixed only to MissCampbell, for the sake of the future twelve thousand pounds. The like reserve prevailed on other topics. She and Mr. Frank Churchillhad been at Weymouth at the same time. It was known that they were alittle acquainted; but not a syllable of real information could Emma procureas to what he truly was. "Was he handsome?"--"She believed he wasreckoned a very fine young man. " "Was he agreeable?"-- "He was generallythought so. " "Did he appear a sensible young man; a young man ofinformation?"--"At a watering-place, or in a common London acquaintance, it was difficult to decide on such points. Manners were all that could besafely judged of, under a much longer knowledge than they had yet had ofMr. Churchill. She believed every body found his manners pleasing. " Emmacould not forgive her. CHAPTER IIIEmma could not forgive her;--but as neither provocation norresentment were discerned by Mr. Knightley, who had been of the party, and had seen only proper attention and pleasing behaviour on each side, hewas expressing the next morning, being at Hartfield again on business withMr. Woodhouse, his approbation of the whole; not so openly as he mighthave done had her father been out of the room, but speaking plain enoughto be very intelligible to Emma. He had been used to think her unjust toJane, and had now great pleasure in marking an improvement. "A very pleasant evening, " he began, as soon as Mr. Woodhouse hadbeen talked into what was necessary, told that he understood, and thepapers swept away;--"particularly pleasant. You and Miss Fairfax gave ussome very good music. I do not know a more luxurious state, sir, thansitting at one's ease to be entertained a whole evening by two such youngwomen; sometimes with music and sometimes with conversation. I am sureMiss Fairfax must have found the evening pleasant, Emma. You left nothingundone. I was glad you made her play so much, for having no instrument ather grandmother's, it must have been a real indulgence. ""I am happy you approved, " said Emma, smiling; "but I hope I am notoften 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 aretoo attentive. The muffin last night--if it had been handed round once, Ithink it would have been enough. ""No, " said Mr. Knightley, nearly at the same time; "you are not oftendeficient; not often deficient either in manner or comprehension. I thinkyou understand me, therefore. "An arch look expressed--"I understand you well enough;" but she saidonly, "Miss Fairfax is reserved. ""I always told you she was--a little; but you will soon overcome all thatpart of her reserve which ought to be overcome, all that has its foundationin 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 hisquiet way. "I had. Once, I felt the fire rather too much; but then I movedback my chair a little, a very little, and it did not disturb me. Miss Bateswas very chatty and good-humoured, as she always is, though she speaksrather too quick. However, she is very agreeable, and Mrs. Bates too, in adifferent way. I like old friends; and Miss Jane Fairfax is a very pretty sortof young lady, a very pretty and a very well-behaved young lady indeed. She must have found the evening agreeable, Mr. Knightley, because she hadEmma. ""True, sir; and Emma, because she had Miss Fairfax. "Emma saw his anxiety, and wishing to appease it, at least for thepresent, 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. Iam 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 toexpress; and before he could make any reply, Mr. Woodhouse, whosethoughts were on the Bates's, said--"It is a great pity that their circumstances should be so confined! a greatpity indeed! and I have often wished--but it is so little one can venture todo--small, trifling presents, of any thing uncommon-- Now we have killeda porker, and Emma thinks of sending them a loin or a leg; it is very smalland delicate--Hartfield pork is not like any other pork--but still it ispork--and, my dear Emma, unless one could be sure of their making it intosteaks, nicely fried, as ours are fried, without the smallest grease, and notroast it, for no stomach can bear roast pork--I think we had better send theleg--do not you think so, my dear?""My dear papa, I sent the whole hind-quarter. I knew you would wishit. There will be the leg to be salted, you know, which is so very nice, andthe loin to be dressed directly in any manner they like. ""That's right, my dear, very right. I had not thought of it before, butthat is the best way. They must not over-salt the leg; and then, if it is notover-salted, and if it is very thoroughly boiled, just as Serle boils ours, andeaten very moderately of, with a boiled turnip, and a little carrot orparsnip, 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 willinterest you. ""News! Oh! yes, I always like news. What is it?--why do you smileso?--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 doorwas 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 givequickest. Mr. Knightley soon saw that he had lost his moment, and that notanother syllable of communication could rest with him. "Oh! my dear sir, how are you this morning? My dear MissWoodhouse-- I come quite over-powered. Such a beautiful hind-quarter ofpork! You are too bountiful! Have you heard the news? Mr. Elton is goingto be married. "Emma had not had time even to think of Mr. Elton, and she was socompletely surprized that she could not avoid a little start, and a littleblush, 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 whathad passed between them. "But where could you hear it?" cried Miss Bates. "Where could youpossibly hear it, Mr. Knightley? For it is not five minutes since I receivedMrs. Cole's note--no, it cannot be more than five--or at least ten--for I hadgot my bonnet and spencer on, just ready to come out--I was only gonedown to speak to Patty again about the pork--Jane was standing in thepassage--were not you, Jane?--for my mother was so afraid that we hadnot any salting-pan large enough. So I said I would go down and see, andJane said, 'Shall I go down instead? for I think you have a little cold, andPatty has been washing the kitchen. '--'Oh! my dear, ' said I--well, and justthen came the note. A Miss Hawkins-- that's all I know. A Miss Hawkins ofBath. But, Mr. Knightley, how could you possibly have heard it? for thevery 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 justread 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 moregenerally interesting. My dear sir, you really are too bountiful. My motherdesires her very best compliments and regards, and a thousand thanks, andsays you really quite oppress her. ""We consider our Hartfield pork, " replied Mr. Woodhouse--"indeed itcertainly is, so very superior to all other pork, that Emma and I cannot havea greater pleasure than--""Oh! my dear sir, as my mother says, our friends are only too good tous. 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 saythat 'our lot is cast in a goodly heritage. ' Well, Mr. Knightley, and so youactually 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 forgetthe precise words--one has no business to remember them. The informationwas, as you state, that he was going to be married to a Miss Hawkins. Byhis style, I should imagine it just settled. ""Mr. Elton going to be married!" said Emma, as soon as she couldspeak. "He will have every body's wishes for his happiness. ""He is very young to settle, " was Mr. Woodhouse's observation. "He hadbetter not be in a hurry. He seemed to me very well off as he was. We werealways 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 thepoor old Vicarage without a mistress. This is great news, indeed. Jane, youhave never seen Mr. Elton!--no wonder that you have such a curiosity tosee him. "Jane's curiosity did not appear of that absorbing nature as wholly tooccupy 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 happymedium. When you have been here a little longer, Miss Fairfax, you willunderstand that Mr. Elton is the standard of perfection in Highbury, bothin person and mind. ""Very true, Miss Woodhouse, so she will. He is the very best youngman--But, my dear Jane, if you remember, I told you yesterday he wasprecisely the height of Mr. Perry. Miss Hawkins, --I dare say, an excellentyoung woman. His extreme attention to my mother--wanting her to sit inthe vicarage pew, that she might hear the better, for my mother is a littledeaf, you know--it is not much, but she does not hear quite quick. Janesays that Colonel Campbell is a little deaf. He fancied bathing might begood 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 avery charming young man, quite worthy of him. It is such a happiness whengood people get together--and they always do. Now, here will be Mr. Eltonand Miss Hawkins; and there are the Coles, such very good people; and thePerrys--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 arefew places with such society as Highbury. I always say, we are quiteblessed in our neighbours. --My dear sir, if there is one thing my motherloves better than another, it is pork--a roast loin of pork--""As to who, or what Miss Hawkins is, or how long he has beenacquainted with her, " said Emma, "nothing I suppose can be known. Onefeels that it cannot be a very long acquaintance. He has been gone only fourweeks. "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 interestin this news. You, who have been hearing and seeing so much of late onthese subjects, who must have been so deep in the business on MissCampbell'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 beinterested--but I believe it requires that with me. And as it is some monthssince Miss Campbell married, the impression may be a little worn off. ""Yes, he has been gone just four weeks, as you observe, MissWoodhouse, " 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 Iam 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 MissSmith do? She seems quite recovered now. Have you heard from Mrs. JohnKnightley lately? Oh! those dear little children. Jane, do you know I alwaysfancy Mr. Dixon like Mr. John Knightley. I mean in person--tall, and withthat 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 wasplain. ""My dear, you said that Miss Campbell would not allow him to beplain, and that you yourself--""Oh! as for me, my judgment is worth nothing. Where I have a regard, Ialways think a person well-looking. But I gave what I believed the generalopinion, when I called him plain. ""Well, my dear Jane, I believe we must be running away. The weatherdoes 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 amost 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 homedirectly--I would not have you out in a shower!--We think she is the betterfor Highbury already. Thank you, we do indeed. I shall not attempt callingon Mrs. Goddard, for I really do not think she cares for any thing but boiledpork: 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 amsure 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 himwhile 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 ownview of the subject. It was to herself an amusing and a very welcome pieceof news, as proving that Mr. Elton could not have suffered long; but shewas 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 abruptlyfrom others. It was now about the time that she was likely to call. If shewere 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 atMrs. Goddard's, and that the intelligence would undoubtedly rush upon herwithout preparation. The shower was heavy, but short; and it had not been over fiveminutes, when in came Harriet, with just the heated, agitated look whichhurrying thither with a full heart was likely to give; and the "Oh! MissWoodhouse, 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 hadset out from Mrs. Goddard's half an hour ago--she had been afraid it wouldrain--she had been afraid it would pour down every moment--but shethought she might get to Hartfield first--she had hurried on as fast aspossible; but then, as she was passing by the house where a young womanwas making up a gown for her, she thought she would just step in and seehow 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'sshop united; the shop first in size and fashion in the place. --"And so, thereshe 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 sovery odd!--but they always dealt at Ford's--who should come in, butElizabeth Martin and her brother!-- Dear Miss Woodhouse! only think. Ithought I should have fainted. I did not know what to do. I was sitting nearthe door--Elizabeth saw me directly; but he did not; he was busy with theumbrella. I am sure she saw me, but she looked away directly, and took nonotice; and they both went to quite the farther end of the shop; and I keptsitting near the door!--Oh! dear; I was so miserable! I am sure I must havebeen as white as my gown. I could not go away you know, because of therain; 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; forinstead 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 hewas persuading her to speak to me--(do you think he was, MissWoodhouse?)--for presently she came forward--came quite up to me, andasked me how I did, and seemed ready to shake hands, if I would. She didnot 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 insuch a tremble!--I remember she said she was sorry we never met now;which I thought almost too kind! Dear, Miss Woodhouse, I was absolutelymiserable! By that time, it was beginning to hold up, and I was determinedthat nothing should stop me from getting away--and then--only think!-- Ifound he was coming up towards me too--slowly you know, and as if hedid not quite know what to do; and so he came and spoke, and Ianswered--and I stood for a minute, feeling dreadfully, you know, one can'ttell 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 cameafter me, only to say, if I was going to Hartfield, he thought I had muchbetter go round by Mr. Cole's stables, for I should find the near way quitefloated by this rain. Oh! dear, I thought it would have been the death ofme! So I said, I was very much obliged to him: you know I could not doless; 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: andyet, you know, there was a sort of satisfaction in seeing him behave sopleasantly and so kindly. And Elizabeth, too. Oh! Miss Woodhouse, do talkto me and make me comfortable again. "Very sincerely did Emma wish to do so; but it was not immediately inher power. She was obliged to stop and think. She was not thoroughlycomfortable herself. The young man's conduct, and his sister's, seemed theresult of real feeling, and she could not but pity them. As Harriet describedit, there had been an interesting mixture of wounded affection and genuinedelicacy 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 theconnexion? It was folly to be disturbed by it. Of course, he must be sorry tolose her--they must be all sorry. Ambition, as well as love, had probablybeen mortified. They might all have hoped to rise by Harriet's acquaintance:and besides, what was the value of Harriet's description?--So easilypleased--so little discerning;--what signified her praise?She exerted herself, and did try to make her comfortable, byconsidering all that had passed as a mere trifle, and quite unworthy ofbeing dwelt on, "It might be distressing, for the moment, " said she; "but you seem tohave behaved extremely well; and it is over--and may never--can never, asa first meeting, occur again, and therefore you need not think about it. "Harriet said, "very true, " and she "would not think about it;" but stillshe talked of it--still she could talk of nothing else; and Emma, at last, inorder 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 knowingherself whether to rejoice or be angry, ashamed or only amused, at such astate of mind in poor Harriet--such a conclusion of Mr. Elton's importancewith her!Mr. Elton's rights, however, gradually revived. Though she did not feelthe first intelligence as she might have done the day before, or an hourbefore, its interest soon increased; and before their first conversation wasover, she had talked herself into all the sensations of curiosity, wonder andregret, pain and pleasure, as to this fortunate Miss Hawkins, which couldconduce to place the Martins under proper subordination in her fancy. Emma learned to be rather glad that there had been such a meeting. Ithad been serviceable in deadening the first shock, without retaining anyinfluence to alarm. As Harriet now lived, the Martins could not get at her, without seeking her, where hitherto they had wanted either the courage orthe condescension to seek her; for since her refusal of the brother, thesisters never had been at Mrs. Goddard's; and a twelvemonth might passwithout their being thrown together again, with any necessity, or even anypower of speech. CHAPTER IVHuman nature is so well disposed towards those who are in interestingsituations, that a young person, who either marries or dies, is sure of beingkindly spoken of. A week had not passed since Miss Hawkins's name was first mentionedin Highbury, before she was, by some means or other, discovered to haveevery recommendation of person and mind; to be handsome, elegant, highlyaccomplished, and perfectly amiable: and when Mr. Elton himself arrived totriumph in his happy prospects, and circulate the fame of her merits, therewas very little more for him to do, than to tell her Christian name, and saywhose music she principally played. Mr. Elton returned, a very happy man. He had gone away rejected andmortified--disappointed in a very sanguine hope, after a series of whatappeared 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 goneaway deeply offended--he came back engaged to another--and to anotheras superior, of course, to the first, as under such circumstances what isgained always is to what is lost. He came back gay and self-satisfied, eagerand busy, caring nothing for Miss Woodhouse, and defying Miss Smith. The charming Augusta Hawkins, in addition to all the usual advantagesof perfect beauty and merit, was in possession of an independent fortune, of so many thousands as would always be called ten; a point of somedignity, as well as some convenience: the story told well; he had not thrownhimself away--he had gained a woman of 10, 000 l. Or thereabouts; and hehad gained her with such delightful rapidity--the first hour of introductionhad been so very soon followed by distinguishing notice; the history whichhe had to give Mrs. Cole of the rise and progress of the affair was soglorious--the steps so quick, from the accidental rencontre, to the dinner atMr. Green's, and the party at Mrs. Brown's--smiles and blushes rising inimportance-- with consciousness and agitation richly scattered--the ladyhad been so easily impressed--so sweetly disposed--had in short, to use amost intelligible phrase, been so very ready to have him, that vanity andprudence 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 hisown concerns--expecting to be congratulated--ready to be laughed at--and, with cordial, fearless smiles, now addressing all the young ladies of theplace, to whom, a few weeks ago, he would have been more cautiouslygallant. The wedding was no distant event, as the parties had only themselvesto please, and nothing but the necessary preparations to wait for; and whenhe set out for Bath again, there was a general expectation, which a certainglance of Mrs. Cole's did not seem to contradict, that when he next enteredHighbury he would bring his bride. During his present short stay, Emma had barely seen him; but justenough to feel that the first meeting was over, and to give her theimpression of his not being improved by the mixture of pique andpretension, now spread over his air. She was, in fact, beginning very muchto wonder that she had ever thought him pleasing at all; and his sight wasso inseparably connected with some very disagreeable feelings, that, exceptin a moral light, as a penance, a lesson, a source of profitable humiliation toher own mind, she would have been thankful to be assured of never seeinghim again. She wished him very well; but he gave her pain, and his welfaretwenty miles off would administer most satisfaction. The pain of his continued residence in Highbury, however, mustcertainly be lessened by his marriage. Many vain solicitudes would beprevented--many awkwardnesses smoothed by it. A Mrs. Elton would be anexcuse for any change of intercourse; former intimacy might sink withoutremark. It would be almost beginning their life of civility again. Of the lady, individually, Emma thought very little. She was goodenough for Mr. Elton, no doubt; accomplished enough for Highbury--handsome enough--to look plain, probably, by Harriet's side. As toconnexion, there Emma was perfectly easy; persuaded, that after all hisown vaunted claims and disdain of Harriet, he had done nothing. On thatarticle, truth seemed attainable. What she was, must be uncertain; but whoshe was, might be found out; and setting aside the 10, 000 l. , it did notappear that she was at all Harriet's superior. She brought no name, noblood, no alliance. Miss Hawkins was the youngest of the two daughters ofa Bristol--merchant, of course, he must be called; but, as the whole of theprofits of his mercantile life appeared so very moderate, it was not unfair toguess the dignity of his line of trade had been very moderate also. Part ofevery 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 someyears ago, an uncle remained--in the law line--nothing more distinctlyhonourable was hazarded of him, than that he was in the law line; and withhim the daughter had lived. Emma guessed him to be the drudge of someattorney, and too stupid to rise. And all the grandeur of the connexionseemed dependent on the elder sister, who was very well married, to agentleman in a great way, near Bristol, who kept two carriages! That wasthe wind-up of the history; that was the glory of Miss Hawkins. Could she but have given Harriet her feelings about it all! She hadtalked 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 wasnot to be talked away. He might be superseded by another; he certainlywould indeed; nothing could be clearer; even a Robert Martin would havebeen sufficient; but nothing else, she feared, would cure her. Harriet wasone 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 sawhim only once; but two or three times every day Harriet was sure just tomeet with him, or just to miss him, just to hear his voice, or see hisshoulder, just to have something occur to preserve him in her fancy, in allthe favouring warmth of surprize and conjecture. She was, moreover, perpetually hearing about him; for, excepting when at Hartfield, she wasalways among those who saw no fault in Mr. Elton, and found nothing sointeresting as the discussion of his concerns; and every report, therefore, every guess--all that had already occurred, all that might occur in thearrangement of his affairs, comprehending income, servants, and furniture, was continually in agitation around her. Her regard was receiving strengthby invariable praise of him, and her regrets kept alive, and feelings irritatedby ceaseless repetitions of Miss Hawkins's happiness, and continualobservation of, how much he seemed attached!--his air as he walked by thehouse--the very sitting of his hat, being all in proof of how much he was inlove!Had it been allowable entertainment, had there been no pain to herfriend, or reproach to herself, in the waverings of Harriet's mind, Emmawould have been amused by its variations. Sometimes Mr. Eltonpredominated, sometimes the Martins; and each was occasionally useful asa check to the other. Mr. Elton's engagement had been the cure of theagitation of meeting Mr. Martin. The unhappiness produced by theknowledge of that engagement had been a little put aside by ElizabethMartin's calling at Mrs. Goddard's a few days afterwards. Harriet had notbeen at home; but a note had been prepared and left for her, written in thevery style to touch; a small mixture of reproach, with a great deal ofkindness; and till Mr. Elton himself appeared, she had been much occupiedby it, continually pondering over what could be done in return, and wishingto do more than she dared to confess. But Mr. Elton, in person, had drivenaway all such cares. While he staid, the Martins were forgotten; and on thevery morning of his setting off for Bath again, Emma, to dissipate some ofthe distress it occasioned, judged it best for her to return Elizabeth Martin'svisit. 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 beingratitude. It must not be: and yet the danger of a renewal of theacquaintance!--After much thinking, she could determine on nothing better, thanHarriet'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. Shemeant to take her in the carriage, leave her at the Abbey Mill, while shedrove a little farther, and call for her again so soon, as to allow no time forinsidious applications or dangerous recurrences to the past, and give themost decided proof of what degree of intimacy was chosen for the future. She could think of nothing better: and though there was something in itwhich her own heart could not approve--something of ingratitude, merelyglossed over--it must be done, or what would become of Harriet?CHAPTER VSmall heart had Harriet for visiting. Only half an hour before her friendcalled for her at Mrs. Goddard's, her evil stars had led her to the very spotwhere, 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 thebutcher's cart, which was to convey it to where the coaches past; and everything in this world, excepting that trunk and the direction, wasconsequently a blank. She went, however; and when they reached the farm, and she was to beput down, at the end of the broad, neat gravel walk, which led betweenespalier apple-trees to the front door, the sight of every thing which hadgiven her so much pleasure the autumn before, was beginning to revive alittle local agitation; and when they parted, Emma observed her to belooking around with a sort of fearful curiosity, which determined her not toallow the visit to exceed the proposed quarter of an hour. She went onherself, to give that portion of time to an old servant who was married, andsettled 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, andunattended by any alarming young man. She came solitarily down thegravel walk--a Miss Martin just appearing at the door, and parting with herseemingly with ceremonious civility. Harriet could not very soon give an intelligible account. She was feelingtoo much; but at last Emma collected from her enough to understand thesort of meeting, and the sort of pain it was creating. She had seen onlyMrs. Martin and the two girls. They had received her doubtingly, if notcoolly; and nothing beyond the merest commonplace had been talkedalmost all the time--till just at last, when Mrs. Martin's saying, all of asudden, that she thought Miss Smith was grown, had brought on a moreinteresting subject, and a warmer manner. In that very room she had beenmeasured last September, with her two friends. There were the pencilledmarks 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--tofeel the same consciousness, the same regrets--to be ready to return to thesame good understanding; and they were just growing again likethemselves, (Harriet, as Emma must suspect, as ready as the best of themto 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 thankfullypassed 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. Itwas a bad business. She would have given a great deal, or endured a greatdeal, to have had the Martins in a higher rank of life. They were sodeserving, that a little higher should have been enough: but as it was, howcould she have done otherwise?--Impossible!--She could not repent. Theymust be separated; but there was a great deal of pain in the process--somuch to herself at this time, that she soon felt the necessity of a littleconsolation, 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 ofRandalls was absolutely necessary. It was a good scheme; but on driving to the door they heard thatneither "master nor mistress was at home;" they had both been out sometime; the man believed they were gone to Hartfield. "This is too bad, " cried Emma, as they turned away. "And now we shalljust miss them; too provoking!--I do not know when I have been sodisappointed. " And she leaned back in the corner, to indulge her murmurs, or to reason them away; probably a little of both--such being thecommonest 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 tospeak to her. There was instant pleasure in the sight of them, and stillgreater pleasure was conveyed in sound--for Mr. Weston immediatelyaccosted 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 thismorning--we see him to-morrow by dinner-time to a certainty--he is atOxford to-day, and he comes for a whole fortnight; I knew it would be so. Ifhe had come at Christmas he could not have staid three days; I was alwaysglad he did not come at Christmas; now we are going to have just the rightweather 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 theinfluence of such a happy face as Mr. Weston's, confirmed as it all was bythe words and the countenance of his wife, fewer and quieter, but not lessto the purpose. To know that she thought his coming certain was enough tomake Emma consider it so, and sincerely did she rejoice in their joy. It wasa most delightful reanimation of exhausted spirits. The worn-out past wassunk in the freshness of what was coming; and in the rapidity of half amoment'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 hiscommand, as well as the route and the method of his journey; and shelistened, 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, fromhis wife. "We had better move on, Mr. Weston, " said she, "we are detaining thegirls. ""Well, well, I am ready;"--and turning again to Emma, "but you mustnot be expecting such a very fine young man; you have only had myaccount you know; I dare say he is really nothing extraordinary:"--thoughhis own sparkling eyes at the moment were speaking a very differentconviction. Emma could look perfectly unconscious and innocent, and answer in amanner 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 forher. "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 adifferent 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 becoming out; and when she turned round to Harriet, she saw something likea look of spring, a tender smile even there. "Will Mr. Frank Churchill pass through Bath as well as Oxford?"--was aquestion, however, which did not augur much. But neither geography nor tranquillity could come all at once, andEmma 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 faithfulpupil did not forget either at ten, or eleven, or twelve o'clock, that she wasto think of her at four. "My dear, dear anxious friend, "--said she, in mental soliloquy, whilewalking downstairs from her own room, "always overcareful for everybody's comfort but your own; I see you now in all your little fidgets, goingagain and again into his room, to be sure that all is right. " The clock strucktwelve as she passed through the hall. "'Tis twelve; I shall not forget tothink of you four hours hence; and by this time to-morrow, perhaps, or alittle later, I may be thinking of the possibility of their all calling here. I amsure they will bring him soon. "She opened the parlour door, and saw two gentlemen sitting with herfather--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 daybefore his time, and her father was yet in the midst of his very civilwelcome and congratulations, when she appeared, to have her share ofsurprize, introduction, and pleasure. The Frank Churchill so long talked of, so high in interest, was actuallybefore her--he was presented to her, and she did not think too much hadbeen 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 ofthe spirit and liveliness of his father's; he looked quick and sensible. Shefelt immediately that she should like him; and there was a well-bred ease ofmanner, and a readiness to talk, which convinced her that he cameintending to be acquainted with her, and that acquainted they soon mustbe. He had reached Randalls the evening before. She was pleased with theeagerness 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 allthat he would be here before the time named. I remembered what I used todo myself. One cannot creep upon a journey; one cannot help getting onfaster than one has planned; and the pleasure of coming in upon one'sfriends before the look-out begins, is worth a great deal more than any littleexertion 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 incoming 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; theconviction was strengthened by what followed. He was very much pleasedwith Randalls, thought it a most admirably arranged house, would hardlyallow it even to be very small, admired the situation, the walk to Highbury, Highbury itself, Hartfield still more, and professed himself to have alwaysfelt the sort of interest in the country which none but one's own countrygives, and the greatest curiosity to visit it. That he should never have beenable to indulge so amiable a feeling before, passed suspiciously throughEmma's brain; but still, if it were a falsehood, it was a pleasant one, andpleasantly handled. His manner had no air of study or exaggeration. He didreally look and speak as if in a state of no common enjoyment. Their subjects in general were such as belong to an openingacquaintance. 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 verypretty houses in and about it. --Balls--had they balls?--Was it a musicalsociety?"But when satisfied on all these points, and their acquaintanceproportionably advanced, he contrived to find an opportunity, while theirtwo fathers were engaged with each other, of introducing his mother-in-law, and speaking of her with so much handsome praise, so much warmadmiration, so much gratitude for the happiness she secured to his father, and her very kind reception of himself, as was an additional proof of hisknowing how to please--and of his certainly thinking it worth while to tryto please her. He did not advance a word of praise beyond what she knewto be thoroughly deserved by Mrs. Weston; but, undoubtedly he couldknow very little of the matter. He understood what would be welcome; hecould be sure of little else. "His father's marriage, " he said, "had been thewisest measure, every friend must rejoice in it; and the family from whomhe had received such a blessing must be ever considered as havingconferred 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 wasto be rather supposed that Miss Taylor had formed Miss Woodhouse'scharacter, than Miss Woodhouse Miss Taylor's. And at last, as if resolved toqualify his opinion completely for travelling round to its object, he wound itall up with astonishment at the youth and beauty of her person. "Elegant, agreeable manners, I was prepared for, " said he; "but I confessthat, considering every thing, I had not expected more than a very tolerablywell-looking woman of a certain age; I did not know that I was to find apretty 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 withpleasure; 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 youngwoman. ""I hope I should know better, " he replied; "no, depend upon it, (with agallant bow, ) that in addressing Mrs. Weston I should understand whom Imight praise without any danger of being thought extravagant in my terms. "Emma wondered whether the same suspicion of what might be expectedfrom their knowing each other, which had taken strong possession of hermind, had ever crossed his; and whether his compliments were to beconsidered as marks of acquiescence, or proofs of defiance. She must seemore of him to understand his ways; at present she only felt they wereagreeable. She had no doubt of what Mr. Weston was often thinking about. Hisquick eye she detected again and again glancing towards them with a happyexpression; and even, when he might have determined not to look, she wasconfident that he was often listening. Her own father's perfect exemption from any thought of the kind, theentire deficiency in him of all such sort of penetration or suspicion, was amost comfortable circumstance. Happily he was not farther from approvingmatrimony than from foreseeing it. -- Though always objecting to everymarriage that was arranged, he never suffered beforehand from theapprehension of any; it seemed as if he could not think so ill of any twopersons' understanding as to suppose they meant to marry till it wereproved against them. She blessed the favouring blindness. He could now, without the drawback of a single unpleasant surmise, without a glanceforward at any possible treachery in his guest, give way to all his naturalkind-hearted civility in solicitous inquiries after Mr. Frank Churchill'saccommodation on his journey, through the sad evils of sleeping two nightson the road, and express very genuine unmixed anxiety to know that he hadcertainly escaped catching cold--which, however, he could not allow him tofeel quite assured of himself till after another night. A reasonable visit paid, Mr. Weston began to move. --"He must begoing. He had business at the Crown about his hay, and a great manyerrands 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 ofpaying a visit, which must be paid some day or other, and therefore may aswell be paid now. I have the honour of being acquainted with a neighbourof yours, (turning to Emma, ) a lady residing in or near Highbury; a familyof the name of Fairfax. I shall have no difficulty, I suppose, in finding thehouse; though Fairfax, I believe, is not the proper name--I should rathersay Barnes, or Bates. Do you know any family of that name?""To be sure we do, " cried his father; "Mrs. Bates--we passed herhouse--I saw Miss Bates at the window. True, true, you are acquaintedwith Miss Fairfax; I remember you knew her at Weymouth, and a fine girlshe 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 atWeymouth which--""Oh! go to-day, go to-day. Do not defer it. What is right to be donecannot be done too soon. And, besides, I must give you a hint, Frank; anywant of attention to her here should be carefully avoided. You saw her withthe Campbells, when she was the equal of every body she mixed with, buthere 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 veryelegant young woman. "He agreed to it, but with so quiet a "Yes, " as inclined her almost todoubt his real concurrence; and yet there must be a very distinct sort ofelegance for the fashionable world, if Jane Fairfax could be thought onlyordinarily 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 hearher--no, I am afraid you will not hear her at all, for she has an aunt whonever 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 meleave to assure you that you will find her a very agreeable young lady. Sheis staying here on a visit to her grandmama and aunt, very worthy people; Ihave known them all my life. They will be extremely glad to see you, I amsure; 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, quiteon the other side of the street, and there are a great many houses; youmight be very much at a loss, and it is a very dirty walk, unless you keepon the footpath; but my coachman can tell you where you had best crossthe street. "Mr. Frank Churchill still declined it, looking as serious as he could, andhis father gave his hearty support by calling out, "My good friend, this isquite unnecessary; Frank knows a puddle of water when he sees it, and asto 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, anda graceful bow from the other, the two gentlemen took leave. Emmaremained very well pleased with this beginning of the acquaintance, andcould now engage to think of them all at Randalls any hour of the day, withfull confidence in their comfort. CHAPTER VIThe next morning brought Mr. Frank Churchill again. He came withMrs. Weston, to whom and to Highbury he seemed to take very cordially. He had been sitting with her, it appeared, most companionably at home, tillher usual hour of exercise; and on being desired to chuse their walk, immediately fixed on Highbury. --"He did not doubt there being verypleasant walks in every direction, but if left to him, he should always chusethe same. Highbury, that airy, cheerful, happy-looking Highbury, would behis constant attraction. "-- Highbury, with Mrs. Weston, stood for Hartfield;and she trusted to its bearing the same construction with him. They walkedthither directly. Emma had hardly expected them: for Mr. Weston, who had called in forhalf a minute, in order to hear that his son was very handsome, knewnothing of their plans; and it was an agreeable surprize to her, therefore, toperceive them walking up to the house together, arm in arm. She waswanting 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. Ifhe were deficient there, nothing should make amends for it. But on seeingthem together, she became perfectly satisfied. It was not merely in finewords or hyperbolical compliment that he paid his duty; nothing could bemore proper or pleasing than his whole manner to her--nothing could moreagreeably denote his wish of considering her as a friend and securing heraffection. And there was time enough for Emma to form a reasonablejudgment, as their visit included all the rest of the morning. They were allthree walking about together for an hour or two--first round theshrubberies of Hartfield, and afterwards in Highbury. He was delightedwith every thing; admired Hartfield sufficiently for Mr. Woodhouse's ear;and when their going farther was resolved on, confessed his wish to bemade acquainted with the whole village, and found matter ofcommendation and interest much oftener than Emma could have supposed. Some of the objects of his curiosity spoke very amiable feelings. Hebegged to be shewn the house which his father had lived in so long, andwhich had been the home of his father's father; and on recollecting that anold woman who had nursed him was still living, walked in quest of hercottage from one end of the street to the other; and though in some pointsof pursuit or observation there was no positive merit, they shewed, altogether, a good-will towards Highbury in general, which must be verylike a merit to those he was with. Emma watched and decided, that with such feelings as were nowshewn, it could not be fairly supposed that he had been ever voluntarilyabsenting himself; that he had not been acting a part, or making a paradeof insincere professions; and that Mr. Knightley certainly had not done himjustice. 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-horseswere kept, more for the convenience of the neighbourhood than from anyrun on the road; and his companions had not expected to be detained byany interest excited there; but in passing it they gave the history of thelarge room visibly added; it had been built many years ago for a ball-room, and while the neighbourhood had been in a particularly populous, dancingstate, had been occasionally used as such;--but such brilliant days had longpassed away, and now the highest purpose for which it was ever wantedwas to accommodate a whist club established among the gentlemen andhalf-gentlemen of the place. He was immediately interested. Its character asa ball-room caught him; and instead of passing on, he stopt for severalminutes at the two superior sashed windows which were open, to look inand contemplate its capabilities, and lament that its original purpose shouldhave ceased. He saw no fault in the room, he would acknowledge nonewhich they suggested. No, it was long enough, broad enough, handsomeenough. It would hold the very number for comfort. They ought to haveballs there at least every fortnight through the winter. Why had not MissWoodhouse revived the former good old days of the room?--She who coulddo any thing in Highbury! The want of proper families in the place, and theconviction that none beyond the place and its immediate environs could betempted to attend, were mentioned; but he was not satisfied. He could notbe persuaded that so many good-looking houses as he saw around him, could not furnish numbers enough for such a meeting; and even whenparticulars were given and families described, he was still unwilling toadmit that the inconvenience of such a mixture would be any thing, or thatthere would be the smallest difficulty in every body's returning into theirproper place the next morning. He argued like a young man very much benton dancing; and Emma was rather surprized to see the constitution of theWeston prevail so decidedly against the habits of the Churchills. He seemedto have all the life and spirit, cheerful feelings, and social inclinations of hisfather, and nothing of the pride or reserve of Enscombe. Of pride, indeed, there was, perhaps, scarcely enough; his indifference to a confusion ofrank, 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 livelyspirits. At last he was persuaded to move on from the front of the Crown; andbeing now almost facing the house where the Bateses lodged, Emmarecollected his intended visit the day before, and asked him if he had paidit. "Yes, oh! yes"--he replied; "I was just going to mention it. A verysuccessful visit:--I saw all the three ladies; and felt very much obliged toyou for your preparatory hint. If the talking aunt had taken me quite bysurprize, it must have been the death of me. As it was, I was only betrayedinto paying a most unreasonable visit. Ten minutes would have been allthat was necessary, perhaps all that was proper; and I had told my father Ishould certainly be at home before him--but there was no getting away, nopause; and, to my utter astonishment, I found, when he (finding menowhere else) joined me there at last, that I had been actually sitting withthem very nearly three-quarters of an hour. The good lady had not given methe 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. Butthe expression is hardly admissible, Mrs. Weston, is it? Ladies can neverlook ill. And, seriously, Miss Fairfax is naturally so pale, as almost alwaysto give the appearance of ill health. -- A most deplorable want ofcomplexion. "Emma would not agree to this, and began a warm defence of MissFairfax's complexion. "It was certainly never brilliant, but she would notallow it to have a sickly hue in general; and there was a softness anddelicacy in her skin which gave peculiar elegance to the character of herface. " He listened with all due deference; acknowledged that he had heardmany people say the same--but yet he must confess, that to him nothingcould make amends for the want of the fine glow of health. Where featureswere indifferent, a fine complexion gave beauty to them all; and where theywere good, the effect was--fortunately he need not attempt to describewhat the effect was. "Well, " said Emma, "there is no disputing about taste. --At least youadmire her except her complexion. "He shook his head and laughed. --"I cannot separate Miss Fairfax andher complexion. ""Did you see her often at Weymouth? Were you often in the samesociety?"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 theirlives, as my father informs me. He comes to Highbury himself, he says, sixdays out of the seven, and has always business at Ford's. If it be notinconvenient to you, pray let us go in, that I may prove myself to belong tothe 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 willbe adored in Highbury. You were very popular before you came, becauseyou were Mr. Weston's son--but lay out half a guinea at Ford's, and yourpopularity 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, hesaid--"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 amorpatriae. Do not let me lose it. I assure you the utmost stretch of public famewould 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 herparty at Weymouth. ""And now that I understand your question, I must pronounce it to be avery unfair one. It is always the lady's right to decide on the degree ofacquaintance. Miss Fairfax must already have given her account. -- I shallnot commit myself by claiming more than she may chuse to allow. ""Upon my word! you answer as discreetly as she could do herself. Buther account of every thing leaves so much to be guessed, she is so veryreserved, so very unwilling to give the least information about any body, that I really think you may say what you like of your acquaintance withher. ""May I, indeed?--Then I will speak the truth, and nothing suits me sowell. I met her frequently at Weymouth. I had known the Campbells a littlein town; and at Weymouth we were very much in the same set. ColonelCampbell 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 isdestined 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 saywhen you speak of Miss Fairfax's situation in life. I will move a little fartheroff. ""I certainly do forget to think of her, " said Emma, "as having ever beenany 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 FrankChurchill. "Ever hear her!" repeated Emma. "You forget how much she belongs toHighbury. I have heard her every year of our lives since we both began. Sheplays charmingly. ""You think so, do you?--I wanted the opinion of some one who couldreally judge. She appeared to me to play well, that is, with considerabletaste, but I know nothing of the matter myself. -- I am excessively fond ofmusic, but without the smallest skill or right of judging of any body'sperformance. --I have been used to hear her's admired; and I remember oneproof of her being thought to play well:--a man, a very musical man, and inlove 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 thelady in question could sit down instead--never seemed to like to hear one ifhe 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 verymusical, is he? We shall know more about them all, in half an hour, fromyou, than Miss Fairfax would have vouchsafed in half a year. ""Yes, Mr. Dixon and Miss Campbell were the persons; and I thought ita very strong proof. ""Certainly--very strong it was; to own the truth, a great deal strongerthan, 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 thaneye--a more acute sensibility to fine sounds than to my feelings. How didMiss Campbell appear to like it?""It was her very particular friend, you know. ""Poor comfort!" said Emma, laughing. "One would rather have a strangerpreferred than one's very particular friend--with a stranger it might notrecur again--but the misery of having a very particular friend always athand, 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 shereally did not seem to feel it. ""So much the better--or so much the worse:--I do not know which. Butbe it sweetness or be it stupidity in her--quickness of friendship, or dulnessof feeling--there was one person, I think, who must have felt it: MissFairfax 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'ssensations from you, or from any body else. They are known to no humanbeing, I guess, but herself. But if she continued to play whenever she wasasked 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 isimpossible for me to say on what terms they really were--how it might allbe 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 judgeof her character, and of how she is likely to conduct herself in criticalsituations, than I can be. ""I have known her from a child, undoubtedly; we have been childrenand women together; and it is natural to suppose that we should beintimate, --that we should have taken to each other whenever she visitedher 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 disgusttowards a girl so idolized and so cried up as she always was, by her auntand grandmother, and all their set. And then, her reserve--I never couldattach myself to any one so completely reserved. ""It is a most repulsive quality, indeed, " said he. "Oftentimes veryconvenient, no doubt, but never pleasing. There is safety in reserve, but noattraction. One cannot love a reserved person. ""Not till the reserve ceases towards oneself; and then the attraction maybe the greater. But I must be more in want of a friend, or an agreeablecompanion, than I have yet been, to take the trouble of conquering anybody's reserve to procure one. Intimacy between Miss Fairfax and me isquite out of the question. I have no reason to think ill of her--not theleast--except that such extreme and perpetual cautiousness of word andmanner, such a dread of giving a distinct idea about any body, is apt tosuggest suspicions of there being something to conceal. "He perfectly agreed with her: and after walking together so long, andthinking so much alike, Emma felt herself so well acquainted with him, thatshe could hardly believe it to be only their second meeting. He was notexactly what she had expected; less of the man of the world in some of hisnotions, less of the spoiled child of fortune, therefore better than she hadexpected. His ideas seemed more moderate--his feelings warmer. She wasparticularly 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 infinding much fault with. No, he could not believe it a bad house; not such ahouse as a man was to be pitied for having. If it were to be shared with thewoman he loved, he could not think any man to be pitied for having thathouse. There must be ample room in it for every real comfort. The manmust be a blockhead who wanted more. Mrs. Weston laughed, and said he did not know what he was talkingabout. Used only to a large house himself, and without ever thinking howmany advantages and accommodations were attached to its size, he couldbe no judge of the privations inevitably belonging to a small one. ButEmma, in her own mind, determined that he did know what he was talkingabout, 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 inroadson domestic peace to be occasioned by no housekeeper's room, or a badbutler's pantry, but no doubt he did perfectly feel that Enscombe could notmake him happy, and that whenever he were attached, he would willinglygive up much of wealth to be allowed an early establishment. CHAPTER VIIEmma's very good opinion of Frank Churchill was a little shaken thefollowing day, by hearing that he was gone off to London, merely to havehis hair cut. A sudden freak seemed to have seized him at breakfast, and hehad sent for a chaise and set off, intending to return to dinner, but with nomore important view that appeared than having his hair cut. There wascertainly no harm in his travelling sixteen miles twice over on such anerrand; but there was an air of foppery and nonsense in it which she couldnot approve. It did not accord with the rationality of plan, the moderationin expense, or even the unselfish warmth of heart, which she had believedherself 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, indifferentas to how his conduct might appear in general; he became liable to all thesecharges. His father only called him a coxcomb, and thought it a very goodstory; but that Mrs. Weston did not like it, was clear enough, by herpassing it over as quickly as possible, and making no other comment thanthat "all young people would have their little whims. "With the exception of this little blot, Emma found that his visit hithertohad given her friend only good ideas of him. Mrs. Weston was very ready tosay how attentive and pleasant a companion he made himself--how muchshe saw to like in his disposition altogether. He appeared to have a veryopen temper--certainly a very cheerful and lively one; she could observenothing wrong in his notions, a great deal decidedly right; he spoke of hisuncle with warm regard, was fond of talking of him--said he would be thebest man in the world if he were left to himself; and though there was nobeing attached to the aunt, he acknowledged her kindness with gratitude, and seemed to mean always to speak of her with respect. This was all verypromising; and, but for such an unfortunate fancy for having his hair cut, there was nothing to denote him unworthy of the distinguished honourwhich her imagination had given him; the honour, if not of being really inlove with her, of being at least very near it, and saved only by her ownindifference--(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 musthave some weight. He gave her to understand that Frank admired herextremely--thought her very beautiful and very charming; and with somuch to be said for him altogether, she found she must not judge himharshly. As Mrs. Weston observed, "all young people would have their littlewhims. "There was one person among his new acquaintance in Surry, not soleniently disposed. In general he was judged, throughout the parishes ofDonwell and Highbury, with great candour; liberal allowances were madefor the little excesses of such a handsome young man--one who smiled sooften and bowed so well; but there was one spirit among them not to besoftened, from its power of censure, by bows or smiles--Mr. Knightley. Thecircumstance was told him at Hartfield; for the moment, he was silent; butEmma heard him almost immediately afterwards say to himself, over anewspaper he held in his hand, "Hum! just the trifling, silly fellow I tookhim for. " She had half a mind to resent; but an instant's observationconvinced her that it was really said only to relieve his own feelings, andnot 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 theiradvice; and, which was still more lucky, she wanted exactly the advice theygave. This was the occurrence:--The Coles had been settled some years inHighbury, and were very good sort of people--friendly, liberal, andunpretending; but, on the other hand, they were of low origin, in trade, andonly moderately genteel. On their first coming into the country, they hadlived in proportion to their income, quietly, keeping little company, andthat little unexpensively; but the last year or two had brought them aconsiderable increase of means--the house in town had yielded greaterprofits, and fortune in general had smiled on them. With their wealth, theirviews increased; their want of a larger house, their inclination for morecompany. They added to their house, to their number of servants, to theirexpenses 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 newdining-room, prepared every body for their keeping dinner-company; and afew parties, chiefly among the single men, had already taken place. Theregular and best families Emma could hardly suppose they would presumeto invite-- neither Donwell, nor Hartfield, nor Randalls. Nothing shouldtempt her to go, if they did; and she regretted that her father's knownhabits would be giving her refusal less meaning than she could wish. TheColes were very respectable in their way, but they ought to be taught that itwas not for them to arrange the terms on which the superior families wouldvisit them. This lesson, she very much feared, they would receive only fromherself; she had little hope of Mr. Knightley, none of Mr. Weston. But she had made up her mind how to meet this presumption so manyweeks before it appeared, that when the insult came at last, it found hervery differently affected. Donwell and Randalls had received theirinvitation, and none had come for her father and herself; and Mrs. Weston'saccounting 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 sheshould like to have had the power of refusal; and afterwards, as the idea ofthe party to be assembled there, consisting precisely of those whose societywas dearest to her, occurred again and again, she did not know that shemight not have been tempted to accept. Harriet was to be there in theevening, and the Bateses. They had been speaking of it as they walkedabout Highbury the day before, and Frank Churchill had most earnestlylamented her absence. Might not the evening end in a dance? had been aquestion of his. The bare possibility of it acted as a farther irritation on herspirits; and her being left in solitary grandeur, even supposing the omissionto be intended as a compliment, was but poor comfort. It was the arrival of this very invitation while the Westons were atHartfield, which made their presence so acceptable; for though her firstremark, on reading it, was that "of course it must be declined, " she so verysoon proceeded to ask them what they advised her to do, that their advicefor her going was most prompt and successful. She owned that, considering every thing, she was not absolutelywithout inclination for the party. The Coles expressed themselves soproperly--there was so much real attention in the manner of it--so muchconsideration for her father. "They would have solicited the honour earlier, but had been waiting the arrival of a folding-screen from London, whichthey hoped might keep Mr. Woodhouse from any draught of air,

andtherefore induce him the more readily to give them the honour of hiscompany. " Upon the whole, she was very persuadable; and it being brieflysettled among themselves how it might be done without neglecting hiscomfort--how certainly Mrs. Goddard, if not Mrs. Bates, might bedepended on for bearing him company-- Mr. Woodhouse was to be talkedinto an acquiescence of his daughter's going out to dinner on a day nownear at hand, and spending the whole evening away from him. As for hisgoing, Emma did not wish him to think it possible, the hours would be toolate, 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 isEmma. Late hours do not agree with us. I am sorry Mr. And Mrs. Coleshould have done it. I think it would be much better if they would come inone afternoon next summer, and take their tea with us--take us in theirafternoon walk; which they might do, as our hours are so reasonable, andyet get home without being out in the damp of the evening. The dews of asummer evening are what I would not expose any body to. However, asthey are so very desirous to have dear Emma dine with them, and as youwill both be there, and Mr. Knightley too, to take care of her, I cannot wishto prevent it, provided the weather be what it ought, neither damp, norcold, nor windy. " Then turning to Mrs. Weston, with a look of gentlereproach--"Ah! Miss Taylor, if you had not married, you would have staidat home with me. ""Well, sir, " cried Mr. Weston, "as I took Miss Taylor away, it isincumbent 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, notlessening, Mr. Woodhouse's agitation. The ladies knew better how to allayit. Mr. Weston must be quiet, and every thing deliberately arranged. With this treatment, Mr. Woodhouse was soon composed enough fortalking as usual. "He should be happy to see Mrs. Goddard. He had a greatregard 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 writtento Mrs. Cole. ""You will make my excuses, my dear, as civilly as possible. You will saythat I am quite an invalid, and go no where, and therefore must declinetheir obliging invitation; beginning with my compliments, of course. But youwill do every thing right. I need not tell you what is to be done. We mustremember to let James know that the carriage will be wanted on Tuesday. Ishall have no fears for you with him. We have never been there above oncesince the new approach was made; but still I have no doubt that James willtake you very safely. And when you get there, you must tell him at whattime you would have him come for you again; and you had better name anearly hour. You will not like staying late. You will get very tired when tea isover. ""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 manypeople talking at once. You will not like the noise. ""But, my dear sir, " cried Mr. Weston, "if Emma comes away early, it willbe breaking up the party. ""And no great harm if it does, " said Mr. Woodhouse. "The sooner everyparty breaks up, the better. ""But you do not consider how it may appear to the Coles. Emma's goingaway directly after tea might be giving offence. They are good-naturedpeople, and think little of their own claims; but still they must feel that anybody's hurrying away is no great compliment; and Miss Woodhouse's doingit would be more thought of than any other person's in the room. Youwould 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 theseten years. ""No, upon no account in the world, Mr. Weston; I am much obliged toyou for reminding me. I should be extremely sorry to be giving them anypain. I know what worthy people they are. Perry tells me that Mr. Colenever touches malt liquor. You would not think it to look at him, but he isbilious--Mr. Cole is very bilious. No, I would not be the means of givingthem any pain. My dear Emma, we must consider this. I am sure, ratherthan run the risk of hurting Mr. And Mrs. Cole, you would stay a littlelonger than you might wish. You will not regard being tired. You will beperfectly safe, you know, among your friends. ""Oh yes, papa. I have no fears at all for myself; and I should have noscruples of staying as late as Mrs. Weston, but on your account. I am onlyafraid of your sitting up for me. I am not afraid of your not beingexceedingly 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 wouldentirely 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, ifshe came home cold, she would be sure to warm herself thoroughly; ifhungry, that she would take something to eat; that her own maid should situp for her; and that Serle and the butler should see that every thing weresafe in the house, as usual. CHAPTER VIIIFrank Churchill came back again; and if he kept his father's dinnerwaiting, it was not known at Hartfield; for Mrs. Weston was too anxious forhis being a favourite with Mr. Woodhouse, to betray any imperfectionwhich could be concealed. He came back, had had his hair cut, and laughed at himself with a verygood 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 quiteas undaunted and as lively as ever; and, after seeing him, Emma thusmoralised to herself:--"I do not know whether it ought to be so, but certainly silly things docease 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 dependsupon the character of those who handle it. Mr. Knightley, he is not atrifling, 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 evasionsof a mind too weak to defend its own vanities. --No, I am perfectly surethat he is not trifling or silly. "With Tuesday came the agreeable prospect of seeing him again, and fora longer time than hitherto; of judging of his general manners, and byinference, of the meaning of his manners towards herself; of guessing howsoon it might be necessary for her to throw coldness into her air; and offancying what the observations of all those might be, who were now seeingthem 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 hispropensity 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 thehouse, 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 makethe two ladies all the amends in her power, by helping them to large slicesof cake and full glasses of wine, for whatever unwilling self-denial his careof their constitution might have obliged them to practise during the meal. --She had provided a plentiful dinner for them; she wished she could knowthat they had been allowed to eat it. She followed another carriage to Mr. Cole's door; and was pleased tosee that it was Mr. Knightley's; for Mr. Knightley keeping no horses, havinglittle 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 hiscarriage so often as became the owner of Donwell Abbey. She had anopportunity 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 amquite glad to see you. "He thanked her, observing, "How lucky that we should arrive at thesame moment! for, if we had met first in the drawing-room, I doubtwhether you would have discerned me to be more of a gentleman thanusual. -- You might not have distinguished how I came, by my look ormanner. ""Yes I should, I am sure I should. There is always a look ofconsciousness or bustle when people come in a way which they know to bebeneath them. You think you carry it off very well, I dare say, but with youit is a sort of bravado, an air of affected unconcern; I always observe itwhenever I meet you under those circumstances. Now you have nothing totry for. You are not afraid of being supposed ashamed. You are not strivingto look taller than any body else. Now I shall really be very happy to walkinto 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 aswith Mr. Knightley. She was received with a cordial respect which couldnot but please, and given all the consequence she could wish for. When theWestons arrived, the kindest looks of love, the strongest of admiration werefor her, from both husband and wife; the son approached her with acheerful eagerness which marked her as his peculiar object, and at dinnershe found him seated by her--and, as she firmly believed, not without somedexterity on his side. The party was rather large, as it included one other family, a properunobjectionable country family, whom the Coles had the advantage ofnaming among their acquaintance, and the male part of Mr. Cox's family, the lawyer of Highbury. The less worthy females were to come in theevening, with Miss Bates, Miss Fairfax, and Miss Smith; but already, atdinner, they were too numerous for any subject of conversation to begeneral; and, while politics and Mr. Elton were talked over, Emma couldfairly surrender all her attention to the pleasantness of her neighbour. Thefirst remote sound to which she felt herself obliged to attend, was the nameof Jane Fairfax. Mrs. Cole seemed to be relating something of her that wasexpected to be very interesting. She listened, and found it well worthlistening to. That very dear part of Emma, her fancy, received an amusingsupply. Mrs. Cole was telling that she had been calling on Miss Bates, andas soon as she entered the room had been struck by the sight of apianoforte--a very elegant looking instrument--not a grand, but a large-sized square pianoforte; and the substance of the story, the end of all thedialogue which ensued of surprize, and inquiry, and congratulations on herside, and explanations on Miss Bates's, was, that this pianoforte hadarrived from Broadwood's the day before, to the great astonishment of bothaunt and niece--entirely unexpected; that at first, by Miss Bates's account, Jane herself was quite at a loss, quite bewildered to think who couldpossibly have ordered it--but now, they were both perfectly satisfied that itcould be from only one quarter;--of course it must be from ColonelCampbell. "One can suppose nothing else, " added Mrs. Cole, "and I was onlysurprized that there could ever have been a doubt. But Jane, it seems, had aletter from them very lately, and not a word was said about it. She knowstheir ways best; but I should not consider their silence as any reason fortheir 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 thesubject was equally convinced that it must come from Colonel Campbell, and equally rejoiced that such a present had been made; and there wereenough ready to speak to allow Emma to think her own way, and still listento Mrs. Cole. "I declare, I do not know when I have heard any thing that has givenme more satisfaction!--It always has quite hurt me that Jane Fairfax, whoplays so delightfully, should not have an instrument. It seemed quite ashame, especially considering how many houses there are where fineinstruments 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 wasashamed to look at our new grand pianoforte in the drawing-room, while Ido not know one note from another, and our little girls, who are but justbeginning, perhaps may never make any thing of it; and there is poor JaneFairfax, who is mistress of music, has not any thing of the nature of aninstrument, not even the pitifullest old spinet in the world, to amuse herselfwith. --I was saying this to Mr. Cole but yesterday, and he quite agreedwith me; only he is so particularly fond of music that he could not helpindulging himself in the purchase, hoping that some of our good neighboursmight be so obliging occasionally to put it to a better use than we can; andthat really is the reason why the instrument was bought--or else I am surewe ought to be ashamed of it. --We are in great hopes that Miss Woodhousemay be prevailed with to try it this evening. "Miss Woodhouse made the proper acquiescence; and finding thatnothing 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 richand 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--whichmust 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 yourthoughts on this subject are very much like mine. ""I do not know. I rather believe you are giving me more credit foracuteness than I deserve. I smile because you smile, and shall probablysuspect whatever I find you suspect; but at present I do not see what thereis 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. Shemust 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 youngwoman's scheme than an elderly man's. It is Mrs. Dixon, I dare say. I toldyou that your suspicions would guide mine. ""If so, you must extend your suspicions and comprehend Mr. Dixon inthem. ""Mr. Dixon. --Very well. Yes, I immediately perceive that it must be thejoint present of Mr. And Mrs. Dixon. We were speaking the other day, youknow, of his being so warm an admirer of her performance. ""Yes, and what you told me on that head, confirmed an idea which Ihad entertained before. --I do not mean to reflect upon the good intentionsof either Mr. Dixon or Miss Fairfax, but I cannot help suspecting eitherthat, after making his proposals to her friend, he had the misfortune to fallin love with her, or that he became conscious of a little attachment on herside. One might guess twenty things without guessing exactly the right; butI am sure there must be a particular cause for her chusing to come toHighbury instead of going with the Campbells to Ireland. Here, she must beleading a life of privation and penance; there it would have been allenjoyment. As to the pretence of trying her native air, I look upon that as amere excuse. --In the summer it might have passed; but what can anybody's native air do for them in the months of January, February, andMarch? Good fires and carriages would be much more to the purpose inmost cases of delicate health, and I dare say in her's. I do not require you toadopt 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'spreference of her music to her friend's, I can answer for being verydecided. ""And then, he saved her life. Did you ever hear of that?-- A waterparty; 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 itseems to be a new idea to you. --If I had been there, I think I should havemade some discoveries. ""I dare say you would; but I, simple I, saw nothing but the fact, thatMiss Fairfax was nearly dashed from the vessel and that Mr. Dixon caughther. --It was the work of a moment. And though the consequent shock andalarm was very great and much more durable--indeed I believe it was halfan hour before any of us were comfortable again--yet that was too generala sensation for any thing of peculiar anxiety to be observable. I do notmean to say, however, that you might not have made discoveries. "The conversation was here interrupted. They were called on to share inthe awkwardness of a rather long interval between the courses, and obligedto be as formal and as orderly as the others; but when the table was againsafely covered, when every corner dish was placed exactly right, andoccupation and ease were generally restored, Emma said, "The arrival of this pianoforte is decisive with me. I wanted to know alittle more, and this tells me quite enough. Depend upon it, we shall soonhear that it is a present from Mr. And Mrs. Dixon. ""And if the Dixons should absolutely deny all knowledge of it we mustconclude it to come from the Campbells. ""No, I am sure it is not from the Campbells. Miss Fairfax knows it isnot from the Campbells, or they would have been guessed at first. Shewould not have been puzzled, had she dared fix on them. I may not haveconvinced you perhaps, but I am perfectly convinced myself that Mr. Dixonis a principal in the business. ""Indeed you injure me if you suppose me unconvinced. Your reasoningscarry my judgment along with them entirely. At first, while I supposed yousatisfied that Colonel Campbell was the giver, I saw it only as paternalkindness, and thought it the most natural thing in the world. But when youmentioned Mrs. Dixon, I felt how much more probable that it should be thetribute of warm female friendship. And now I can see it in no other lightthan as an offering of love. "There was no occasion to press the matter farther. The convictionseemed real; he looked as if he felt it. She said no more, other subjects tooktheir 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 rateof conversation; a few clever things said, a few downright silly, but bymuch the larger proportion neither the one nor the other--nothing worsethan everyday remarks, dull repetitions, old news, and heavy jokes. The ladies had not been long in the drawing-room, before the otherladies, in their different divisions, arrived. Emma watched the entree of herown particular little friend; and if she could not exult in her dignity andgrace, she could not only love the blooming sweetness and the artlessmanner, but could most heartily rejoice in that light, cheerful, unsentimental disposition which allowed her so many alleviations ofpleasure, in the midst of the pangs of disappointed affection. There shesat--and who would have guessed how many tears she had been latelyshedding? To be in company, nicely dressed herself and seeing others nicelydressed, to sit and smile and look pretty, and say nothing, was enough forthe happiness of the present hour. Jane Fairfax did look and move superior;but Emma suspected she might have been glad to change feelings withHarriet, very glad to have purchased the mortification of having loved--yes, of having loved even Mr. Elton in vain--by the surrender of all thedangerous pleasure of knowing herself beloved by the husband of herfriend. In so large a party it was not necessary that Emma should approachher. She did not wish to speak of the pianoforte, she felt too much in thesecret herself, to think the appearance of curiosity or interest fair, andtherefore purposely kept at a distance; but by the others, the subject wasalmost immediately introduced, and she saw the blush of consciousnesswith which congratulations were received, the blush of guilt whichaccompanied the name of "my excellent friend Colonel Campbell. "Mrs. Weston, kind-hearted and musical, was particularly interested bythe circumstance, and Emma could not help being amused at herperseverance in dwelling on the subject; and having so much to ask and tosay as to tone, touch, and pedal, totally unsuspicious of that wish of sayingas little about it as possible, which she plainly read in the fair heroine'scountenance. They were soon joined by some of the gentlemen; and the very first ofthe 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 MissWoodhouse; and till he could find a seat by her, would not sit at all. Emmadivined what every body present must be thinking. She was his object, andevery body must perceive it. She introduced him to her friend, Miss Smith, and, at convenient moments afterwards, heard what each thought of theother. "He had never seen so lovely a face, and was delighted with hernaivete. " And she, "Only to be sure it was paying him too great acompliment, but she did think there were some looks a little like Mr. Elton. " Emma restrained her indignation, and only turned from her insilence. Smiles of intelligence passed between her and the gentleman on firstglancing towards Miss Fairfax; but it was most prudent to avoid speech. Hetold her that he had been impatient to leave the dining-room--hated sittinglong--was always the first to move when he could--that his father, Mr. Knightley, Mr. Cox, and Mr. Cole, were left very busy over parishbusiness--that as long as he had staid, however, it had been pleasantenough, as he had found them in general a set of gentlemanlike, sensiblemen; and spoke so handsomely of Highbury altogether--thought it soabundant in agreeable families--that Emma began to feel she had been usedto despise the place rather too much. She questioned him as to the societyin Yorkshire--the extent of the neighbourhood about Enscombe, and thesort; and could make out from his answers that, as far as Enscombe wasconcerned, there was very little going on, that their visitings were among arange of great families, none very near; and that even when days werefixed, and invitations accepted, it was an even chance that Mrs. Churchillwere not in health and spirits for going; that they made a point of visitingno fresh person; and that, though he had his separate engagements, it wasnot without difficulty, without considerable address at times, that he couldget away, or introduce an acquaintance for a night. She saw that Enscombe could not satisfy, and that Highbury, taken atits best, might reasonably please a young man who had more retirement athome than he liked. His importance at Enscombe was very evident. He didnot boast, but it naturally betrayed itself, that he had persuaded his auntwhere his uncle could do nothing, and on her laughing and noticing it, heowned that he believed (excepting one or two points) he could with timepersuade her to any thing. One of those points on which his influencefailed, he then mentioned. He had wanted very much to go abroad--hadbeen very eager indeed to be allowed to travel--but she would not hear ofit. This had happened the year before. Now, he said, he was beginning tohave no longer the same wish. The unpersuadable point, which he did not mention, Emma guessed tobe good behaviour to his father. "I have made a most wretched discovery, " said he, after a shortpause. -- "I have been here a week to-morrow--half my time. I never knewdays fly so fast. A week to-morrow!--And I have hardly begun to enjoymyself. But just got acquainted with Mrs. Weston, and others!-- I hate therecollection. ""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 nopleasure 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 herselfobliged to turn from him for a few minutes, and listen to Mr. Cole. WhenMr. 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 havebeen 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 anything so outree!--Those curls!--This must be a fancy of her own. I seenobody else looking like her!-- I must go and ask her whether it is an Irishfashion. Shall I?-- Yes, I will--I declare I will--and you shall see how shetakes it;--whether she colours. "He was gone immediately; and Emma soon saw him standing beforeMiss Fairfax, and talking to her; but as to its effect on the young lady, as hehad improvidently placed himself exactly between them, exactly in front ofMiss 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 everybody, and say every thing. My dear Emma, I am longing to talk to you. Ihave been making discoveries and forming plans, just like yourself, and Imust tell them while the idea is fresh. Do you know how Miss Bates andher niece came here?""How?--They were invited, were not they?""Oh! yes--but how they were conveyed hither?--the manner of theircoming?""They walked, I conclude. How else could they come?""Very true. --Well, a little while ago it occurred to me how very sad itwould be to have Jane Fairfax walking home again, late at night, and coldas the nights are now. And as I looked at her, though I never saw herappear to more advantage, it struck me that she was heated, and wouldtherefore be particularly liable to take cold. Poor girl! I could not bear theidea of it; so, as soon as Mr. Weston came into the room, and I could get athim, I spoke to him about the carriage. You may guess how readily he cameinto my wishes; and having his approbation, I made my way directly toMiss Bates, to assure her that the carriage would be at her service before ittook 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 wasever so fortunate as herself!'--but with many, many thanks--'there was nooccasion to trouble us, for Mr. Knightley's carriage had brought, and was totake them home again. ' I was quite surprized;--very glad, I am sure; butreally quite surprized. Such a very kind attention--and so thoughtful anattention!--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 wasfor their accommodation the carriage was used at all. I do suspect he wouldnot have had a pair of horses for himself, and that it was only as an excusefor assisting them. ""Very likely, " said Emma--"nothing more likely. I know no man morelikely than Mr. Knightley to do the sort of thing--to do any thing reallygood-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 unostentatiouskindness, 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 Ilaughed 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 Bateswas speaking, a suspicion darted into my head, and I have never been ableto get it out again. The more I think of it, the more probable it appears. Inshort, I have made a match between Mr. Knightley and Jane Fairfax. Seethe 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 mustnot 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'smarrying; and I am sure it is not at all likely. I am amazed that you shouldthink of such a thing. ""My dear Emma, I have told you what led me to think of it. I do notwant the match--I do not want to injure dear little Henry--but the idea hasbeen given me by circumstances; and if Mr. Knightley really wished tomarry, you would not have him refrain on Henry's account, a boy of sixyears 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 itnow. And Jane Fairfax, too, of all women!""Nay, she has always been a first favourite with him, as you very wellknow. ""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 thanwhat you mention. His good-nature, his humanity, as I tell you, would bequite enough to account for the horses. He has a great regard for theBateses, you know, independent of Jane Fairfax--and is always glad toshew 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;--everyfeeling revolts. For his own sake, I would not have him do so mad a thing. ""Imprudent, if you please--but not mad. Excepting inequality offortune, 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 theleast idea of it. Do not put it into his head. Why should he marry?-- He isas happy as possible by himself; with his farm, and his sheep, and hislibrary, and all the parish to manage; and he is extremely fond of hisbrother's children. He has no occasion to marry, either to fill up his time orhis heart. ""My dear Emma, as long as he thinks so, it is so; but if he really lovesJane Fairfax--""Nonsense! He does not care about Jane Fairfax. In the way of love, Iam 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 coulddo 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 veryshameful and degrading connexion. How would he bear to have Miss Batesbelonging to him?--To have her haunting the Abbey, and thanking him allday long for his great kindness in marrying Jane?-- 'So very kind andobliging!--But he always had been such a very kind neighbour!' And thenfly off, through half a sentence, to her mother's old petticoat. 'Not that itwas 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 verystrong. '""For shame, Emma! Do not mimic her. You divert me against myconscience. And, upon my word, I do not think Mr. Knightley would bemuch disturbed by Miss Bates. Little things do not irritate him. She mighttalk on; and if he wanted to say any thing himself, he would only talklouder, and drown her voice. But the question is not, whether it would be abad connexion for him, but whether he wishes it; and I think he does. Ihave heard him speak, and so must you, so very highly of Jane Fairfax! Theinterest he takes in her--his anxiety about her health--his concern that sheshould have no happier prospect! I have heard him express himself sowarmly on those points!--Such an admirer of her performance on thepianoforte, and of her voice! I have heard him say that he could listen toher 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 allbeen so well satisfied to consider it a present from the Campbells, may itnot be from Mr. Knightley? I cannot help suspecting him. I think he is justthe 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 notthink it is at all a likely thing for him to do. Mr. Knightley does nothingmysteriously. ""I have heard him lamenting her having no instrument repeatedly;oftener than I should suppose such a circumstance would, in the commoncourse of things, occur to him. ""Very well; and if he had intended to give her one, he would have toldher so. ""There might be scruples of delicacy, my dear Emma. I have a verystrong notion that it comes from him. I am sure he was particularly silentwhen Mrs. Cole told us of it at dinner. ""You take up an idea, Mrs. Weston, and run away with it; as you havemany a time reproached me with doing. I see no sign of attachment--Ibelieve nothing of the pianoforte--and proof only shall convince me thatMr. Knightley has any thought of marrying Jane Fairfax. "They combated the point some time longer in the same way; Emmarather gaining ground over the mind of her friend; for Mrs. Weston was themost used of the two to yield; till a little bustle in the room shewed themthat tea was over, and the instrument in preparation;--and at the samemoment Mr. Cole approaching to entreat Miss Woodhouse would do themthe honour of trying it. Frank Churchill, of whom, in the eagerness of herconversation with Mrs. Weston, she had been seeing nothing, except that hehad found a seat by Miss Fairfax, followed Mr. Cole, to add his verypressing 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 morethan she could perform with credit; she wanted neither taste nor spirit inthe little things which are generally acceptable, and could accompany herown voice well. One accompaniment to her song took her agreeably bysurprize--a second, slightly but correctly taken by Frank Churchill. Herpardon was duly begged at the close of the song, and every thing usualfollowed. He was accused of having a delightful voice, and a perfectknowledge of music; which was properly denied; and that he knew nothingof the matter, and had no voice at all, roundly asserted. They sang togetheronce more; and Emma would then resign her place to Miss Fairfax, whoseperformance, both vocal and instrumental, she never could attempt toconceal from herself, was infinitely superior to her own. With mixed feelings, she seated herself at a little distance from thenumbers round the instrument, to listen. Frank Churchill sang again. Theyhad sung together once or twice, it appeared, at Weymouth. But the sight ofMr. Knightley among the most attentive, soon drew away half Emma'smind; and she fell into a train of thinking on the subject of Mrs. Weston'ssuspicions, to which the sweet sounds of the united voices gave onlymomentary interruptions. Her objections to Mr. Knightley's marrying didnot in the least subside. She could see nothing but evil in it. It would be agreat disappointment to Mr. John Knightley; consequently to Isabella. Areal injury to the children--a most mortifying change, and material loss tothem all;--a very great deduction from her father's daily comfort--and, asto herself, she could not at all endure the idea of Jane Fairfax at DonwellAbbey. A Mrs. Knightley for them all to give way to!--No--Mr. Knightleymust 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 certainlyvery warm; yet she thought, but for Mrs. Weston, it would not have struckher. As a sort of touchstone, however, she began to speak of his kindness inconveying the aunt and niece; and though his answer was in the spirit ofcutting the matter short, she believed it to indicate only his disinclination todwell on any kindness of his own. "I often feel concern, " said she, "that I dare not make our carriage moreuseful on such occasions. It is not that I am without the wish; but youknow how impossible my father would deem it that James should put-to forsuch a purpose. ""Quite out of the question, quite out of the question, " he replied;-- "butyou must often wish it, I am sure. " And he smiled with such seemingpleasure at the conviction, that she must proceed another step. "This present from the Campbells, " said she--"this pianoforte is verykindly given. ""Yes, " he replied, and without the smallest apparent embarrassment. --"But they would have done better had they given her notice of it. Surprizesare foolish things. The pleasure is not enhanced, and the inconvenience isoften considerable. I should have expected better judgment in ColonelCampbell. "From that moment, Emma could have taken her oath that Mr. Knightleyhad had no concern in giving the instrument. But whether he were entirelyfree 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 havesung quite enough for one evening--now be quiet. "Another song, however, was soon begged for. "One more;--they wouldnot 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 thiswithout effort; the first part is so very trifling. The strength of the song fallson the second. "Mr. Knightley grew angry. "That fellow, " said he, indignantly, "thinks of nothing but shewing offhis own voice. This must not be. " And touching Miss Bates, who at thatmoment passed near--"Miss Bates, are you mad, to let your niece singherself hoarse in this manner? Go, and interfere. They have no mercy onher. "Miss Bates, in her real anxiety for Jane, could hardly stay even to begrateful, before she stept forward and put an end to all farther singing. Here ceased the concert part of the evening, for Miss Woodhouse and MissFairfax were the only young lady performers; but soon (within five minutes)the proposal of dancing--originating nobody exactly knew where--was soeffectually promoted by Mr. And Mrs. Cole, that every thing was rapidlyclearing away, to give proper space. Mrs. Weston, capital in her country-dances, was seated, and beginning an irresistible waltz; and FrankChurchill, coming up with most becoming gallantry to Emma, had securedher 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 hervoice 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 veryalert in engaging Jane Fairfax now, it might augur something. There was noimmediate appearance. No; he was talking to Mrs. Cole--he was looking onunconcerned; Jane was asked by somebody else, and he was still talking toMrs. Cole. Emma had no longer an alarm for Henry; his interest was yet safe; andshe led off the dance with genuine spirit and enjoyment. Not more than fivecouple could be mustered; but the rarity and the suddenness of it made itvery delightful, and she found herself well matched in a partner. They werea couple worth looking at. Two dances, unfortunately, were all that could be allowed. It wasgrowing late, and Miss Bates became anxious to get home, on her mother'saccount. 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 toher carriage. "I must have asked Miss Fairfax, and her languid dancingwould not have agreed with me, after your's. "CHAPTER IXEmma did not repent her condescension in going to the Coles. The visitafforded her many pleasant recollections the next day; and all that shemight be supposed to have lost on the side of

dignified seclusion, must beamply repaid in the splendour of popularity. She must have delighted theColes--worthy people, who deserved to be made happy!--And left a namebehind her that would not soon die away. Perfect happiness, even in memory, is not common; and there were twopoints on which she was not quite easy. She doubted whether she had nottransgressed the duty of woman by woman, in betraying her suspicions ofJane Fairfax's feelings to Frank Churchill. It was hardly right; but it hadbeen so strong an idea, that it would escape her, and his submission to allthat she told, was a compliment to her penetration, which made it difficultfor her to be quite certain that she ought to have held her tongue. The other circumstance of regret related also to Jane Fairfax; and thereshe had no doubt. She did unfeignedly and unequivocally regret theinferiority of her own playing and singing. She did most heartily grieve overthe idleness of her childhood--and sat down and practised vigorously anhour and a half. She was then interrupted by Harriet's coming in; and if Harriet's praisecould 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, thana lamp is like sunshine. ""Oh! dear--I think you play the best of the two. I think you play quiteas well as she does. I am sure I had much rather hear you. Every body lastnight said how well you played. ""Those who knew any thing about it, must have felt the difference. Thetruth is, Harriet, that my playing is just good enough to be praised, but JaneFairfax's is much beyond it. ""Well, I always shall think that you play quite as well as she does, orthat if there is any difference nobody would ever find it out. Mr. Cole saidhow much taste you had; and Mr. Frank Churchill talked a great deal aboutyour 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 anytaste. Nobody talked about it. And I hate Italian singing. -- There is nounderstanding a word of it. Besides, if she does play so very well, youknow, it is no more than she is obliged to do, because she will have toteach. The Coxes were wondering last night whether she would get into anygreat 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 isnothing of any consequence. "Emma was obliged to ask what they had told her, though fearful of itsproducing 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 stayto dinner. ""Oh!""They talked a great deal about him, especially Anne Cox. I do notknow what she meant, but she asked me if I thought I should go and staythere again next summer. ""She meant to be impertinently curious, just as such an Anne Coxshould be. ""She said he was very agreeable the day he dined there. He sat by her atdinner. Miss Nash thinks either of the Coxes would be very glad to marryhim. ""Very likely. --I think they are, without exception, the most vulgar girlsin Highbury. "Harriet had business at Ford's. --Emma thought it most prudent to gowith her. Another accidental meeting with the Martins was possible, and inher present state, would be dangerous. Harriet, tempted by every thing and swayed by half a word, was alwaysvery long at a purchase; and while she was still hanging over muslins andchanging her mind, Emma went to the door for amusement. --Much couldnot 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 toexpect; and when her eyes fell only on the butcher with his tray, a tidy oldwoman travelling homewards from shop with her full basket, two cursquarrelling over a dirty bone, and a string of dawdling children round thebaker's little bow-window eyeing the gingerbread, she knew she had noreason to complain, and was amused enough; quite enough still to stand atthe door. A mind lively and at ease, can do with seeing nothing, and cansee nothing that does not answer. She looked down the Randalls road. The scene enlarged; two personsappeared; Mrs. Weston and her son-in-law; they were walking intoHighbury;--to Hartfield of course. They were stopping, however, in the firstplace 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 theycrossed the road and came forward to her; and the agreeableness ofyesterday's engagement seemed to give fresh pleasure to the presentmeeting. Mrs. Weston informed her that she was going to call on theBateses, in order to hear the new instrument. "For my companion tells me, " said she, "that I absolutely promised MissBates last night, that I would come this morning. I was not aware of itmyself. I did not know that I had fixed a day, but as he says I did, I amgoing now. ""And while Mrs. Weston pays her visit, I may be allowed, I hope, " saidFrank Churchill, "to join your party and wait for her at Hartfield--if you aregoing home. "Mrs. Weston was disappointed. "I thought you meant to go with me. They would be very muchpleased. ""Me! I should be quite in the way. But, perhaps--I may be equally inthe way here. Miss Woodhouse looks as if she did not want me. My auntalways 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 Ito do?""I am here on no business of my own, " said Emma; "I am only waitingfor my friend. She will probably have soon done, and then we shall gohome. But you had better go with Mrs. Weston and hear the instrument. ""Well--if you advise it. --But (with a smile) if Colonel Campbell shouldhave employed a careless friend, and if it should prove to have anindifferent 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 palatablethrough her lips, but I am the wretchedest being in the world at a civilfalsehood. ""I do not believe any such thing, " replied Emma. --"I am persuaded thatyou can be as insincere as your neighbours, when it is necessary; but thereis no reason to suppose the instrument is indifferent. Quite otherwiseindeed, if I understood Miss Fairfax's opinion last night. ""Do come with me, " said Mrs. Weston, "if it be not very disagreeable toyou. It need not detain us long. We will go to Hartfield afterwards. We willfollow them to Hartfield. I really wish you to call with me. It will be felt sogreat 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 theforce of her own mind, to convince her that if she wanted plain muslin itwas of no use to look at figured; and that a blue ribbon, be it ever sobeautiful, would still never match her yellow pattern. At last it was allsettled, 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, youshall send it to Hartfield, if you please. But then, Mrs. Goddard will wantto see it. --And I could take the pattern gown home any day. But I shallwant the ribbon directly--so it had better go to Hartfield--at least theribbon. 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 twoparcels. ""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 youplease, you shall send it all to Mrs. Goddard's-- I do not know--No, Ithink, Miss Woodhouse, I may just as well have it sent to Hartfield, andtake 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 notat 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 toentreat the favour of you to come and sit down with us a little while, andgive us your opinion of our new instrument; you and Miss Smith. How doyou do, Miss Smith?--Very well I thank you. --And I begged Mrs. Westonto 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 gladto 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 mejust to run across and entreat her to come in; my mother will be so veryhappy 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 theinstrument will be worth having. '-- But, said I, I shall be more sure ofsucceeding 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 rivetof 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 notput them on. And, by the bye, every body ought to have two pair ofspectacles; they should indeed. Jane said so. I meant to take them over toJohn Saunders the first thing I did, but something or other hindered me allthe morning; first one thing, then another, there is no saying what, youknow. At one time Patty came to say she thought the kitchen chimneywanted 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 applescame home, Mrs. Wallis sent them by her boy; they are extremely civil andobliging to us, the Wallises, always--I have heard some people say thatMrs. Wallis can be uncivil and give a very rude answer, but we have neverknown any thing but the greatest attention from them. And it cannot be forthe value of our custom now, for what is our consumption of bread, youknow? Only three of us. --besides dear Jane at present--and she really eatsnothing--makes such a shocking breakfast, you would be quite frightened ifyou saw it. I dare not let my mother know how little she eats--so I say onething and then I say another, and it passes off. But about the middle of theday she gets hungry, and there is nothing she likes so well as these bakedapples, and they are extremely wholesome, for I took the opportunity theother day of asking Mr. Perry; I happened to meet him in the street. Notthat I had any doubt before-- I have so often heard Mr. Woodhouserecommend a baked apple. I believe it is the only way that Mr. Woodhousethinks 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 didat 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 youbefore. 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 inthe 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'sspectacles. So very obliging of Mr. Frank Churchill! 'Oh!' said he, 'I do thinkI can fasten the rivet; I like a job of this kind excessively. '--Which youknow shewed him to be so very. . . . Indeed I must say that, much as I hadheard of him before and much as I had expected, he very far exceeds anything. . . . I do congratulate you, Mrs. Weston, most warmly. He seemsevery thing the fondest parent could. . . . 'Oh!' said he, 'I can fasten therivet. 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 ourfriends 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 sovery. . . . And I am sure, by his manner, it was no compliment. Indeed theyare very delightful apples, and Mrs. Wallis does them full justice--only wedo not have them baked more than twice, and Mr. Woodhouse made uspromise to have them done three times--but Miss Woodhouse will be sogood as not to mention it. The apples themselves are the very finest sort forbaking, beyond a doubt; all from Donwell--some of Mr. Knightley's mostliberal supply. He sends us a sack every year; and certainly there never wassuch a keeping apple anywhere as one of his trees--I believe there is two ofthem. 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 onemorning, and Jane was eating these apples, and we talked about them andsaid how much she enjoyed them, and he asked whether we were not got tothe end of our stock. 'I am sure you must be, ' said he, 'and I will send youanother supply; for I have a great many more than I can ever use. WilliamLarkins let me keep a larger quantity than usual this year. I will send yousome 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 agreat many left--it was but half a dozen indeed; but they should be all keptfor Jane; and I could not at all bear that he should be sending us more, soliberal as he had been already; and Jane said the same. And when he wasgone, she almost quarrelled with me--No, I should not say quarrelled, forwe never had a quarrel in our lives; but she was quite distressed that I hadowned the apples were so nearly gone; she wished I had made him believewe 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 largebasket of apples, the same sort of apples, a bushel at least, and I was verymuch obliged, and went down and spoke to William Larkins and said everything, as you may suppose. William Larkins is such an old acquaintance! Iam 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 hadbrought 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 hismaster had sold so many; for William, you know, thinks more of hismaster's profit than any thing; but Mrs. Hodges, he said, was quitedispleased at their being all sent away. She could not bear that her mastershould 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, forMrs. Hodges would be cross sometimes, and as long as so many sacks weresold, it did not signify who ate the remainder. And so Patty told me, and Iwas excessively shocked indeed! I would not have Mr. Knightley know anything about it for the world! He would be so very. . . . I wanted to keep itfrom Jane's knowledge; but, unluckily, I had mentioned it before I wasaware. "Miss Bates had just done as Patty opened the door; and her visitorswalked upstairs without having any regular narration to attend to, pursuedonly by the sounds of her desultory good-will. "Pray take care, Mrs. Weston, there is a step at the turning. Pray takecare, Miss Woodhouse, ours is rather a dark staircase--rather darker andnarrower than one could wish. Miss Smith, pray take care. MissWoodhouse, I am quite concerned, I am sure you hit your foot. Miss Smith, the step at the turning. "CHAPTER XThe appearance of the little sitting-room as they entered, wastranquillity 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 withher back to them, intent on her pianoforte. Busy as he was, however, the young man was yet able to shew a mosthappy countenance on seeing Emma again. "This is a pleasure, " said he, in rather a low voice, "coming at least tenminutes earlier than I had calculated. You find me trying to be useful; tellme if you think I shall succeed. ""What!" said Mrs. Weston, "have not you finished it yet? you would notearn a very good livelihood as a working silversmith at this rate. ""I have not been working uninterruptedly, " he replied, "I have beenassisting Miss Fairfax in trying to make her instrument stand steadily, itwas not quite firm; an unevenness in the floor, I believe. You see we havebeen wedging one leg with paper. This was very kind of you to bepersuaded to come. I was almost afraid you would be hurrying home. "He contrived that she should be seated by him; and was sufficientlyemployed in looking out the best baked apple for her, and trying to makeher help or advise him in his work, till Jane Fairfax was quite ready to sitdown to the pianoforte again. That she was not immediately ready, Emmadid suspect to arise from the state of her nerves; she had not yet possessedthe instrument long enough to touch it without emotion; she must reasonherself into the power of performance; and Emma could not but pity suchfeelings, whatever their origin, and could not but resolve never to exposethem to her neighbour again. At last Jane began, and though the first bars were feebly given, thepowers of the instrument were gradually done full justice to. Mrs. Westonhad been delighted before, and was delighted again; Emma joined her in allher praise; and the pianoforte, with every proper discrimination, waspronounced to be altogether of the highest promise. "Whoever Colonel Campbell might employ, " said Frank Churchill, with asmile at Emma, "the person has not chosen ill. I heard a good deal ofColonel Campbell's taste at Weymouth; and the softness of the upper notesI am sure is exactly what he and all that party would particularly prize. Idare 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 hadbeen speaking to her at the same moment. "It is not fair, " said Emma, in a whisper; "mine was a random guess. Donot distress her. "He shook his head with a smile, and looked as if he had very littledoubt and very little mercy. Soon afterwards he began again, "How much your friends in Ireland must be enjoying your pleasure onthis occasion, Miss Fairfax. I dare say they often think of you, and wonderwhich 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 forwardjust at this time?--Do you imagine it to be the consequence of animmediate commission from him, or that he may have sent only a generaldirection, an order indefinite as to time, to depend upon contingencies andconveniences?"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 offorced calmness, "I can imagine nothing with any confidence. It must be allconjecture. ""Conjecture--aye, sometimes one conjectures right, and sometimes oneconjectures wrong. I wish I could conjecture how soon I shall make thisrivet quite firm. What nonsense one talks, Miss Woodhouse, when hard atwork, 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 saidsomething about conjecturing. There, it is done. I have the pleasure, madam, (to Mrs. Bates, ) of restoring your spectacles, healed for thepresent. "He was very warmly thanked both by mother and daughter; to escape alittle 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 dancedlast 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 nolonger; but I would have given worlds--all the worlds one ever has togive--for another half-hour. "She played. "What felicity it is to hear a tune again which has made one happy!-- IfI mistake not that was danced at Weymouth. "She looked up at him for a moment, coloured deeply, and playedsomething else. He took some music from a chair near the pianoforte, andturning to Emma, said, "Here is something quite new to me. Do you know it?--Cramer. -- Andhere are a new set of Irish melodies. That, from such a quarter, one mightexpect. This was all sent with the instrument. Very thoughtful of ColonelCampbell, was not it?--He knew Miss Fairfax could have no music here. Ihonour that part of the attention particularly; it shews it to have been sothoroughly from the heart. Nothing hastily done; nothing incomplete. Trueaffection only could have prompted it. "Emma wished he would be less pointed, yet could not help beingamused; and when on glancing her eye towards Jane Fairfax she caught theremains of a smile, when she saw that with all the deep blush ofconsciousness, there had been a smile of secret delight, she had less scruplein the amusement, and much less compunction with respect to her. --Thisamiable, upright, perfect Jane Fairfax was apparently cherishing veryreprehensible 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 leastashamed 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 havenow a key to all her odd looks and ways. Leave shame to her. If she doeswrong, 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 thismoment--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 thankhim. I will not open the window here; it would give you all cold; but I cango into my mother's room you know. I dare say he will come in when heknows who is here. Quite delightful to have you all meet so!--Our littleroom so honoured!"She was in the adjoining chamber while she still spoke, and opening thecasement there, immediately called Mr. Knightley's attention, and everysyllable of their conversation was as distinctly heard by the others, as if ithad passed within the same apartment. "How d' ye do?--how d'ye do?--Very well, I thank you. So obliged toyou for the carriage last night. We were just in time; my mother just readyfor us. Pray come in; do come in. You will find some friends here. "So began Miss Bates; and Mr. Knightley seemed determined to be heardin his turn, for most resolutely and commandingly did he say, "How is your niece, Miss Bates?--I want to inquire after you all, butparticularly your niece. How is Miss Fairfax?--I hope she caught no coldlast night. How is she to-day? Tell me how Miss Fairfax is. "And Miss Bates was obliged to give a direct answer before he wouldhear her in any thing else. The listeners were amused; and Mrs. Westongave Emma a look of particular meaning. But Emma still shook her head insteady 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 shewanted 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?-- MissWoodhouse 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!--Quitedelightful; so many friends!""No, not now, I thank you. I could not stay two minutes. I must get onto 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 thepianoforte. ""Well, I am so sorry!--Oh! Mr. Knightley, what a delightful party lastnight; how extremely pleasant. --Did you ever see such dancing?-- Was notit delightful?--Miss Woodhouse and Mr. Frank Churchill; I never saw anything equal to it. ""Oh! very delightful indeed; I can say nothing less, for I suppose MissWoodhouse and Mr. Frank Churchill are hearing every thing that passes. And (raising his voice still more) I do not see why Miss Fairfax should notbe mentioned too. I think Miss Fairfax dances very well; and Mrs. Westonis the very best country-dance player, without exception, in England. Now, if your friends have any gratitude, they will say something pretty loudabout you and me in return; but I cannot stay to hear it. ""Oh! Mr. Knightley, one moment more; something of consequence--soshocked!--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 agreat 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 shouldnot have done it, indeed you should not. Ah! he is off. He never can bear tobe thanked. But I thought he would have staid now, and it would have beena pity not to have mentioned. . . . Well, (returning to the room, ) I have notbeen 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 doorwas open, and the window was open, and Mr. Knightley spoke loud. Youmust have heard every thing to be sure. 'Can I do any thing for you atKingston?' said he; so I just mentioned. . . . Oh! Miss Woodhouse, must yoube going?--You seem but just come--so very obliging of you. "Emma found it really time to be at home; the visit had already lastedlong; and on examining watches, so much of the morning was perceived tobe gone, that Mrs. Weston and her companion taking leave also, couldallow themselves only to walk with the two young ladies to Hartfield gates, before they set off for Randalls. CHAPTER XIIt may be possible to do without dancing entirely. Instances have beenknown of young people passing many, many months successively, withoutbeing at any ball of any description, and no material injury accrue either tobody or mind;--but when a beginning is made--when the felicities of rapidmotion have once been, though slightly, felt--it must be a very heavy setthat does not ask for more. Frank Churchill had danced once at Highbury, and longed to danceagain; and the last half-hour of an evening which Mr. Woodhouse waspersuaded to spend with his daughter at Randalls, was passed by the twoyoung people in schemes on the subject. Frank's was the first idea; and histhe greatest zeal in pursuing it; for the lady was the best judge of thedifficulties, and the most solicitous for accommodation and appearance. Butstill she had inclination enough for shewing people again how delightfullyMr. Frank Churchill and Miss Woodhouse danced--for doing that in whichshe need not blush to compare herself with Jane Fairfax--and even forsimple dancing itself, without any of the wicked aids of vanity--to assisthim first in pacing out the room they were in to see what it could be madeto hold--and then in taking the dimensions of the other parlour, in thehope of discovering, in spite of all that Mr. Weston could say of theirexactly equal size, that it was a little the largest. His first proposition and request, that the dance begun at Mr. Cole'sshould be finished there--that the same party should be collected, and thesame musician engaged, met with the readiest acquiescence. Mr. Westonentered into the idea with thorough enjoyment, and Mrs. Weston mostwillingly undertook to play as long as they could wish to dance; and theinteresting employment had followed, of reckoning up exactly who therewould be, and portioning out the indispensable division of space to everycouple. "You and Miss Smith, and Miss Fairfax, will be three, and the two MissCoxes five, " had been repeated many times over. "And there will be the twoGilberts, young Cox, my father, and myself, besides Mr. Knightley. Yes, that will be quite enough for pleasure. You and Miss Smith, and MissFairfax, will be three, and the two Miss Coxes five; and for five couplethere 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 thinkthere will. "On another, "And after all, five couple are not enough to make it worth while tostand up. Five couple are nothing, when one thinks seriously about it. Itwill not do to invite five couple. It can be allowable only as the thought ofthe moment. "Somebody said that Miss Gilbert was expected at her brother's, andmust be invited with the rest. Somebody else believed Mrs. Gilbert wouldhave danced the other evening, if she had been asked. A word was put infor a second young Cox; and at last, Mr. Weston naming one family ofcousins who must be included, and another of very old acquaintance whocould not be left out, it became a certainty that the five couple would be atleast ten, and a very interesting speculation in what possible manner theycould be disposed of. The doors of the two rooms were just opposite each other. "Might notthey use both rooms, and dance across the passage?" It seemed the bestscheme; 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 thesupper; and Mr. Woodhouse opposed it earnestly, on the score of health. Itmade 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 notbear 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 bequite laid up; do not let them talk of such a wild thing. Pray do not letthem talk of it. That young man (speaking lower) is very thoughtless. Donot tell his father, but that young man is not quite the thing. He has beenopening the doors very often this evening, and keeping them open veryinconsiderately. He does not think of the draught. I do not mean to set youagainst him, but indeed he is not quite the thing!"Mrs. Weston was sorry for such a charge. She knew the importance ofit, and said every thing in her power to do it away. Every door was nowclosed, the passage plan given up, and the first scheme of dancing only inthe room they were in resorted to again; and with such good-will on FrankChurchill's part, that the space which a quarter of an hour before had beendeemed barely sufficient for five couple, was now endeavoured to be madeout quite enough for ten. "We were too magnificent, " said he. "We allowed unnecessary room. Tencouple may stand here very well. "Emma demurred. "It would be a crowd--a sad crowd; and what couldbe worse than dancing without space to turn in?""Very true, " he gravely replied; "it was very bad. " But still he went onmeasuring, 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 tobe standing so close! Nothing can be farther from pleasure than to bedancing in a crowd--and a crowd in a little room!""There is no denying it, " he replied. "I agree with you exactly. A crowdin a little room--Miss Woodhouse, you have the art of giving pictures in afew words. Exquisite, quite exquisite!--Still, however, having proceeded sofar, one is unwilling to give the matter up. It would be a disappointment tomy father--and altogether--I do not know that--I am rather of opinion thatten 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 everto marry him, it might have been worth while to pause and consider, andtry to understand the value of his preference, and the character of histemper; but for all the purposes of their acquaintance, he was quite amiableenough. Before the middle of the next day, he was at Hartfield; and he enteredthe room with such an agreeable smile as certified the continuance of thescheme. It soon appeared that he came to announce an improvement. "Well, Miss Woodhouse, " he almost immediately began, "yourinclination for dancing has not been quite frightened away, I hope, by theterrors of my father's little rooms. I bring a new proposal on the subject:--athought of my father's, which waits only your approbation to be actedupon. May I hope for the honour of your hand for the two first dances ofthis little projected ball, to be given, not at Randalls, but at the CrownInn?""The Crown!""Yes; if you and Mr. Woodhouse see no objection, and I trust youcannot, my father hopes his friends will be so kind as to visit him there. Better accommodations, he can promise them, and not a less gratefulwelcome than at Randalls. It is his own idea. Mrs. Weston sees no objectionto it, provided you are satisfied. This is what we all feel. Oh! you wereperfectly right! Ten couple, in either of the Randalls rooms, would havebeen 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 goodexchange?--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 fullycomprehended; and then, being quite new, farther representations werenecessary 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 anddangerous; 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 theCrown 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 thananywhere. ""I was going to observe, sir, " said Frank Churchill, "that one of the greatrecommendations of this change would be the very little danger of anybody's catching cold--so much less danger at the Crown than at Randalls!Mr. Perry might have reason to regret the alteration, but nobody elsecould. ""Sir, " said Mr. Woodhouse, rather warmly, "you are very much mistakenif you suppose Mr. Perry to be that sort of character. Mr. Perry is extremelyconcerned when any of us are ill. But I do not understand how the room atthe Crown can be safer for you than your father's house. ""From the very circumstance of its being larger, sir. We shall have nooccasion to open the windows at all--not once the whole evening; and it isthat dreadful habit of opening the windows, letting in cold air upon heatedbodies, which (as you well know, sir) does the mischief. ""Open the windows!--but surely, Mr. Churchill, nobody would think ofopening the windows at Randalls. Nobody could be so imprudent! I neverheard of such a thing. Dancing with open windows!--I am sure, neitheryour father nor Mrs. Weston (poor Miss Taylor that was) would suffer it. ""Ah! sir--but a thoughtless young person will sometimes step behind awindow-curtain, and throw up a sash, without its being suspected. I haveoften known it done myself. ""Have you indeed, sir?--Bless me! I never could have supposed it. But Ilive 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 cannotresolve upon them in a hurry. If Mr. And Mrs. Weston will be so obliging asto 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 everything over. There is no hurry at all. If it can be contrived to be at theCrown, papa, it will be very convenient for the horses. They will be so neartheir own stable. ""So they will, my dear. That is a great thing. Not that James evercomplains; but it is right to spare our horses when we can. If I could besure 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 beunder 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, somany years ago, when I had the measles? 'If Miss Taylor undertakes towrap Miss Emma up, you need not have any fears, sir. ' How often have Iheard you speak of it as such a compliment to her!""Aye, very true. Mr. Perry did say so. I shall never forget it. Poor littleEmma! You were very bad with the measles; that is, you would have beenvery bad, but for Perry's great attention. He came four times a day for aweek. He said, from the first, it was a very good sort--which was our greatcomfort; but the measles are a dreadful complaint. I hope whenever poorIsabella's little ones have the measles, she will send for Perry. ""My father and Mrs. Weston are at the Crown at this moment, " saidFrank Churchill, "examining the capabilities of the house. I left them thereand came on to Hartfield, impatient for your opinion, and hoping you mightbe persuaded to join them and give your advice on the spot. I was desiredto say so from both. It would be the greatest pleasure to them, if you couldallow me to attend you there. They can do nothing satisfactorily withoutyou. "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 setoff together without delay for the Crown. There were Mr. And Mrs. Weston;delighted to see her and receive her approbation, very busy and very happyin their different way; she, in some little distress; and he, finding everything perfect. "Emma, " said she, "this paper is worse than I expected. Look! in placesyou see it is dreadfully dirty; and the wainscot is more yellow and forlornthan any thing I could have imagined. ""My dear, you are too particular, " said her husband. "What does all thatsignify? You will see nothing of it by candlelight. It will be as clean asRandalls by candlelight. We never see any thing of it on our club-nights. "The ladies here probably

exchanged looks which meant, "Men neverknow when things are dirty or not;" and the gentlemen perhaps thoughteach to himself, "Women will have their little nonsenses and needlesscares. "One perplexity, however, arose, which the gentlemen did not disdain. Itregarded a supper-room. At the time of the ballroom's being built, suppershad not been in question; and a small card-room adjoining, was the onlyaddition. 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 fourselves, still was it not too small for any comfortable supper? Another roomof much better size might be secured for the purpose; but it was at theother end of the house, and a long awkward passage must be gone throughto get at it. This made a difficulty. Mrs. Weston was afraid of draughts forthe young people in that passage; and neither Emma nor the gentlemencould 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 wretchedsuggestion. A private dance, without sitting down to supper, waspronounced an infamous fraud upon the rights of men and women; andMrs. Weston must not speak of it again. She then took another line ofexpediency, 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 stepsthrough the passage, was calling out, "You talk a great deal of the length of this passage, my dear. It is amere nothing after all; and not the least draught from the stairs. ""I wish, " said Mrs. Weston, "one could know which arrangement ourguests in general would like best. To do what would be most generallypleasing 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 ofthem--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 Batesis not as likely to understand the inclinations of the rest of the people asany body. I think we do want a larger council. Suppose I go and invite MissBates to join us?""Well--if you please, " said Mrs. Weston rather hesitating, "if you thinkshe will be of any use. ""You will get nothing to the purpose from Miss Bates, " said Emma. "Shewill be all delight and gratitude, but she will tell you nothing. She will noteven 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 hearingMiss Bates talk. And I need not bring the whole family, you know. "Here Mr. Weston joined them, and on hearing what was proposed, gaveit his decided approbation. "Aye, do, Frank. --Go and fetch Miss Bates, and let us end the matter atonce. She will enjoy the scheme, I am sure; and I do not know a propererperson for shewing us how to do away difficulties. Fetch Miss Bates. Weare 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 greatblockhead, 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. " Andaway he ran. Long before he reappeared, attending the short, neat, brisk-movingaunt, and her elegant niece, --Mrs. Weston, like a sweet-tempered womanand a good wife, had examined the passage again, and found the evils of itmuch less than she had supposed before--indeed very trifling; and hereended the difficulties of decision. All the rest, in speculation at least, wasperfectly smooth. All the minor arrangements of table and chair, lights andmusic, tea and supper, made themselves; or were left as mere trifles to besettled at any time between Mrs. Weston and Mrs. Stokes. -- Every bodyinvited, was certainly to come; Frank had already written to Enscombe topropose staying a few days beyond his fortnight, which could not possiblybe refused. And a delightful dance it was to be. Most cordially, when Miss Bates arrived, did she agree that it must. Asa counsellor she was not wanted; but as an approver, (a much safercharacter, ) she was truly welcome. Her approbation, at once general andminute, warm and incessant, could not but please; and for another half-hour they were all walking to and fro, between the different rooms, somesuggesting, some attending, and all in happy enjoyment of the future. Theparty did not break up without Emma's being positively secured for the twofirst 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. Iknew he would!"CHAPTER XIIOne thing only was wanting to make the prospect of the ball completelysatisfactory to Emma--its being fixed for a day within the granted term ofFrank Churchill's stay in Surry; for, in spite of Mr. Weston's confidence, shecould not think it so very impossible that the Churchills might not allowtheir nephew to remain a day beyond his fortnight. But this was not judgedfeasible. The preparations must take their time, nothing could be properlyready till the third week were entered on, and for a few days they must beplanning, proceeding and hoping in uncertainty--at the risk--in heropinion, the great risk, of its being all in vain. Enscombe however was gracious, gracious in fact, if not in word. Hiswish of staying longer evidently did not please; but it was not opposed. Allwas safe and prosperous; and as the removal of one solicitude generallymakes way for another, Emma, being now certain of her ball, began toadopt as the next vexation Mr. Knightley's provoking indifference about it. Either because he did not dance himself, or because the plan had beenformed without his being consulted, he seemed resolved that it should notinterest him, determined against its exciting any present curiosity, oraffording him any future amusement. To her voluntary communicationsEmma could get no more approving reply, than, "Very well. If the Westons think it worth while to be at all this troublefor a few hours of noisy entertainment, I have nothing to say against it, butthat they shall not chuse pleasures for me. -- Oh! yes, I must be there; Icould not refuse; and I will keep as much awake as I can; but I wouldrather be at home, looking over William Larkins's week's account; muchrather, I confess. -- Pleasure in seeing dancing!--not I, indeed--I never lookat it-- I do not know who does. --Fine dancing, I believe, like virtue, mustbe its own reward. Those who are standing by are usually thinking ofsomething very different. "This Emma felt was aimed at her; and it made her quite angry. It wasnot in compliment to Jane Fairfax however that he was so indifferent, or soindignant; he was not guided by her feelings in reprobating the ball, for sheenjoyed the thought of it to an extraordinary degree. It made heranimated--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, withvery great pleasure. "It was not to oblige Jane Fairfax therefore that he would have preferredthe society of William Larkins. No!--she was more and more convinced thatMrs. Weston was quite mistaken in that surmise. There was a great deal offriendly and of compassionate attachment on his side--but no love. Alas! there was soon no leisure for quarrelling with Mr. Knightley. Twodays of joyful security were immediately followed by the over-throw ofevery thing. A letter arrived from Mr. Churchill to urge his nephew's instantreturn. Mrs. Churchill was unwell--far too unwell to do without him; shehad been in a very suffering state (so said her husband) when writing to hernephew 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 forEnscombe without delay. The substance of this letter was forwarded to Emma, in a note fromMrs. Weston, instantly. As to his going, it was inevitable. He must be gonewithin a few hours, though without feeling any real alarm for his aunt, tolessen his repugnance. He knew her illnesses; they never occurred but forher own convenience. Mrs. Weston added, "that he could only allow himself time to hurry toHighbury, after breakfast, and take leave of the few friends there whom hecould suppose to feel any interest in him; and that he might be expected atHartfield very soon. "This wretched note was the finale of Emma's breakfast. When once ithad been read, there was no doing any thing, but lament and exclaim. Theloss of the ball--the loss of the young man--and all that the young manmight be feeling!--It was too wretched!-- Such a delightful evening as itwould have been!--Every body so happy! and she and her partner thehappiest!--"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 theball, it was shocking to have dear Emma disappointed; but they would allbe safer at home. Emma was ready for her visitor some time before he appeared; but ifthis reflected at all upon his impatience, his sorrowful look and total wantof spirits when he did come might redeem him. He felt the going awayalmost too much to speak of it. His dejection was most evident. He satreally lost in thought for the first few minutes; and when rousing himself, itwas 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 visitto Randalls. ""Ah!--(shaking his head)--the uncertainty of when I may be able toreturn!--I shall try for it with a zeal!--It will be the object of all mythoughts and cares!--and if my uncle and aunt go to town this spring--butI am afraid--they did not stir last spring-- I am afraid it is a custom gonefor ever. ""Our poor ball must be quite given up. ""Ah! that ball!--why did we wait for any thing?--why not seize thepleasure 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 muchrather have been merry than wise. ""If I can come again, we are still to have our ball. My father depends onit. Do not forget your engagement. "Emma looked graciously. "Such a fortnight as it has been!" he continued; "every day moreprecious and more delightful than the day before!--every day making meless 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 willventure to ask, whether you did not come a little doubtfully at first? Do notwe rather surpass your expectations? I am sure we do. I am sure you didnot much expect to like us. You would not have been so long in coming, ifyou 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 Imust be off immediately. I am almost afraid that every moment will bringhim. ""Not five minutes to spare even for your friends Miss Fairfax and MissBates? How unlucky! Miss Bates's powerful, argumentative mind mighthave strengthened yours. ""Yes--I have called there; passing the door, I thought it better. It was aright thing to do. I went in for three minutes, and was detained by MissBates's being absent. She was out; and I felt it impossible not to wait tillshe came in. She is a woman that one may, that one must laugh at; but thatone 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 hardlybe quite without suspicion"--He looked at her, as if wanting to read her thoughts. She hardly knewwhat to say. It seemed like the forerunner of something absolutely serious, which she did not wish. Forcing herself to speak, therefore, in the hope ofputting 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 reflectingon what she had said, and trying to understand the manner. She heard himsigh. It was natural for him to feel that he had cause to sigh. He could notbelieve her to be encouraging him. A few awkward moments passed, and hesat down again; and in a more determined manner said, "It was something to feel that all the rest of my time might be given toHartfield. My regard for Hartfield is most warm"--He stopt again, rose again, and seemed quite embarrassed. -- He wasmore in love with her than Emma had supposed; and who can say how itmight have ended, if his father had not made his appearance? Mr. Woodhouse soon followed; and the necessity of exertion made himcomposed. A very few minutes more, however, completed the present trial. Mr. Weston, always alert when business was to be done, and as incapable ofprocrastinating any evil that was inevitable, as of foreseeing any that wasdoubtful, said, "It was time to go;" and the young man, though he mightand did sigh, could not but agree, to take leave. "I shall hear about you all, " said he; "that is my chief consolation. I shallhear 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 theabsent!--she will tell me every thing. In her letters I shall be at dearHighbury again. "A very friendly shake of the hand, a very earnest "Good-bye, " closed thespeech, and the door had soon shut out Frank Churchill. Short had been thenotice--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 tobegin 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 hisarrival. Certainly his being at Randalls had given great spirit to the last twoweeks--indescribable spirit; the idea, the expectation of seeing him whichevery morning had brought, the assurance of his attentions, his liveliness, his manners! It had been a very happy fortnight, and forlorn must be thesinking from it into the common course of Hartfield days. To completeevery other recommendation, he had almost told her that he loved her. What strength, or what constancy of affection he might be subject to, wasanother point; but at present she could not doubt his having a decidedlywarm 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 withhim, 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 ofevery thing's being dull and insipid about the house!-- I must be in love; Ishould be the oddest creature in the world if I were not--for a few weeks atleast. 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 behappy. He may spend the evening with his dear William Larkins now if helikes. "Mr. Knightley, however, shewed no triumphant happiness. He couldnot say that he was sorry on his own account; his very cheerful look wouldhave contradicted him if he had; but he said, and very steadily, that he wassorry for the disappointment of the others, and with considerable kindnessadded, "You, Emma, who have so few opportunities of dancing, you are reallyout of luck; you are very much out of luck!"It was some days before she saw Jane Fairfax, to judge of her honestregret in this woeful change; but when they did meet, her composure wasodious. She had been particularly unwell, however, suffering from headacheto a degree, which made her aunt declare, that had the ball taken place, shedid not think Jane could have attended it; and it was charity to imputesome of her unbecoming indifference to the languor of ill-health. CHAPTER XIIIEmma continued to entertain no doubt of her being in love. Her ideasonly 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 Churchilltalked of; and, for his sake, greater pleasure than ever in seeing Mr. AndMrs. Weston; she was very often thinking of him, and quite impatient for aletter, that she might know how he was, how were his spirits, how was hisaunt, 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; shewas still busy and cheerful; and, pleasing as he was, she could yet imaginehim to have faults; and farther, though thinking of him so much, and, asshe sat drawing or working, forming a thousand amusing schemes for theprogress and close of their attachment, fancying interesting dialogues, andinventing elegant letters; the conclusion of every imaginary declaration onhis side was that she refused him. Their affection was always to subsideinto 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 herthat she could not be very much in love; for in spite of her previous andfixed determination never to quit her father, never to marry, a strongattachment certainly must produce more of a struggle than she couldforesee 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 anyallusion to making a sacrifice. I do suspect that he is not really necessary tomy happiness. So much the better. I certainly will not persuade myself tofeel more than I do. I am quite enough in love. I should be sorry to bemore. "Upon the whole, she was equally contented with her view of hisfeelings. "He is undoubtedly very much in love--every thing denotes it--verymuch in love indeed!--and when he comes again, if his affection continue, Imust be on my guard not to encourage it. --It would be most inexcusable todo otherwise, as my own mind is quite made up. Not that I imagine he canthink I have been encouraging him hitherto. No, if he had believed me at allto share his feelings, he would not have been so wretched. Could he havethought himself encouraged, his looks and language at parting would havebeen different. -- Still, however, I must be on my guard. This is in thesupposition of his attachment continuing what it now is; but I do not knowthat I expect it will; I do not look upon him to be quite the sort of man-- Ido not altogether build upon his steadiness or constancy. -- His feelings arewarm, but I can imagine them rather changeable. -- Every consideration ofthe subject, in short, makes me thankful that my happiness is not moredeeply involved. --I shall do very well again after a little while--and then, itwill be a good thing over; for they say every body is in love once in theirlives, 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 atfirst shake her head over her own sensations, and think she hadundervalued their strength. It was a long, well-written letter, giving theparticulars of his journey and of his feelings, expressing all the affection, gratitude, and respect which was natural and honourable, and describingevery thing exterior and local that could be supposed attractive, with spiritand precision. No suspicious flourishes now of apology or concern; it wasthe language of real feeling towards Mrs. Weston; and the transition fromHighbury to Enscombe, the contrast between the places in some of the firstblessings of social life was just enough touched on to shew how keenly itwas felt, and how much more might have been said but for the restraints ofpropriety. --The charm of her own name was not wanting. Miss Woodhouseappeared more than once, and never without a something of pleasingconnexion, either a compliment to her taste, or a remembrance of what shehad said; and in the very last time of its meeting her eye, unadorned as itwas by any such broad wreath of gallantry, she yet could discern the effectof her influence and acknowledge the greatest compliment perhaps of allconveyed. Compressed into the very lowest vacant corner were thesewords--"I had not a spare moment on Tuesday, as you know, for MissWoodhouse's beautiful little friend. Pray make my excuses and adieus toher. " This, Emma could not doubt, was all for herself. Harriet wasremembered only from being her friend. His information and prospects asto Enscombe were neither worse nor better than had been anticipated; Mrs. Churchill was recovering, and he dared not yet, even in his ownimagination, fix a time for coming to Randalls again. Gratifying, however, and stimulative as was the letter in the materialpart, its sentiments, she yet found, when it was folded up and returned toMrs. Weston, that it had not added any lasting warmth, that she could stilldo without the writer, and that he must learn to do without her. Herintentions were unchanged. Her resolution of refusal only grew moreinteresting by the addition of a scheme for his subsequent consolation andhappiness. His recollection of Harriet, and the words which clothed it, the"beautiful little friend, " suggested to her the idea of Harriet's succeeding herin his affections. Was it impossible?--No. --Harriet undoubtedly was greatlyhis inferior in understanding; but he had been very much struck with theloveliness of her face and the warm simplicity of her manner; and all theprobabilities of circumstance and connexion were in her favour. --ForHarriet, it would be advantageous and delightful indeed. "I must not dwell upon it, " said she. --"I must not think of it. I know thedanger 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 themeans of confirming us in that sort of true disinterested friendship which Ican already look forward to with pleasure. "It was well to have a comfort in store on Harriet's behalf, though itmight be wise to let the fancy touch it seldom; for evil in that quarter wasat hand. As Frank Churchill's arrival had succeeded Mr. Elton's engagementin the conversation of Highbury, as the latest interest had entirely bornedown the first, so now upon Frank Churchill's disappearance, Mr. Elton'sconcerns were assuming the most irresistible form. --His wedding-day wasnamed. 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 Churchillwas forgotten. Emma grew sick at the sound. She had had three weeks ofhappy exemption from Mr. Elton; and Harriet's mind, she had been willingto hope, had been lately gaining strength. With Mr. Weston's ball in view atleast, there had been a great deal of insensibility to other things; but it wasnow too evident that she had not attained such a state of composure ascould stand against the actual approach--new carriage, bell-ringing, and all. Poor Harriet was in a flutter of spirits which required all the reasoningsand soothings and attentions of every kind that Emma could give. Emmafelt that she could not do too much for her, that Harriet had a right to allher ingenuity and all her patience; but it was heavy work to be for everconvincing without producing any effect, for ever agreed to, without beingable to make their opinions the same. Harriet listened submissively, andsaid "it was very true--it was just as Miss Woodhouse described--it wasnot worth while to think about them--and she would not think about themany longer" but no change of subject could avail, and the next half-hour sawher as anxious and restless about the Eltons as before. At last Emmaattacked 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. Youcould not give me a greater reproof for the mistake I fell into. It was all mydoing, I know. I have not forgotten it, I assure you. --Deceived myself, I didvery miserably deceive you--and it will be a painful reflection to me forever. Do not imagine me in danger of forgetting it. "Harriet felt this too much to utter more than a few words of eagerexclamation. Emma continued, "I have not said, exert yourself Harriet for my sake; think less, talk lessof Mr. Elton for my sake; because for your own sake rather, I would wish itto be done, for the sake of what is more important than my comfort, a habitof self-command in you, a consideration of what is your duty, an attentionto propriety, an endeavour to avoid the suspicions of others, to save yourhealth and credit, and restore your tranquillity. These are the motiveswhich I have been pressing on you. They are very important--and sorry Iam that you cannot feel them sufficiently to act upon them. My being savedfrom pain is a very secondary consideration. I want you to save yourselffrom greater pain. Perhaps I may sometimes have felt that Harriet wouldnot 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 ofwanting gratitude and consideration for Miss Woodhouse, whom she reallyloved extremely, made her wretched for a while, and when the violence ofgrief was comforted away, still remained powerful enough to prompt towhat was right and support her in it very tolerably. "You, who have been the best friend I ever had in my life-- Wantgratitude to you!--Nobody is equal to you!--I care for nobody as I do foryou!--Oh! Miss Woodhouse, how ungrateful I have been!"Such expressions, assisted as they were by every thing that look andmanner 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 toherself. "There is nothing to be compared to it. Warmth and tenderness ofheart, with an affectionate, open manner, will beat all the clearness of headin the world, for attraction, I am sure it will. It is tenderness of heart whichmakes my dear father so generally beloved--which gives Isabella all herpopularity. -- 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. DearHarriet!--I would not change you for the clearest-headed, longest-sighted, best-judging female breathing. Oh! the coldness of a Jane Fairfax!--Harrietis worth a hundred such--And for a wife--a sensible man's wife--it isinvaluable. I mention no names; but happy the man who changes Emma forHarriet!"CHAPTER XIVMrs. Elton was first seen at church: but though devotion might beinterrupted, curiosity could not be satisfied by a bride in a pew, and it mustbe left for the visits in form which were then to be paid, to settle whethershe 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 makeher resolve on not being the last to pay her respects; and she made a pointof Harriet's going with her, that the worst of the business might be gonethrough as soon as possible. She could not enter the house again, could not be in the same room towhich she had with such vain artifice retreated three months ago, to lace upher boot, without recollecting. A thousand vexatious thoughts would recur. Compliments, charades, and horrible blunders; and it was not to besupposed that poor Harriet should not be recollecting too; but she behavedvery well, and was only rather pale and silent. The visit was of courseshort; and there was so much embarrassment and occupation of mind toshorten it, that Emma would not allow herself entirely to form an opinionof the lady, and on no account to give one, beyond the nothing-meaningterms 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 wastoo much ease. Her person was rather good; her face not unpretty; butneither feature, nor air, nor voice, nor manner, were elegant. Emma thoughtat least it would turn out so. As for Mr. Elton, his manners did not appear--but no, she would notpermit a hasty or a witty word from herself about his manners. It was anawkward ceremony at any time to be receiving wedding visits, and a manhad need be all grace to acquit himself well through it. The woman wasbetter off; she might have the assistance of fine clothes, and the privilege ofbashfulness, but the man had only his own good sense to depend on; andwhen she considered how peculiarly unlucky poor Mr. Elton was in being inthe same room at once with the woman he had just married, the woman hehad wanted to marry, and the woman whom he had been expected tomarry, she must allow him to have the right to look as little wise, and to beas much affectedly, and as little really easy as could be. "Well, Miss Woodhouse, " said Harriet, when they had quitted thehouse, and after waiting in vain for her friend to begin; "Well, MissWoodhouse, (with a gentle sigh, ) what do you think of her?-- Is not shevery 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; andshe came in his way. ""I dare say, " returned Harriet, sighing again, "I dare say she was verymuch attached to him. ""Perhaps she might; but it is not every man's fate to marry the womanwho loves him best. Miss Hawkins perhaps wanted a home, and thoughtthis the best offer she was likely to have. ""Yes, " said Harriet earnestly, "and well she might, nobody could everhave a better. Well, I wish them happy with all my heart. And now, MissWoodhouse, I do not think I shall mind seeing them again. He is just assuperior 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 admirehim now without any great misery. To know that he has not thrown himselfaway, is such a comfort!-- She does seem a charming young woman, justwhat he deserves. Happy creature! He called her 'Augusta. ' How delightful!"When the visit was returned, Emma made up her mind. She could thensee 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 anhour of the lady's conversation to herself, and could composedly attend toher; and the quarter of an hour quite convinced her that Mrs. Elton was avain woman, extremely well satisfied with herself, and thinking much of herown importance; that she meant to shine and be very superior, but withmanners which had been formed in a bad school, pert and familiar; that allher notions were drawn from one set of people, and one style of living; thatif 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, itmight be fairly supposed from her easy conceit, had been the best of herown 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 brotherMr. Suckling's seat;"--a comparison of Hartfield to Maple Grove. Thegrounds of Hartfield were small, but neat and pretty; and the house wasmodern and well-built. Mrs. Elton seemed most favourably impressed bythe 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 MapleGrove; her sister's favourite room. "-- Mr. Elton was appealed to. --"Was notit astonishingly like?-- She could really almost fancy herself at MapleGrove. ""And the staircase--You know, as I came in, I observed how very likethe staircase was; placed exactly in the same part of the house. I reallycould not help exclaiming! I assure you, Miss Woodhouse, it is verydelightful to me, to be reminded of a place I am so extremely partial to asMaple Grove. I have spent so many happy months there! (with a little sighof sentiment). A charming place, undoubtedly. Every body who sees it isstruck by its beauty; but to me, it has been quite a home. Whenever you aretransplanted, like me, Miss Woodhouse, you will understand how verydelightful it is to meet with any thing at all like what one has left behind. Ialways say this is quite one of the evils of matrimony. "Emma made as slight a reply as she could; but it was fully sufficient forMrs. Elton, who only wanted to be talking herself. "So extremely like Maple Grove! And it is not merely the house--thegrounds, I assure you, as far as I could observe, are strikingly like. Thelaurels at Maple Grove are in the same profusion as here, and stand verymuch in the same way--just across the lawn; and I had a glimpse of a finelarge tree, with a bench round it, which put me so exactly in mind! Mybrother and sister will be enchanted with this place. People who haveextensive grounds themselves are always pleased with any thing in the samestyle. "Emma doubted the truth of this sentiment. She had a great idea thatpeople who had extensive grounds themselves cared very little for theextensive grounds of any body else; but it was not worth while to attack anerror so double-dyed, and therefore only said in reply, "When you have seen more of this country, I am afraid you will thinkyou have overrated Hartfield. Surry is full of beauties. ""Oh! yes, I am quite aware of that. It is the garden of England, youknow. Surry is the garden of England. ""Yes; but we must not rest our claims on that distinction. Manycounties, I believe, are called the garden of England, as well as Surry. ""No, I fancy not, " replied Mrs. Elton, with a most satisfied smile. " Inever heard any county but Surry called so. "Emma was silenced. "My brother and sister have promised us a visit in the spring, orsummer at farthest, " continued Mrs. Elton; "and that will be our time forexploring. 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 ableto explore the different beauties extremely well. They would hardly come intheir chaise, I think, at that season of the year. Indeed, when the timedraws on, I shall decidedly recommend their bringing the barouche-landau;it will be so very much preferable. When people come into a beautifulcountry of this sort, you know, Miss Woodhouse, one naturally wishes themto 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, mostdelightfully, just after their first having the barouche-landau. You havemany parties of that kind here, I suppose, Miss Woodhouse, everysummer?""No; not immediately here. We are rather out of distance of the verystriking beauties which attract the sort of parties you speak of; and we area very quiet set of people, I believe; more disposed to stay at home thanengage in schemes of pleasure. ""Ah! there is nothing like staying at home for real comfort. Nobody canbe more devoted to home than I am. I was quite a proverb for it at MapleGrove. Many a time has Selina said, when she has been going to Bristol, 'Ireally cannot get this girl to move from the house. I absolutely must go inby myself, though I hate being stuck up in the barouche-landau without acompanion; but Augusta, I believe, with her own good-will, would neverstir beyond the park paling. ' Many a time has she said so; and yet I am noadvocate for entire seclusion. I think, on the contrary, when people shutthemselves up entirely from society, it is a very bad thing; and that it ismuch more advisable to mix in the world in a proper degree, without livingin it either too much or too little. I perfectly understand your situation, however, Miss Woodhouse--(looking towards Mr. Woodhouse), Yourfather's state of health must be a great drawback. Why does not he tryBath?--Indeed he should. Let me recommend Bath to you. I assure you Ihave no doubt of its doing Mr. Woodhouse good. ""My father tried it more than once, formerly; but without receiving anybenefit; 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 thewaters do agree, it is quite wonderful the relief they give. In my Bath life, Ihave seen such instances of it! And it is so cheerful a place, that it couldnot fail of being of use to Mr. Woodhouse's spirits, which, I understand, aresometimes much depressed. And as to its recommendations to you, I fancy Ineed not take much pains to dwell on them. The advantages of Bath to theyoung are pretty generally understood. It would be a charming introductionfor you, who have lived so secluded a life; and I could immediately secureyou some of the best society in the place. A line from me would bring you alittle host of acquaintance; and my particular friend, Mrs. Partridge, thelady I have always resided with when in Bath, would be most happy toshew you any attentions, and would be the very person for you to go intopublic with. "It was as much as Emma could bear, without being impolite. The ideaof her being indebted to Mrs. Elton for what was called an introduction--ofher 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, justmade a shift to live!-- The dignity of Miss Woodhouse, of Hartfield, wassunk indeed!She restrained herself, however, from any of the reproofs she couldhave given, and only thanked Mrs. Elton coolly; "but their going to Bathwas quite out of the question; and she was not perfectly convinced that theplace might suit her better than her father. " And then, to prevent fartheroutrage and indignation, changed the subject directly. "I do not ask whether you are musical, Mrs. Elton. Upon theseoccasions, a lady's character generally precedes her; and Highbury has longknown that you are a superior performer. ""Oh! no, indeed; I must protest against any such idea. A superiorperformer!--very far from it, I assure you. Consider from how partial aquarter your information came. I am doatingly fond of music--passionatelyfond;--and my friends say I am not entirely devoid of taste; but as to anything else, upon my honour my performance is mediocre to the last degree. You, Miss Woodhouse, I well know, play delightfully. I assure you it hasbeen the greatest satisfaction, comfort, and delight to me, to hear what amusical society I am got into. I absolutely cannot do without music. It is anecessary of life to me; and having always been used to a very musicalsociety, both at Maple Grove and in Bath, it would have been a mostserious sacrifice. I honestly said as much to Mr. E. When he was speakingof my future home, and expressing his fears lest the retirement of it shouldbe disagreeable; and the inferiority of the house too--knowing what I hadbeen 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 Icould give up--parties, balls, plays--for I had no fear of retirement. Blessedwith so many resources within myself, the world was not

necessary to me. Icould do very well without it. To those who had no resources it was adifferent thing; but my resources made me quite independent. And as tosmaller-sized rooms than I had been used to, I really could not give it athought. 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 didassure him that two carriages were not necessary to my happiness, norwere spacious apartments. 'But, ' said I, 'to be quite honest, I do not think Ican live without something of a musical society. I condition for nothingelse; but without music, life would be a blank to me. '""We cannot suppose, " said Emma, smiling, "that Mr. Elton wouldhesitate 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 bepardoned, in consideration of the motive. ""No, indeed, I have no doubts at all on that head. I am delighted to findmyself in such a circle. I hope we shall have many sweet little concertstogether. 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 agood plan? If we exert ourselves, I think we shall not be long in want ofallies. Something of that nature would be particularly desirable for me, asan 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 upmusic. ""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 myacquaintance, I tremble. Selina has entirely given up music--never touchesthe instrument--though she played sweetly. And the same may be said ofMrs. Jeffereys--Clara Partridge, that was--and of the two Milmans, nowMrs. Bird and Mrs. James Cooper; and of more than I can enumerate. Uponmy word it is enough to put one in a fright. I used to be quite angry withSelina; but really I begin now to comprehend that a married woman hasmany things to call her attention. I believe I was half an hour this morningshut up with my housekeeper. ""But every thing of that kind, " said Emma, "will soon be in so regular atrain--""Well, " said Mrs. Elton, laughing, "we shall see. "Emma, finding her so determined upon neglecting her music, hadnothing more to say; and, after a moment's pause, Mrs. Elton chose anothersubject. "We have been calling at Randalls, " said she, "and found them both athome; and very pleasant people they seem to be. I like them extremely. Mr. Weston seems an excellent creature--quite a first-rate favourite with mealready, I assure you. And she appears so truly good--there is something somotherly and kind-hearted about her, that it wins upon one directly. Shewas your governess, I think?"Emma was almost too much astonished to answer; but Mrs. Eltonhardly waited for the affirmative before she went on. "Having understood as much, I was rather astonished to find her sovery 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 safestmodel 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 itlucky?--for, not being within when he called the other day, I had neverseen him before; and of course, as so particular a friend of Mr. E. 's, I had agreat curiosity. 'My friend Knightley' had been so often mentioned, that Iwas really impatient to see him; and I must do my caro sposo the justice tosay that he need not be ashamed of his friend. Knightley is quite thegentleman. I like him very much. Decidedly, I think, a very gentleman-likeman. "Happily, it was now time to be gone. They were off; and Emma couldbreathe. "Insufferable woman!" was her immediate exclamation. "Worse than Ihad supposed. Absolutely insufferable! Knightley!--I could not havebelieved it. Knightley!--never seen him in her life before, and call himKnightley!--and discover that he is a gentleman! A little upstart, vulgarbeing, with her Mr. E. , and her caro sposo, and her resources, and all herairs 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 proposethat she and I should unite to form a musical club! One would fancy wewere bosom friends! And Mrs. Weston!-- Astonished that the person whohad brought me up should be a gentlewoman! Worse and worse. I nevermet with her equal. Much beyond my hopes. Harriet is disgraced by anycomparison. 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 himdirectly. 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 fatherhad arranged himself, after the bustle of the Eltons' departure, and wasready to speak, she was very tolerably capable of attending. "Well, my dear, " he deliberately began, "considering we never saw herbefore, she seems a very pretty sort of young lady; and I dare say she wasvery much pleased with you. She speaks a little too quick. A little quicknessof voice there is which rather hurts the ear. But I believe I am nice; I do notlike strange voices; and nobody speaks like you and poor Miss Taylor. However, she seems a very obliging, pretty-behaved young lady, and nodoubt will make him a very good wife. Though I think he had better nothave married. I made the best excuses I could for not having been able towait on him and Mrs. Elton on this happy occasion; I said that I hoped Ishould in the course of the summer. But I ought to have gone before. Not towait upon a bride is very remiss. Ah! it shews what a sad invalid I am! ButI 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 toher if possible. It was being very deficient. ""But, my dear papa, you are no friend to matrimony; and therefore whyshould you be so anxious to pay your respects to a bride? It ought to be norecommendation to you. It is encouraging people to marry if you make somuch of them. ""No, my dear, I never encouraged any body to marry, but I wouldalways 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 whothey may. ""Well, papa, if this is not encouragement to marry, I do not know whatis. And I should never have expected you to be lending your sanction tosuch vanity-baits for poor young ladies. ""My dear, you do not understand me. This is a matter of mere commonpoliteness and good-breeding, and has nothing to do with anyencouragement to people to marry. "Emma had done. Her father was growing nervous, and could notunderstand her. Her mind returned to Mrs. Elton's offences, and long, verylong, did they occupy her. CHAPTER XVEmma was not required, by any subsequent discovery, to retract her illopinion of Mrs. Elton. Her observation had been pretty correct. Such asMrs. Elton appeared to her on this second interview, such she appearedwhenever they met again, --self-important, presuming, familiar, ignorant, and ill-bred. She had a little beauty and a little accomplishment, but solittle judgment that she thought herself coming with superior knowledge ofthe world, to enliven and improve a country neighbourhood; and conceivedMiss Hawkins to have held such a place in society as Mrs. Elton'sconsequence only could surpass. There was no reason to suppose Mr. Elton thought at all differentlyfrom his wife. He seemed not merely happy with her, but proud. He hadthe air of congratulating himself on having brought such a woman toHighbury, as not even Miss Woodhouse could equal; and the greater part ofher 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 thebride must be as clever and as agreeable as she professed herself, were verywell satisfied; so that Mrs. Elton's praise passed from one mouth to anotheras it ought to do, unimpeded by Miss Woodhouse, who readily continuedher first contribution and talked with a good grace of her being "verypleasant and very elegantly dressed. "In one respect Mrs. Elton grew even worse than she had appeared atfirst. Her feelings altered towards Emma. --Offended, probably, by the littleencouragement which her proposals of intimacy met with, she drew back inher turn and gradually became much more cold and distant; and though theeffect was agreeable, the ill-will which produced it was necessarilyincreasing Emma's dislike. Her manners, too--and Mr. Elton's, wereunpleasant towards Harriet. They were sneering and negligent. Emmahoped it must rapidly work Harriet's cure; but the sensations which couldprompt such behaviour sunk them both very much. --It was not to bedoubted that poor Harriet's attachment had been an offering to conjugalunreserve, and her own share in the story, under a colouring the leastfavourable to her and the most soothing to him, had in all likelihood beengiven also. She was, of course, the object of their joint dislike. -- When theyhad nothing else to say, it must be always easy to begin abusing MissWoodhouse; and the enmity which they dared not shew in open disrespectto her, found a broader vent in contemptuous treatment of Harriet. Mrs. Elton took a great fancy to Jane Fairfax; and from the first. Notmerely when a state of warfare with one young lady might be supposed torecommend the other, but from the very first; and she was not satisfiedwith expressing a natural and reasonable admiration--but withoutsolicitation, or plea, or privilege, she must be wanting to assist and befriendher. --Before Emma had forfeited her confidence, and about the third timeof their meeting, she heard all Mrs. Elton's knight-errantry on the subject. --"Jane Fairfax is absolutely charming, Miss Woodhouse. --I quite raveabout Jane Fairfax. --A sweet, interesting creature. So mild and ladylike--and with such talents!--I assure you I think she has very extraordinarytalents. I do not scruple to say that she plays extremely well. I knowenough of music to speak decidedly on that point. Oh! she is absolutelycharming! You will laugh at my warmth--but, upon my word, I talk ofnothing but Jane Fairfax. -- And her situation is so calculated to affectone!--Miss Woodhouse, we must exert ourselves and endeavour to dosomething for her. We must bring her forward. Such talent as hers must notbe suffered to remain unknown. --I dare say you have heard those charminglines 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 andunderstand what her home has been, with Colonel and Mrs. Campbell, Ihave no idea that you will suppose her talents can be unknown. ""Oh! but dear Miss Woodhouse, she is now in such retirement, suchobscurity, so thrown away. --Whatever advantages she may have enjoyedwith the Campbells are so palpably at an end! And I think she feels it. I amsure she does. She is very timid and silent. One can see that she feels thewant of encouragement. I like her the better for it. I must confess it is arecommendation to me. I am a great advocate for timidity--and I am sureone does not often meet with it. --But in those who are at all inferior, it isextremely prepossessing. Oh! I assure you, Jane Fairfax is a very delightfulcharacter, and interests me more than I can express. ""You appear to feel a great deal--but I am not aware how you or any ofMiss Fairfax's acquaintance here, any of those who have known her longerthan yourself, can shew her any other attention than"--"My dear Miss Woodhouse, a vast deal may be done by those who dareto act. You and I need not be afraid. If we set the example, many willfollow it as far as they can; though all have not our situations. We havecarriages to fetch and convey her home, and we live in a style which couldnot 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 adinner, as could make me regret having asked more than Jane Fairfax topartake of it. I have no idea of that sort of thing. It is not likely that Ishould, considering what I have been used to. My greatest danger, perhaps, in housekeeping, may be quite the other way, in doing too much, and beingtoo careless of expense. Maple Grove will probably be my model more thanit 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 JaneFairfax. -- I shall certainly have her very often at my house, shall introduceher wherever I can, shall have musical parties to draw out her talents, andshall be constantly on the watch for an eligible situation. My acquaintanceis so very extensive, that I have little doubt of hearing of something to suither shortly. --I shall introduce her, of course, very particularly to mybrother and sister when they come to us. I am sure they will like herextremely; and when she gets a little acquainted with them, her fears willcompletely wear off, for there really is nothing in the manners of either butwhat is highly conciliating. --I shall have her very often indeed while theyare with me, and I dare say we shall sometimes find a seat for her in thebarouche-landau in some of our exploring parties. ""Poor Jane Fairfax!"--thought Emma. --"You have not deserved this. Youmay have done wrong with regard to Mr. Dixon, but this is a punishmentbeyond what you can have merited!--The kindness and protection of Mrs. Elton!--'Jane Fairfax and Jane Fairfax. ' Heavens! Let me not suppose thatshe 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 exclusivelyaddressed to herself--so disgustingly decorated with a "dear MissWoodhouse. " The change on Mrs. Elton's side soon afterwards appeared, and she was left in peace--neither forced to be the very particular friend ofMrs. Elton, nor, under Mrs. Elton's guidance, the very active patroness ofJane Fairfax, and only sharing with others in a general way, in knowingwhat 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 andwarmth. She was quite one of her worthies--the most amiable, affable, delightful woman--just as accomplished and condescending as Mrs. Eltonmeant to be considered. Emma's only surprize was that Jane Fairfax shouldaccept those attentions and tolerate Mrs. Elton as she seemed to do. Sheheard of her walking with the Eltons, sitting with the Eltons, spending aday with the Eltons! This was astonishing!--She could not have believed itpossible that the taste or the pride of Miss Fairfax could endure suchsociety and friendship as the Vicarage had to offer. "She is a riddle, quite a riddle!" said she. --"To chuse to remain heremonth after month, under privations of every sort! And now to chuse themortification of Mrs. Elton's notice and the penury of her conversation, rather than return to the superior companions who have always loved herwith such real, generous affection. "Jane had come to Highbury professedly for three months; the Campbellswere gone to Ireland for three months; but now the Campbells hadpromised their daughter to stay at least till Midsummer, and freshinvitations had arrived for her to join them there. According to MissBates--it all came from her--Mrs. Dixon had written most pressingly. Would Jane but go, means were to be found, servants sent, friendscontrived--no travelling difficulty allowed to exist; but still she haddeclined it!"She must have some motive, more powerful than appears, for refusingthis invitation, " was Emma's conclusion. "She must be under some sort ofpenance, inflicted either by the Campbells or herself. There is great fear, great caution, great resolution somewhere. -- She is not to be with theDixons. The decree is issued by somebody. But why must she consent to bewith the Eltons?--Here is quite a separate puzzle. "Upon her speaking her wonder aloud on that part of the subject, beforethe few who knew her opinion of Mrs. Elton, Mrs. Weston ventured thisapology 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 agood creature, but, as a constant companion, must be very tiresome. Wemust consider what Miss Fairfax quits, before we condemn her taste forwhat she goes to. ""You are right, Mrs. Weston, " said Mr. Knightley warmly, "Miss Fairfaxis as capable as any of us of forming a just opinion of Mrs. Elton. Could shehave 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; andshe was herself struck by his warmth. With a faint blush, she presentlyreplied, "Such attentions as Mrs. Elton's, I should have imagined, would ratherdisgust than gratify Miss Fairfax. Mrs. Elton's invitations I should haveimagined any thing but inviting. ""I should not wonder, " said Mrs. Weston, "if Miss Fairfax were to havebeen drawn on beyond her own inclination, by her aunt's eagerness inaccepting Mrs. Elton's civilities for her. Poor Miss Bates may very likelyhave committed her niece and hurried her into a greater appearance ofintimacy than her own good sense would have dictated, in spite of the verynatural wish of a little change. "Both felt rather anxious to hear him speak again; and after a fewminutes silence, he said, "Another thing must be taken into consideration too--Mrs. Elton doesnot talk to Miss Fairfax as she speaks of her. We all know the differencebetween the pronouns he or she and thou, the plainest spoken amongst us;we all feel the influence of a something beyond common civility in ourpersonal intercourse with each other--a something more early implanted. We cannot give any body the disagreeable hints that we may have been veryfull of the hour before. We feel things differently. And besides the operationof 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 awoman as Jane Fairfax probably never fell in Mrs. Elton's way before--andno degree of vanity can prevent her acknowledging her own comparativelittleness in action, if not in consciousness. ""I know how highly you think of Jane Fairfax, " said Emma. Little Henrywas in her thoughts, and a mixture of alarm and delicacy made herirresolute 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, butsoon stopping--it was better, however, to know the worst at once--shehurried on--"And yet, perhaps, you may hardly be aware yourself howhighly it is. The extent of your admiration may take you by surprize someday or other. "Mr. Knightley was hard at work upon the lower buttons of his thickleather gaiters, and either the exertion of getting them together, or someother cause, brought the colour into his face, as he answered, "Oh! are you there?--But you are miserably behindhand. Mr. Cole gaveme a hint of it six weeks ago. "He stopped. --Emma felt her foot pressed by Mrs. Weston, and did notherself 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 neverask her. "Emma returned her friend's pressure with interest; and was pleasedenough 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 mannerwhich 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 justnow, meant nothing. One says those sort of things, of course, without anyidea of a serious meaning. Oh! no, upon my word I have not the smallestwish for your marrying Jane Fairfax or Jane any body. You would not comein 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 meby surprize. --I never had a thought of her in that way, I assure you. " Andsoon afterwards, "Jane Fairfax is a very charming young woman--but noteven Jane Fairfax is perfect. She has a fault. She has not the open temperwhich a man would wish for in a wife. "Emma could not but rejoice to hear that she had a fault. "Well, " saidshe, "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 orwittier than his neighbours. ""In that respect how unlike dear Mrs. Elton, who wants to be wiser andwittier than all the world! I wonder how she speaks of the Coles--what shecalls them! How can she find any appellation for them, deep enough infamiliar 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 andconsents to be with her. Mrs. Weston, your argument weighs most with me. I can much more readily enter into the temptation of getting away fromMiss Bates, than I can believe in the triumph of Miss Fairfax's mind overMrs. Elton. I have no faith in Mrs. Elton's acknowledging herself theinferior in thought, word, or deed; or in her being under any restraintbeyond her own scanty rule of good-breeding. I cannot imagine that she willnot be continually insulting her visitor with praise, encouragement, andoffers of service; that she will not be continually detailing her magnificentintentions, from the procuring her a permanent situation to the includingher in those delightful exploring parties which are to take place in thebarouche-landau. ""Jane Fairfax has feeling, " said Mr. Knightley--"I do not accuse her ofwant of feeling. Her sensibilities, I suspect, are strong--and her temperexcellent in its power of forbearance, patience, self-control; but it wantsopenness. She is reserved, more reserved, I think, than she used to be--And I love an open temper. No--till Cole alluded to my supposedattachment, it had never entered my head. I saw Jane Fairfax and conversedwith her, with admiration and pleasure always--but with no thoughtbeyond. ""Well, Mrs. Weston, " said Emma triumphantly when he left them, "whatdo you say now to Mr. Knightley's marrying Jane Fairfax?""Why, really, dear Emma, I say that he is so very much occupied by theidea of not being in love with her, that I should not wonder if it were to endin his being so at last. Do not beat me. "CHAPTER XVIEvery body in and about Highbury who had ever visited Mr. Elton, wasdisposed to pay him attention on his marriage. Dinner-parties and evening-parties were made for him and his lady; and invitations flowed in so fastthat she had soon the pleasure of apprehending they were never to have adisengaged 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 thefashion. If this is living in the country, it is nothing very formidable. FromMonday next to Saturday, I assure you we have not a disengaged day!--Awoman with fewer resources than I have, need not have been at a loss. "No invitation came amiss to her. Her Bath habits made evening-partiesperfectly 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 poorattempt 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 everything ought to be arranged. In the course of the spring she must return theircivilities by one very superior party--in which her card-tables should be setout with their separate candles and unbroken packs in the true style--andmore waiters engaged for the evening than their own establishment couldfurnish, to carry round the refreshments at exactly the proper hour, and inthe proper order. Emma, in the meanwhile, could not be satisfied without a dinner atHartfield for the Eltons. They must not do less than others, or she shouldbe exposed to odious suspicions, and imagined capable of pitifulresentment. A dinner there must be. After Emma had talked about it for tenminutes, Mr. Woodhouse felt no unwillingness, and only made the usualstipulation of not sitting at the bottom of the table himself, with the usualregular difficulty of deciding who should do it for him. The persons to be invited, required little thought. Besides the Eltons, itmust be the Westons and Mr. Knightley; so far it was all of course--and itwas hardly less inevitable that poor little Harriet must be asked to make theeighth:--but this invitation was not given with equal satisfaction, and onmany accounts Emma was particularly pleased by Harriet's begging to beallowed to decline it. "She would rather not be in his company more thanshe could help. She was not yet quite able to see him and his charminghappy wife together, without feeling uncomfortable. If Miss Woodhousewould not be displeased, she would rather stay at home. " It was preciselywhat Emma would have wished, had she deemed it possible enough forwishing. She was delighted with the fortitude of her little friend--forfortitude she knew it was in her to give up being in company and stay athome; and she could now invite the very person whom she really wanted tomake the eighth, Jane Fairfax. -- Since her last conversation with Mrs. Weston and Mr. Knightley, she was more conscience-stricken about JaneFairfax than she had often been. --Mr. Knightley's words dwelt with her. Hehad said that Jane Fairfax received attentions from Mrs. Elton whichnobody else paid her. "This is very true, " said she, "at least as far as relates to me, which wasall that was meant--and it is very shameful. --Of the same age--and alwaysknowing her--I ought to have been more her friend. -- She will never likeme now. I have neglected her too long. But I will shew her greater attentionthan I have done. "Every invitation was successful. They were all disengaged and allhappy. -- The preparatory interest of this dinner, however, was not yetover. A circumstance rather unlucky occurred. The two eldest littleKnightleys were engaged to pay their grandpapa and aunt a visit of someweeks in the spring, and their papa now proposed bringing them, andstaying one whole day at Hartfield--which one day would be the very dayof this party. --His professional engagements did not allow of his being putoff, but both father and daughter were disturbed by its happening so. Mr. Woodhouse considered eight persons at dinner together as the utmost thathis nerves could bear--and here would be a ninth--and Emma apprehendedthat it would be a ninth very much out of humour at not being able to comeeven to Hartfield for forty-eight hours without falling in with a dinner-party. She comforted her father better than she could comfort herself, byrepresenting that though he certainly would make them nine, yet he alwayssaid so little, that the increase of noise would be very immaterial. Shethought it in reality a sad exchange for herself, to have him with his gravelooks and reluctant conversation opposed to her instead of his brother. The event was more favourable to Mr. Woodhouse than to Emma. JohnKnightley came; but Mr. Weston was unexpectedly summoned to town andmust be absent on the very day. He might be able to join them in theevening, but certainly not to dinner. Mr. Woodhouse was quite at ease; andthe seeing him so, with the arrival of the little boys and the philosophiccomposure of her brother on hearing his fate, removed the chief of evenEmma's vexation. The day came, the party were punctually assembled, and Mr. JohnKnightley seemed early to devote himself to the business of being agreeable. Instead of drawing his brother off to a window while they waited fordinner, he was talking to Miss Fairfax. Mrs. Elton, as elegant as lace andpearls could make her, he looked at in silence-- wanting only to observeenough for Isabella's information--but Miss Fairfax was an oldacquaintance and a quiet girl, and he could talk to her. He had met herbefore breakfast as he was returning from a walk with his little boys, whenit had been just beginning to rain. It was natural to have some civil hopeson the subject, and he said, "I hope you did not venture far, Miss Fairfax, this morning, or I am sureyou must have been wet. --We scarcely got home in time. I hope you turneddirectly. ""I went only to the post-office, " said she, "and reached home before therain was much. It is my daily errand. I always fetch the letters when I amhere. It saves trouble, and is a something to get me out. A walk beforebreakfast 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 yardsfrom your own door when I had the pleasure of meeting you; and Henryand 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 tomy age, you will begin to think letters are never worth going through therain 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 everydearest connexion, and therefore I cannot expect that simply growing oldershould 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 positivecurse. ""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--Iam very sure he understands the value of friendship as well as any body. Ican 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 thedifference, it is not age, but situation. You have every body dearest to youalways at hand, I, probably, never shall again; and therefore till I haveoutlived all my affections, a post-office, I think, must always have power todraw 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 timeusually brings. I consider one as including the other. Time will generallylessen the interest of every attachment not within the daily circle--but thatis not the change I had in view for you. As an old friend, you will allow meto hope, Miss Fairfax, that ten years hence you may have as manyconcentrated objects as I have. "It was kindly said, and very far from giving offence. A pleasant "thankyou" seemed meant to laugh it off, but a blush, a quivering lip, a tear in theeye, shewed that it was felt beyond a laugh. Her attention was now claimedby Mr. Woodhouse, who being, according to his custom on such occasions, making the circle of his guests, and paying his particular compliments tothe 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 inthe rain. Young ladies should take care of themselves. -- Young ladies aredelicate 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 kindsolicitude about me. ""My dear Miss Fairfax, young ladies are very sure to be cared for. -- Ihope your good grand-mama and aunt are well. They are some of my veryold friends. I wish my health allowed me to be a better neighbour. You dous a great deal of honour to-day, I am sure. My daughter and I are bothhighly sensible of your goodness, and have the greatest satisfaction inseeing you at Hartfield. "The kind-hearted, polite old man might then sit down and feel that hehad done his duty, and made every fair lady welcome and easy. By this time, the walk in the rain had reached Mrs. Elton, and herremonstrances now opened upon Jane. "My dear Jane, what is this I hear?--Going to the post-office in therain!--This must not be, I assure you. --You sad girl, how could you dosuch 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 knowhow to take care of yourself. --To the post-office indeed! Mrs. Weston, didyou ever hear the like? You and I must positively exert our authority. ""My advice, " said Mrs. Weston kindly and persuasively, "I certainly dofeel tempted to give. Miss Fairfax, you must not run such risks. -- Liable asyou 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 thancommon care. Better wait an hour or two, or even half a day for yourletters, than run the risk of bringing on your cough again. Now do not youfeel that you had? Yes, I am sure you are much too reasonable. You look asif 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 noddingsignificantly--"there must be some arrangement made, there must indeed. Ishall speak to Mr. E. The man who fetches our letters every morning (oneof our men, I forget his name) shall inquire for yours too and bring them toyou. 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 earlywalk. I am advised to be out of doors as much as I can, I must walksomewhere, and the post-office is an object; and upon my word, I havescarcely 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 withoutthe concurrence of my lord and master. You know, Mrs. Weston, you and Imust be cautious how we express ourselves. But I do flatter myself, my dearJane, that my influence is not entirely worn out. If I meet with noinsuperable difficulties therefore, consider that point as settled. ""Excuse me, " said Jane earnestly, "I cannot by any means consent tosuch an arrangement, so needlessly troublesome to your servant. If theerrand were not a pleasure to me, it could be done, as it always is when Iam not here, by my grandmama's. ""Oh! my dear; but so much as Patty has to do!--And it is a kindness toemploy our men. "Jane looked as if she did not mean to be conquered; but instead ofanswering, she began speaking again to Mr. John Knightley. "The post-office is a wonderful establishment!" said she. -- "Theregularity and despatch of it! If one thinks of all that it has to do, and allthat 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 aletter, 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, thatare to be deciphered, it increases the wonder. ""The clerks grow expert from habit. --They must begin with somequickness of sight and hand, and exercise improves them. If you want anyfarther explanation, " continued he, smiling, "they are paid for it. That is thekey to a great deal of capacity. The public pays and must be served well. "The varieties of handwriting were farther talked of, and the usualobservations made. "I have heard it asserted, " said John Knightley, "that the same sort ofhandwriting often prevails in a family; and where the same master teaches, it is natural enough. But for that reason, I should imagine the likeness mustbe chiefly confined to the females, for boys have very little teaching after anearly age, and scramble into any hand they can get. Isabella and Emma, Ithink, do write very much alike. I have not always known their writingapart. ""Yes, " said his brother hesitatingly, "there is a likeness. I know whatyou mean--but Emma's hand is the strongest. ""Isabella and Emma both write beautifully, " said Mr. Woodhouse; "andalways did. And so does poor Mrs. Weston"--with half a sigh and half asmile at her. "I never saw any gentleman's handwriting"--Emma began, looking alsoat Mrs. Weston; but stopped, on perceiving that Mrs. Weston was attendingto some one else--and the pause gave her time to reflect, "Now, how am Igoing to introduce him?--Am I unequal to speaking his name at once beforeall these people? Is it necessary for me to use any roundabout phrase?--Your Yorkshire friend--your correspondent in Yorkshire;--that would bethe way, I suppose, if I were very bad. --No, I can pronounce his namewithout the smallest distress. I certainly get better and better. --Now for it. "Mrs. Weston was disengaged and Emma began again--"Mr. FrankChurchill writes one of the best gentleman's hands I ever saw. ""I do not admire it, " said Mr. Knightley. "It is too small--wantsstrength. It is like a woman's writing. "This was not submitted to by either lady. They vindicated him againstthe base aspersion. "No, it by no means wanted strength--it was not a largehand, but very clear and certainly strong. Had not Mrs. Weston any letterabout her to produce?" No, she had heard from him very lately, but havinganswered the letter, had put it away. "If we were in the other room, " said Emma, "if I had my writing-desk, Iam sure I could produce a specimen. I have a note of his. -- Do not youremember, 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 convinceMr. 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, ofcourse, put forth his best. "Dinner was on table. --Mrs. Elton, before she could be spoken to, wasready; and before Mr. Woodhouse had reached her with his request to beallowed 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 thewet walk of this morning had produced any. She suspected that it had; thatit would not have been so resolutely encountered but in full expectation ofhearing from some one very dear, and that it had not been in vain. Shethought there was an air of greater happiness than usual--a glow both ofcomplexion and spirits. She could have made an inquiry or two, as to

the expedition and theexpense 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 JaneFairfax's feelings; and they followed the other ladies out of the room, arm inarm, with an appearance of good-will highly becoming to the beauty andgrace of each. CHAPTER XVIIWhen the ladies returned to the drawing-room after dinner, Emmafound it hardly possible to prevent their making two distinct parties;--withso much perseverance in judging and behaving ill did Mrs. Elton engrossJane Fairfax and slight herself. She and Mrs. Weston were obliged to bealmost always either talking together or silent together. Mrs. Elton left themno choice. If Jane repressed her for a little time, she soon began again; andthough much that passed between them was in a half-whisper, especially onMrs. Elton's side, there was no avoiding a knowledge of their principalsubjects: The post-office--catching cold--fetching letters--and friendship, were long under discussion; and to them succeeded one, which must be atleast equally unpleasant to Jane--inquiries whether she had yet heard ofany situation likely to suit her, and professions of Mrs. Elton's meditatedactivity. "Here is April come!" said she, "I get quite anxious about you. June willsoon be here. ""But I have never fixed on June or any other month--merely lookedforward 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 thedifficulty of procuring exactly the desirable thing. ""I not aware!" said Jane, shaking her head; "dear Mrs. Elton, who canhave thought of it as I have done?""But you have not seen so much of the world as I have. You do notknow how many candidates there always are for the first situations. I saw avast deal of that in the neighbourhood round Maple Grove. A cousin of Mr. Suckling, Mrs. Bragge, had such an infinity of applications; every body wasanxious to be in her family, for she moves in the first circle. Wax-candles inthe schoolroom! You may imagine how desirable! Of all houses in thekingdom 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 wantit;--afterwards I may probably be glad to dispose of myself. But I wouldnot wish you to take the trouble of making any inquiries at present. ""Trouble! aye, I know your scruples. You are afraid of giving metrouble; but I assure you, my dear Jane, the Campbells can hardly be moreinterested about you than I am. I shall write to Mrs. Partridge in a day ortwo, and shall give her a strict charge to be on the look-out for any thingeligible. ""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, andyour friends would require for you, is no everyday occurrence, is notobtained at a moment's notice; indeed, indeed, we must begin inquiringdirectly. ""Excuse me, ma'am, but this is by no means my intention; I make noinquiry myself, and should be sorry to have any made by my friends. WhenI am quite determined as to the time, I am not at all afraid of being longunemployed. There are places in town, offices, where inquiry would soonproduce something--Offices for the sale--not quite of human flesh--but ofhuman intellect. ""Oh! my dear, human flesh! You quite shock me; if you mean a fling atthe slave-trade, I assure you Mr. Suckling was always rather a friend to theabolition. ""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 differentcertainly as to the guilt of those who carry it on; but as to the greatermisery of the victims, I do not know where it lies. But I only mean to saythat there are advertising offices, and that by applying to them I shouldhave no doubt of very soon meeting with something that would do. ""Something that would do!" repeated Mrs. Elton. "Aye, that may suityour 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 thatmay offer, any inferior, commonplace situation, in a family not moving in acertain circle, or able to command the elegancies of life. ""You are very obliging; but as to all that, I am very indifferent; it wouldbe no object to me to be with the rich; my mortifications, I think, wouldonly be the greater; I should suffer more from comparison. A gentleman'sfamily is all that I should condition for. ""I know you, I know you; you would take up with any thing; but I shallbe a little more nice, and I am sure the good Campbells will be quite on myside; 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 youchose;--that is--I do not know--if you knew the harp, you might do allthat, I am very sure; but you sing as well as play;--yes, I really believe youmight, even without the harp, stipulate for what you chose;--and you mustand shall be delightfully, honourably and comfortably settled before theCampbells or I have any rest. ""You may well class the delight, the honour, and the comfort of such asituation together, " said Jane, "they are pretty sure to be equal; however, Iam 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 whofeels for me, but I am quite serious in wishing nothing to be done till thesummer. For two or three months longer I shall remain where I am, and as Iam. ""And I am quite serious too, I assure you, " replied Mrs. Elton gaily, "inresolving to be always on the watch, and employing my friends to watchalso, 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 hisgallantry in coming away before the other men!--what a dear creature heis;--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 wishyou had heard his gallant speeches to me at dinner. Oh! I assure you Ibegan to think my caro sposo would be absolutely jealous. I fancy I amrather a favourite; he took notice of my gown. How do you like it?--Selina'schoice--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 isexpected of me. A bride, you know, must appear like a bride, but mynatural taste is all for simplicity; a simple style of dress is so infinitelypreferable to finery. But I am quite in the minority, I believe; few peopleseem to value simplicity of dress, --show and finery are every thing. I havesome notion of putting such a trimming as this to my white and silverpoplin. Do you think it will look well?"The whole party were but just reassembled in the drawing-room whenMr. Weston made his appearance among them. He had returned to a latedinner, and walked to Hartfield as soon as it was over. He had been toomuch 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 beensorry 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 dayof business in London, should set off again, and walk half a mile to anotherman's house, for the sake of being in mixed company till bed-time, offinishing his day in the efforts of civility and the noise of numbers, was acircumstance to strike him deeply. A man who had been in motion sinceeight o'clock in the morning, and might now have been still, who had beenlong talking, and might have been silent, who had been in more than onecrowd, and might have been alone!--Such a man, to quit the tranquillityand independence of his own fireside, and on the evening of a cold sleetyApril day rush out again into the world!--Could he by a touch of his fingerhave instantly taken back his wife, there would have been a motive; but hiscoming would probably prolong rather than break up the party. JohnKnightley looked at him with amazement, then shrugged his shoulders, andsaid, "I could not have believed it even of him. "Mr. Weston meanwhile, perfectly unsuspicious of the indignation hewas exciting, happy and cheerful as usual, and with all the right of beingprincipal talker, which a day spent anywhere from home confers, wasmaking himself agreeable among the rest; and having satisfied the inquiriesof his wife as to his dinner, convincing her that none of all her carefuldirections to the servants had been forgotten, and spread abroad whatpublic news he had heard, was proceeding to a family communication, which, though principally addressed to Mrs. Weston, he had not thesmallest doubt of being highly interesting to every body in the room. Hegave her a letter, it was from Frank, and to herself; he had met with it inhis 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 tothem the whole time, in a voice a little subdued, but very audible to everybody. "Well, he is coming, you see; good news, I think. Well, what do you sayto 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?--Intown next week, you see--at the latest, I dare say; for she is as impatient asthe black gentleman when any thing is to be done; most likely they will bethere to-morrow or Saturday. As to her illness, all nothing of course. But itis an excellent thing to have Frank among us again, so near as town. Theywill stay a good while when they do come, and he will be half his time withus. This is precisely what I wanted. Well, pretty good news, is not it? Haveyou finished it? Has Emma read it all? Put it up, put it up; we will have agood talk about it some other time, but it will not do now. I shall only justmention the circumstance to the others in a common way. "Mrs. Weston was most comfortably pleased on the occasion. Her looksand words had nothing to restrain them. She was happy, she knew she washappy, and knew she ought to be happy. Her congratulations were warmand open; but Emma could not speak so fluently. She was a little occupiedin weighing her own feelings, and trying to understand the degree of heragitation, which she rather thought was considerable. Mr. Weston, however, too eager to be very observant, toocommunicative to want others to talk, was very well satisfied with what shedid say, and soon moved away to make the rest of his friends happy by apartial communication of what the whole room must have overheardalready. It was well that he took every body's joy for granted, or he might nothave thought either Mr. Woodhouse or Mr. Knightley particularly delighted. They were the first entitled, after Mrs. Weston and Emma, to be madehappy;--from them he would have proceeded to Miss Fairfax, but she wasso deep in conversation with John Knightley, that it would have been toopositive an interruption; and finding himself close to Mrs. Elton, and herattention 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 intendedher by such a hope, smiled most graciously. "You have heard of a certain Frank Churchill, I presume, " hecontinued--"and know him to be my son, though he does not bear myname. ""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 greatpleasure 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 letterto-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 aletter. ""And so you absolutely opened what was directed to her! Oh! Mr. Weston--(laughing affectedly) I must protest against that. --A mostdangerous precedent indeed!--I beg you will not let your neighbours followyour example. --Upon my word, if this is what I am to expect, we marriedwomen must begin to exert ourselves!--Oh! Mr. Weston, I could not havebelieved 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, merelyto give us notice--it tells us that they are all coming up to town directly, onMrs. Churchill's account--she has not been well the whole winter, andthinks Enscombe too cold for her--so they are all to move southwardwithout loss of time. ""Indeed!--from Yorkshire, I think. Enscombe is in Yorkshire?""Yes, they are about one hundred and ninety miles from London. Aconsiderable journey. ""Yes, upon my word, very considerable. Sixty-five miles farther thanfrom Maple Grove to London. But what is distance, Mr. Weston, to peopleof large fortune?--You would be amazed to hear how my brother, Mr. Suckling, sometimes flies about. You will hardly believe me--but twice inone week he and Mr. Bragge went to London and back again with fourhorses. ""The evil of the distance from Enscombe, " said Mr. Weston, "is, thatMrs. Churchill, as we understand, has not been able to leave the sofa for aweek together. In Frank's last letter she complained, he said, of being tooweak to get into her conservatory without having both his arm and hisuncle's! This, you know, speaks a great degree of weakness--but now she isso impatient to be in town, that she means to sleep only two nights on theroad. --So Frank writes word. Certainly, delicate ladies have veryextraordinary constitutions, Mrs. Elton. You must grant me that. ""No, indeed, I shall grant you nothing. I Always take the part of myown sex. I do indeed. I give you notice--You will find me a formidableantagonist on that point. I always stand up for women--and I assure you, ifyou knew how Selina feels with respect to sleeping at an inn, you would notwonder at Mrs. Churchill's making incredible exertions to avoid it. Selinasays it is quite horror to her--and I believe I have caught a little of hernicety. 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 finelady ever did. Mrs. Churchill will not be second to any lady in the landfor"--Mrs. Elton eagerly interposed with, "Oh! Mr. Weston, do not mistake me. Selina is no fine lady, I assureyou. Do not run away with such an idea. ""Is not she? Then she is no rule for Mrs. Churchill, who is as thorougha fine lady as any body ever beheld. "Mrs. Elton began to think she had been wrong in disclaiming sowarmly. It was by no means her object to have it believed that her sisterwas 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 thereforeI would not speak ill of her. Besides, she is out of health now; but thatindeed, by her own account, she has always been. I would not say so toevery body, Mrs. Elton, but I have not much faith in Mrs. Churchill'sillness. ""If she is really ill, why not go to Bath, Mr. Weston?--To Bath, or toClifton?" "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 alonger time stationary there, than she ever was before, and she begins towant change. It is a retired place. A fine place, but very retired. ""Aye--like Maple Grove, I dare say. Nothing can stand more retiredfrom 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 enjoythat sort of seclusion. Or, perhaps she may not have resources enough inherself to be qualified for a country life. I always say a woman cannot havetoo many resources--and I feel very thankful that I have so many myself asto 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 ofHighbury when he comes again; that is, if I may presume to call myself anaddition. But perhaps he may never have heard of there being such acreature 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 thingpossible. Not heard of you!--I believe Mrs. Weston's letters lately have beenfull 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 wemight see him again, which makes this day's news doubly welcome. It hasbeen completely unexpected. That is, I always had a strong persuasion hewould be here again soon, I was sure something favourable would turnup--but nobody believed me. He and Mrs. Weston were both dreadfullydesponding. 'How could he contrive to come? And how could it besupposed that his uncle and aunt would spare him again?' and so forth--Ialways felt that something would happen in our favour; and so it has, yousee. I have observed, Mrs. Elton, in the course of my life, that if things aregoing 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 acertain gentleman in company in the days of courtship, when, becausethings did not go quite right, did not proceed with all the rapidity whichsuited his feelings, he was apt to be in despair, and exclaim that he wassure at this rate it would be May before Hymen's saffron robe would be puton for us. Oh! the pains I have been at to dispel those gloomy ideas andgive him cheerfuller views! The carriage--we had disappointments aboutthe carriage;--one morning, I remember, he came to me quite in despair. "She was stopped by a slight fit of coughing, and Mr. Weston instantlyseized 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 placethan Enscombe--in short, to spend in London; so that we have theagreeable prospect of frequent visits from Frank the whole spring--preciselythe season of the year which one should have chosen for it: days almost atthe longest; weather genial and pleasant, always inviting one out, and nevertoo hot for exercise. When he was here before, we made the best of it; butthere was a good deal of wet, damp, cheerless weather; there always is inFebruary, you know, and we could not do half that we intended. Now willbe the time. This will be complete enjoyment; and I do not know, Mrs. Elton, whether the uncertainty of our meetings, the sort of constantexpectation there will be of his coming in to-day or to-morrow, and at anyhour, may not be more friendly to happiness than having him actually inthe house. I think it is so. I think it is the state of mind which gives mostspirit and delight. I hope you will be pleased with my son; but you mustnot expect a prodigy. He is generally thought a fine young man, but do notexpect a prodigy. Mrs. Weston's partiality for him is very great, and, as youmay suppose, most gratifying to me. She thinks nobody equal to him. ""And I assure you, Mr. Weston, I have very little doubt that my opinionwill be decidedly in his favour. I have heard so much in praise of Mr. FrankChurchill. --At the same time it is fair to observe, that I am one of thosewho always judge for themselves, and are by no means implicitly guided byothers. I give you notice that as I find your son, so I shall judge of him. --Iam 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 aresome traits in her character which make it difficult for me to speak of herwith the forbearance I could wish. You cannot be ignorant, Mrs. Elton, ofmy 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 theinstigator. Frank's mother would never have been slighted as she was butfor her. Mr. Churchill has pride; but his pride is nothing to his wife's: his isa quiet, indolent, gentlemanlike sort of pride that would harm nobody, andonly make himself a little helpless and tiresome; but her pride is arroganceand insolence! And what inclines one less to bear, she has no fair pretenceof family or blood. She was nobody when he married her, barely thedaughter of a gentleman; but ever since her being turned into a Churchillshe has out-Churchill'd them all in high and mighty claims: but in herself, Iassure you, she is an upstart. ""Only think! well, that must be infinitely provoking! I have quite ahorror of upstarts. Maple Grove has given me a thorough disgust to peopleof that sort; for there is a family in that neighbourhood who are such anannoyance to my brother and sister from the airs they give themselves!Your description of Mrs. Churchill made me think of them directly. Peopleof the name of Tupman, very lately settled there, and encumbered withmany low connexions, but giving themselves immense airs, and expecting tobe on a footing with the old established families. A year and a half is thevery utmost that they can have lived at West Hall; and how they got theirfortune nobody knows. They came from Birmingham, which is not a placeto promise much, you know, Mr. Weston. One has not great hopes fromBirmingham. I always say there is something direful in the sound: butnothing more is positively known of the Tupmans, though a good manythings I assure you are suspected; and yet by their manners they evidentlythink themselves equal even to my brother, Mr. Suckling, who happens tobe one of their nearest neighbours. It is infinitely too bad. Mr. Suckling, who has been eleven years a resident at Maple Grove, and whose fatherhad 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, andEmma doubted their getting on very well; for Mr. Knightley seemed littledisposed for conversation; Mrs. Elton was wanting notice, which nobodyhad inclination to pay, and she was herself in a worry of spirits whichwould have made her prefer being silent. Mr. John Knightley proved more talkative than his brother. He was toleave them early the next day; and he soon began with--"Well, Emma, I do not believe I have any thing more to say about theboys; but you have your sister's letter, and every thing is down at fulllength there we may be sure. My charge would be much more concise thanher's, and probably not much in the same spirit; all that I have torecommend being comprised in, do not spoil them, and do not physicthem. ""I rather hope to satisfy you both, " said Emma, "for I shall do all in mypower to make them happy, which will be enough for Isabella; andhappiness 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 evenmay be some encumbrance to you, if your visiting engagements continue toincrease as much as they have done lately. ""Increase!""Certainly; you must be sensible that the last half-year has made a greatdifference in your way of life. ""Difference! No indeed I am not. ""There can be no doubt of your being much more engaged withcompany than you used to be. Witness this very time. Here am I comedown for only one day, and you are engaged with a dinner-party!-- Whendid it happen before, or any thing like it? Your neighbourhood isincreasing, and you mix more with it. A little while ago, every letter toIsabella brought an account of fresh gaieties; dinners at Mr. Cole's, or ballsat the Crown. The difference which Randalls, Randalls alone makes in yourgoings-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 lessinfluence than heretofore, it strikes me as a possible thing, Emma, thatHenry and John may be sometimes in the way. And if they are, I only begyou to send them home. ""No, " cried Mr. Knightley, "that need not be the consequence. Let thembe sent to Donwell. I shall certainly be at leisure. ""Upon my word, " exclaimed Emma, "you amuse me! I should like toknow how many of all my numerous engagements take place without yourbeing of the party; and why I am to be supposed in danger of wantingleisure to attend to the little boys. These amazing engagements of mine--what have they been? Dining once with the Coles--and having a ball talkedof, which never took place. I can understand you--(nodding at Mr. JohnKnightley)--your good fortune in meeting with so many of your friends atonce here, delights you too much to pass unnoticed. But you, (turning toMr. Knightley, ) who know how very, very seldom I am ever two hours fromHartfield, why you should foresee such a series of dissipation for me, Icannot imagine. And as to my dear little boys, I must say, that if AuntEmma has not time for them, I do not think they would fare much betterwith Uncle Knightley, who is absent from home about five hours where sheis absent one--and who, when he is at home, is either reading to himself orsettling his accounts. "Mr. Knightley seemed to be trying not to smile; and succeeded withoutdifficulty, upon Mrs. Elton's beginning to talk to him.

VOLUME IIICHAPTER IA very little quiet reflection was enough to satisfy Emma as to thenature of her agitation on hearing this news of Frank Churchill. She wassoon convinced that it was not for herself she was feeling at allapprehensive or embarrassed; it was for him. Her own attachment hadreally subsided into a mere nothing; it was not worth thinking of;-- but ifhe, 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 hadtaken away, it would be very distressing. If a separation of two monthsshould not have cooled him, there were dangers and evils before her:--caution for him and for herself would be necessary. She did not mean tohave her own affections entangled again, and it would be incumbent on herto 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 feltas if the spring would not pass without bringing a crisis, an event, asomething to alter her present composed and tranquil state. It was not very long, though rather longer than Mr. Weston hadforeseen, before she had the power of forming some opinion of FrankChurchill's feelings. The Enscombe family were not in town quite so soon ashad been imagined, but he was at Highbury very soon afterwards. He rodedown for a couple of hours; he could not yet do more; but as he came fromRandalls immediately to Hartfield, she could then exercise all her quickobservation, and speedily determine how he was influenced, and how shemust act. They met with the utmost friendliness. There could be no doubtof his great pleasure in seeing her. But she had an almost instant doubt ofhis caring for her as he had done, of his feeling the same tenderness in thesame degree. She watched him well. It was a clear thing he was less in lovethan he had been. Absence, with the conviction probably of herindifference, had produced this very natural and very desirable effect. He was in high spirits; as ready to talk and laugh as ever, and seemeddelighted to speak of his former visit, and recur to old stories: and he wasnot without agitation. It was not in his calmness that she read hiscomparative difference. He was not calm; his spirits were evidentlyfluttered; there was restlessness about him. Lively as he was, it seemed aliveliness that did not satisfy himself; but what decided her belief on thesubject, was his staying only a quarter of an hour, and hurrying away tomake other calls in Highbury. "He had seen a group of old acquaintance inthe street as he passed--he had not stopped, he would not stop for morethan a word--but he had the vanity to think they would be disappointed ifhe did not call, and much as he wished to stay longer at Hartfield, he musthurry off. " She had no doubt as to his being less in love--but neither hisagitated spirits, nor his hurrying away, seemed like a perfect cure; and shewas rather inclined to think it implied a dread of her returning power, anda 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. Hisaunt could not bear to have him leave her. Such was his own account atRandall's. If he were quite sincere, if he really tried to come, it was to beinferred that Mrs. Churchill's removal to London had been of no service tothe wilful or nervous part of her disorder. That she was really ill was verycertain; he had declared himself convinced of it, at Randalls. Though muchmight be fancy, he could not doubt, when he looked back, that she was in aweaker state of health than she had been half a year ago. He did not believeit to proceed from any thing that care and medicine might not remove, or atleast that she might not have many years of existence before her; but hecould not be prevailed on, by all his father's doubts, to say that hercomplaints were merely imaginary, or that she was as strong as ever. It soon appeared that London was not the place for her. She could notendure its noise. Her nerves were under continual irritation and suffering;and by the ten days' end, her nephew's letter to Randalls communicated achange of plan. They were going to remove immediately to Richmond. Mrs. Churchill had been recommended to the medical skill of an eminent personthere, and had otherwise a fancy for the place. A ready-furnished house in afavourite 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 monthsbefore him of such near neighbourhood to many dear friends--for the housewas taken for May and June. She was told that now he wrote with thegreatest confidence of being often with them, almost as often as he couldeven wish. Emma saw how Mr. Weston understood these joyous prospects. He wasconsidering her as the source of all the happiness they offered. She hoped itwas 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 bereally having Frank in their neighbourhood. What were nine miles to ayoung man?--An hour's ride. He would be always coming over. Thedifference in that respect of Richmond and London was enough to make thewhole difference of seeing him always and seeing him never. Sixteenmiles--nay, eighteen--it must be full eighteen to Manchester-street--was aserious obstacle. Were he ever able to get away, the day would be spent incoming and returning. There was no comfort in having him in London; hemight as well be at Enscombe; but Richmond was the very distance for easyintercourse. Better than nearer!One good thing was immediately brought to a certainty by thisremoval, --the ball at the Crown. It had not been forgotten before, but ithad been soon acknowledged vain to attempt to fix a day. Now, however, itwas absolutely to be; every preparation was resumed, and very soon afterthe Churchills had removed to Richmond, a few lines from Frank, to saythat his aunt felt already much better for the change, and that he had nodoubt 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 stoodbetween the young people of Highbury and happiness. Mr. Woodhouse was resigned. The time of year lightened the evil tohim. May was better for every thing than February. Mrs. Bates was engagedto spend the evening at Hartfield, James had due notice, and he sanguinelyhoped that neither dear little Henry nor dear little John would have anything the matter with them, while dear Emma were gone. CHAPTER IINo misfortune occurred, again to prevent the ball. The day approached, the day arrived; and after a morning of some anxious watching, FrankChurchill, in all the certainty of his own self, reached Randalls beforedinner, and every thing was safe. No second meeting had there yet been between him and Emma. Theroom at the Crown was to witness it;--but it would be better than acommon meeting in a crowd. Mr. Weston had been so very earnest in hisentreaties for her arriving there as soon as possible after themselves, for thepurpose of taking her opinion as to the propriety and comfort of the roomsbefore any other persons came, that she could not refuse him, and musttherefore spend some quiet interval in the young man's company. She wasto convey Harriet, and they drove to the Crown in good time, the Randallsparty just sufficiently before them. Frank Churchill seemed to have been on the watch; and though he didnot 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 foundthat it was a family of old friends, who were coming, like herself, byparticular desire, to help Mr. Weston's judgment; and they were so veryclosely followed by another carriage of cousins, who had been entreated tocome early with the same distinguishing earnestness, on the same errand, that it seemed as if half the company might soon be collected together forthe 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 manwho had so many intimates and confidantes, was not the very firstdistinction in the scale of vanity. She liked his open manners, but a littleless of open-heartedness would have made him a higher character. --General benevolence, but not general friendship, made a man what heought 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, formeda sort of half-circle round the fire, to observe in their various modes, tillother subjects were started, that, though May, a fire in the evening was stillvery pleasant. Emma found that it was not Mr. Weston's fault that the number ofprivy councillors was not yet larger. They had stopped at Mrs. Bates's doorto offer the use of their carriage, but the aunt and niece were to be broughtby 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 tothe door, he was watching for the sound of other carriages, --impatient tobegin, or afraid of being always near her. Mrs. Elton was spoken of. "I think she must be here soon, " said he. "Ihave a great curiosity to see Mrs. Elton, I have heard so much of her. Itcannot be long, I think, before she comes. "A carriage was heard. He was on the move immediately; but comingback, said, "I am forgetting that I am not acquainted with her. I have never seeneither Mr. Or Mrs. Elton. I have no business to put myself forward. "Mr. And Mrs. Elton appeared; and all the smiles and the proprietiespassed. "But Miss Bates and Miss Fairfax!" said Mr. Weston, looking about. "Wethought 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 ofgraciousness. He was immediately qualifying himself to form an opinion, bygiving her very proper attention, after the introduction had passed. In a few minutes the carriage returned. --Somebody talked of rain. -- "Iwill see that there are umbrellas, sir, " said Frank to his father: "Miss Batesmust not be forgotten:" and away he went. Mr. Weston was following; butMrs. Elton detained him, to gratify him by her opinion of his son; and sobriskly did she begin, that the young man himself, though by no meansmoving slowly, could hardly be out of hearing. "A very fine young man indeed, Mr. Weston. You know I candidly toldyou I should form my own opinion; and I am happy to say that I amextremely pleased with him. --You may believe me. I never compliment. Ithink him a very handsome young man, and his manners are precisely whatI like and approve--so truly the gentleman, without the least conceit orpuppyism. You must know I have a vast dislike to puppies-- quite a horrorof them. They were never tolerated at Maple Grove. Neither Mr. Sucklingnor me had ever any patience with them; and we used sometimes to sayvery cutting things! Selina, who is mild almost to a fault, bore with themmuch better. "While she talked of his son, Mr. Weston's attention was chained; butwhen she got to Maple Grove, he could recollect that there were ladies justarriving to be attended to, and with happy smiles must hurry away. Mrs. Elton turned to Mrs. Weston. "I have no doubt of its being ourcarriage with Miss Bates and Jane. Our coachman and horses are soextremely expeditious!--I believe we drive faster than any body. -- What apleasure it is to send one's carriage for a friend!-- I understand you were sokind as to offer, but another time it will be quite unnecessary. You may bevery sure I shall always take care of them. "Miss Bates and Miss Fairfax, escorted by the two gentlemen, walkedinto 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 beunderstood by any one who looked on like Emma; but her words, everybody's words, were soon lost under the incessant flow of Miss Bates, whocame in talking, and had not finished her speech under many minutes afterher being admitted into the circle at the fire. As the door opened she washeard, "So very obliging of you!--No rain at all. Nothing to signify. I do notcare for myself. Quite thick shoes. And Jane declares-- Well!--(as soon asshe was within the door) Well! This is brilliant indeed!--This isadmirable!--Excellently contrived, upon my word. Nothing wanting. Couldnot have imagined it. --So well lighted up!-- Jane, Jane, look!--did you eversee 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 camein; she was standing in the entrance. 'Oh! Mrs. Stokes, ' said I--but I hadnot time for more. " She was now met by Mrs. Weston. -- "Very well, I thankyou, ma'am. I hope you are quite well. Very happy to hear it. So afraid youmight have a headache!--seeing you pass by so often, and knowing howmuch 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 quiteready. 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 twosuch 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. Goneto Mr. Woodhouse's. I made her take her shawl--for the evenings are notwarm--her large new shawl-- Mrs. Dixon's wedding-present. --So kind ofher to think of my mother! Bought at Weymouth, you know--Mr. Dixon'schoice. There were three others, Jane says, which they hesitated about sometime. Colonel Campbell rather preferred an olive. My dear Jane, are yousure you did not wet your feet?--It was but a drop or two, but I am soafraid:--but Mr. Frank Churchill was so extremely--and there was a mat tostep upon--I shall never forget his extreme politeness. --Oh! Mr. FrankChurchill, I must tell you my mother's spectacles have never been in faultsince; 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. FrankChurchill?-- Ah! here's Miss Woodhouse. --Dear Miss Woodhouse, how doyou do?-- Very well I thank you, quite well. This is meeting quite in fairy-land!-- Such a transformation!--Must not compliment, I know (eyeingEmma most complacently)--that would be rude--but upon my word, MissWoodhouse, 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!-- Nohairdresser from London I think could. --Ah! Dr. Hughes I declare--andMrs. 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 isdelightful, is not it?--Where's dear Mr. Richard?-- Oh! there he is. Don'tdisturb him. Much better employed talking to the young ladies. How do youdo, 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 MissCaroline. --Such a host of friends!--and Mr. George and Mr. Arthur!--Howdo 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?--verylikely the worthy Coles. --Upon my word, this is charming to be standingabout among such friends! And such a noble fire!--I am quite roasted. Nocoffee, 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 MissBates was quiet, she found herself necessarily overhearing the discourse ofMrs. Elton and Miss Fairfax, who were standing a little way behind her. --He was thoughtful. Whether he were overhearing too, she could notdetermine. After a good many compliments to Jane on her dress and look, compliments very quietly and properly taken, Mrs. Elton was evidentlywanting to be complimented herself--and it was, "How do you like mygown?--How do you like my trimming?-- How has Wright done myhair?"--with many other relative questions, all answered with patientpoliteness. Mrs. Elton then said, "Nobody can think less of dress in generalthan I do--but upon such an occasion as this, when every body's eyes areso much upon me, and in compliment to the Westons--who I have no doubtare giving this ball chiefly to do me honour--I would not wish to be inferiorto others. And I see very few pearls in the room except mine. -- So FrankChurchill is a capital dancer, I understand. --We shall see if our stylessuit. --A fine young man certainly is Frank Churchill. I like him very well. "At this moment Frank began talking so vigorously, that Emma could notbut imagine he had overheard his own praises, and did not want to hearmore;--and the voices of the ladies were drowned for a while, till anothersuspension brought Mrs. Elton's tones again distinctly forward. --Mr. Eltonhad just joined them, and his wife was exclaiming, "Oh! you have found us out at last, have you, in our seclusion?-- I wasthis moment telling Jane, I thought you would begin to be impatient fortidings of us. ""Jane!"--repeated Frank Churchill, with a look of surprize anddispleasure. -- "That is easy--but Miss Fairfax does not disapprove it, Isuppose. ""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 asmile--"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. Hewalked off to find his father, but was quickly back again with both Mr. AndMrs. Weston. He had met with them in a little perplexity, which must belaid before Emma. It had just occurred to Mrs. Weston that Mrs. Elton mustbe asked to begin the ball; that she would expect it; which interfered withall their wishes of giving Emma that distinction. --Emma heard the sadtruth 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; andboasted himself an engaged man, which his father looked his most perfectapprobation of--and it then appeared that Mrs. Weston was wanting him todance with Mrs. Elton himself, and that their business was to help topersuade 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 alwaysconsidered the ball as peculiarly for her. It was almost enough to make herthink of marrying. Mrs. Elton had undoubtedly the advantage, at this time, in vanity completely gratified; for though she had intended to begin withFrank Churchill, she could not lose by the change. Mr. Weston might be hisson's superior. -- In spite of this little rub, however, Emma was smiling withenjoyment, delighted to see the respectable length of the set as it wasforming, and to feel that she had so many hours of unusual festivity beforeher. -- She was more disturbed by Mr. Knightley's not dancing than by anything else. --There he was, among the standers-by, where he ought not tobe; he ought to be dancing, --not classing himself with the husbands, andfathers, and whist-players, who were pretending to feel an interest in thedance till their rubbers were made up, --so young as he looked!-- He couldnot have appeared to greater advantage perhaps anywhere, than where hehad placed himself. His tall, firm, upright figure, among the bulky formsand stooping shoulders of the elderly men, was such as Emma felt mustdraw every body's eyes; and, excepting her own partner, there was not oneamong the whole row of young men who could be compared with him. --Hemoved a few steps nearer, and those few steps were enough to prove inhow gentlemanlike a manner, with what natural grace, he must havedanced, would he but take the trouble. --Whenever she caught his eye, sheforced him to smile; but in general he was looking grave. She wished hecould love a ballroom better, and could like Frank Churchill better. -- Heseemed often observing her. She must not flatter herself that he thought ofher dancing, but if he were criticising her behaviour, she did not feel afraid. There was nothing like flirtation between her and her partner. They seemedmore like cheerful, easy friends, than lovers. That Frank Churchill thoughtless of her than he had done, was indubitable. The ball proceeded pleasantly. The anxious cares, the incessantattentions of Mrs. Weston, were not thrown away. Every body seemedhappy; and the praise of being a delightful ball, which is seldom bestowedtill after a ball has ceased to be, was repeatedly given in the very beginningof the existence of this. Of very important, very recordable events, it wasnot more productive than such meetings usually are. There was one, however, which Emma thought something of. --The two last dances beforesupper were begun, and Harriet had no partner;--the only young ladysitting down;--and so equal had been hitherto the number of dancers, thathow there could be any one disengaged was the wonder!--But Emma'swonder lessened soon afterwards, on seeing Mr. Elton sauntering about. Hewould not ask Harriet to dance if it were possible to be avoided: she wassure he would not--and she was expecting him every moment to escapeinto the card-room. Escape, however, was not his plan. He came to the part of the roomwhere the sitters-by were collected, spoke to some, and walked about infront 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 tothose who were close to her. -- Emma saw it. She was not yet dancing; shewas working her way up from the bottom, and had therefore leisure to lookaround, and by only turning her head a little she saw it all. When she washalf-way up the set, the whole group were exactly behind her, and shewould no longer allow her eyes to watch; but Mr. Elton was so near, thatshe heard every syllable of a dialogue which just then took place betweenhim and Mrs. Weston; and she perceived that his wife, who was standingimmediately above her, was not only listening also, but even encouraginghim by significant glances. --The kind-hearted, gentle Mrs. Weston had lefther seat to join him and say, "Do not you dance, Mr. Elton?" to which hisprompt 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 nodancer. ""If Mrs. Gilbert wishes to dance, " said he, "I shall have great pleasure, Iam 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 atany time to stand up with an old friend like Mrs. Gilbert. ""Mrs. Gilbert does not mean to dance, but there is a young ladydisengaged whom I should be very glad to see dancing--Miss Smith. " "MissSmith!--oh!--I had not observed. --You are extremely obliging-- and if Iwere 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 whatsurprize and mortification she must be returning to her seat. This was Mr. Elton! the amiable, obliging, gentle Mr. Elton. -- She looked round for amoment; he had joined Mr. Knightley at a little distance, and was arranginghimself for settled conversation, while smiles of high glee passed betweenhim and his wife. She would not look again. Her heart was in a glow, and she feared herface might be as hot. In another moment a happier sight caught her;--Mr. Knightley leadingHarriet to the set!--Never had she been more surprized, seldom moredelighted, than at that instant. She was all pleasure and gratitude, both forHarriet and herself, and longed to be thanking him; and though too distantfor speech, her countenance said much, as soon as she could catch his eyeagain. 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 thecruel state of things before, and for the very complete enjoyment and veryhigh sense of the distinction which her happy features announced. It wasnot thrown away on her, she bounded higher than ever, flew farther downthe 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, thoughgrowing very like her;--she spoke some of her feelings, by observingaudibly to her partner, "Knightley has taken pity on poor little Miss Smith!--Very goodnatured, I declare. "Supper was announced. The move began; and Miss Bates might beheard from that moment, without interruption, till her being seated at tableand 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 bedraughts in the passage, though every thing has been done--One doornailed 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, tohelp grandmama to bed, and got back again, and nobody missed me. --I setoff 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, andbackgammon. --Tea was made downstairs, biscuits and baked apples andwine before she came away: amazing luck in some of her throws: and sheinquired a great deal about you, how you were amused, and who were yourpartners. '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: herfirst partner was Mr. Elton, I do not know who will ask her next, perhapsMr. William Cox. ' My dear sir, you are too obliging. --Is there nobody youwould not rather?--I am not helpless. Sir, you are most kind. Upon myword, Jane on one arm, and me on the other!--Stop, stop, let us stand alittle 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 theevening!--Well, here we are at the passage. Two steps, Jane, take care ofthe two steps. Oh! no, there is but one. Well, I was persuaded there weretwo. How very odd! I was convinced there were two, and there is but one. Inever saw any thing equal to the comfort and style--Candles everywhere. --I was telling you of your grandmama, Jane, --There was a littledisappointment. -- The baked apples and biscuits, excellent in their way, you know; but there was a delicate fricassee of sweetbread and someasparagus brought in at first, and good Mr. Woodhouse, not thinking theasparagus quite boiled enough, sent it all out again. Now there is nothinggrandmama loves better than sweetbread and asparagus--so she was ratherdisappointed, but we agreed we would not speak of it to any body, for fearof its getting round to dear Miss Woodhouse, who would be so very muchconcerned!--Well, this is brilliant! I am all amazement! could not havesupposed any thing!--Such elegance and profusion!--I have seen nothinglike it since-- Well, where shall we sit? where shall we sit? Anywhere, sothat Jane is not in a draught. Where I sit is of no consequence. Oh! do yourecommend this side?--Well, I am sure, Mr. Churchill--only it seems toogood--but just as you please. What you direct in this house cannot bewrong. Dear Jane, how shall we ever recollect half the dishes forgrandmama? Soup too! Bless me! I should not be helped so soon, but itsmells most excellent, and I cannot help beginning. "Emma had no opportunity of speaking to Mr. Knightley till aftersupper; but, when they were all in the ballroom again, her eyes invited himirresistibly to come to her and be thanked. He was warm in his reprobationof 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 itthat 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 maybe. --To that surmise, you say nothing, of course; but confess, Emma, thatyou 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 heonly 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 tellme I am wrong?""Not your vain spirit, but your serious spirit. --If one leads you wrong, Iam sure the other tells you of it. ""I do own myself to have been completely mistaken in Mr. Elton. Thereis a littleness about him which you discovered, and which I did not: and Iwas fully convinced of his being in love with Harriet. It was through aseries of strange blunders!""And, in return for your acknowledging so much, I will do you thejustice to say, that you would have chosen for him better than he haschosen 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 asMrs. Elton. I found Harriet more conversable than I expected. "Emma was extremely gratified. --They were interrupted by the bustle ofMr. Weston calling on every body to begin dancing again. "Come Miss Woodhouse, Miss Otway, Miss Fairfax, what are you alldoing?-- Come Emma, set your companions the example. Every body islazy! 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 askme. ""Will you?" said he, offering his hand. "Indeed I will. You have shewn that you can dance, and you know weare not really so much brother and sister as to make it at all improper. ""Brother and sister! no, indeed. "CHAPTER IIIThis little explanation with Mr. Knightley gave Emma considerablepleasure. It was one of the agreeable recollections of the ball, which shewalked about the lawn the next morning to enjoy. --She was extremely gladthat they had come to so good an understanding respecting the Eltons, andthat their opinions of both husband and wife were so much alike; and hispraise of Harriet, his concession in her favour, was peculiarly gratifying. The impertinence of the Eltons, which for a few minutes had threatened toruin the rest of her evening, had been the occasion of some of its highestsatisfactions; and she looked forward to another happy result--the cure ofHarriet's infatuation. -- From Harriet's manner of speaking of thecircumstance before they quitted the ballroom, she had strong hopes. Itseemed as if her eyes were suddenly opened, and she were enabled to seethat Mr. Elton was not the superior creature she had believed him. Thefever was over, and Emma could harbour little fear of the pulse beingquickened again by injurious courtesy. She depended on the evil feelings ofthe Eltons for supplying all the discipline of pointed neglect that could befarther requisite. --Harriet rational, Frank Churchill not too much in love, and Mr. Knightley not wanting to quarrel with her, how very happy asummer must be before her!She was not to see Frank Churchill this morning. He had told her thathe could not allow himself the pleasure of stopping at Hartfield, as he wasto be at home by the middle of the day. She did not regret it. Having arranged all these matters, looked them through, and put themall to rights, she was just turning to the house with spirits freshened up forthe demands of the two little boys, as well as of their grandpapa, when thegreat iron sweep-gate opened, and two persons entered whom she hadnever less expected to see together--Frank Churchill, with Harriet leaningon his arm--actually Harriet!--A moment sufficed to convince her thatsomething extraordinary had happened. Harriet looked white andfrightened, 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 beanswered, and surprizes be explained. Such events are very interesting, butthe suspense of them cannot last long. A few minutes made Emmaacquainted 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, andtaken a road, the Richmond road, which, though apparently public enoughfor 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 becamefor a considerable stretch very retired; and when the young ladies hadadvanced some way into it, they had suddenly perceived at a small distancebefore them, on a broader patch of greensward by the side, a party ofgipsies. A child on the watch, came towards them to beg; and MissBickerton, excessively frightened, gave a great scream, and calling onHarriet 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 poorHarriet could not follow. She had suffered very much from cramp afterdancing, and her first attempt to mount the bank brought on such a returnof it as made her absolutely powerless-- and in this state, and exceedinglyterrified, she had been obliged to remain. How the trampers might have behaved, had the young ladies been morecourageous, must be doubtful; but such an invitation for attack could notbe resisted; and Harriet was soon assailed by half a dozen children, headedby a stout woman and a great boy, all clamorous, and impertinent in look, though not absolutely in word. --More and more frightened, sheimmediately promised them money, and taking out her purse, gave them ashilling, and begged them not to want more, or to use her ill. --She wasthen able to walk, though but slowly, and was moving away--but her terrorand her purse were too tempting, and she was followed, or rathersurrounded, by the whole gang, demanding more. In this state Frank Churchill had found her, she trembling andconditioning, they loud and insolent. By a most fortunate chance his leavingHighbury had been delayed so as to bring him to her assistance at thiscritical moment. The pleasantness of the morning had induced him to walkforward, and leave his horses to meet him by another road, a mile or twobeyond Highbury--and happening to have borrowed a pair of scissors thenight before of Miss Bates, and to have forgotten to restore them, he hadbeen obliged to stop at her door, and go in for a few minutes: he wastherefore later than he had intended; and being on foot, was unseen by thewhole party till almost close to them. The terror which the woman and boyhad been creating in Harriet was then their own portion. He had left themcompletely frightened; and Harriet eagerly clinging to him, and hardly ableto speak, had just strength enough to reach Hartfield, before her spiritswere quite overcome. It was his idea to bring her to Hartfield: he hadthought of no other place. This was the amount of the whole story, --of his communication and ofHarriet's as soon as she had recovered her senses and speech. -- He darednot stay longer than to see her well; these several delays left him notanother minute to lose; and Emma engaging to give assurance of her safetyto Mrs. Goddard, and notice of there being such a set of people in theneighbourhood to Mr. Knightley, he set off, with all the grateful blessingsthat she could utter for her friend and herself. Such an adventure as this, --a fine young man and a lovely youngwoman thrown together in such a way, could hardly fail of suggestingcertain ideas to the coldest heart and the steadiest brain. So Emma thought, at least. Could a linguist, could a grammarian, could even a mathematicianhave seen what she did, have witnessed their appearance together, andheard their history of it, without feeling that circumstances had been atwork to make them peculiarly interesting to each other?--How much moremust an imaginist, like herself, be on fire with speculation and foresight!--especially with such a groundwork of anticipation as her mind had alreadymade. It was a very extraordinary thing! Nothing of the sort had ever occurredbefore 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 atthe very hour, when the other very person was chancing to pass by torescue 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 justrecovering from her mania for Mr. Elton. It seemed as if every thing unitedto promise the most interesting consequences. It was not possible that theoccurrence should not be strongly recommending each to the other. In the few minutes' conversation which she had yet had with him, whileHarriet had been partially insensible, he had spoken of her terror, hernaivete, her fervour as she seized and clung to his arm, with a sensibilityamused and delighted; and just at last, after Harriet's own account hadbeen given, he had expressed his indignation at the abominable folly ofMiss Bickerton in the warmest terms. Every thing was to take its naturalcourse, 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 noharm 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 ofwhat had passed, --aware of the anxiety and alarm it would occasion: butshe soon felt that concealment must be impossible. Within half an hour itwas known all over Highbury. It was the very event to engage those whotalk most, the young and the low; and all the youth and servants in theplace were soon in the happiness of frightful news. The last night's ballseemed lost in the gipsies. Poor Mr. Woodhouse trembled as he sat, and, asEmma had foreseen, would scarcely be satisfied without their promisingnever to go beyond the shrubbery again. It was some comfort to him thatmany inquiries after himself and Miss Woodhouse (for his neighbours knewthat he loved to be inquired after), as well as Miss Smith, were coming induring 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 shewas perfectly well, and Harriet not much otherwise, Emma would notinterfere with. She had an unhappy state of health in general for the childof such a man, for she hardly knew what indisposition was; and if he didnot invent illnesses for her, she could make no figure in a message. The gipsies did not wait for the operations of justice; they tookthemselves off in a hurry. The young ladies of Highbury might have walkedagain in safety before their panic began, and the whole history dwindledsoon into a matter of little importance but to Emma and her nephews:--inher imagination it maintained its ground, and Henry and John were stillasking every day for the story of Harriet and the gipsies, and stilltenaciously setting her right if she varied in the slightest particular from theoriginal recital. CHAPTER IVA very few days had passed after this adventure, when Harriet cameone morning to Emma with a small parcel in her hand, and after sittingdown and hesitating, thus began:"Miss Woodhouse--if you are at leisure--I have something that I shouldlike to tell you--a sort of confession to make--and then, you know,

it willbe over. "Emma was a good deal surprized; but begged her to speak. There was aseriousness in Harriet's manner which prepared her, quite as much as herwords, for something more than ordinary. "It is my duty, and I am sure it is my wish, " she continued, "to have noreserves with you on this subject. As I am happily quite an altered creaturein one respect, it is very fit that you should have the satisfaction of knowingit. I do not want to say more than is necessary--I am too much ashamed ofhaving 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 inhim now. --I do not care whether I meet him or not--except that of the twoI had rather not see him--and indeed I would go any distance round toavoid him--but I do not envy his wife in the least; I neither admire her norenvy her, as I have done: she is very charming, I dare say, and all that, butI think her very ill-tempered and disagreeable--I shall never forget her lookthe other night!--However, I assure you, Miss Woodhouse, I wish her noevil. --No, let them be ever so happy together, it will not give me anothermoment's pang: and to convince you that I have been speaking truth, I amnow going to destroy--what I ought to have destroyed long ago--what Iought 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 inyour presence, that you may see how rational I am grown. Cannot youguess 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 valuedvery much. "She held the parcel towards her, and Emma read the words Mostprecious treasures on the top. Her curiosity was greatly excited. Harrietunfolded the parcel, and she looked on with impatience. Within abundanceof silver paper was a pretty little Tunbridge-ware box, which Harrietopened: 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 whatpassed in this very room about court-plaister, one of the very last times weever 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, andyour recommending court-plaister?-- But, as you had none about you, andknew I had, you desired me to supply him; and so I took mine out and cuthim a piece; but it was a great deal too large, and he cut it smaller, andkept 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 Iput 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 thisrelic--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!--Oneof my senseless tricks!--I deserve to be under a continual blush all the restof my life. --Well--(sitting down again)--go on--what else?""And had you really some at hand yourself? I am sure I never suspectedit, 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 betweenwonder 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 tothis. ""Here, " resumed Harriet, turning to her box again, "here is somethingstill more valuable, I mean that has been more valuable, because this iswhat 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 ofan old pencil, --the part without any lead. "This was really his, " said Harriet. --"Do not you remember onemorning?--no, I dare say you do not. But one morning--I forget exactly theday--but perhaps it was the Tuesday or Wednesday before that evening, hewanted 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, therewas so little lead that he soon cut it all away, and it would not do, so youlent him another, and this was left upon the table as good for nothing. But Ikept my eye on it; and, as soon as I dared, caught it up, and never partedwith it again from that moment. ""I do remember it, " cried Emma; "I perfectly remember it. -- Talkingabout 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 perfectlyremember it. --Stop; Mr. Knightley was standing just here, was not he? Ihave an idea he was standing just here. ""Ah! I do not know. I cannot recollect. --It is very odd, but I cannotrecollect. --Mr. Elton was sitting here, I remember, much about where I amnow. "--"Well, go on. ""Oh! that's all. I have nothing more to shew you, or to say--except thatI am now going to throw them both behind the fire, and I wish you to seeme do it. ""My poor dear Harriet! and have you actually found happiness intreasuring up these things?""Yes, simpleton as I was!--but I am quite ashamed of it now, and wishI could forget as easily as I can burn them. It was very wrong of me, youknow, to keep any remembrances, after he was married. I knew it was--buthad not resolution enough to part with them. ""But, Harriet, is it necessary to burn the court-plaister?--I have not aword 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 disagreeablelook to me. I must get rid of every thing. -- There it goes, and there is anend, 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 wasalready made, and could not but hope that the gipsy, though she had toldno fortune, might be proved to have made Harriet's. --About a fortnightafter the alarm, they came to a sufficient explanation, and quiteundesignedly. Emma was not thinking of it at the moment, which made theinformation she received more valuable. She merely said, in the course ofsome trivial chat, "Well, Harriet, whenever you marry I would advise you todo so and so"--and thought no more of it, till after a minute's silence sheheard Harriet say in a very serious tone, "I shall never marry. "Emma then looked up, and immediately saw how it was; and after amoment'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 hopeit is not in compliment to Mr. Elton?""Mr. Elton indeed!" cried Harriet indignantly. --"Oh! no"--and Emmacould just catch the words, "so superior to Mr. Elton!"She then took a longer time for consideration. Should she proceed nofarther?--should she let it pass, and seem to suspect nothing?-- PerhapsHarriet might think her cold or angry if she did; or perhaps if she weretotally 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 andfrequent discussion of hopes and chances, she was perfectly resolved. -- Shebelieved it would be wiser for her to say and know at once, all that shemeant to say and know. Plain dealing was always best. She had previouslydetermined how far she would proceed, on any application of the sort; andit would be safer for both, to have the judicious law of her own brain laiddown with speed. -- She was decided, and thus spoke--"Harriet, I will not affect to be in doubt of your meaning. Yourresolution, or rather your expectation of never marrying, results from anidea that the person whom you might prefer, would be too greatly yoursuperior in situation to think of you. Is not it so?""Oh! Miss Woodhouse, believe me I have not the presumption tosuppose-- Indeed I am not so mad. --But it is a pleasure to me to admirehim at a distance--and to think of his infinite superiority to all the rest ofthe 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 youwas enough to warm your heart. ""Service! oh! it was such an inexpressible obligation!-- The veryrecollection 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 onemoment 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 bea fortunate preference is more that I can promise. I do not advise you togive 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 yourfeelings while you can: at any rate do not let them carry you far, unless youare persuaded of his liking you. Be observant of him. Let his behaviour bethe guide of your sensations. I give you this caution now, because I shallnever speak to you again on the subject. I am determined against allinterference. Henceforward I know nothing of the matter. Let no name everpass our lips. We were very wrong before; we will be cautious now. --He isyour superior, no doubt, and there do seem objections and obstacles of avery serious nature; but yet, Harriet, more wonderful things have takenplace, there have been matches of greater disparity. But take care ofyourself. 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 whichI shall always know how to value. "Harriet kissed her hand in silent and submissive gratitude. Emma wasvery decided in thinking such an attachment no bad thing for her friend. Itstendency would be to raise and refine her mind--and it must be saving herfrom the danger of degradation. CHAPTER VIn this state of schemes, and hopes, and connivance, June opened uponHartfield. To Highbury in general it brought no material change. The Eltonswere still talking of a visit from the Sucklings, and of the use to be made oftheir barouche-landau; and Jane Fairfax was still at her grandmother's; andas 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 twomonths longer, provided at least she were able to defeat Mrs. Elton'sactivity in her service, and save herself from being hurried into a delightfulsituation against her will. Mr. Knightley, who, for some reason best known to himself, hadcertainly taken an early dislike to Frank Churchill, was only growing todislike him more. He began to suspect him of some double dealing in hispursuit of Emma. That Emma was his object appeared indisputable. Everything declared it; his own attentions, his father's hints, his mother-in-law'sguarded silence; it was all in unison; words, conduct, discretion, andindiscretion, told the same story. But while so many were devoting him toEmma, and Emma herself making him over to Harriet, Mr. Knightley beganto suspect him of some inclination to trifle with Jane Fairfax. He could notunderstand it; but there were symptoms of intelligence between them--hethought so at least--symptoms of admiration on his side, which, havingonce observed, he could not persuade himself to think entirely void ofmeaning, however he might wish to escape any of Emma's errors ofimagination. She was not present when the suspicion first arose. He wasdining with the Randalls family, and Jane, at the Eltons'; and he had seen alook, more than a single look, at Miss Fairfax, which, from the admirer ofMiss Woodhouse, seemed somewhat out of place. When he was again intheir company, he could not help remembering what he had seen; nor couldhe avoid observations which, unless it were like Cowper and his fire attwilight, "Myself creating what I saw, "brought him yet stronger suspicion of there being a something ofprivate liking, of private understanding even, between Frank Churchill andJane. He had walked up one day after dinner, as he very often did, to spendhis evening at Hartfield. Emma and Harriet were going to walk; he joinedthem; and, on returning, they fell in with a larger party, who, likethemselves, judged it wisest to take their exercise early, as the weatherthreatened rain; Mr. And Mrs. Weston and their son, Miss Bates and herniece, who had accidentally met. They all united; and, on reaching Hartfieldgates, Emma, who knew it was exactly the sort of visiting that would bewelcome 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 speechfrom Miss Bates, which few persons listened to, she also found it possibleto accept dear Miss Woodhouse's most obliging invitation. As they were turning into the grounds, Mr. Perry passed by onhorseback. The gentlemen spoke of his horse. "By the bye, " said Frank Churchill to Mrs. Weston presently, "whatbecame of Mr. Perry's plan of setting up his carriage?"Mrs. Weston looked surprized, and said, "I did not know that he everhad 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 wascertainly to be very soon. Mrs. Perry had told somebody, and wasextremely happy about it. It was owing to her persuasion, as she thoughthis being out in bad weather did him a great deal of harm. You mustremember 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 havedreamt it--but I was completely persuaded--Miss Smith, you walk as if youwere tired. You will not be sorry to find yourself at home. ""What is this?--What is this?" cried Mr. Weston, "about Perry and acarriage? Is Perry going to set up his carriage, Frank? I am glad he canafford it. You had it from himself, had you?""No, sir, " replied his son, laughing, "I seem to have had it fromnobody. --Very odd!--I really was persuaded of Mrs. Weston's havingmentioned it in one of her letters to Enscombe, many weeks ago, with allthese particulars--but as she declares she never heard a syllable of itbefore, of course it must have been a dream. I am a great dreamer. I dreamof every body at Highbury when I am away--and when I have gone throughmy particular friends, then I begin dreaming of Mr. And Mrs. Perry. ""It is odd though, " observed his father, "that you should have had sucha regular connected dream about people whom it was not very likely youshould be thinking of at Enscombe. Perry's setting up his carriage! and hiswife's persuading him to it, out of care for his health--just what willhappen, I have no doubt, some time or other; only a little premature. Whatan air of probability sometimes runs through a dream! And at others, whata heap of absurdities it is! Well, Frank, your dream certainly shews thatHighbury is in your thoughts when you are absent. Emma, you are a greatdreamer, I think?"Emma was out of hearing. She had hurried on before her guests toprepare 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 vainto be heard the last two minutes, "if I must speak on this subject, there isno denying that Mr. Frank Churchill might have--I do not mean to say thathe did not dream it--I am sure I have sometimes the oddest dreams in theworld--but if I am questioned about it, I must acknowledge that there wassuch 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. Perrywas very anxious that he should have a carriage, and came to my mother ingreat spirits one morning because she thought she had prevailed. Jane, don'tyou remember grandmama's telling us of it when we got home? I forgetwhere we had been walking to--very likely to Randalls; yes, I think it wasto Randalls. Mrs. Perry was always particularly fond of my mother--indeedI 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 gobeyond: and, from that day to this, I never mentioned it to a soul that Iknow of. At the same time, I will not positively answer for my having neverdropt a hint, because I know I do sometimes pop out a thing before I amaware. I am a talker, you know; I am rather a talker; and now and then Ihave let a thing escape me which I should not. I am not like Jane; I wish Iwere. 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 MissBates's in a glance at Jane. From Frank Churchill's face, where he thoughthe saw confusion suppressed or laughed away, he had involuntarily turnedto 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 lether pass. Mr. Knightley suspected in Frank Churchill the determination ofcatching her eye--he seemed watching her intently--in vain, however, if itwere so-- Jane passed between them into the hall, and looked at neither. There was no time for farther remark or explanation. The dream mustbe borne with, and Mr. Knightley must take his seat with the rest round thelarge modern circular table which Emma had introduced at Hartfield, andwhich none but Emma could have had power to place there and persuadeher father to use, instead of the small-sized Pembroke, on which two of hisdaily meals had, for forty years been crowded. Tea passed pleasantly, andnobody seemed in a hurry to move. "Miss Woodhouse, " said Frank Churchill, after examining a table behindhim, which he could reach as he sat, "have your nephews taken away theiralphabets--their box of letters? It used to stand here. Where is it? This is asort of dull-looking evening, that ought to be treated rather as winter thansummer. We had great amusement with those letters one morning. I want topuzzle you again. "Emma was pleased with the thought; and producing the box, the tablewas quickly scattered over with alphabets, which no one seemed so muchdisposed to employ as their two selves. They were rapidly forming wordsfor each other, or for any body else who would be puzzled. The quietness ofthe game made it particularly eligible for Mr. Woodhouse, who had oftenbeen distressed by the more animated sort, which Mr. Weston hadoccasionally introduced, and who now sat happily occupied in lamenting, with tender melancholy, over the departure of the "poor little boys, " or infondly pointing out, as he took up any stray letter near him, howbeautifully Emma had written it. Frank Churchill placed a word before Miss Fairfax. She gave a slightglance 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; andit was his object to see as much as he could, with as little apparentobservation. 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 itwas not mixed; and Harriet, eager after every fresh word, and finding outnone, 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 asHarriet exultingly proclaimed it, there was a blush on Jane's cheek whichgave it a meaning not otherwise ostensible. Mr. Knightley connected it withthe dream; but how it could all be, was beyond his comprehension. Howthe delicacy, the discretion of his favourite could have been so lain asleep!He feared there must be some decided involvement. Disingenuousness anddouble dealing seemed to meet him at every turn. These letters were but thevehicle for gallantry and trick. It was a child's play, chosen to conceal adeeper game on Frank Churchill's part. With great indignation did he continue to observe him; with great alarmand distrust, to observe also his two blinded companions. He saw a shortword prepared for Emma, and given to her with a look sly and demure. Hesaw 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 clearlyheard Emma opposing it with eager laughing warmth. "No, no, you mustnot; you shall not, indeed. "It was done however. This gallant young man, who seemed to lovewithout feeling, and to recommend himself without complaisance, directlyhanded over the word to Miss Fairfax, and with a particular degree ofsedate civility entreated her to study it. Mr. Knightley's excessive curiosityto know what this word might be, made him seize every possible momentfor darting his eye towards it, and it was not long before he saw it to beDixon. Jane Fairfax's perception seemed to accompany his; hercomprehension was certainly more equal to the covert meaning, thesuperior intelligence, of those five letters so arranged. She was evidentlydispleased; looked up, and seeing herself watched, blushed more deeplythan he had ever perceived her, and saying only, "I did not know thatproper names were allowed, " pushed away the letters with even an angryspirit, and looked resolved to be engaged by no other word that could beoffered. Her face was averted from those who had made the attack, andturned towards her aunt. "Aye, very true, my dear, " cried the latter, though Jane had not spokena word--"I was just going to say the same thing. It is time for us to be goingindeed. 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 hadpreconceived. She was immediately up, and wanting to quit the table; butso many were also moving, that she could not get away; and Mr. Knightleythought he saw another collection of letters anxiously pushed towards her, and resolutely swept away by her unexamined. She was afterwards lookingfor her shawl--Frank Churchill was looking also--it was growing dusk, andthe room was in confusion; and how they parted, Mr. Knightley could nottell. He remained at Hartfield after all the rest, his thoughts full of what hehad seen; so full, that when the candles came to assist his observations, hemust--yes, he certainly must, as a friend--an anxious friend--give Emmasome hint, ask her some question. He could not see her in a situation ofsuch danger, without trying to preserve her. It was his duty. "Pray, Emma, " said he, "may I ask in what lay the great amusement, thepoignant sting of the last word given to you and Miss Fairfax? I saw theword, and am curious to know how it could be so very entertaining to theone, and so very distressing to the other. "Emma was extremely confused. She could not endure to give him thetrue explanation; for though her suspicions were by no means removed, shewas really ashamed of having ever imparted them. "Oh!" she cried in evident embarrassment, "it all meant nothing; a merejoke 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 wouldrather busy herself about any thing than speak. He sat a little while indoubt. A variety of evils crossed his mind. Interference--fruitlessinterference. Emma's confusion, and the acknowledged intimacy, seemed todeclare her affection engaged. Yet he would speak. He owed it to her, torisk any thing that might be involved in an unwelcome interference, ratherthan her welfare; to encounter any thing, rather than the remembrance ofneglect in such a cause. "My dear Emma, " said he at last, with earnest kindness, "do you thinkyou perfectly understand the degree of acquaintance between the gentlemanand 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 thetwentieth part of a moment, did such an idea occur to me. And how couldit possibly come into your head?""I have lately imagined that I saw symptoms of attachment betweenthem--certain expressive looks, which I did not believe meant to be public. ""Oh! you amuse me excessively. I am delighted to find that you canvouchsafe to let your imagination wander--but it will not do--very sorry tocheck you in your first essay--but indeed it will not do. There is noadmiration between them, I do assure you; and the appearances which havecaught you, have arisen from some peculiar circumstances--feelings ratherof a totally different nature--it is impossible exactly to explain:--there is agood deal of nonsense in it--but the part which is capable of beingcommunicated, which is sense, is, that they are as far from any attachmentor admiration for one another, as any two beings in the world can be. Thatis, I presume it to be so on her side, and I can answer for its being so onhis. I will answer for the gentleman's indifference. "She spoke with a confidence which staggered, with a satisfaction whichsilenced, Mr. Knightley. She was in gay spirits, and would have prolongedthe conversation, wanting to hear the particulars of his suspicions, everylook described, and all the wheres and hows of a circumstance which highlyentertained her: but his gaiety did not meet hers. He found he could not beuseful, and his feelings were too much irritated for talking. That he mightnot be irritated into an absolute fever, by the fire which Mr. Woodhouse'stender habits required almost every evening throughout the year, he soonafterwards took a hasty leave, and walked home to the coolness andsolitude of Donwell Abbey. CHAPTER VIAfter being long fed with hopes of a speedy visit from Mr. And Mrs. Suckling, the Highbury world were obliged to endure the mortification ofhearing that they could not possibly come till the autumn. No suchimportation of novelties could enrich their intellectual stores at present. Inthe daily interchange of news, they must be again restricted to the othertopics with which for a while the Sucklings' coming had been united, suchas the last accounts of Mrs. Churchill, whose health seemed every day tosupply a different report, and the situation of Mrs. Weston, whosehappiness it was to be hoped might eventually be as much increased by thearrival 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 dealof pleasure and parade. Her introductions and recommendations must allwait, and every projected party be still only talked of. So she thought atfirst;--but a little consideration convinced her that every thing need not beput off. Why should not they explore to Box Hill though the Sucklings didnot come? They could go there again with them in the autumn. It wassettled that they should go to Box Hill. That there was to be such a partyhad 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 foundso well worth seeing, and she and Mr. Weston had agreed to chuse somefine morning and drive thither. Two or three more of the chosen only wereto 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 regulareating and drinking, and picnic parade of the Eltons and the Sucklings. This was so very well understood between them, that Emma could notbut feel some surprise, and a little displeasure, on hearing from Mr. Westonthat he had been proposing to Mrs. Elton, as her brother and sister hadfailed her, that the two parties should unite, and go together; and that asMrs. Elton had very readily acceded to it, so it was to be, if she had noobjection. Now, as her objection was nothing but her very great dislike ofMrs. Elton, of which Mr. Weston must already be perfectly aware, it wasnot worth bringing forward again:--it could not be done without a reproofto him, which would be giving pain to his wife; and she found herselftherefore obliged to consent to an arrangement which she would have donea great deal to avoid; an arrangement which would probably expose hereven to the degradation of being said to be of Mrs. Elton's party! Everyfeeling was offended; and the forbearance of her outward submission left aheavy arrear due of secret severity in her reflections on the unmanageablegoodwill 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 withoutnumbers. One cannot have too large a party. A large party secures its ownamusement. And she is a good-natured woman after all. One could notleave 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. Eltonwas growing impatient to name the day, and settle with Mr. Weston as topigeon-pies and cold lamb, when a lame carriage-horse threw every thinginto sad uncertainty. It might be weeks, it might be only a few days, beforethe horse were useable; but no preparations could be ventured on, and itwas all melancholy stagnation. Mrs. Elton's resources were inadequate tosuch an attack. "Is not this most vexations, Knightley?" she cried. --"And such weatherfor exploring!--These delays and disappointments are quite odious. Whatare 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 exploringparty from Maple Grove to Kings Weston. ""You had better explore to Donwell, " replied Mr. Knightley. "That maybe done without horses. Come, and eat my strawberries. They are ripeningfast. "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 ofall things, " was not plainer in words than manner. Donwell was famous forits strawberry-beds, which seemed a plea for the invitation: but no plea wasnecessary; cabbage-beds would have been enough to tempt the lady, whoonly wanted to be going somewhere. She promised him again and again tocome--much oftener than he doubted--and was extremely gratified by sucha proof of intimacy, such a distinguishing compliment as she chose toconsider it. "You may depend upon me, " said she. "I certainly will come. Name yourday, 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 whomI would wish to meet you. ""Oh! leave all that to me. Only give me a carte-blanche. --I am LadyPatroness, 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 giveany other invitations. ""Oh! now you are looking very sly. But consider--you need not beafraid 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. Leaveit all to me. I will invite your guests. ""No, "--he calmly replied, --"there is but one married woman in theworld 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 suchmatters myself. ""Ah! you are an odd creature!" she cried, satisfied to have no onepreferred 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 Hartfieldfamily. Don't scruple. I know you are attached to them. ""You certainly will meet them if I can prevail; and I shall call on MissBates in my way home. ""That's quite unnecessary; I see Jane every day:--but as you like. It is tobe a morning scheme, you know, Knightley; quite a simple thing. I shallwear 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 orparade--a sort of gipsy party. We are to walk about your gardens, andgather the strawberries ourselves, and sit under trees;--and whatever elseyou may like to provide, it is to be all out of doors--a table spread in theshade, you know. Every thing as natural and simple as possible. Is not thatyour idea?""Not quite. My idea of the simple and the natural will be to have thetable spread in the dining-room. The nature and the simplicity of gentlemenand ladies, with their servants and furniture, I think is best observed bymeals within doors. When you are tired of eating strawberries in thegarden, 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 besincere, Knightley. If you wish me to talk to Mrs. Hodges, or to inspectanything--""I have not the least wish for it, I thank you. ""Well--but if any difficulties should arise, my housekeeper is extremelyclever. ""I will answer for it, that mine thinks herself full as clever, and wouldspurn any body's assistance. ""I wish we had a donkey. The thing would be for us all to come ondonkeys, Jane, Miss Bates, and me--and my caro sposo walking by. I reallymust talk to him about purchasing a donkey. In a country life I conceive itto be a sort of necessary; for, let a woman have ever so many resources, itis 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. DonwellLane 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 everything 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 thewarmest 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 thewhole 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. Hewished 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 eatwould inevitably make him ill. Mr. Woodhouse must not, under thespecious 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 himfor his easy credulity. He did consent. He had not been at Donwell for twoyears. "Some very fine morning, he, and Emma, and Harriet, could go verywell; and he could sit still with Mrs. Weston, while the dear girls walkedabout the gardens. He did not suppose they could be damp now, in themiddle 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 hisneighbours. --He could not see any objection at all to his, and Emma's, andHarriet's going there some very fine morning. He thought it very well doneof Mr. Knightley to invite them--very kind and sensible--much clevererthan 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, likeMrs. Elton, they were all taking the scheme as a particular compliment tothemselves. --Emma and Harriet professed very high expectations ofpleasure from it; and Mr. Weston, unasked, promised to get Frank over tojoin them, if possible; a proof of approbation and gratitude which couldhave been dispensed with. -- Mr. Knightley was then obliged to say that heshould be glad to see him; and Mr. Weston engaged to lose no time inwriting, and spare no arguments to induce him to come. In the meanwhile the lame horse recovered so fast, that the party toBox Hill was again under happy consideration; and at last Donwell wassettled for one day, and Box Hill for the next, --the weather appearingexactly right. Under a bright mid-day sun, at almost Midsummer, Mr. Woodhousewas safely conveyed in his carriage, with one window down, to partake ofthis 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 happilyplaced, quite at his ease, ready to talk with pleasure of what had beenachieved, and advise every body to come and sit down, and not to heatthemselves. -- Mrs. Weston, who seemed to have walked there on purposeto be tired, and sit all the time with him, remained, when all the otherswere invited or persuaded out, his patient listener and sympathiser. It was so long since Emma had been at the Abbey, that as soon as shewas satisfied of her father's comfort, she was glad to leave him, and lookaround her; eager to refresh and correct her memory with more particularobservation, more exact understanding of a house and grounds which mustever be so interesting to her and all her family. She felt all the honest pride and complacency which her alliance withthe present and future proprietor could fairly warrant, as she viewed therespectable size and style of the building, its suitable, becoming, characteristic situation, low and sheltered--its ample gardens stretchingdown to meadows washed by a stream, of which the Abbey, with all the oldneglect of prospect, had scarcely a sight--and its abundance of timber inrows and avenues, which neither fashion nor extravagance had rooted up. --The house was larger than Hartfield, and totally unlike it, covering a gooddeal of ground, rambling and irregular, with many comfortable, and one ortwo handsome rooms. --It was just what it ought to be, and it looked whatit was--and Emma felt an increasing respect for it, as the residence of afamily of such true gentility, untainted in blood and understanding. --Somefaults of temper John Knightley had; but Isabella had connected herselfunexceptionably. She had given them neither men, nor names, nor places, that could raise a blush. These were pleasant feelings, and she walkedabout and indulged them till it was necessary to do as the others did, andcollect round the strawberry-beds. --The whole party were assembled, excepting Frank Churchill, who was expected every moment fromRichmond; and Mrs. Elton, in all her apparatus of happiness, her largebonnet and her basket, was very ready to lead the way in gathering, accepting, or talking--strawberries, and only strawberries, could now bethought or spoken of. --"The best fruit in England--every body's favourite--always wholesome. --These the finest beds and finest sorts. --Delightful togather for one's self--the only way of really enjoying them. --Morningdecidedly the best time--never tired--every sort good--hautboy infinitelysuperior--no comparison--the

others hardly eatable--hautboys veryscarce--Chili preferred--white wood finest flavour of all--price ofstrawberries in London--abundance about Bristol--Maple Grove--cultivation--beds when to be renewed--gardeners thinking exactlydifferent--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 thestooping--glaring sun--tired to death--could bear it no longer--must goand sit in the shade. "Such, for half an hour, was the conversation--interrupted only once byMrs. Weston, who came out, in her solicitude after her son-in-law, toinquire if he were come--and she was a little uneasy. -- She had some fearsof his horse. Seats tolerably in the shade were found; and now Emma was obliged tooverhear what Mrs. Elton and Jane Fairfax were talking of. -- A situation, amost desirable situation, was in question. Mrs. Elton had received notice ofit that morning, and was in raptures. It was not with Mrs. Suckling, it wasnot with Mrs. Bragge, but in felicity and splendour it fell short only ofthem: 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 tohave the offer closed with immediately. --On her side, all was warmth, energy, and triumph--and she positively refused to take her friend'snegative, though Miss Fairfax continued to assure her that she would not atpresent engage in any thing, repeating the same motives which she hadbeen heard to urge before. -- Still Mrs. Elton insisted on being authorised towrite 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 ofher 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 oneanother to the delicious shade of a broad short avenue of limes, whichstretching beyond the garden at an equal distance from the river, seemedthe finish of the pleasure grounds. -- It led to nothing; nothing but a view atthe end over a low stone wall with high pillars, which seemed intended, intheir erection, to give the appearance of an approach to the house, whichnever had been there. Disputable, however, as might be the taste of such atermination, it was in itself a charming walk, and the view which closed itextremely pretty. --The considerable slope, at nearly the foot of which theAbbey stood, gradually acquired a steeper form beyond its grounds; and athalf a mile distant was a bank of considerable abruptness and grandeur, well clothed with wood;--and at the bottom of this bank, favourably placedand sheltered, rose the Abbey Mill Farm, with meadows in front, and theriver 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 beingoppressive. In this walk Emma and Mr. Weston found all the others assembled; andtowards this view she immediately perceived Mr. Knightley and Harrietdistinct from the rest, quietly leading the way. Mr. Knightley and Harriet!--It was an odd tete-a-tete; but she was glad to see it. --There had been atime when he would have scorned her as a companion, and turned from herwith little ceremony. Now they seemed in pleasant conversation. There hadbeen a time also when Emma would have been sorry to see Harriet in a spotso favourable for the Abbey Mill Farm; but now she feared it not. It mightbe safely viewed with all its appendages of prosperity and beauty, its richpastures, spreading flocks, orchard in blossom, and light column of smokeascending. --She joined them at the wall, and found them more engaged intalking than in looking around. He was giving Harriet information as tomodes 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 notsuspect him. It was too old a story. --Robert Martin had probably ceased tothink of Harriet. --They took a few turns together along the walk. --Theshade was most refreshing, and Emma found it the pleasantest part of theday. The next remove was to the house; they must all go in and eat;--andthey were all seated and busy, and still Frank Churchill did not come. Mrs. Weston looked, and looked in vain. His father would not own himselfuneasy, and laughed at her fears; but she could not be cured of wishingthat he would part with his black mare. He had expressed himself as tocoming, 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 suddenvariation as might disappoint her nephew in the most reasonabledependence--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 preventedcoming. -- 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 tosee what had not yet been seen, the old Abbey fish-ponds; perhaps get asfar as the clover, which was to be begun cutting on the morrow, or, at anyrate, have the pleasure of being hot, and growing cool again. --Mr. Woodhouse, who had already taken his little round in the highest part ofthe 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 andvariety which her spirits seemed to need. Mr. Knightley had done all in his power for Mr. Woodhouse'sentertainment. Books of engravings, drawers of medals, cameos, corals, shells, and every other family collection within his cabinets, had beenprepared for his old friend, to while away the morning; and the kindnesshad perfectly answered. Mr. Woodhouse had been exceedingly well amused. Mrs. Weston had been shewing them all to him, and now he would shewthem 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 observationof the entrance and ground-plot of the house--and was hardly there, whenJane Fairfax appeared, coming quickly in from the garden, and with a lookof escape. -- Little expecting to meet Miss Woodhouse so soon, there was astart 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 amgone home?--I am going this moment. --My aunt is not aware how late itis, 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 anybody. It would only be giving trouble and distress. Some are gone to theponds, and some to the lime walk. Till they all come in I shall not bemissed; and when they do, will you have the goodness to say that I amgone?""Certainly, if you wish it;--but you are not going to walk to Highburyalone?""Yes--what should hurt me?--I walk fast. I shall be at home in twentyminutes. ""But it is too far, indeed it is, to be walking quite alone. Let my father'sservant go with you. --Let me order the carriage. It can be round in fiveminutes. ""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 toguard others!"She spoke with great agitation; and Emma very feelingly replied, "Thatcan be no reason for your being exposed to danger now. I must order thecarriage. The heat even would be danger. --You are fatigued already. ""I am, "--she answered--"I am fatigued; but it is not the sort offatigue--quick walking will refresh me. --Miss Woodhouse, we all know attimes what it is to be wearied in spirits. Mine, I confess, are exhausted. Thegreatest 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 intoher feelings, promoted her quitting the house immediately, and watched hersafely off with the zeal of a friend. Her parting look was grateful--and herparting words, "Oh! Miss Woodhouse, the comfort of being sometimesalone!"--seemed to burst from an overcharged heart, and to describesomewhat of the continual endurance to be practised by her, even towardssome of those who loved her best. "Such a home, indeed! such an aunt!" said Emma, as she turned backinto the hall again. "I do pity you. And the more sensibility you betray oftheir just horrors, the more I shall like you. "Jane had not been gone a quarter of an hour, and they had onlyaccomplished some views of St. Mark's Place, Venice, when Frank Churchillentered the room. Emma had not been thinking of him, she had forgotten tothink of him--but she was very glad to see him. Mrs. Weston would be atease. The black mare was blameless; they were right who had named Mrs. Churchill as the cause. He had been detained by a temporary increase ofillness in her; a nervous seizure, which had lasted some hours--and he hadquite given up every thought of coming, till very late;--and had he knownhow hot a ride he should have, and how late, with all his hurry, he mustbe, he believed he should not have come at all. The heat was excessive; hehad 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. , butheat was intolerable--and he sat down, at the greatest possible distancefrom 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 bespared--but such a point had been made of my coming! You will all begoing 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'sstate might be best defined by the expressive phrase of being out ofhumour. Some people were always cross when they were hot. Such mightbe his constitution; and as she knew that eating and drinking were oftenthe cure of such incidental complaints, she recommended his taking somerefreshment; 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 himhotter. " In two minutes, however, he relented in his own favour; andmuttering something about spruce-beer, walked off. Emma returned all herattention to her father, saying in secret--"I am glad I have done being in love with him. I should not like a manwho is so soon discomposed by a hot morning. Harriet's sweet easy temperwill not mind it. "He was gone long enough to have had a very comfortable meal, andcame back all the better--grown quite cool--and, with good manners, likehimself--able to draw a chair close to them, take an interest in theiremployment; and regret, in a reasonable way, that he should be so late. Hewas 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 inSwisserland. "As soon as my aunt gets well, I shall go abroad, " said he. "I shall neverbe 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 dosomething to expose myself. ""That may be--but not by sketches in Swisserland. You will never go toSwisserland. Your uncle and aunt will never allow you to leave England. ""They may be induced to go too. A warm climate may be prescribed forher. I have more than half an expectation of our all going abroad. I assureyou I have. I feel a strong persuasion, this morning, that I shall soon beabroad. I ought to travel. I am tired of doing nothing. I want a change. I amserious, Miss Woodhouse, whatever your penetrating eyes may fancy--I amsick of England-- and would leave it to-morrow, if I could. ""You are sick of prosperity and indulgence. Cannot you invent a fewhardships for yourself, and be contented to stay?""I sick of prosperity and indulgence! You are quite mistaken. I do notlook upon myself as either prosperous or indulged. I am thwarted in everything material. I do not consider myself at all a fortunate person. ""You are not quite so miserable, though, as when you first came. Goand eat and drink a little more, and you will do very well. Another slice ofcold meat, another draught of Madeira and water, will make you nearly ona 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 notSwisserland, but it will be something for a young man so much in want of achange. 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 allthere without me. ""These are difficulties which you must settle for yourself. Chuse yourown 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 itvery composedly; but there was a very general distress and disturbance onMiss Fairfax's disappearance being explained. That it was time for everybody to go, concluded the subject; and with a short final arrangement forthe next day's scheme, they parted. Frank Churchill's little inclination toexclude 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 fromRichmond was to take him back before the following evening. CHAPTER VIIThey had a very fine day for Box Hill; and all the other outwardcircumstances of arrangement, accommodation, and punctuality, were infavour of a pleasant party. Mr. Weston directed the whole, officiating safelybetween Hartfield and the Vicarage, and every body was in good time. Emma and Harriet went together; Miss Bates and her niece, with theEltons; 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 hada burst of admiration on first arriving; but in the general amount of the daythere was deficiency. There was a languor, a want of spirits, a want ofunion, which could not be got over. They separated too much into parties. The Eltons walked together; Mr. Knightley took charge of Miss Bates andJane; and Emma and Harriet belonged to Frank Churchill. And Mr. Westontried, in vain, to make them harmonise better. It seemed at first anaccidental 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 aprinciple of separation, between the other parties, too strong for any fineprospects, or any cold collation, or any cheerful Mr. Weston, to remove. At first it was downright dulness to Emma. She had never seen FrankChurchill so silent and stupid. He said nothing worth hearing--lookedwithout seeing--admired without intelligence--listened without knowingwhat she said. While he was so dull, it was no wonder that Harriet shouldbe 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. Toamuse her, and be agreeable in her eyes, seemed all that he cared for--andEmma, 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 theiracquaintance; but which now, in her own estimation, meant nothing, though in the judgment of most people looking on it must have had such anappearance as no English word but flirtation could very well describe. "Mr. Frank Churchill and Miss Woodhouse flirted together excessively. " Theywere laying themselves open to that very phrase--and to having it sent offin a letter to Maple Grove by one lady, to Ireland by another. Not thatEmma was gay and thoughtless from any real felicity; it was rather becauseshe felt less happy than she had expected. She laughed because she wasdisappointed; and though she liked him for his attentions, and thoughtthem all, whether in friendship, admiration, or playfulness, extremelyjudicious, they were not winning back her heart. She still intended him forher 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 thehappiness of this party. I had quite determined to go away again. ""Yes, you were very cross; and I do not know what about, except thatyou were too late for the best strawberries. I was a kinder friend than youdeserved. But you were humble. You begged hard to be commanded tocome. ""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 ownmanagement; but to-day you are got back again--and as I cannot be alwayswith you, it is best to believe your temper under your own command ratherthan mine. ""It comes to the same thing. I can have no self-command without amotive. You order me, whether you speak or not. And you can be alwayswith me. You are always with me. ""Dating from three o'clock yesterday. My perpetual influence could notbegin 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 youfirst in February. ""Your gallantry is really unanswerable. But (lowering her voice)--nobody speaks except ourselves, and it is rather too much to be talkingnonsense for the entertainment of seven silent people. ""I say nothing of which I am ashamed, " replied he, with livelyimpudence. "I saw you first in February. Let every body on the Hill hear meif they can. Let my accents swell to Mickleham on one side, and Dorking onthe other. I saw you first in February. " And then whispering-- "Ourcompanions are excessively stupid. What shall we do to rouse them? Anynonsense will serve. They shall talk. Ladies and gentlemen, I am ordered byMiss Woodhouse (who, wherever she is, presides) to say, that she desires toknow what you are all thinking of?"Some laughed, and answered good-humouredly. Miss Bates said a greatdeal; 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 allthinking of?""Oh! no, no"--cried Emma, laughing as carelessly as she could-- "Uponno account in the world. It is the very last thing I would stand the brunt ofjust now. Let me hear any thing rather than what you are all thinking of. Iwill 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 nothave thought myself privileged to inquire into. Though, perhaps, as theChaperon of the party-- I never was in any circle--exploring parties--youngladies--married women--"Her mutterings were chiefly to her husband; and he murmured, inreply, "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 bodyknows what is due to you. ""It will not do, " whispered Frank to Emma; "they are most of themaffronted. I will attack them with more address. Ladies and gentlemen--Iam ordered by Miss Woodhouse to say, that she waives her right ofknowing exactly what you may all be thinking of, and only requiressomething very entertaining from each of you, in a general way. Here areseven of you, besides myself, (who, she is pleased to say, am veryentertaining already, ) and she only demands from each of you either onething very clever, be it prose or verse, original or repeated--or two thingsmoderately clever--or three things very dull indeed, and she engages tolaugh 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 shallbe 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'sassent)--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 belimited as to number--only three at once. "Miss Bates, deceived by the mock ceremony of her manner, did notimmediately catch her meaning; but, when it burst on her, it could notanger, 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 verydisagreeable, 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 beindulgent--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 hearit. ""I doubt its being very clever myself, " said Mr. Weston. "It is too mucha 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 neverguess. --I will tell you. --M. And A. --Em-ma. --Do you understand?"Understanding and gratification came together. It might be a veryindifferent piece of wit, but Emma found a great deal to laugh at and enjoyin it--and so did Frank and Harriet. --It did not seem to touch the rest ofthe party equally; some looked very stupid about it, and Mr. Knightleygravely said, "This explains the sort of clever thing that is wanted, and Mr. Westonhas done very well for himself; but he must have knocked up every bodyelse. Perfection should not have come quite so soon. ""Oh! for myself, I protest I must be excused, " said Mrs. Elton; "I reallycannot attempt--I am not at all fond of the sort of thing. I had an acrosticonce sent to me upon my own name, which I was not at all pleased with. Iknew 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 mustexcuse me. I am not one of those who have witty things at every body'sservice. I do not pretend to be a wit. I have a great deal of vivacity in myown way, but I really must be allowed to judge when to speak and when tohold 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 sneeringconsciousness; "I have nothing to say that can entertain Miss Woodhouse, or any other young lady. An old married man--quite good for nothing. Shallwe 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 ofhearing:--"How well they suit one another!--Very lucky--marrying as theydid, upon an acquaintance formed only in a public place!--They only kneweach other, I think, a few weeks in Bath! Peculiarly lucky!--for as to anyreal knowledge of a person's disposition that Bath, or any public place, cangive--it is all nothing; there can be no knowledge. It is only by seeingwomen 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 andluck--and will generally be ill-luck. How many a man has committedhimself on a short acquaintance, and rued it all the rest of his life!"Miss Fairfax, who had seldom spoken before, except among her ownconfederates, 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 unfortunatecircumstances do sometimes occur both to men and women, I cannotimagine them to be very frequent. A hasty and imprudent attachment mayarise--but there is generally time to recover from it afterwards. I would beunderstood to mean, that it can be only weak, irresolute characters, (whosehappiness must be always at the mercy of chance, ) who will suffer anunfortunate acquaintance to be an inconvenience, an oppression for ever. "He made no answer; merely looked, and bowed in submission; andsoon afterwards said, in a lively tone, "Well, I have so little confidence in my own judgment, that whenever Imarry, I hope some body will chuse my wife for me. Will you? (turning toEmma. ) Will you chuse a wife for me?--I am sure I should like any bodyfixed on by you. You provide for the family, you know, (with a smile at hisfather). 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 charmingwife. ""She must be very lively, and have hazle eyes. I care for nothing else. Ishall go abroad for a couple of years--and when I return, I shall come toyou for my wife. Remember. "Emma was in no danger of forgetting. It was a commission to touchevery favourite feeling. Would not Harriet be the very creature described?Hazle eyes excepted, two years more might make her all that he wished. Hemight 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 wasready to have gone with her, but this will do just as well. We shall soonovertake her. There she is--no, that's somebody else. That's one of theladies 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'sspirits now rose to a pitch almost unpleasant. Even Emma grew tired at lastof flattery and merriment, and wished herself rather walking quietly aboutwith any of the others, or sitting almost alone, and quite unattended to, intranquil observation of the beautiful views beneath her. The appearance ofthe servants looking out for them to give notice of the carriages was a joyfulsight; and even the bustle of collecting and preparing to depart, and thesolicitude of Mrs. Elton to have her carriage first, were gladly endured, inthe prospect of the quiet drive home which was to close the veryquestionable enjoyments of this day of pleasure. Such another scheme, composed of so many ill-assorted people, she hoped never to be betrayedinto again. While waiting for the carriage, she found Mr. Knightley by her side. Helooked 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: aprivilege rather endured than allowed, perhaps, but I must still use it. Icannot see you acting wrong, without a remonstrance. How could you be sounfeeling to Miss Bates? How could you be so insolent in your wit to awoman of her character, age, and situation?-- Emma, I had not thought itpossible. "Emma recollected, blushed, was sorry, but tried to laugh it off. "Nay, how could I help saying what I did?--Nobody could have helpedit. 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 itsince. I wish you could have heard how she talked of it--with what candourand generosity. I wish you could have heard her honouring yourforbearance, in being able to pay her such attentions, as she was for everreceiving from yourself and your father, when her society must be soirksome. ""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 mostunfortunately 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 thegood. Were she a woman of fortune, I would leave every harmless absurdityto 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 frombeing the case. She is poor; she has sunk from the comforts she was bornto; and, if she live to old age, must probably sink more. Her situationshould secure your compassion. It was badly done, indeed! You, whom shehad known from an infant, whom she had seen grow up from a periodwhen 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 herniece, too--and before others, many of whom (certainly some, ) would beentirely 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 tellyou truths while I can; satisfied with proving myself your friend by veryfaithful counsel, and trusting that you will some time or other do megreater justice than you can do now. "While they talked, they were advancing towards the carriage; it wasready; and, before she could speak again, he had handed her in. He hadmisinterpreted the feelings which had kept her face averted, and her tonguemotionless. They were combined only of anger against herself, mortification, and deep concern. She had not been able to speak; and, onentering the carriage, sunk back for a moment overcome--then reproachingherself for having taken no leave, making no acknowledgment, parting inapparent sullenness, she looked out with voice and hand eager to shew adifference; but it was just too late. He had turned away, and the horseswere in motion. She continued to look back, but in vain; and soon, withwhat appeared unusual speed, they were half way down the hill, and everything left far behind. She was vexed beyond what could have beenexpressed--almost beyond what she could conceal. Never had she felt soagitated, mortified, grieved, at any circumstance in her life. She was mostforcibly struck. The truth of this representation there was no denying. Shefelt it at her heart. How could she have been so brutal, so cruel to MissBates! How could she have exposed herself to such ill opinion in any oneshe valued! And how suffer him to leave her without saying one word ofgratitude, of concurrence, of common kindness!Time did not compose her. As she reflected more, she seemed but tofeel it more. She never had been so depressed. Happily it was not necessaryto 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 hercheeks almost all the way home, without being at any trouble to checkthem, extraordinary as they were. CHAPTER VIIIThe wretchedness of a scheme to Box Hill was in Emma's thoughts allthe evening. How it might be considered by the rest of the party, she couldnot tell. They, in their different homes, and their different ways, might belooking back on it with pleasure; but in her view it was a morning morecompletely misspent, more totally bare of rational satisfaction at the time, and more to be abhorred in recollection, than any she had ever passed. Awhole 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 ofthe twenty-four to his comfort; and feeling that, unmerited as might be thedegree of his fond affection and confiding esteem, she could not, in hergeneral conduct, be open to any severe reproach. As a daughter, she hopedshe 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 youtruths 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 hadbeen often remiss, her conscience told her so; remiss, perhaps, more inthought than fact; scornful, ungracious. But it should be so no more. In thewarmth 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, kindlyintercourse. She was just as determined when the morrow came, and went early, that nothing might prevent her. It was not unlikely, she thought, that shemight see Mr. Knightley in her way; or, perhaps, he might come in whileshe were paying her visit. She had no objection. She would not be ashamedof the appearance of the penitence, so justly and truly hers. Her eyes weretowards Donwell as she walked, but she saw him not. "The ladies were all at home. " She had never rejoiced at the soundbefore, nor ever before entered the passage, nor walked up the stairs, withany 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; themaid looked frightened and awkward; hoped she would be pleased to wait amoment, and then ushered her in too soon. The aunt and niece seemedboth escaping into the adjoining room. Jane she had a distinct glimpse of, looking extremely ill; and, before the door had shut them out, she heardMiss Bates saying, "Well, my dear, I shall say you are laid down upon thebed, and I am sure you are ill enough. "Poor old Mrs. Bates, civil and humble as usual, looked as if she did notquite understand what was going on. "I am afraid Jane is not very well, " said she, "but I do not know; theytell me she is well. I dare say my daughter will be here presently, MissWoodhouse. I hope you find a chair. I wish Hetty had not gone. I am verylittle able--Have you a chair, ma'am? Do you sit where you like? I am sureshe will be here presently. "Emma seriously hoped she would. She had a moment's fear of MissBates keeping away from her. But Miss Bates soon came--"Very happy andobliged"--but Emma's conscience told her that there was not the samecheerful volubility as before--less ease of look and manner. A very friendlyinquiry after Miss Fairfax, she hoped, might lead the way to a return of oldfeelings. 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, inme--(twinkling away a tear or two)--but it will be very trying for us to partwith her, after having had her so long, and she has a dreadful headache justnow, writing all the morning:--such long letters, you know, to be written toColonel Campbell, and Mrs. Dixon. 'My dear, ' said I, 'you will blindyourself'--for tears were in her eyes perpetually. One cannot wonder, onecannot wonder. It is a great change; and though she is amazinglyfortunate--such a situation, I suppose, as no young woman before ever metwith on first going out--do not think us ungrateful, Miss Woodhouse, forsuch surprising good fortune--(again dispersing her tears)--but, poor dearsoul! if you were to see what a headache she has. When one is in greatpain, you know one cannot feel any blessing quite as it may deserve. She isas low as possible. To look at her, nobody would think how delighted andhappy she is to have secured such a situation. You will excuse her notcoming to you--she is not able--she is gone into her own room--I want herto lie down upon the bed. 'My dear, ' said I, 'I shall say you are laid downupon 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. Shewill be extremely sorry to miss seeing you, Miss Woodhouse, but yourkindness will excuse her. You were kept waiting at the door--I was quiteashamed--but somehow there was a little bustle--for it so happened thatwe had not heard the knock, and till you were on the stairs, we did notknow 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 sometime or other, and it may as well be now. ' But then Patty came in, and saidit was you. 'Oh!' said I, 'it is Miss Woodhouse: I am sure you will like to seeher. '-- 'I can see nobody, ' said she; and up she got, and would go away; andthat was what made us keep you waiting--and extremely sorry andashamed we were. 'If you must go, my dear, ' said I, 'you must, and I willsay you are laid down upon the bed. '"Emma was most sincerely interested. Her heart had been long growingkinder towards Jane; and this picture of her present sufferings acted as acure 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. Shespoke as she felt, with earnest regret and solicitude--sincerely wishing thatthe circumstances which she collected from Miss Bates to be now actuallydetermined on, might be as much for Miss Fairfax's advantage and comfortas possible. "It must be a severe trial to them all. She had understood it wasto 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 herdreadful 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 thecharge of her three little girls--delightful children. Impossible that anysituation could be more replete with comfort; if we except, perhaps, Mrs. Suckling's own family, and Mrs. Bragge's; but Mrs. Smallridge is intimatewith both, and in the very same neighbourhood:--lives only four miles fromMaple Grove. Jane will be only four miles from Maple Grove. ""Mrs. Elton, I suppose, has been the person to whom Miss Fairfaxowes--""Yes, our good Mrs. Elton. The most indefatigable, true friend. Shewould not take a denial. She would not let Jane say, 'No;' for when Janefirst heard of it, (it was the day before yesterday, the very morning we wereat Donwell, ) when Jane first heard of it, she was quite decided againstaccepting 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'sreturn, and nothing should induce her

to enter into any engagement atpresent--and so she told Mrs. Elton over and over again--and I am sure Ihad 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 notevery body that would have stood out in such a kind way as she did, andrefuse to take Jane's answer; but she positively declared she would not writeany such denial yesterday, as Jane wished her; she would wait--and, sureenough, yesterday evening it was all settled that Jane should go. Quite asurprize to me! I had not the least idea!--Jane took Mrs. Elton aside, andtold her at once, that upon thinking over the advantages of Mrs. Smallridge's situation, she had come to the resolution of accepting it. --I didnot 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, uponthe hill, while we were walking about with Mr. Knightley. 'You must allspend your evening with us, ' said she--'I positively must have you allcome. '""Mr. Knightley was there too, was he?""No, not Mr. Knightley; he declined it from the first; and though Ithought he would come, because Mrs. Elton declared she would not let himoff, he did not;--but my mother, and Jane, and I, were all there, and a veryagreeable evening we had. Such kind friends, you know, Miss Woodhouse, one must always find agreeable, though every body seemed rather faggedafter the morning's party. Even pleasure, you know, is fatiguing--and Icannot say that any of them seemed very much to have enjoyed it. However, I shall always think it a very pleasant party, and feel extremelyobliged to the kind friends who included me in it. ""Miss Fairfax, I suppose, though you were not aware of it, had beenmaking up her mind the whole day?""I dare say she had. ""Whenever the time may come, it must be unwelcome to her and all herfriends--but I hope her engagement will have every alleviation that ispossible--I mean, as to the character and manners of the family. ""Thank you, dear Miss Woodhouse. Yes, indeed, there is every thing inthe world that can make her happy in it. Except the Sucklings and Bragges, there is not such another nursery establishment, so liberal and elegant, inall 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 elegantsweet children anywhere. Jane will be treated with such regard andkindness!-- It will be nothing but pleasure, a life of pleasure. --And hersalary!-- I really cannot venture to name her salary to you, MissWoodhouse. Even you, used as you are to great sums, would hardly believethat so much could be given to a young person like Jane. ""Ah! madam, " cried Emma, "if other children are at all like what Iremember to have been myself, I should think five times the amount ofwhat I have ever yet heard named as a salary on such occasions, dearlyearned. ""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 tobear 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 asshe cannot feel herself justified in declining. I was so astonished when shefirst told me what she had been saying to Mrs. Elton, and when Mrs. Eltonat 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 Irecollect, 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 tospeak with him. Poor old John, I have a great regard for him; he was clerkto 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 goand see him to-day; and so will Jane, I am sure, if she gets out at all. Andpoor John's son came to talk to Mr. Elton about relief from the parish; he isvery 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 withoutsome help; and so, when Mr. Elton came back, he told us what John ostlerhad been telling him, and then it came out about the chaise having beensent to Randalls to take Mr. Frank Churchill to Richmond. That was whathappened before tea. It was after tea that Jane spoke to Mrs. Elton. "Miss Bates would hardly give Emma time to say how perfectly new thiscircumstance was to her; but as without supposing it possible that shecould 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 theaccumulation of the ostler's own knowledge, and the knowledge of theservants at Randalls, was, that a messenger had come over from Richmondsoon after the return of the party from Box Hill--which messenger, however, had been no more than was expected; and that Mr. Churchill hadsent his nephew a few lines, containing, upon the whole, a tolerableaccount of Mrs. Churchill, and only wishing him not to delay coming backbeyond the next morning early; but that Mr. Frank Churchill havingresolved to go home directly, without waiting at all, and his horse seemingto have got a cold, Tom had been sent off immediately for the Crownchaise, and the ostler had stood out and seen it pass by, the boy going agood pace, and driving very steady. There was nothing in all this either to astonish or interest, and it caughtEmma's attention only as it united with the subject which already engagedher mind. The contrast between Mrs. Churchill's importance in the world, and Jane Fairfax's, struck her; one was every thing, the other nothing--andshe sat musing on the difference of woman's destiny, and quite unconsciouson 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 becomeof that?--Very true. Poor dear Jane was talking of it just now. -- 'You mustgo, ' said she. 'You and I must part. You will have no business here. --Let itstay, however, ' said she; 'give it houseroom till Colonel Campbell comesback. I shall talk about it to him; he will settle for me; he will help me outof all my difficulties. '-- And to this day, I do believe, she knows notwhether it was his present or his daughter's. "Now Emma was obliged to think of the pianoforte; and theremembrance of all her former fanciful and unfair conjectures was so littlepleasing, that she soon allowed herself to believe her visit had been longenough; and, with a repetition of every thing that she could venture to sayof the good wishes which she really felt, took leave. CHAPTER IXEmma'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 withher father. --Mr. Knightley immediately got up, and in a manner decidedlygraver 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 afew days with John and Isabella. Have you any thing to send or say, besidesthe '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 friendsagain. While he stood, as if meaning to go, but not going--her father beganhis inquiries. "Well, my dear, and did you get there safely?--And how did you findmy worthy old friend and her daughter?--I dare say they must have beenvery 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 soattentive 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 ifhis eyes received the truth from her's, and all that had passed of good inher feelings were at once caught and honoured. -- He looked at her with aglow of regard. She was warmly gratified--and in another moment stillmore so, by a little movement of more than common friendliness on hispart. --He took her hand;--whether she had not herself made the firstmotion, she could not say--she might, perhaps, have rather offered it--buthe took her hand, pressed it, and certainly was on the point of carrying it tohis lips--when, from some fancy or other, he suddenly let it go. --Why heshould feel such a scruple, why he should change his mind when it was allbut done, she could not perceive. --He would have judged better, shethought, if he had not stopped. --The intention, however, was indubitable;and whether it was that his manners had in general so little gallantry, orhowever else it happened, but she thought nothing became him more. -- Itwas with him, of so simple, yet so dignified a nature. -- She could not butrecall the attempt with great satisfaction. It spoke such perfect amity. --Heleft them immediately afterwards--gone in a moment. He always movedwith 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 wishedshe had left her ten minutes earlier;--it would have been a great pleasure totalk over Jane Fairfax's situation with Mr. Knightley. -- Neither would sheregret that he should be going to Brunswick Square, for she knew howmuch his visit would be enjoyed--but it might have happened at a bettertime--and to have had longer notice of it, would have been pleasanter. --They parted thorough friends, however; she could not be deceived as to themeaning of his countenance, and his unfinished gallantry;--it was all doneto assure her that she had fully recovered his good opinion. --He had beensitting with them half an hour, she found. It was a pity that she had notcome back earlier!In the hope of diverting her father's thoughts from the disagreeablenessof Mr. Knightley's going to London; and going so suddenly; and going onhorseback, which she knew would be all very bad; Emma communicatedher news of Jane Fairfax, and her dependence on the effect was justified; itsupplied a very useful check, --interested, without disturbing him. He hadlong made up his mind to Jane Fairfax's going out as governess, and couldtalk of it cheerfully, but Mr. Knightley's going to London had been anunexpected blow. "I am very glad, indeed, my dear, to hear she is to be so comfortablysettled. Mrs. Elton is very good-natured and agreeable, and I dare say heracquaintance 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 hopeshe will be better off in one respect, and not be induced to go away after ithas been her home so long. "The following day brought news from Richmond to throw every thingelse into the background. An express arrived at Randalls to announce thedeath of Mrs. Churchill! Though her nephew had had no particular reasonto hasten back on her account, she had not lived above six-and-thirty hoursafter his return. A sudden seizure of a different nature from any thingforeboded 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 ofgravity and sorrow; tenderness towards the departed, solicitude for thesurviving friends; and, in a reasonable time, curiosity to know where shewould be buried. Goldsmith tells us, that when lovely woman stoops tofolly, she has nothing to do but to die; and when she stoops to bedisagreeable, 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 ofwith compassionate allowances. In one point she was fully justified. Shehad never been admitted before to be seriously ill. The event acquitted herof 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 thetemper. It was a sad event--a great shock--with all her faults, what wouldMr. Churchill do without her? Mr. Churchill's loss would be dreadfulindeed. Mr. Churchill would never get over it. "-- Even Mr. Weston shookhis head, and looked solemn, and said, "Ah! poor woman, who would havethought it!" and resolved, that his mourning should be as handsome aspossible; and his wife sat sighing and moralising over her broad hems witha commiseration and good sense, true and steady. How it would affectFrank was among the earliest thoughts of both. It was also a very earlyspeculation with Emma. The character of Mrs. Churchill, the grief of herhusband--her mind glanced over them both with awe and compassion--and then rested with lightened feelings on how Frank might be affected bythe event, how benefited, how freed. She saw in a moment all the possiblegood. Now, an attachment to Harriet Smith would have nothing toencounter. Mr. Churchill, independent of his wife, was feared by nobody;an easy, guidable man, to be persuaded into any thing by his nephew. Allthat remained to be wished was, that the nephew should form theattachment, as, with all her goodwill in the cause, Emma could feel nocertainty 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 strengthenedcharacter, and refrained from any allusion that might endanger itsmaintenance. They spoke, therefore, of Mrs. Churchill's death with mutualforbearance. Short letters from Frank were received at Randalls, communicating allthat was immediately important of their state and plans. Mr. Churchill wasbetter than could be expected; and their first removal, on the departure ofthe funeral for Yorkshire, was to be to the house of a very old friend inWindsor, to whom Mr. Churchill had been promising a visit the last tenyears. At present, there was nothing to be done for Harriet; good wishes forthe future were all that could yet be possible on Emma's side. It was a more pressing concern to shew attention to Jane Fairfax, whoseprospects were closing, while Harriet's opened, and whose engagementsnow allowed of no delay in any one at Highbury, who wished to shew herkindness--and with Emma it was grown into a first wish. She had scarcelya stronger regret than for her past coldness; and the person, whom she hadbeen so many months neglecting, was now the very one on whom shewould have lavished every distinction of regard or sympathy. She wanted tobe of use to her; wanted to shew a value for her society, and testify respectand consideration. She resolved to prevail on her to spend a day atHartfield. A note was written to urge it. The invitation was refused, and bya verbal message. "Miss Fairfax was not well enough to write;" and whenMr. Perry called at Hartfield, the same morning, it appeared that she wasso much indisposed as to have been visited, though against her ownconsent, by himself, and that she was suffering under severe headaches, and a nervous fever to a degree, which made him doubt the possibility ofher going to Mrs. Smallridge's at the time proposed. Her health seemed forthe moment completely deranged--appetite quite gone--and though therewere no absolutely alarming symptoms, nothing touching the pulmonarycomplaint, which was the standing apprehension of the family, Mr. Perrywas uneasy about her. He thought she had undertaken more than she wasequal to, and that she felt it so herself, though she would not own it. Herspirits seemed overcome. Her present home, he could not but observe, wasunfavourable to a nervous disorder:--confined always to one room;--hecould have wished it otherwise--and her good aunt, though his very oldfriend, he must acknowledge to be not the best companion for an invalid ofthat description. Her care and attention could not be questioned; theywere, in fact, only too great. He very much feared that Miss Fairfax derivedmore evil than good from them. Emma listened with the warmest concern;grieved for her more and more, and looked around eager to discover someway of being useful. To take her--be it only an hour or two--from heraunt, 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 shewrote again to say, in the most feeling language she could command, thatshe 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 suchexercise for his patient. The answer was only in this short note:"Miss Fairfax's compliments and thanks, but is quite unequal to anyexercise. "Emma felt that her own note had deserved something better; but it wasimpossible to quarrel with words, whose tremulous inequality shewedindisposition so plainly, and she thought only of how she might bestcounteract 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 hopethat Jane would be induced to join her--but it would not do;--Miss Batescame to the carriage door, all gratitude, and agreeing with her mostearnestly in thinking an airing might be of the greatest service--and everything that message could do was tried--but all in vain. Miss Bates wasobliged to return without success; Jane was quite unpersuadable; the mereproposal of going out seemed to make her worse. --Emma wished she couldhave seen her, and tried her own powers; but, almost before she could hintthe wish, Miss Bates made it appear that she had promised her niece on noaccount to let Miss Woodhouse in. "Indeed, the truth was, that poor dearJane 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 couldshe feel any right of preference herself--she submitted, therefore, and onlyquestioned Miss Bates farther as to her niece's appetite and diet, which shelonged to be able to assist. On that subject poor Miss Bates was veryunhappy, 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 anexamination of her stores; and some arrowroot of very superior quality wasspeedily despatched to Miss Bates with a most friendly note. In half anhour 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 athing she could not take--and, moreover, she insisted on her saying, thatshe was not at all in want of any thing. "When Emma afterwards heard that Jane Fairfax had been seenwandering about the meadows, at some distance from Highbury, on theafternoon of the very day on which she had, under the plea of beingunequal to any exercise, so peremptorily refused to go out with her in thecarriage, she could have no doubt--putting every thing together--that Janewas 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 fromthis sort of irritation of spirits, inconsistency of action, and inequality ofpowers; and it mortified her that she was given so little credit for properfeeling, or esteemed so little worthy as a friend: but she had the consolationof knowing that her intentions were good, and of being able to say toherself, that could Mr. Knightley have been privy to all her attempts ofassisting Jane Fairfax, could he even have seen into her heart, he wouldnot, on this occasion, have found any thing to reprove. CHAPTER XOne morning, about ten days after Mrs. Churchill's decease, Emma wascalled downstairs to Mr. Weston, who "could not stay five minutes, andwanted 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 itimmediately, to say, unheard by her father, "Can you come to Randalls at any time this morning?--Do, if it bepossible. 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 thecarriage, and come to you, but she must see you alone, and that youknow--(nodding towards her father)--Humph!--Can you come?""Certainly. This moment, if you please. It is impossible to refuse whatyou 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 intime. 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 herfriend was well, she endeavoured not to be uneasy, and settling it with herfather, that she would take her walk now, she and Mr. Weston were soonout 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 toleave it all to her. She will break it to you better than I can. Do not beimpatient, 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 BrunswickSquare. 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 dearestfriends are now in Brunswick Square. Which of them is it?-- I charge youby 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 beto 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 thesmallest 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. Ishould not have used the expression. In fact, it does not concern you--itconcerns only myself, --that is, we hope. --Humph!--In short, my dearEmma, there is no occasion to be so uneasy about it. I don't say that it isnot a disagreeable business--but things might be much worse. --If we walkfast, we shall soon be at Randalls. "Emma found that she must wait; and now it required little effort. Sheasked no more questions therefore, merely employed her own fancy, andthat soon pointed out to her the probability of its being some moneyconcern--something just come to light, of a disagreeable nature in thecircumstances of the family, --something which the late event at Richmondhad brought forward. Her fancy was very active. Half a dozen naturalchildren, perhaps--and poor Frank cut off!-- This, though veryundesirable, would be no matter of agony to her. It inspired little more thanan 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 anyother view. "I do not know. --One of the Otways. --Not Frank;--it is not Frank, Iassure 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 moreguarded 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, " saidhe, as they entered the room--"I have brought her, and now I hope you willsoon be better. I shall leave you together. There is no use in delay. I shallnot be far off, if you want me. "-- And Emma distinctly heard him add, in alower 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 muchperturbation, that Emma's uneasiness increased; and the moment they werealone, she eagerly said, "What is it my dear friend? Something of a very unpleasant nature, Ifind, has occurred;--do let me know directly what it is. I have been walkingall this way in complete suspense. We both abhor suspense. Do not letmine 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 areto 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 hasbeen here this very morning, on a most extraordinary errand. It isimpossible to express our surprize. He came to speak to his father on asubject, --to announce an attachment--"She stopped to breathe. Emma thought first of herself, and then ofHarriet. "More than an attachment, indeed, " resumed Mrs. Weston; "anengagement--a positive engagement. --What will you say, Emma--what willany body say, when it is known that Frank Churchill and Miss Fairfax areengaged;--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 hereyes, and talking on with eagerness, that Emma might have time torecover-- "You may well be amazed. But it is even so. There has been asolemn engagement between them ever since October--formed atWeymouth, and kept a secret from every body. Not a creature knowing itbut themselves--neither the Campbells, nor her family, nor his. -- It is sowonderful, that though perfectly convinced of the fact, it is yet almostincredible to myself. I can hardly believe it. -- I thought I knew him. "Emma scarcely heard what was said. --Her mind was divided betweentwo ideas--her own former conversations with him about Miss Fairfax; andpoor Harriet;--and for some time she could only exclaim, and requireconfirmation, repeated confirmation. "Well, " said she at last, trying to recover herself; "this is a circumstancewhich 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 toHighbury?""Engaged since October, --secretly engaged. --It has hurt me, Emma, very much. It has hurt his father equally. Some part of his conduct wecannot excuse. "Emma pondered a moment, and then replied, "I will not pretend not tounderstand you; and to give you all the relief in my power, be assured thatno such effect has followed his attentions to me, as you are apprehensiveof. "Mrs. Weston looked up, afraid to believe; but Emma's countenance wasas steady as her words. "That you may have less difficulty in believing this boast, of my presentperfect indifference, " she continued, "I will farther tell you, that there was aperiod in the early part of our acquaintance, when I did like him, when Iwas very much disposed to be attached to him--nay, was attached--andhow it came to cease, is perhaps the wonder. Fortunately, however, it didcease. 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 thesimple truth. "Mrs. Weston kissed her with tears of joy; and when she could findutterance, assured her, that this protestation had done her more good thanany thing else in the world could do. "Mr. Weston will be almost as much relieved as myself, " said she. "Onthis point we have been wretched. It was our darling wish that you mightbe 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 gratefulwonder to you and myself. But this does not acquit him, Mrs. Weston; andI must say, that I think him greatly to blame. What right had he to comeamong us with affection and faith engaged, and with manners so verydisengaged? What right had he to endeavour to please, as he certainly did--to distinguish any one young woman with persevering attention, as hecertainly did--while he really belonged to another?--How could he tellwhat mischief he might be doing?-- How could he tell that he might not bemaking 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! tolook on, while repeated attentions were offering to another woman, beforeher face, and not resent it. --That is a degree of placidity, which I canneither comprehend nor respect. ""There were misunderstandings between them, Emma; he said soexpressly. He had not time to enter into much explanation. He was hereonly a quarter of an hour, and in a state of agitation which did not allowthe full use even of the time he could stay--but that there had beenmisunderstandings he decidedly said. The present crisis, indeed, seemed tobe brought on by them; and those misunderstandings might very possiblyarise from the impropriety of his conduct. ""Impropriety! Oh! Mrs. Weston--it is too calm a censure. Much, muchbeyond impropriety!--It has sunk him, I cannot say how it has sunk him inmy opinion. So unlike what a man should be!-- None of that uprightintegrity, that strict adherence to truth and principle, that disdain of trickand 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 beenwrong in this instance, I have known him long enough to answer for hishaving 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 bysuch horrible indelicacy? To suffer her to engage herself--to suffer her evento think of such a measure!""He knew nothing about it, Emma. On this article I can fully acquithim. It was a private resolution of hers, not communicated to him--or atleast not communicated in a way to carry conviction. -- Till yesterday, Iknow he said he was in the dark as to her plans. They burst on him, I donot know how, but by some letter or message--and it was the discovery ofwhat she was doing, of this very project of hers, which determined him tocome forward at once, own it all to his uncle, throw himself on hiskindness, and, in short, put an end to the miserable state of concealmentthat had been carrying on so long. "Emma began to listen better. "I am to hear from him soon, " continued Mrs. Weston. "He told me atparting, that he should soon write; and he spoke in a manner which seemedto promise me many particulars that could not be given now. Let us wait, therefore, for this letter. It may bring many extenuations. It may makemany 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 ushave 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 dealunder such a system of secresy and concealment. ""His sufferings, " replied Emma dryly, "do not appear to have done himmuch harm. Well, and how did Mr. Churchill take it?""Most favourably for his nephew--gave his consent with scarcely adifficulty. Conceive what the events of a week have done in that family!While poor Mrs. Churchill lived, I suppose there could not have been ahope, a chance, a possibility;--but scarcely are her remains at rest in thefamily vault, than her husband is persuaded to act exactly opposite to whatshe would have required. What a blessing it is, when undue influence doesnot 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 thismorning. He stopped at Highbury, at the Bates's, I fancy, some time--andthen came on hither; but was in such a hurry to get back to his uncle, towhom he is just now more necessary than ever, that, as I tell you, he couldstay with us but a quarter of an hour. -- He was very much agitated--verymuch, indeed--to a degree that made him appear quite a different creaturefrom 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 hadno previous suspicion of-- and there was every appearance of his havingbeen feeling a great deal. ""And do you really believe the affair to have been carrying on with suchperfect secresy?--The Campbells, the Dixons, did none of them know of theengagement?"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 beingin the world but their two selves. ""Well, " said Emma, "I suppose we shall gradually grow reconciled to theidea, and I wish them very happy. But I shall always think it a veryabominable sort of proceeding. What has it been but a system of hypocrisyand deceit, --espionage, and treachery?-- To come among us withprofessions of openness and simplicity; and such a league in secret to judgeus all!--Here have we been, the whole winter and spring, completelyduped, fancying ourselves all on an equal footing of truth and honour, withtwo people in the midst of us who may have been carrying round, comparing and sitting in judgment on sentiments and words that werenever meant for both to hear. --They must take the consequence, if theyhave heard each other spoken of in a way not perfectly agreeable!""I am quite easy on that head, " replied Mrs. Weston. "I am very surethat I never said any thing of either to the other, which both might nothave heard. ""You are in luck. --Your only blunder was confined to my ear, when youimagined a certain friend of ours in love with the lady. ""True. But as I have always had a thoroughly good opinion of MissFairfax, I never could, under any blunder, have spoken ill of her; and as tospeaking ill of him, there I must have been safe. "At this moment Mr. Weston appeared at a little distance from thewindow, evidently on the watch. His wife gave him a look which invitedhim in; and, while he was coming round, added, "Now, dearest Emma, letme 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 aconnexion to gratify; but if Mr. Churchill does not feel that, why shouldwe? and it may be a very fortunate circumstance for him, for Frank, Imean, that he should have attached himself to a girl of such steadiness ofcharacter and good judgment as I have always given her credit for--andstill am disposed to give her credit for, in spite of this one great deviationfrom the strict rule of right. And how much may be said in her situation foreven that error!""Much, indeed!" cried Emma feelingly. "If a woman can ever be excusedfor 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 wasa device, I suppose, to sport with my curiosity, and exercise my talent ofguessing. But you really frightened me. I thought you had lost half yourproperty, at least. And here, instead of its being a matter of condolence, itturns 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 andaccomplished young women in England for your daughter. "A glance or two between him and his wife, convinced him that all wasas right as this speech proclaimed; and its happy effect on his spirits wasimmediate. His air and voice recovered their usual briskness: he shook herheartily and gratefully by the hand, and entered on the subject in a mannerto prove, that he now only wanted time and persuasion to think theengagement no very bad thing. His companions suggested only what couldpalliate imprudence, or smooth objections; and by the time they had talkedit all over together, and he had talked it all over again with Emma, in theirwalk back to Hartfield, he was become perfectly reconciled, and not farfrom thinking it the very best thing that Frank could possibly have done. CHAPTER XI"Harriet, poor Harriet!"--Those were the words; in them lay thetormenting ideas which Emma could not get rid of, and which constitutedthe real misery of the business to her. Frank Churchill had behaved very illby herself--very ill in many ways, --but it was not so much his behaviour asher own, which made her so angry with him. It was the scrape which hehad drawn her into on Harriet's account, that gave the deepest hue to hisoffence. --Poor Harriet! to be a second time the dupe of her misconceptionsand flattery. Mr. Knightley had spoken prophetically, when he once said, "Emma, you have been no friend to Harriet Smith. "--She was afraid she haddone her nothing but disservice. --It was true that she had not to chargeherself, in this instance as in the former, with being the sole and originalauthor of the mischief; with having suggested such feelings as mightotherwise never have entered Harriet's imagination; for Harriet hadacknowledged her admiration and preference of Frank Churchill before shehad ever given her a hint on the subject; but she felt completely guilty ofhaving encouraged what she might have repressed. She might haveprevented the indulgence and increase of such sentiments. Her influencewould have been enough. And now she was very conscious that she oughtto have prevented them. --She felt that she had been risking her friend'shappiness on most insufficient grounds. Common sense would havedirected 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 forher. --"But, with common sense, " she added, "I am afraid I have had little todo. "She was extremely angry with herself. If she could not have been angrywith Frank Churchill too, it would have been dreadful. -- As for JaneFairfax, she might at least relieve her feelings from any present solicitudeon her account. Harriet would be anxiety enough; she need no longer beunhappy about Jane, whose troubles and whose ill-health having, of course, the same origin, must be equally under cure. --Her days of insignificanceand evil were over. --She would soon be well, and happy, andprosperous. -- Emma could now imagine why her own attentions had beenslighted. This discovery laid many smaller matters open. No doubt it hadbeen from jealousy. --In Jane's eyes she had been a rival; and well mightany thing she could offer of

assistance or regard be repulsed. An airing inthe Hartfield carriage would have been the rack, and arrowroot from theHartfield storeroom must have been poison. She understood it all; and asfar as her mind could disengage itself from the injustice and selfishness ofangry feelings, she acknowledged that Jane Fairfax would have neitherelevation nor happiness beyond her desert. But poor Harriet was such anengrossing charge! There was little sympathy to be spared for any bodyelse. Emma was sadly fearful that this second disappointment would bemore severe than the first. Considering the very superior claims of theobject, it ought; and judging by its apparently stronger effect on Harriet'smind, producing reserve and self-command, it would. -- She mustcommunicate the painful truth, however, and as soon as possible. Aninjunction of secresy had been among Mr. Weston's parting words. "For thepresent, the whole affair was to be completely a secret. Mr. Churchill hadmade a point of it, as a token of respect to the wife he had so very recentlylost; and every body admitted it to be no more than due decorum. "-- Emmahad 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 toperform by Harriet, which Mrs. Weston had just gone through by herself. The intelligence, which had been so anxiously announced to her, she wasnow to be anxiously announcing to another. Her heart beat quick onhearing Harriet's footstep and voice; so, she supposed, had poor Mrs. Weston felt when she was approaching Randalls. Could the event of thedisclosure bear an equal resemblance!-- But of that, unfortunately, therecould 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 orvoice, whether Harriet could indeed have received any hint. "About Jane Fairfax. Did you ever hear any thing so strange? Oh!--youneed 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, Ishould not think of mentioning it to any body but you, but he said youknew it. ""What did Mr. Weston tell you?"--said Emma, still perplexed. "Oh! he told me all about it; that Jane Fairfax and Mr. Frank Churchillare to be married, and that they have been privately engaged to one anotherthis long while. How very odd!"It was, indeed, so odd; Harriet's behaviour was so extremely odd, thatEmma did not know how to understand it. Her character appearedabsolutely changed. She seemed to propose shewing no agitation, ordisappointment, or peculiar concern in the discovery. Emma looked at her, quite unable to speak. "Had you any idea, " cried Harriet, "of his being in love with her?--You, perhaps, might. --You (blushing as she spoke) who can see into every body'sheart; but nobody else--""Upon my word, " said Emma, "I begin to doubt my having any suchtalent. Can you seriously ask me, Harriet, whether I imagined him attachedto 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 theslightest suspicion, till within the last hour, of Mr. Frank Churchill's havingthe least regard for Jane Fairfax. You may be very sure that if I had, Ishould have cautioned you accordingly. ""Me!" cried Harriet, colouring, and astonished. "Why should you cautionme?--You do not think I care about Mr. Frank Churchill. ""I am delighted to hear you speak so stoutly on the subject, " repliedEmma, smiling; "but you do not mean to deny that there was a time--andnot very distant either--when you gave me reason to understand that youdid care about him?""Him!--never, never. Dear Miss Woodhouse, how could you so mistakeme?" 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 supposethen?--"She could not speak another word. --Her voice was lost; and she satdown, waiting in great terror till Harriet should answer. Harriet, who was standing at some distance, and with face turned fromher, did not immediately say any thing; and when she did speak, it was in avoice nearly as agitated as Emma's. "I should not have thought it possible, " she began, "that you could havemisunderstood me! I know we agreed never to name him--but consideringhow infinitely superior he is to every body else, I should not have thoughtit possible that I could be supposed to mean any other person. Mr. FrankChurchill, indeed! I do not know who would ever look at him in thecompany 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 havebeen so mistaken, is amazing!--I am sure, but for believing that youentirely approved and meant to encourage me in my attachment, I shouldhave considered it at first too great a presumption almost, to dare to thinkof him. At first, if you had not told me that more wonderful things hadhappened; that there had been matches of greater disparity (those wereyour very words);-- I should not have dared to give way to--I should nothave thought it possible--But if you, who had been always acquainted withhim--""Harriet!" cried Emma, collecting herself resolutely--"Let us understandeach other now, without the possibility of farther mistake. Are youspeaking of--Mr. Knightley?""To be sure I am. I never could have an idea of any body else--and so Ithought you knew. When we talked about him, it was as clear as possible. ""Not quite, " returned Emma, with forced calmness, "for all that youthen said, appeared to me to relate to a different person. I could almostassert that you had named Mr. Frank Churchill. I am sure the service Mr. Frank Churchill had rendered you, in protecting you from the gipsies, wasspoken of. ""Oh! Miss Woodhouse, how you do forget!""My dear Harriet, I perfectly remember the substance of what I said onthe occasion. I told you that I did not wonder at your attachment; thatconsidering the service he had rendered you, it was extremely natural:--andyou agreed to it, expressing yourself very warmly as to your sense of thatservice, and mentioning even what your sensations had been in seeing himcome forward to your rescue. --The impression of it is strong on mymemory. ""Oh, dear, " cried Harriet, "now I recollect what you mean; but I wasthinking of something very different at the time. It was not the gipsies--itwas not Mr. Frank Churchill that I meant. No! (with some elevation) I wasthinking of a much more precious circumstance--of Mr. Knightley's comingand asking me to dance, when Mr. Elton would not stand up with me; andwhen there was no other partner in the room. That was the kind action;that was the noble benevolence and generosity; that was the service whichmade me begin to feel how superior he was to every other being uponearth. ""Good God!" cried Emma, "this has been a most unfortunate--mostdeplorable 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 theother 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 feela great difference between the two, as to me or as to any body. You mustthink one five hundred million times more above me than the other. But Ihope, Miss Woodhouse, that supposing--that if--strange as it mayappear--. But you know they were your own words, that more wonderfulthings had happened, matches of greater disparity had taken place thanbetween Mr. Frank Churchill and me; and, therefore, it seems as if such athing even as this, may have occurred before--and if I should be sofortunate, beyond expression, as to--if Mr. Knightley should really--if hedoes not mind the disparity, I hope, dear Miss Woodhouse, you will not setyourself against it, and try to put difficulties in the way. But you are toogood for that, I am sure. "Harriet was standing at one of the windows. Emma turned round tolook 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 Ihave. "Emma's eyes were instantly withdrawn; and she sat silently meditating, in a fixed attitude, for a few minutes. A few minutes were sufficient formaking her acquainted with her own heart. A mind like hers, once openingto suspicion, made rapid progress. She touched--she admitted--sheacknowledged the whole truth. Why was it so much worse that Harrietshould be in love with Mr. Knightley, than with Frank Churchill? Why wasthe 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 mustmarry no one but herself!Her own conduct, as well as her own heart, was before her in the samefew minutes. She saw it all with a clearness which had never blessed herbefore. How improperly had she been acting by Harriet! How inconsiderate, how indelicate, how irrational, how unfeeling had been her conduct! Whatblindness, 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 ofrespect for herself, however, in spite of all these demerits--some concernfor her own appearance, and a strong sense of justice by Harriet--(therewould be no need of compassion to the girl who believed herself loved byMr. Knightley--but justice required that she should not be made unhappyby any coldness now, ) gave Emma the resolution to sit and endure fartherwith calmness, with even apparent kindness. --For her own advantageindeed, it was fit that the utmost extent of Harriet's hopes should beenquired into; and Harriet had done nothing to forfeit the regard andinterest which had been so voluntarily formed and maintained--or todeserve to be slighted by the person, whose counsels had never led herright. -- Rousing from reflection, therefore, and subduing her emotion, sheturned to Harriet again, and, in a more inviting accent, renewed theconversation; for as to the subject which had first introduced it, thewonderful story of Jane Fairfax, that was quite sunk and lost. -- Neither ofthem thought but of Mr. Knightley and themselves. Harriet, who had been standing in no unhappy reverie, was yet veryglad 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 givethe history of her hopes with great, though trembling delight. --Emma'stremblings as she asked, and as she listened, were better concealed thanHarriet's, but they were not less. Her voice was not unsteady; but her mindwas in all the perturbation that such a development of self, such a burst ofthreatening evil, such a confusion of sudden and perplexing emotions, mustcreate. -- She listened with much inward suffering, but with great outwardpatience, to Harriet's detail. --Methodical, or well arranged, or very welldelivered, it could not be expected to be; but it contained, when separatedfrom all the feebleness and tautology of the narration, a substance to sinkher spirit--especially with the corroborating circumstances, which her ownmemory brought in favour of Mr. Knightley's most improved opinion ofHarriet. Harriet had been conscious of a difference in his behaviour ever sincethose two decisive dances. --Emma knew that he had, on that occasion, found her much superior to his expectation. From that evening, or at leastfrom the time of Miss Woodhouse's encouraging her to think of him, Harriethad begun to be sensible of his talking to her much more than he had beenused to do, and of his having indeed quite a different manner towards her;a manner of kindness and sweetness!--Latterly she had been more andmore aware of it. When they had been all walking together, he had so oftencome and walked by her, and talked so very delightfully!--He seemed towant to be acquainted with her. Emma knew it to have been very much thecase. She had often observed the change, to almost the same extent. --Harriet repeated expressions of approbation and praise from him--andEmma felt them to be in the closest agreement with what she had known ofhis opinion of Harriet. He praised her for being without art or affectation, for having simple, honest, generous, feelings. -- She knew that he saw suchrecommendations in Harriet; he had dwelt on them to her more thanonce. --Much that lived in Harriet's memory, many little particulars of thenotice she had received from him, a look, a speech, a removal from onechair to another, a compliment implied, a preference inferred, had beenunnoticed, because unsuspected, by Emma. Circumstances that might swellto half an hour's relation, and contained multiplied proofs to her who hadseen them, had passed undiscerned by her who now heard them; but thetwo latest occurrences to be mentioned, the two of strongest promise toHarriet, were not without some degree of witness from Emma herself. --Thefirst, was his walking with her apart from the others, in the lime-walk atDonwell, where they had been walking some time before Emma came, andhe had taken pains (as she was convinced) to draw her from the rest tohimself--and at first, he had talked to her in a more particular way than hehad ever done before, in a very particular way indeed!--(Harriet could notrecall it without a blush. ) He seemed to be almost asking her, whether heraffections were engaged. -- But as soon as she (Miss Woodhouse) appearedlikely to join them, he changed the subject, and began talking aboutfarming:-- The second, was his having sat talking with her nearly half anhour before Emma came back from her visit, the very last morning of hisbeing at Hartfield--though, when he first came in, he had said that hecould not stay five minutes--and his having told her, during theirconversation, that though he must go to London, it was very much againsthis inclination that he left home at all, which was much more (as Emmafelt) than he had acknowledged to her. The superior degree of confidencetowards Harriet, which this one article marked, gave her severe pain. On the subject of the first of the two circumstances, she did, after alittle reflection, venture the following question. "Might he not?--Is not itpossible, that when enquiring, as you thought, into the state of youraffections, he might be alluding to Mr. Martin--he might have Mr. Martin'sinterest in view? But Harriet rejected the suspicion with spirit. "Mr. Martin! No indeed!--There was not a hint of Mr. Martin. I hope Iknow 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 MissWoodhouse, to say whether she had not good ground for hope. "I never should have presumed to think of it at first, " said she, "but foryou. You told me to observe him carefully, and let his behaviour be the ruleof mine--and so I have. But now I seem to feel that I may deserve him; andthat 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 onreply, "Harriet, I will only venture to declare, that Mr. Knightley is the lastman in the world, who would intentionally give any woman the idea of hisfeeling for her more than he really does. "Harriet seemed ready to worship her friend for a sentence sosatisfactory; and Emma was only saved from raptures and fondness, whichat that moment would have been dreadful penance, by the sound of herfather's footsteps. He was coming through the hall. Harriet was too muchagitated to encounter him. "She could not compose herself-- Mr. Woodhouse would be alarmed--she had better go;"--with most readyencouragement from her friend, therefore, she passed off through anotherdoor--and the moment she was gone, this was the spontaneous burst ofEmma's feelings: "Oh God! that I had never seen her!"The rest of the day, the following night, were hardly enough for herthoughts. --She was bewildered amidst the confusion of all that had rushedon her within the last few hours. Every moment had brought a freshsurprize; and every surprize must be matter of humiliation to her. --How tounderstand it all! How to understand the deceptions she had been thuspractising on herself, and living under!--The blunders, the blindness of herown head and heart!--she sat still, she walked about, she tried her ownroom, she tried the shrubbery--in every place, every posture, she perceivedthat she had acted most weakly; that she had been imposed on by others ina most mortifying degree; that she had been imposing on herself in a degreeyet more mortifying; that she was wretched, and should probably find thisday but the beginning of wretchedness. To understand, thoroughly understand her own heart, was the firstendeavour. To that point went every leisure moment which her father'sclaims on her allowed, and every moment of involuntary absence of mind. How long had Mr. Knightley been so dear to her, as every feelingdeclared him now to be? When had his influence, such influence begun?--When had he succeeded to that place in her affection, which FrankChurchill had once, for a short period, occupied?--She looked back; shecompared the two--compared them, as they had always stood in herestimation, from the time of the latter's becoming known to her-- and asthey must at any time have been compared by her, had it--oh! had it, byany blessed felicity, occurred to her, to institute the comparison. --She sawthat there never had been a time when she did not consider Mr. Knightleyas infinitely the superior, or when his regard for her had not been infinitelythe most dear. She saw, that in persuading herself, in fancying, in acting tothe contrary, she had been entirely under a delusion, totally ignorant of herown heart--and, in short, that she had never really cared for FrankChurchill at all!This was the conclusion of the first series of reflection. This was theknowledge of herself, on the first question of inquiry, which she reached;and without being long in reaching it. -- She was most sorrowfullyindignant; ashamed of every sensation but the one revealed to her--heraffection for Mr. Knightley. -- Every other part of her mind was disgusting. With insufferable vanity had she believed herself in the secret of everybody's feelings; with unpardonable arrogance proposed to arrange everybody's destiny. She was proved to have been universally mistaken; and shehad not quite done nothing--for she had done mischief. She had broughtevil 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 allthe reproach of having given it a beginning; for his attachment, she mustbelieve to be produced only by a consciousness of Harriet's;--and evenwere this not the case, he would never have known Harriet at all but forher folly. Mr. Knightley and Harriet Smith!--It was a union to distance everywonder of the kind. --The attachment of Frank Churchill and Jane Fairfaxbecame commonplace, threadbare, stale in the comparison, exciting nosurprize, presenting no disparity, affording nothing to be said or thought. --Mr. Knightley and Harriet Smith!--Such an elevation on her side! Such adebasement on his! It was horrible to Emma to think how it must sink himin the general opinion, to foresee the smiles, the sneers, the merriment itwould prompt at his expense; the mortification and disdain of his brother, the thousand inconveniences to himself. --Could it be?--No; it wasimpossible. And yet it was far, very far, from impossible. --Was it a newcircumstance for a man of first-rate abilities to be captivated by veryinferior powers? Was it new for one, perhaps too busy to seek, to be theprize of a girl who would seek him?--Was it new for any thing in this worldto 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 sheought, and where he had told her she ought!--Had she not, with a follywhich no tongue could express, prevented her marrying theunexceptionable young man who would have made her happy andrespectable in the line of life to which she ought to belong--all would havebeen safe; none of this dreadful sequel would have been. How Harriet could ever have had the presumption to raise her thoughtsto Mr. Knightley!--How she could dare to fancy herself the chosen of sucha man till actually assured of it!-- But Harriet was less humble, had fewerscruples than formerly. -- Her inferiority, whether of mind or situation, seemed little felt. -- She had seemed more sensible of Mr. Elton's being tostoop in marrying her, than she now seemed of Mr. Knightley's. -- Alas! wasnot that her own doing too? Who had been at pains to give Harriet notionsof self-consequence but herself?--Who but herself had taught her, that shewas to elevate herself if possible, and that her claims were great to a highworldly establishment?-- If Harriet, from being humble, were grown vain, it was her doing too. CHAPTER XIITill now that she was threatened with its loss, Emma had never knownhow much of her happiness depended on being first with Mr. Knightley, first in interest and affection. --Satisfied that it was so, and feeling it herdue, she had enjoyed it without reflection; and only in the dread of beingsupplanted, found how inexpressibly important it had been. --Long, verylong, she felt she had been first; for, having no female connexions of hisown, there had been only Isabella whose claims could be compared withhers, and she had always known exactly how far he loved and esteemedIsabella. She had herself been first with him for many years past. She hadnot deserved it; she had often been negligent or perverse, slighting hisadvice, or even wilfully opposing him, insensible of half his merits, andquarrelling with him because he would not acknowledge her false andinsolent estimate of her own--but still, from family attachment and habit, and thorough excellence of mind, he had loved her, and watched over herfrom a girl, with an endeavour to improve her, and an anxiety for her doingright, 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 thesuggestions of hope, however, which must follow here, presentedthemselves, she could not presume to indulge them. Harriet Smith mightthink herself not unworthy of being peculiarly, exclusively, passionatelyloved by Mr. Knightley. She could not. She could not flatter herself withany idea of blindness in his attachment to her. She had received a veryrecent proof of its impartiality. -- How shocked had he been by herbehaviour to Miss Bates! How directly, how strongly had he expressedhimself to her on the subject!--Not too strongly for the offence--but far, fartoo 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 inquestion; but there was a hope (at times a slight one, at times muchstronger, ) that Harriet might have deceived herself, and be overrating hisregard for her. --Wish it she must, for his sake--be the consequence nothingto 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 perfectlysatisfied. --Let him but continue the same Mr. Knightley to her and herfather, the same Mr. Knightley to all the world; let Donwell and Hartfieldlose none of their precious intercourse of friendship and confidence, andher 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 whatshe felt for him. Nothing should separate her from her father. She wouldnot marry, even if she were asked by Mr. Knightley. It must be her ardent wish that Harriet might be disappointed; and shehoped, that when able to see them together again, she might at least beable to ascertain what the chances for it were. --She should see themhenceforward with the closest observance; and wretchedly as she hadhitherto misunderstood even those she was watching, she did not knowhow to admit that she could be blinded here. -- He was expected back everyday. The power of observation would be soon given--frightfully soon itappeared when her thoughts were in one course. In the meanwhile, sheresolved against seeing Harriet. -- It would do neither of them good, itwould do the subject no good, to be talking of it farther. --She was resolvednot to be convinced, as long as she could doubt, and yet had no authorityfor opposing Harriet's confidence. To talk would be only to irritate. --Shewrote to her, therefore, kindly, but decisively, to beg that she would not, atpresent, come to Hartfield; acknowledging it to be her conviction, that allfarther confidential discussion of one topic had better be avoided; andhoping, that if a few days were allowed to pass before they met again, except in the company of others--she objected only to a tete-a-tete--theymight be able to act as if they had forgotten the conversation ofyesterday. --Harriet submitted, and approved, and was grateful. This point was just arranged, when a visitor arrived to tear Emma'sthoughts a little from the one subject which had engrossed them, sleepingor waking, the last twenty-four hours--Mrs. Weston, who had been callingon her daughter-in-law elect, and took Hartfield in her way home, almost asmuch in duty to Emma as in pleasure to herself, to relate all the particularsof so interesting an interview. Mr. Weston had accompanied her to Mrs. Bates's, and gone through hisshare of this essential attention most handsomely; but she having theninduced Miss Fairfax to join her in an airing, was now returned with muchmore to say, and much more to say with satisfaction, than a quarter of anhour spent in Mrs. Bates's parlour, with all the encumbrance of awkwardfeelings, could have afforded. A little curiosity Emma had; and she made the most of it while herfriend related. Mrs. Weston had set off to pay the visit in a good deal ofagitation herself; and in the first place had wished not to go at all atpresent, to be allowed merely to write to Miss Fairfax instead, and to deferthis ceremonious call till a little time had passed, and Mr. Churchill couldbe reconciled to the engagement's becoming known; as, considering everything, she thought such a visit could not be paid without leading toreports:--but Mr. Weston had thought differently; he was extremelyanxious to shew his approbation to Miss Fairfax and her family, and didnot conceive that any suspicion could be excited by it; or if it were, that itwould be of any consequence; for "such things, " he observed, "always gotabout. " Emma smiled, and felt that Mr. Weston had very good reason forsaying so. They had gone, in short--and very great had been the evidentdistress and confusion of the lady. She had hardly been able to speak aword, and every look and action had shewn how deeply she was sufferingfrom consciousness. The quiet, heart-felt satisfaction of the old lady, andthe rapturous delight of her daughter--who proved even too joyous to talkas usual, had been a gratifying, yet almost an affecting, scene. They wereboth so truly respectable in their happiness, so disinterested in everysensation; thought so much of Jane; so much of every body, and so little ofthemselves, that every kindly feeling was at work for them. Miss Fairfax'srecent illness had offered a fair plea for Mrs. Weston to invite her to anairing; she had drawn back and declined at first, but, on being pressed hadyielded; and, in the course of their drive, Mrs. Weston had, by gentleencouragement, overcome so much of her embarrassment, as to bring her toconverse on the important subject. Apologies for her seemingly ungracioussilence in their first reception, and the warmest expressions of the gratitudeshe was always feeling towards herself and Mr. Weston, must necessarilyopen the cause; but when these effusions were put by, they had talked agood deal of the present and of the future state of the engagement. Mrs. Weston was convinced that such conversation must be the greatest relief toher companion, pent up within her own mind as every thing had so longbeen, 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 somany months, " continued Mrs. Weston, "she was energetic. This was one ofher expressions. 'I will not say, that since I entered into the engagement Ihave not had some happy moments; but I can say, that I have never knownthe blessing of one tranquil hour:'--and the quivering lip, Emma, whichuttered it, was an attestation that I felt at my heart. ""Poor girl!" said Emma. "She thinks herself wrong, then, for havingconsented to a private engagement?""Wrong! No one, I believe, can blame her more than she is disposed toblame herself. 'The consequence, ' said she, 'has been a state of perpetualsuffering to me; and so it ought. But after all the punishment thatmisconduct can bring, it is still not less misconduct. Pain is no expiation. Inever 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 amnow receiving, is what my conscience tells me ought not to be. ' 'Do notimagine, madam, ' she continued, 'that I was taught wrong. Do not let anyreflection fall on the principles or the care of the friends who brought meup. The error has been all my own; and I do assure you that, with all theexcuse that present circumstances may appear to give, I shall yet dreadmaking the story known to Colonel Campbell. '""Poor girl!" said Emma again. "She loves him then excessively, Isuppose. It must have been from attachment only, that she could be led toform 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 havecontributed to make her unhappy. ""On your side, my love, it was very innocently done. But she probablyhad something of that in her thoughts, when alluding to themisunderstandings which he had given us hints of before. One naturalconsequence of the evil she had involved herself in, " she said, "was that ofmaking her unreasonable. The consciousness of having done amiss, hadexposed her to a thousand inquietudes, and made her captious and irritableto a degree that must have been--that had been--hard for him to bear. 'Idid not make the allowances, ' said she, 'which I ought to have done, for histemper and spirits--his delightful spirits, and that gaiety, that playfulnessof disposition, which, under any other circumstances, would, I am sure, have been as constantly bewitching to me, as they were at first. ' She thenbegan to speak of you, and of the great kindness you had shewn her duringher 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 notthank you too much--for every wish and every endeavour to do her good. She was sensible that you had never received any proper acknowledgmentfrom 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 mustbe, I could not bear these thanks;--for, oh! Mrs. Weston, if there were anaccount 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 herto the greatest advantage. I am sure she is very good--I hope she will bevery happy. It is fit that the fortune should be on his side, for I think themerit will be all on hers. "Such a conclusion could not pass unanswered by Mrs. Weston. Shethought well of Frank in almost every respect; and, what was more, sheloved him very much, and her defence was, therefore, earnest. She talkedwith a great deal of reason, and at least equal affection--but she had toomuch to urge for Emma's attention; it was soon gone to Brunswick Squareor to Donwell; she forgot to attempt to listen; and when Mrs. Westonended with, "We have not yet had the letter we are so anxious for, youknow, but I hope it will soon come, " she was obliged to pause before sheanswered, and at last obliged to answer at random, before she could at allrecollect 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 meintelligence of the letter as soon as possible. "Mrs. Weston's communications furnished Emma with more food forunpleasant reflection, by increasing her esteem and compassion, and hersense of past injustice towards Miss Fairfax. She bitterly regretted nothaving sought a closer acquaintance with her, and blushed for the enviousfeelings which had certainly been, in some measure, the cause. Had shefollowed Mr. Knightley's known wishes, in paying that attention to MissFairfax, 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 afriend there instead of in Harriet Smith; she must, in all probability, havebeen spared from every pain which pressed on her now. --Birth, abilities, and education, had been equally marking one as an associate for her, to bereceived with gratitude; and the other--what was she?--Supposing eventhat they had never become intimate friends; that she had never beenadmitted into Miss Fairfax's confidence on this important matter--whichwas most probable--still, in knowing her as she ought, and as she might, she must have been preserved from the abominable suspicions of animproper attachment to Mr. Dixon, which she had not only so foolishlyfashioned and harboured herself, but had so unpardonably imparted; anidea which she greatly feared had been made a subject of material distressto the delicacy of Jane's feelings, by the levity or carelessness of FrankChurchill's. Of all the sources of evil surrounding the former, since hercoming to Highbury, she was persuaded that she must herself have beenthe worst. She must have been a perpetual enemy. They never could havebeen all three together, without her having stabbed Jane Fairfax's peace in athousand instances; and on Box Hill, perhaps, it had been the agony of amind 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, andnothing of July appeared but in the trees and shrubs, which the wind wasdespoiling, and the length of the day, which only made such cruel sightsthe longer visible. The weather affected Mr. Woodhouse, and he could only be kepttolerably comfortable by almost ceaseless attention on his daughter's side, and by exertions which had never cost her half so much before. It remindedher of their first forlorn tete-a-tete, on the evening of Mrs. Weston'swedding-day; but Mr. Knightley had walked in then, soon after tea, anddissipated every melancholy fancy. Alas! such delightful proofs ofHartfield's attraction, as those sort of visits conveyed, might shortly beover. The picture which she had then drawn of the privations of theapproaching winter, had proved erroneous; no friends had deserted them, no pleasures had been lost. --But her present forebodings she feared wouldexperience no similar contradiction. The prospect before her now, wasthreatening to a degree that could not be entirely dispelled-- that might notbe even partially brightened. If all took place that might take place amongthe circle of her friends, Hartfield must be comparatively deserted; and sheleft 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 thanherself; and Mrs. Weston's heart and time would be occupied by it. Theyshould lose her; and, probably, in great measure, her husband also. --FrankChurchill would return among them no more; and Miss Fairfax, it wasreasonable to suppose, would soon cease to belong to Highbury. Theywould be married, and settled either at or near Enscombe. All that weregood would be withdrawn; and if to these losses, the loss of Donwell wereto be added, what would remain of cheerful or of rational society withintheir reach? Mr. Knightley to be no longer coming there for his eveningcomfort!-- No longer walking in at all hours, as if ever willing to change hisown home for their's!--How was it to be endured? And if he were to be lostto them for Harriet's sake; if he were to be thought of hereafter, as findingin Harriet's society all that he wanted; if Harriet were to be the chosen, thefirst, the dearest, the friend, the wife to whom he looked for all the bestblessings of existence; what could be increasing Emma's wretchedness butthe reflection never far distant from her mind, that it had been all her ownwork?When it came to such a pitch as this, she was not able to refrain from astart, or a heavy sigh, or even from walking about the room for a fewseconds--and the only source whence any thing like consolation orcomposure could be drawn, was in the resolution of her own betterconduct, and the hope that, however inferior in spirit and gaiety might bethe following and every future winter of her life to the past, it would yetfind her more rational, more acquainted with herself, and leave her less toregret when it were gone. CHAPTER XIIIThe weather continued much the same all the following morning; andthe same loneliness, and the same melancholy, seemed to reign atHartfield--but in the afternoon it cleared; the wind changed into a softerquarter; the clouds were carried off; the sun appeared; it was summeragain. With all the eagerness which such a transition gives, Emma resolvedto 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 moreattractive to her. She longed for the serenity they might graduallyintroduce; and on Mr. Perry's coming in soon after dinner, with adisengaged hour to give her father, she lost no time ill hurrying into theshrubbery. --There, with spirits freshened, and thoughts a little relieved, she had taken a few turns, when she saw Mr. Knightley passing throughthe garden door, and coming towards her. --It was the first intimation ofhis being returned from London. She had been thinking of him the momentbefore, as unquestionably sixteen miles distant. --There was time only forthe quickest arrangement of mind. She must be collected and calm. In halfa minute they were together. The "How d'ye do's" were quiet andconstrained on each side. She asked after their mutual friends; they wereall well. --When had he left them?--Only that morning. He must have had awet ride. --Yes. --He meant to walk with her, she found. "He had justlooked into the dining-room, and as he was not wanted there, preferredbeing 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 hadperhaps been communicating his plans to his brother, and was pained bythe manner in which they had been received. They walked together. He was silent. She thought he was often lookingat 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 tobegin. --She did not, could not, feel equal to lead the way to any suchsubject. He must do it all himself. Yet she could not bear this silence. Withhim 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 rathersurprize 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 thatalready. ""How is it possible?" cried Emma, turning her glowing cheeks towardshim; for, while she spoke, it occurred to her that he might have called atMrs.

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 morecomposure, "You probably have been less surprized than any of us, for you havehad your suspicions. --I have not forgotten that you once tried to give me acaution. --I wish I had attended to it--but--(with a sinking voice and aheavy sigh) I seem to have been doomed to blindness. "For a moment or two nothing was said, and she was unsuspicious ofhaving excited any particular interest, till she found her arm drawn withinhis, and pressed against his heart, and heard him thus saying, in a tone ofgreat sensibility, speaking low, "Time, my dearest Emma, time will heal the wound. --Your ownexcellent sense--your exertions for your father's sake--I know you will notallow yourself--. " Her arm was pressed again, as he added, in a morebroken and subdued accent, "The feelings of the warmest friendship--Indignation--Abominable scoundrel!"-- And in a louder, steadier tone, heconcluded with, "He will soon be gone. They will soon be in Yorkshire. I amsorry for her. She deserves a better fate. "Emma understood him; and as soon as she could recover from theflutter 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 wasgoing 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 welllay me open to unpleasant conjectures, but I have no other reason to regretthat I was not in the secret earlier. ""Emma!" cried he, looking eagerly at her, "are you, indeed?"--butchecking himself--"No, no, I understand you--forgive me--I am pleasedthat you can say even so much. --He is no object of regret, indeed! and itwill not be very long, I hope, before that becomes the acknowledgment ofmore than your reason. --Fortunate that your affections were not fartherentangled!--I could never, I confess, from your manners, assure myself asto the degree of what you felt-- I could only be certain that there was apreference--and a preference which I never believed him to deserve. --He isa disgrace to the name of man. --And is he to be rewarded with that sweetyoung woman?-- Jane, Jane, you will be a miserable creature. ""Mr. Knightley, " said Emma, trying to be lively, but really confused-- "Iam in a very extraordinary situation. I cannot let you continue in yourerror; and yet, perhaps, since my manners gave such an impression, I haveas much reason to be ashamed of confessing that I never have been at allattached to the person we are speaking of, as it might be natural for awoman to feel in confessing exactly the reverse. -- But I never have. "He listened in perfect silence. She wished him to speak, but he wouldnot. She supposed she must say more before she were entitled to hisclemency; but it was a hard case to be obliged still to lower herself in hisopinion. She went on, however. "I have very little to say for my own conduct. --I was tempted by hisattentions, and allowed myself to appear pleased. -- An old story, probably--a common case--and no more than has happened to hundreds ofmy sex before; and yet it may not be the more excusable in one who sets upas I do for Understanding. Many circumstances assisted the temptation. Hewas the son of Mr. Weston--he was continually here--I always found himvery pleasant--and, in short, for (with a sigh) let me swell out the causesever so ingeniously, they all centre in this at last--my vanity was flattered, and I allowed his attentions. Latterly, however--for some time, indeed--Ihave had no idea of their meaning any thing. --I thought them a habit, atrick, nothing that called for seriousness on my side. He has imposed onme, but he has not injured me. I have never been attached to him. And nowI can tolerably comprehend his behaviour. He never wished to attach me. Itwas merely a blind to conceal his real situation with another. --It was hisobject to blind all about him; and no one, I am sure, could be moreeffectually blinded than myself--except that I was not blinded--that it wasmy 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 herconduct was at least intelligible; but he was silent; and, as far as she couldjudge, 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 hasbeen but trifling. --And even if I have not underrated him hitherto, he mayyet turn out well. --With such a woman he has a chance. --I have no motivefor wishing him ill--and for her sake, whose happiness will be involved inhis good character and conduct, I shall certainly wish him well. ""I have no doubt of their being happy together, " said Emma; "I believethem to be very mutually and very sincerely attached. ""He is a most fortunate man!" returned Mr. Knightley, with energy. "Soearly 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 JaneFairfax's character vouches for her disinterestedness; every thing in hisfavour, --equality of situation--I mean, as far as regards society, and all thehabits 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 asmust increase his felicity, for it will be his to bestow the only advantagesshe wants. --A man would always wish to give a woman a better home thanthe one he takes her from; and he who can do it, where there is no doubt ofher regard, must, I think, be the happiest of mortals. --Frank Churchill is, indeed, the favourite of fortune. Every thing turns out for his good. --Hemeets with a young woman at a watering-place, gains her affection, cannoteven weary her by negligent treatment--and had he and all his familysought round the world for a perfect wife for him, they could not havefound her superior. --His aunt is in the way. --His aunt dies. --He has onlyto speak. --His friends are eager to promote his happiness. -- He had usedevery body ill--and they are all delighted to forgive him. -- He is afortunate 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 ofHarriet, and her immediate feeling was to avert the subject, if possible. Shemade her plan; she would speak of something totally different--thechildren 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, Isee, to have no curiosity. --You are wise--but I cannot be wise. Emma, Imust tell you what you will not ask, though I may wish it unsaid the nextmoment. ""Oh! then, don't speak it, don't speak it, " she eagerly cried. "Take a littletime, consider, do not commit yourself. ""Thank you, " said he, in an accent of deep mortification, and notanother syllable followed. Emma could not bear to give him pain. He was wishing to confide inher--perhaps to consult her;--cost her what it would, she would listen. Shemight assist his resolution, or reconcile him to it; she might give just praiseto Harriet, or, by representing to him his own independence, relieve himfrom that state of indecision, which must be more intolerable than anyalternative 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 inwhich he still spoke--"I should like to take another turn. Mr. Perry is notgone. " And, after proceeding a few steps, she added-- "I stopped youungraciously, 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 myopinion 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 tellyou 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 faralready for concealment. --Emma, I accept your offer-- Extraordinary as itmay 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 expressionof his eyes overpowered her. "My dearest Emma, " said he, "for dearest you will always be, whateverthe event of this hour's conversation, my dearest, most beloved Emma--tellme 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! atpresent 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 themost prominent feeling. "I cannot make speeches, Emma:" he soon resumed; and in a tone ofsuch sincere, decided, intelligible tenderness as was tolerably convincing. --"If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more. But you knowwhat I am. --You hear nothing but truth from me. --I have blamed you, andlectured you, and you have borne it as no other woman in England wouldhave 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 aslittle to recommend them. God knows, I have been a very indifferentlover. -- But you understand me. --Yes, you see, you understand myfeelings--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 thewonderful velocity of thought, had been able--and yet without losing aword--to catch and comprehend the exact truth of the whole; to see thatHarriet's hopes had been entirely groundless, a mistake, a delusion, ascomplete a delusion as any of her own--that Harriet was nothing; that shewas every thing herself; that what she had been saying relative to Harriethad been all taken as the language of her own feelings; and that heragitation, her doubts, her reluctance, her discouragement, had been allreceived as discouragement from herself. --And not only was there time forthese convictions, with all their glow of attendant happiness; there wastime also to rejoice that Harriet's secret had not escaped her, and to resolvethat it need not, and should not. --It was all the service she could nowrender her poor friend; for as to any of that heroism of sentiment whichmight have prompted her to entreat him to transfer his affection fromherself to Harriet, as infinitely the most worthy of the two--or even themore 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 noflight of generosity run mad, opposing all that could be probable orreasonable, entered her brain. She had led her friend astray, and it wouldbe a reproach to her for ever; but her judgment was as strong as herfeelings, and as strong as it had ever been before, in reprobating any suchalliance for him, as most unequal and degrading. Her way was clear, though not quite smooth. --She spoke then, on being so entreated. -- Whatdid she say?--Just what she ought, of course. A lady always does. -- Shesaid enough to shew there need not be despair--and to invite him to saymore himself. He had despaired at one period; he had received such aninjunction to caution and silence, as for the time crushed every hope;--shehad begun by refusing to hear him. --The change had perhaps beensomewhat sudden;--her proposal of taking another turn, her renewing theconversation which she had just put an end to, might be a littleextraordinary!--She felt its inconsistency; but Mr. Knightley was soobliging as to put up with it, and seek no farther explanation. Seldom, very seldom, does complete truth belong to any humandisclosure; seldom can it happen that something is not a little disguised, ora little mistaken; but where, as in this case, though the conduct ismistaken, the feelings are not, it may not be very material. -- Mr. Knightleycould not impute to Emma a more relenting heart than she possessed, or aheart more disposed to accept of his. He had, in fact, been wholly unsuspicious of his own influence. He hadfollowed her into the shrubbery with no idea of trying it. He had come, inhis anxiety to see how she bore Frank Churchill's engagement, with noselfish view, no view at all, but of endeavouring, if she allowed him anopening, to soothe or to counsel her. --The rest had been the work of themoment, the immediate effect of what he heard, on his feelings. Thedelightful assurance of her total indifference towards Frank Churchill, ofher having a heart completely disengaged from him, had given birth to thehope, that, in time, he might gain her affection himself;--but it had beenno present hope--he had only, in the momentary conquest of eagernessover judgment, aspired to be told that she did not forbid his attempt toattach her. --The superior hopes which gradually opened were so much themore enchanting. -- The affection, which he had been asking to be allowedto create, if he could, was already his!--Within half an hour, he had passedfrom a thoroughly distressed state of mind, to something so like perfecthappiness, that it could bear no other name. Her change was equal. --This one half-hour had given to each the sameprecious certainty of being beloved, had cleared from each the same degreeof ignorance, jealousy, or distrust. --On his side, there had been a long-standing jealousy, old as the arrival, or even the expectation, of FrankChurchill. --He had been in love with Emma, and jealous of FrankChurchill, from about the same period, one sentiment having probablyenlightened him as to the other. It was his jealousy of Frank Churchill thathad taken him from the country. --The Box Hill party had decided him ongoing away. He would save himself from witnessing again such permitted, encouraged attentions. --He had gone to learn to be indifferent. -- But hehad gone to a wrong place. There was too much domestic happiness in hisbrother's house; woman wore too amiable a form in it; Isabella was toomuch like Emma--differing only in those striking inferiorities, which alwaysbrought 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 JaneFairfax. --Then, with the gladness which must be felt, nay, which he didnot scruple to feel, having never believed Frank Churchill to be at alldeserving Emma, was there so much fond solicitude, so much keen anxietyfor 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 bestof 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'scharacter 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 FrankChurchill then, he might have deemed him a very good sort of fellow. CHAPTER XIVWhat totally different feelings did Emma take back into the house fromwhat she had brought out!--she had then been only daring to hope for alittle respite of suffering;--she was now in an exquisite flutter of happiness, and such happiness moreover as she believed must still be greater when theflutter should have passed away. They sat down to tea--the same party round the same table--how oftenit had been collected!--and how often had her eyes fallen on the sameshrubs in the lawn, and observed the same beautiful effect of the westernsun!--But never in such a state of spirits, never in any thing like it; and itwas with difficulty that she could summon enough of her usual self to bethe attentive lady of the house, or even the attentive daughter. Poor Mr. Woodhouse little suspected what was plotting against him inthe breast of that man whom he was so cordially welcoming, and soanxiously hoping might not have taken cold from his ride. --Could he haveseen the heart, he would have cared very little for the lungs; but withoutthe most distant imagination of the impending evil, without the slightestperception of any thing extraordinary in the looks or ways of either, herepeated to them very comfortably all the articles of news he had receivedfrom Mr. Perry, and talked on with much self-contentment, totallyunsuspicious 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 anevening, she found one or two such very serious points to consider, asmade 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 theirseparate claims; and how to guard the comfort of both to the utmost, wasthe 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 parleywith her own heart produced the most solemn resolution of never quittingher father. --She even wept over the idea of it, as a sin of thought. While helived, it must be only an engagement; but she flattered herself, that ifdivested of the danger of drawing her away, it might become an increase ofcomfort to him. -- How to do her best by Harriet, was of more difficultdecision;--how to spare her from any unnecessary pain; how to make herany possible atonement; how to appear least her enemy?-- On thesesubjects, her perplexity and distress were very great--and her mind had topass again and again through every bitter reproach and sorrowful regretthat had ever surrounded it. -- She could only resolve at last, that shewould still avoid a meeting with her, and communicate all that need be toldby letter; that it would be inexpressibly desirable to have her removed justnow for a time from Highbury, and--indulging in one scheme more--nearlyresolve, that it might be practicable to get an invitation for her toBrunswick Square. --Isabella had been pleased with Harriet; and a fewweeks spent in London must give her some amusement. -- She did not thinkit in Harriet's nature to escape being benefited by novelty and variety, bythe streets, the shops, and the children. -- At any rate, it would be a proofof attention and kindness in herself, from whom every thing was due; aseparation for the present; an averting of the evil day, when they must allbe together again. She rose early, and wrote her letter to Harriet; an employment whichleft her so very serious, so nearly sad, that Mr. Knightley, in walking up toHartfield to breakfast, did not arrive at all too soon; and half an hour stolenafterwards to go over the same ground again with him, literally andfiguratively, was quite necessary to reinstate her in a proper share of thehappiness of the evening before. He had not left her long, by no means long enough for her to have theslightest inclination for thinking of any body else, when a letter wasbrought her from Randalls--a very thick letter;--she guessed what it mustcontain, and deprecated the necessity of reading it. -- She was now inperfect charity with Frank Churchill; she wanted no explanations, shewanted only to have her thoughts to herself--and as for understanding anything he wrote, she was sure she was incapable of it. --It must be wadedthrough, however. She opened the packet; it was too surely so;--a notefrom 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 theenclosed. I know what thorough justice you will do it, and have scarcely adoubt of its happy effect. --I think we shall never materially disagree aboutthe writer again; but I will not delay you by a long preface. --We are quitewell. --This letter has been the cure of all the little nervousness I have beenfeeling lately. --I did not quite like your looks on Tuesday, but it was anungenial morning; and though you will never own being affected byweather, I think every body feels a north-east wind. --I felt for your dearfather 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 notmade 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; butexpected or not, I know it will be read with candour and indulgence. --Youare all goodness, and I believe there will be need of even all your goodnessto allow for some parts of my past conduct. -- But I have been forgiven byone who had still more to resent. My courage rises while I write. It is verydifficult for the prosperous to be humble. I have already met with suchsuccess in two applications for pardon, that I may be in danger of thinkingmyself too sure of yours, and of those among your friends who have hadany ground of offence. --You must all endeavour to comprehend the exactnature of my situation when I first arrived at Randalls; you must considerme as having a secret which was to be kept at all hazards. This was thefact. My right to place myself in a situation requiring such concealment, isanother question. I shall not discuss it here. For my temptation to think it aright, I refer every caviller to a brick house, sashed windows below, andcasements above, in Highbury. I dared not address her openly; mydifficulties in the then state of Enscombe must be too well known to requiredefinition; and I was fortunate enough to prevail, before we parted atWeymouth, and to induce the most upright female mind in the creation tostoop in charity to a secret engagement. --Had she refused, I should havegone mad. --But you will be ready to say, what was your hope in doingthis?--What did you look forward to?--To any thing, every thing--to time, chance, circumstance, slow effects, sudden bursts, perseverance andweariness, health and sickness. Every possibility of good was before me, and the first of blessings secured, in obtaining her promises of faith andcorrespondence. If you need farther explanation, I have the honour, mydear madam, of being your husband's son, and the advantage of inheriting adisposition to hope for good, which no inheritance of houses or lands canever equal the value of. --See me, then, under these circumstances, arrivingon my first visit to Randalls;--and here I am conscious of wrong, for thatvisit might have been sooner paid. You will look back and see that I did notcome till Miss Fairfax was in Highbury; and as you were the personslighted, you will forgive me instantly; but I must work on my father'scompassion, by reminding him, that so long as I absented myself from hishouse, so long I lost the blessing of knowing you. My behaviour, during thevery happy fortnight which I spent with you, did not, I hope, lay me opento reprehension, excepting on one point. And now I come to the principal, the only important part of my conduct while belonging to you, whichexcites my own anxiety, or requires very solicitous explanation. With thegreatest respect, and the warmest friendship, do I mention MissWoodhouse; my father perhaps will think I ought to add, with the deepesthumiliation. -- A few words which dropped from him yesterday spoke hisopinion, and some censure I acknowledge myself liable to. --My behaviourto Miss Woodhouse indicated, I believe, more than it ought. -- In order toassist a concealment so essential to me, I was led on to make more than anallowable use of the sort of intimacy into which we were immediatelythrown. --I cannot deny that Miss Woodhouse was my ostensible object--but I am sure you will believe the declaration, that had I not beenconvinced of her indifference, I would not have been induced by any selfishviews to go on. -- Amiable and delightful as Miss Woodhouse is, she nevergave me the idea of a young woman likely to be attached; and that she wasperfectly free from any tendency to being attached to me, was as much myconviction as my wish. --She received my attentions with an easy, friendly, goodhumoured playfulness, which exactly suited me. We seemed tounderstand each other. From our relative situation, those attentions wereher due, and were felt to be so. --Whether Miss Woodhouse began really tounderstand me before the expiration of that fortnight, I cannot say;--whenI called to take leave of her, I remember that I was within a moment ofconfessing the truth, and I then fancied she was not without suspicion; butI 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 havepenetrated a part. I cannot doubt it. You will find, whenever the subjectbecomes freed from its present restraints, that it did not take her wholly bysurprize. She frequently gave me hints of it. I remember her telling me atthe ball, that I owed Mrs. Elton gratitude for her attentions to MissFairfax. -- I hope this history of my conduct towards her will be admittedby you and my father as great extenuation of what you saw amiss. Whileyou considered me as having sinned against Emma Woodhouse, I coulddeserve nothing from either. Acquit me here, and procure for me, when it isallowable, the acquittal and good wishes of that said Emma Woodhouse, whom I regard with so much brotherly affection, as to long to have her asdeeply and as happily in love as myself. -- Whatever strange things I said ordid during that fortnight, you have now a key to. My heart was inHighbury, and my business was to get my body thither as often as mightbe, and with the least suspicion. If you remember any queernesses, setthem all to the right account. -- Of the pianoforte so much talked of, I feelit only necessary to say, that its being ordered was absolutely unknown toMiss F--, who would never have allowed me to send it, had any choicebeen given her. -- The delicacy of her mind throughout the wholeengagement, my dear madam, is much beyond my power of doing justiceto. You will soon, I earnestly hope, know her thoroughly yourself. -- Nodescription can describe her. She must tell you herself what she is--yet notby word, for never was there a human creature who would so designedlysuppress her own merit. --Since I began this letter, which will be longerthan I foresaw, I have heard from her. -- She gives a good account of herown health; but as she never complains, I dare not depend. I want to haveyour opinion of her looks. I know you will soon call on her; she is living indread of the visit. Perhaps it is paid already. Let me hear from you withoutdelay; I am impatient for a thousand particulars. Remember how fewminutes I was at Randalls, and in how bewildered, how mad a state: and Iam not much better yet; still insane either from happiness or misery. WhenI think of the kindness and favour I have met with, of her excellence andpatience, and my uncle's generosity, I am mad with joy: but when Irecollect all the uneasiness I occasioned her, and how little I deserve to beforgiven, I am mad with anger. If I could but see her again!--But I must notpropose it yet. My uncle has been too good for me to encroach. --I muststill add to this long letter. You have not heard all that you ought to hear. Icould not give any connected detail yesterday; but the suddenness, and, inone light, the unseasonableness with which the affair burst out, needsexplanation; for though the event of the 26th ult. , as you will conclude, immediately opened to me the happiest prospects, I should not havepresumed on such early measures, but from the very particularcircumstances, which left me not an hour to lose. I should myself haveshrunk from any thing so hasty, and she would have felt every scruple ofmine with multiplied strength and refinement. -- But I had no choice. Thehasty engagement she had entered into with that woman--Here, my dearmadam, I was obliged to leave off abruptly, to recollect and composemyself. --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, infact, a most mortifying retrospect for me. I behaved shamefully. And here Ican admit, that my manners to Miss W. , in being unpleasant to Miss F. , were highly blameable. She disapproved them, which ought to have beenenough. --My plea of concealing the truth she did not think sufficient. --Shewas displeased; I thought unreasonably so: I thought her, on a thousandoccasions, unnecessarily scrupulous and cautious: I thought her even cold. But she was always right. If I had followed her judgment, and subdued myspirits to the level of what she deemed proper, I should have escaped thegreatest unhappiness I have ever known. --We quarrelled. -- Do youremember the morning spent at Donwell?--There every little dissatisfactionthat had occurred before came to a crisis. I was late; I met her walkinghome by herself, and wanted to walk with her, but she would not suffer it. She absolutely refused to allow me, which I then thought mostunreasonable. Now, however, I see nothing in it but a very natural andconsistent degree of discretion. While I, to blind the world to ourengagement, was behaving one hour with objectionable particularity toanother woman, was she to be consenting the next to a proposal whichmight have made every previous caution useless?--Had we been metwalking together between Donwell and Highbury, the truth must have beensuspected. -- I was mad enough, however, to resent. --I doubted heraffection. I doubted it more the next day on Box Hill; when, provoked bysuch conduct on my side, such shameful, insolent neglect of her, and suchapparent devotion to Miss W. , as it would have been impossible for anywoman of sense to endure, she spoke her resentment in a form of wordsperfectly intelligible to me. -- In short, my dear madam, it was a quarrelblameless on her side, abominable on mine; and I returned the sameevening to Richmond, though I might have staid with you till the nextmorning, merely because I would be as angry with her as possible. Eventhen, I was not such a fool as not to mean to be reconciled in time; but Iwas the injured person, injured by her coldness, and I went awaydetermined that she should make the first advances. --I shall alwayscongratulate myself that you were not of the Box Hill party. Had youwitnessed my behaviour there, I can hardly suppose you would ever havethought well of me again. Its effect upon her appears in the immediateresolution it produced: as soon as she found I was really gone fromRandalls, she closed with the offer of that officious Mrs. Elton; the wholesystem of whose treatment of her, by the bye, has ever filled me withindignation and hatred. I must not quarrel with a spirit of forbearancewhich has been so richly extended towards myself; but, otherwise, I shouldloudly protest against the share of it which that woman has known. --'Jane, ' indeed!--You will observe that I have not yet indulged myself incalling her by that name, even to you. Think, then, what I must haveendured in hearing it bandied between the Eltons with all the vulgarity ofneedless repetition, and all the insolence of imaginary superiority. Havepatience 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 thatwe never were to meet again. -- She felt the engagement to be a source ofrepentance and misery to each: she dissolved it. --This letter reached me onthe very morning of my poor aunt's death. I answered it within an hour; butfrom the confusion of my mind, and the multiplicity of business falling onme at once, my answer, instead of being sent with all the many otherletters of that day, was locked up in my writing-desk; and I, trusting that Ihad written enough, though but a few lines, to satisfy her, remainedwithout any uneasiness. --I was rather disappointed that I did not hearfrom 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 removedto Windsor; and two days afterwards I received a parcel from her, my ownletters all returned!--and a few lines at the same time by the post, statingher extreme surprize at not having had the smallest reply to her last; andadding, that as silence on such a point could not be misconstrued, and as itmust be equally desirable to both to have every subordinate arrangementconcluded as soon as possible, she now sent me, by a safe conveyance, allmy letters, and requested, that if I could not directly command hers, so asto send them to Highbury within a week, I would forward them after thatperiod to her at--: in short, the full direction to Mr. Smallridge's, nearBristol, stared me in the face. I knew the name, the place, I knew all aboutit, and instantly saw what she had been doing. It was perfectly accordantwith that resolution of character which I knew her to possess; and thesecrecy she had maintained, as to any such design in her former letter, wasequally descriptive of its anxious delicacy. For the world would not shehave seemed to threaten me. --Imagine the shock; imagine how, till I hadactually 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 hispride, and he was, earlier than I could have anticipated, wholly reconciledand complying; and could say at last, poor man! with a deep sigh, that hewished I might find as much happiness in the marriage state as he haddone. --I felt that it would be of a different sort. --Are you disposed to pityme for what I must have suffered in opening the cause to him, for mysuspense while all was at stake?--No; do not pity me till I reachedHighbury, and saw how ill I had made her. Do not pity me till I saw herwan, sick looks. --I reached Highbury at the time of day when, from myknowledge of their late breakfast hour, I was certain of a good chance offinding her alone. --I was not disappointed; and at last I was notdisappointed either in the object of my journey. A great deal of veryreasonable, very just displeasure I had to persuade away. But it is done; weare reconciled, dearer, much dearer, than ever, and no moment's uneasinesscan 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 allthe kindness you have ever shewn me, and ten thousand for the attentionsyour heart will dictate towards her. --If you think me in a way to behappier than I deserve, I am quite of your opinion. --Miss W. Calls me thechild of good fortune. I hope she is right. --In one respect, my good fortuneis undoubted, that of being able to subscribe myself, Your obliged and affectionate Son, F. C. WESTON CHURCHILL. CHAPTER XVThis letter must make its way to Emma's feelings. She was obliged, inspite of her previous determination to the contrary, to do it all the justicethat Mrs. Weston foretold. As soon as she came to her own name, it wasirresistible; every line relating to herself was interesting, and almost everyline agreeable; and when this charm ceased, the subject could still maintainitself, by the natural return of her former regard for the writer, and the verystrong attraction which any picture of love must have for her at thatmoment. She never stopt till she had gone through the whole; and though itwas impossible not to feel that he had been wrong, yet he had been lesswrong 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 MissFairfax, and she was so happy herself, that there was no being severe; andcould he have entered the room, she must have shaken hands with him asheartily 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 becommunicated; especially to one, who, like Mr. Knightley, had seen somuch to blame in his conduct. "I shall be very glad to look it over, " said he; "but it seems long. I willtake it home with me at night. "But that would not do. Mr. Weston was to call in the evening, and shemust return it by him. "I would rather be talking to you, " he replied; "but as it seems a matterof justice, it shall be done. "He began--stopping, however, almost directly to say, "Had I beenoffered the sight of one of this gentleman's letters to his mother-in-law afew months ago, Emma, it would not have been taken with suchindifference. "He proceeded a little farther, reading to himself; and then, with asmile, 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 myopinion aloud as I read. By doing it, I shall feel that I am near you. It willnot 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 theengagement. --'His father's disposition:'--he is unjust, however, to hisfather. Mr. Weston's sanguine temper was a blessing on all his upright andhonourable exertions; but Mr. Weston earned every present comfort beforehe endeavoured to gain it. --Very true; he did not come till Miss Fairfax washere. ""And I have not forgotten, " said Emma, "how sure you were that hemight 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 ofit aloud--all that related to her, with a smile; a look; a shake of the head; aword or two of assent, or disapprobation; or merely of love, as the subjectrequired; concluding, however, seriously, and, after steady reflection, thus--"Very bad--though it might have been worse. --Playing a mostdangerous game. Too much indebted to the event for his acquittal. -- Nojudge of his own manners by you. --Always deceived in fact by his ownwishes, and regardless of little besides his own convenience. -- Fancyingyou to have fathomed his secret. Natural enough!--his own mind full ofintrigue, that he should suspect it in others. --Mystery; Finesse--how theypervert the understanding! My Emma, does not every thing serve to provemore and more the beauty of truth and sincerity in all our dealings witheach 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! Thatwas the act of a very, very young man, one too young to consider whetherthe inconvenience of it might not very much exceed the pleasure. A boyishscheme, indeed!--I cannot comprehend a man's wishing to give a womanany proof of affection which he knows she would rather dispense with; andhe did know that she would have prevented the instrument's coming if shecould. "After this, he made some progress without any pause. Frank Churchill'sconfession of having behaved shamefully was the first thing to call for morethan a word in passing. "I perfectly agree with you, sir, "--was then his remark. "You did behavevery shamefully. You never wrote a truer line. " And having gone throughwhat immediately followed of the basis of their disagreement, and hispersisting to act in direct opposition to Jane Fairfax's sense of right, hemade a fuller pause to say, "This is very bad. --He had induced her to placeherself, for his sake, in a situation of extreme difficulty and uneasiness, andit should have been his first object to prevent her from sufferingunnecessarily. --She must have had much more to contend with, in carryingon the correspondence, than he could. He should have respected evenunreasonable scruples, had there been such; but hers were all

reasonable. We must look to her one fault, and remember that she had done a wrongthing in consenting to the engagement, to bear that she should have been insuch a state of punishment. "Emma knew that he was now getting to the Box Hill party, and grewuncomfortable. Her own behaviour had been so very improper! She wasdeeply 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 ofgiving pain--no remembrance of Box Hill seemed to exist. "There is no saying much for the delicacy of our good friends, theEltons, " was his next observation. --"His feelings are natural. -- What!actually resolve to break with him entirely!--She felt the engagement to bea source of repentance and misery to each--she dissolved it. --What a viewthis gives of her sense of his behaviour!--Well, he must be a mostextraordinary--""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--adear friend of Mrs. Elton's--a neighbour of Maple Grove; and, by the bye, Iwonder how Mrs. Elton bears the disappointment?""Say nothing, my dear Emma, while you oblige me to read--not even ofMrs. Elton. Only one page more. I shall soon have done. What a letter theman 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 findingher 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 ofsuch a reconciliation. --He is a very liberal thanker, with his thousands andtens of thousands. --'Happier than I deserve. ' Come, he knows himselfthere. 'Miss Woodhouse calls me the child of good fortune. '--Those wereMiss Woodhouse's words, were they?-- And a fine ending--and there is theletter. 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 youmust, at least I hope you must, think the better of him for it. I hope it doeshim some service with you. ""Yes, certainly it does. He has had great faults, faults of inconsiderationand thoughtlessness; and I am very much of his opinion in thinking himlikely 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 theadvantage of being constantly with her, I am very ready to believe hischaracter will improve, and acquire from hers the steadiness and delicacyof principle that it wants. And now, let me talk to you of something else. Ihave another person's interest at present so much at heart, that I cannotthink 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 tobe able to ask her to marry him, without attacking the happiness of herfather. Emma's answer was ready at the first word. "While her dear fatherlived, any change of condition must be impossible for her. She could neverquit him. " Part only of this answer, however, was admitted. Theimpossibility of her quitting her father, Mr. Knightley felt as strongly asherself; 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 firsthoped to induce Mr. Woodhouse to remove with her to Donwell; he hadwanted to believe it feasible, but his knowledge of Mr. Woodhouse wouldnot suffer him to deceive himself long; and now he confessed hispersuasion, that such a transplantation would be a risk of her father'scomfort, perhaps even of his life, which must not be hazarded. Mr. Woodhouse taken from Hartfield!--No, he felt that it ought not to beattempted. But the plan which had arisen on the sacrifice of this, he trustedhis dearest Emma would not find in any respect objectionable; it was, thathe should be received at Hartfield; that so long as her father's happiness inother words his life--required Hartfield to continue her home, it should behis likewise. Of their all removing to Donwell, Emma had already had her ownpassing thoughts. Like him, she had tried the scheme and rejected it; butsuch an alternative as this had not occurred to her. She was sensible of allthe affection it evinced. She felt that, in quitting Donwell, he must besacrificing a great deal of independence of hours and habits; that in livingconstantly with her father, and in no house of his own, there would bemuch, very much, to be borne with. She promised to think of it, andadvised him to think of it more; but he was fully convinced, that noreflection could alter his wishes or his opinion on the subject. He had givenit, he could assure her, very long and calm consideration; he had beenwalking away from William Larkins the whole morning, to have histhoughts to himself. "Ah! there is one difficulty unprovided for, " cried Emma. "I am sureWilliam Larkins will not like it. You must get his consent before you askmine. "She promised, however, to think of it; and pretty nearly promised, moreover, to think of it, with the intention of finding it a very goodscheme. It is remarkable, that Emma, in the many, very many, points of view inwhich she was now beginning to consider Donwell Abbey, was never struckwith any sense of injury to her nephew Henry, whose rights as heir-expectant had formerly been so tenaciously regarded. Think she must of thepossible difference to the poor little boy; and yet she only gave herself asaucy conscious smile about it, and found amusement in detecting the realcause of that violent dislike of Mr. Knightley's marrying Jane Fairfax, or anybody else, which at the time she had wholly imputed to the amiablesolicitude of the sister and the aunt. This proposal of his, this plan of marrying and continuing atHartfield--the more she contemplated it, the more pleasing it became. Hisevils seemed to lessen, her own advantages to increase, their mutual goodto outweigh every drawback. Such a companion for herself in the periods ofanxiety and cheerlessness before her!-- Such a partner in all those dutiesand cares to which time must be giving increase of melancholy!She would have been too happy but for poor Harriet; but every blessingof her own seemed to involve and advance the sufferings of her friend, whomust now be even excluded from Hartfield. The delightful family partywhich Emma was securing for herself, poor Harriet must, in mere charitablecaution, 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 ownenjoyment. In such a party, Harriet would be rather a dead weight thanotherwise; but for the poor girl herself, it seemed a peculiarly cruelnecessity that was to be placing her in such a state of unmeritedpunishment. 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 forevery body, would never deserve to be less worshipped than now; and itreally was too much to hope even of Harriet, that she could be in love withmore than three men in one year. CHAPTER XVIIt was a very great relief to Emma to find Harriet as desirous as herselfto avoid a meeting. Their intercourse was painful enough by letter. Howmuch worse, had they been obliged to meet!Harriet expressed herself very much as might be supposed, withoutreproaches, or apparent sense of ill-usage; and yet Emma fancied there wasa something of resentment, a something bordering on it in her style, whichincreased the desirableness of their being separate. -- It might be only herown consciousness; but it seemed as if an angel only could have been quitewithout resentment under such a stroke. She had no difficulty in procuring Isabella's invitation; and she wasfortunate in having a sufficient reason for asking it, without resorting toinvention. --There was a tooth amiss. Harriet really wished, and had wishedsome time, to consult a dentist. Mrs. John Knightley was delighted to be ofuse; any thing of ill health was a recommendation to her--and though notso fond of a dentist as of a Mr. Wingfield, she was quite eager to haveHarriet under her care. --When it was thus settled on her sister's side, Emma proposed it to her friend, and found her very persuadable. -- Harrietwas to go; she was invited for at least a fortnight; she was to be conveyedin 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 couldtalk, and she could listen with true happiness, unchecked by that sense ofinjustice, of guilt, of something most painful, which had haunted her whenremembering how disappointed a heart was near her, how much might atthat moment, and at a little distance, be enduring by the feelings which shehad led astray herself. The difference of Harriet at Mrs. Goddard's, or in London, madeperhaps an unreasonable difference in Emma's sensations; but she could notthink of her in London without objects of curiosity and employment, whichmust be averting the past, and carrying her out of herself. She would not allow any other anxiety to succeed directly to the placein her mind which Harriet had occupied. There was a communicationbefore her, one which she only could be competent to make--the confessionof her engagement to her father; but she would have nothing to do with itat present. --She had resolved to defer the disclosure till Mrs. Weston weresafe and well. No additional agitation should be thrown at this periodamong those she loved--and the evil should not act on herself byanticipation before the appointed time. --A fortnight, at least, of leisure andpeace of mind, to crown every warmer, but more agitating, delight, shouldbe hers. She soon resolved, equally as a duty and a pleasure, to employ half anhour of this holiday of spirits in calling on Miss Fairfax. -- She ought togo--and she was longing to see her; the resemblance of their presentsituations increasing every other motive of goodwill. It would be a secretsatisfaction; but the consciousness of a similarity of prospect wouldcertainly add to the interest with which she should attend to any thing Janemight communicate. She went--she had driven once unsuccessfully to the door, but had notbeen into the house since the morning after Box Hill, when poor Jane hadbeen in such distress as had filled her with compassion, though all theworst of her sufferings had been unsuspected. -- The fear of being stillunwelcome, determined her, though assured of their being at home, to waitin the passage, and send up her name. -- She heard Patty announcing it;but no such bustle succeeded as poor Miss Bates had before made sohappily intelligible. --No; she heard nothing but the instant reply of, "Begher to walk up;"--and a moment afterwards she was met on the stairs byJane herself, coming eagerly forward, as if no other reception of her werefelt sufficient. -- Emma had never seen her look so well, so lovely, soengaging. There was consciousness, animation, and warmth; there wasevery thing which her countenance or manner could ever have wanted. --She came forward with an offered hand; and said, in a low, but very feelingtone, "This is most kind, indeed!--Miss Woodhouse, it is impossible for me toexpress--I hope you will believe--Excuse me for being so entirely withoutwords. "Emma was gratified, and would soon have shewn no want of words, ifthe 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 hercongratulatory sensations into a very, very earnest shake of the hand. Mrs. Bates and Mrs. Elton were together. Miss Bates was out, whichaccounted for the previous tranquillity. Emma could have wished Mrs. Elton elsewhere; but she was in a humour to have patience with everybody; and as Mrs. Elton met her with unusual graciousness, she hoped therencontre would do them no harm. She soon believed herself to penetrate Mrs. Elton's thoughts, andunderstand why she was, like herself, in happy spirits; it was being in MissFairfax's confidence, and fancying herself acquainted with what was still asecret to other people. Emma saw symptoms of it immediately in theexpression 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 herwith a sort of anxious parade of mystery fold up a letter which she hadapparently been reading aloud to Miss Fairfax, and return it into the purpleand gold reticule by her side, saying, with significant nods, "We can finish this some other time, you know. You and I shall notwant opportunities. And, in fact, you have heard all the essential already. Ionly wanted to prove to you that Mrs. S. Admits our apology, and is notoffended. 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. Letus be discreet--quite on our good behaviour. --Hush!--You remember thoselines-- 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 thewise. --I am in a fine flow of spirits, an't I? But I want to set your heart atease 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'sknitting, she added, in a half whisper, "I mentioned no names, you will observe. --Oh! no; cautious as aminister of state. I managed it extremely well. "Emma could not doubt. It was a palpable display, repeated on everypossible occasion. When they had all talked a little while in harmony of theweather and Mrs. Weston, she found herself abruptly addressed with, "Do not you think, Miss Woodhouse, our saucy little friend here ischarmingly recovered?--Do not you think her cure does Perry the highestcredit?--(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 sayingsomething to Emma, whispered farther, "We do not say a word of anyassistance that Perry might have; not a word of a certain young physicianfrom Windsor. --Oh! no; Perry shall have all the credit. ""I have scarce had the pleasure of seeing you, Miss Woodhouse, " sheshortly 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 meat least, but I might be mistaken. However, I think it answered so far as totempt 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 bethe same party, you know, quite the same party, not one exception. "Soon after this Miss Bates came in, and Emma could not help beingdiverted by the perplexity of her first answer to herself, resulting, shesupposed, from doubt of what might be said, and impatience to say everything. "Thank you, dear Miss Woodhouse, you are all kindness. --It isimpossible to say--Yes, indeed, I quite understand--dearest Jane'sprospects--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 ahappy little circle as you find us here. --Yes, indeed. -- Charming youngman!--that is--so very friendly; I mean good Mr. Perry!--such attention toJane!"--And from her great, her more than commonly thankful delighttowards Mrs. Elton for being there, Emma guessed that there had been alittle show of resentment towards Jane, from the vicarage quarter, whichwas now graciously overcome. -- After a few whispers, indeed, whichplaced it beyond a guess, Mrs. Elton, speaking louder, said, "Yes, here I am, my good friend; and here I have been so long, thatanywhere 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, andpay his respects to you. ""What! are we to have the pleasure of a call from Mr. Elton?-- That willbe a favour indeed! for I know gentlemen do not like morning visits, andMr. Elton's time is so engaged. ""Upon my word it is, Miss Bates. --He really is engaged from morningto night. --There is no end of people's coming to him, on some pretence orother. --The magistrates, and overseers, and churchwardens, are alwayswanting 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 knowwhat would become of my crayons and my instrument, if I had half somany applicants. '--Bad enough as it is, for I absolutely neglect them bothto an unpardonable degree. --I believe I have not played a bar thisfortnight. --However, he is coming, I assure you: yes, indeed, on purpose towait on you all. " And putting up her hand to screen her words fromEmma--"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 fromKnightley; but he and Knightley are shut up together in deepconsultation. --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 andCole will be there too; but one is apt to speak only of those who lead. --Ifancy Mr. E. And Knightley have every thing their own way. ""Have not you mistaken the day?" said Emma. "I am almost certain thatthe meeting at the Crown is not till to-morrow. --Mr. Knightley was atHartfield yesterday, and spoke of it as for Saturday. ""Oh! no, the meeting is certainly to-day, " was the abrupt answer, whichdenoted the impossibility of any blunder on Mrs. Elton's side. -- "I dobelieve, " 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 subjecttalked of. ""But it is proved by the smallness of the school, which I have heard youspeak of, as under the patronage of your sister and Mrs. Bragge; the onlyschool, and not more than five-and-twenty children. ""Ah! you clever creature, that's very true. What a thinking brain youhave! I say, Jane, what a perfect character you and I should make, if wecould be shaken together. My liveliness and your solidity would produceperfection. --Not that I presume to insinuate, however, that some peoplemay not think you perfection already. --But hush!--not a word, if youplease. "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. Thewish 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 hersparkling vivacity. "Very pretty, sir, upon my word; to send me on here, to be anencumbrance to my friends, so long before you vouchsafe to come!-- Butyou knew what a dutiful creature you had to deal with. You knew I shouldnot stir till my lord and master appeared. -- Here have I been sitting thishour, giving these young ladies a sample of true conjugal obedience--forwho 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 objectwas to lament over himself for the heat he was suffering, and the walk hehad had for nothing. "When I got to Donwell, " said he, "Knightley could not be found. Veryodd! very unaccountable! after the note I sent him this morning, and themessage he returned, that he should certainly be at home till one. ""Donwell!" cried his wife. --"My dear Mr. E. , you have not been toDonwell!--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 overthe fields too--(speaking in a tone of great ill-usage, ) which made it somuch the worse. And then not to find him at home! I assure you I am notat all pleased. And no apology left, no message for me. The housekeeperdeclared 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 wifeought to do, ) "I cannot imagine how he could do such a thing by you, of allpeople in the world! The very last person whom one should expect to beforgotten!--My dear Mr. E. , he must have left a message for you, I am surehe must. --Not even Knightley could be so very eccentric;-- and hisservants forgot it. Depend upon it, that was the case: and very likely tohappen with the Donwell servants, who are all, I have often observed, extremely awkward and remiss. --I am sure I would not have such acreature as his Harry stand at our sideboard for any consideration. And asfor Mrs. Hodges, Wright holds her very cheap indeed. --She promisedWright 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 believehim. --William seemed rather out of humour. He did not know what wascome to his master lately, he said, but he could hardly ever get the speechof him. I have nothing to do with William's wants, but it really is of verygreat importance that I should see Knightley to-day; and it becomes amatter, therefore, of very serious inconvenience that I should have had thishot walk to no purpose. "Emma felt that she could not do better than go home directly. In allprobability she was at this very time waited for there; and Mr. Knightleymight be preserved from sinking deeper in aggression towards Mr. Elton, ifnot towards William Larkins. She was pleased, on taking leave, to find Miss Fairfax determined toattend her out of the room, to go with her even downstairs; it gave her anopportunity which she immediately made use of, to say, "It is as well, perhaps, that I have not had the possibility. Had you notbeen surrounded by other friends, I might have been tempted to introducea subject, to ask questions, to speak more openly than might have beenstrictly correct. --I feel that I should certainly have been impertinent. ""Oh!" cried Jane, with a blush and an hesitation which Emma thoughtinfinitely more becoming to her than all the elegance of all her usualcomposure--"there would have been no danger. The danger would havebeen of my wearying you. You could not have gratified me more than byexpressing an interest--. Indeed, Miss Woodhouse, (speaking morecollectedly, ) with the consciousness which I have of misconduct, very greatmisconduct, it is particularly consoling to me to know that those of myfriends, whose good opinion is most worth preserving, are not disgusted tosuch a degree as to--I have not time for half that I could wish to say. I longto make apologies, excuses, to urge something for myself. I feel it so verydue. But, unfortunately--in short, if your compassion does not stand myfriend--""Oh! you are too scrupulous, indeed you are, " cried Emma warmly, andtaking her hand. "You owe me no apologies; and every body to whom youmight be supposed to owe them, is so perfectly satisfied, so delightedeven--""You are very kind, but I know what my manners were to you. -- Socold and artificial!--I had always a part to act. --It was a life of deceit!--Iknow 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 donequickest, and I think our feelings will lose no time there. I hope you havepleasant accounts from Windsor?""Very. ""And the next news, I suppose, will be, that we are to lose you--just asI begin to know you. ""Oh! as to all that, of course nothing can be thought of yet. I am heretill 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 amsure it will be safe), that so far as our living with Mr. Churchill atEnscombe, it is settled. There must be three months, at least, of deepmourning; but when they are over, I imagine there will be nothing more towait 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 XVIIMrs. Weston's friends were all made happy by her safety; and if thesatisfaction of her well-doing could be increased to Emma, it was byknowing her to be the mother of a little girl. She had been decided inwishing for a Miss Weston. She would not acknowledge that it was withany view of making a match for her, hereafter, with either of Isabella'ssons; but she was convinced that a daughter would suit both father andmother 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 hisfireside enlivened by the sports and the nonsense, the freaks and thefancies of a child never banished from home; and Mrs. Weston--no onecould doubt that a daughter would be most to her; and it would be quite apity that any one who so well knew how to teach, should not have theirpowers in exercise again. "She has had the advantage, you know, of practising on me, " shecontinued--"like La Baronne d'Almane on La Comtesse d'Ostalis, inMadame de Genlis' Adelaide and Theodore, and we shall now see her ownlittle Adelaide educated on a more perfect plan. ""That is, " replied Mr. Knightley, "she will indulge her even more thanshe did you, and believe that she does not indulge her at all. It will be theonly difference. ""Poor child!" cried Emma; "at that rate, what will become of her?""Nothing very bad. --The fate of thousands. She will be disagreeable ininfancy, and correct herself as she grows older. I am losing all mybitterness against spoilt children, my dearest Emma. I, who am owing allmy happiness to you, would not it be horrible ingratitude in me to besevere on them?"Emma laughed, and replied: "But I had the assistance of all yourendeavours to counteract the indulgence of other people. I doubt whethermy own sense would have corrected me without it. ""Do you?--I have no doubt. Nature gave you understanding:-- MissTaylor gave you principles. You must have done well. My interference wasquite as likely to do harm as good. It was very natural for you to say, whatright has he to lecture me?--and I am afraid very natural for you to feelthat it was done in a disagreeable manner. I do not believe I did you anygood. The good was all to myself, by making you an object of the tenderestaffection to me. I could not think about you so much without doating onyou, faults and all; and by dint of fancying so many errors, have been inlove with you ever since you were thirteen at least. ""I am sure you were of use to me, " cried Emma. "I was very ofteninfluenced rightly by you--oftener than I would own at the time. I am verysure you did me good. And if poor little Anna Weston is to be spoiled, itwill be the greatest humanity in you to do as much for her as you havedone 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 ofyour saucy looks--'Mr. Knightley, I am going to do so-and-so; papa says Imay, or I have Miss Taylor's leave'--something which, you knew, I did notapprove. In such cases my interference was giving you two bad feelingsinstead of one. ""What an amiable creature I was!--No wonder you should hold myspeeches in such affectionate remembrance. ""'Mr. Knightley. '--You always called me, 'Mr. Knightley;' and, fromhabit, it has not so very formal a sound. --And yet it is formal. I want youto call me something else, but I do not know what. ""I remember once calling you 'George, ' in one of my amiable fits, aboutten years ago. I did it because I thought it would offend you; but, as youmade 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 willnot promise even to equal the elegant terseness of Mrs. Elton, by callingyou Mr. K. --But I will promise, " she added presently, laughing andblushing--"I will promise to call you once by your Christian name. I do notsay 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 importantservice which his better sense would have rendered her, to the advicewhich would have saved her from the worst of all her womanly follies--herwilful intimacy with Harriet Smith; but it was too tender a subject. --Shecould not enter on it. -- Harriet was very seldom mentioned between them. This, on his side, might merely proceed from her not being thought of; butEmma was rather inclined to attribute it to delicacy, and a suspicion, fromsome appearances, that their friendship were declining. She was awareherself, that, parting under any other circumstances, they certainly shouldhave corresponded more, and that her intelligence would not have rested, as it now almost wholly did, on Isabella's letters. He might observe that itwas so. The pain of being obliged to practise concealment towards him, wasvery little inferior to the pain of having made Harriet unhappy. Isabella sent quite as good an account of her visitor as could beexpected; on her first arrival she had thought her out of spirits, whichappeared perfectly natural, as there was a dentist to be consulted; but, since that business had been over, she did not appear to find Harrietdifferent from what she had known her before. -- Isabella, to be sure, wasno very quick observer; yet if Harriet had not been equal to playing withthe children, it would not have escaped her. Emma's comforts and hopeswere most agreeably carried on, by Harriet's being to stay longer; herfortnight was likely to be a month at least. Mr. And Mrs. John Knightleywere to come down in August, and she was invited to remain till they couldbring her back. "John does not even mention your friend, " said Mr. Knightley. "Here ishis 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 toknow what he would say about it, and not at all checked by hearing thather 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 makingflourishes, that any other young woman might think him rather cool in herpraise. But I am not afraid of your seeing what he writes. ""He writes like a sensible man, " replied Emma, when she had read theletter. "I honour his sincerity. It is very plain that he considers the goodfortune of the engagement as all on my side, but that he is not withouthope of my growing, in time, as worthy of your affection, as you think mealready. Had he said any thing to bear a different construction, I should nothave 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 heis 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 brotherdoes not do me justice, only wait till my dear father is in the secret, andhear his opinion. Depend upon it, he will be much farther from doing youjustice. He will think all the happiness, all the advantage, on your side ofthe 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 cango no farther. ""Ah!" he cried, "I wish your father might be half as easily convinced asJohn will be, of our having every right that equal worth can give, to behappy together. I am amused by one part of John's letter--did you noticeit?--where he says, that my information did not take him wholly bysurprize, that he was rather in expectation of hearing something of thekind. ""If I understand your brother, he only means so far as your having somethoughts of marrying. He had no idea of me. He seems perfectlyunprepared for that. ""Yes, yes--but I am amused that he should have seen so far into myfeelings. What has he been judging by?--I am not conscious of anydifference in my spirits or conversation that could prepare him at this timefor my marrying any more than at another. -- But it was so, I suppose. Idare say there was a difference when I was staying with them the otherday. I believe I did not play with the children quite so much as usual. Iremember one evening the poor boys saying, 'Uncle seems always tirednow. '"The time was coming when the news must spread farther, and otherpersons' reception of it tried. As soon as Mrs. Weston was sufficientlyrecovered to admit Mr. Woodhouse's visits, Emma having it in view that hergentle reasonings should be employed in the cause, resolved first toannounce it at home, and then at Randalls. -- But how to break it to herfather 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 havefailed her, and she must have put it off; but Mr. Knightley was to come atsuch a time, and follow up the beginning she was to make. --She was forcedto speak, and to speak cheerfully too. She must not make it a more decidedsubject of misery to him, by a melancholy tone herself. She must notappear 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, shetrusted, would be attended with no difficulty, since it was a plan topromote the happiness of all--she and Mr. Knightley meant to marry; bywhich means Hartfield would receive the constant addition of that person'scompany 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 triedearnestly to dissuade her from it. She was reminded, more than once, ofhaving always said she would never marry, and assured that it would be agreat deal better for her to remain single; and told of poor Isabella, andpoor Miss Taylor. --But it would not do. Emma hung about himaffectionately, and smiled, and said it must be so; and that he must notclass her with Isabella and Mrs. Weston, whose marriages taking them fromHartfield, had, indeed, made a melancholy change: but she was not goingfrom Hartfield; she should be always there; she was introducing no changein their numbers or their comforts but for the better; and she was very surethat he would be a great deal the happier for having Mr. Knightley alwaysat 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?--Whowas so useful to him, who so ready to write his letters, who so glad toassist him?-- Who so cheerful, so attentive, so attached to him?--Wouldnot 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 himevery day;--but they did see him every day as it was. --Why could not theygo on as they had done?Mr. Woodhouse could not be soon reconciled; but the worst wasovercome, the idea was given; time and continual repetition must do therest. -- To Emma's entreaties and assurances succeeded Mr. Knightley's, whose fond praise of her gave the subject even a kind of welcome; and hewas soon used to be talked to by each, on every fair occasion. -- They hadall the assistance which Isabella could give, by letters of the strongestapprobation; and Mrs. Weston was ready, on the first meeting, to considerthe 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 tworecommendations to Mr. Woodhouse's mind. --It was agreed upon, as whatwas to be; and every body by whom he was used to be guided assuring himthat it would be for his happiness; and having some feelings himself whichalmost admitted it, he began to think that some time or other--in anotheryear or two, perhaps--it might not be so very bad if the marriage did takeplace. Mrs. Weston was acting no part, feigning no feelings in all that she saidto him in favour of the event. --She had been extremely surprized, nevermore so, than when Emma first opened the affair to her; but she saw in itonly increase of happiness to all, and had no scruple in urging him to theutmost. --She had such a regard for Mr. Knightley, as to think he deservedeven her dearest Emma; and it was in every respect so proper, suitable, andunexceptionable a connexion, and in one respect, one point of the highestimportance, so peculiarly eligible, so singularly fortunate, that now itseemed as if Emma could not safely have attached herself to any othercreature, and that she had herself been the stupidest of beings in nothaving thought of it, and wished it long ago. --How very few of those menin a rank of life to address Emma would have renounced their own homefor Hartfield! And who but Mr. Knightley could know and bear with Mr. Woodhouse, so as to make such an arrangement desirable!-- The difficultyof disposing of poor Mr. Woodhouse had been always felt in her husband'splans and her own, for a marriage between Frank and Emma. How to settlethe claims of Enscombe and Hartfield had been a continual impediment--less acknowledged by Mr. Weston than by herself--but even he had neverbeen able to finish the subject better than by saying--"Those matters willtake care of themselves; the young people will find a way. " But here therewas nothing to be shifted off in a wild speculation on the future. It was allright, all open, all equal. No sacrifice on any side worth the name. It was aunion 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 reflectionsas these, was one of the happiest women in the world. If any thing couldincrease her delight, it was perceiving that the baby would soon haveoutgrown 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 tofamiliarise the idea to his quickness of mind. -- He saw the advantages ofthe match, and rejoiced in them with all the constancy of his wife; but thewonder of it was very soon nothing; and by the end of an hour he was notfar from believing that he had always foreseen it. "It is to be a secret, I conclude, " said he. "These matters are always asecret, till it is found out that every body knows them. Only let me be toldwhen I may speak out. --I wonder whether Jane has any suspicion. "He went to Highbury the next morning, and satisfied himself on thatpoint.

He told her the news. Was not she like a daughter, his eldestdaughter?--he must tell her; and Miss Bates being present, it passed, ofcourse, to Mrs. Cole, Mrs. Perry, and Mrs. Elton, immediately afterwards. It was no more than the principals were prepared for; they had calculatedfrom the time of its being known at Randalls, how soon it would be overHighbury; and were thinking of themselves, as the evening wonder in manya 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 recommendtheir all removing to Donwell, and leaving Hartfield for the JohnKnightleys; and another might predict disagreements among their servants;but yet, upon the whole, there was no serious objection raised, except inone habitation, the Vicarage. --There, the surprize was not softened by anysatisfaction. Mr. Elton cared little about it, compared with his wife; he onlyhoped "the young lady's pride would now be contented;" and supposed "shehad always meant to catch Knightley if she could;" and, on the point ofliving 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 veryeccentric, he had a thousand good qualities. -- How could he be so takenin?--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 happyhe had been to come and dine with them whenever they asked him! Butthat would be all over now. -- Poor fellow!--No more exploring parties toDonwell made for her. Oh! no; there would be a Mrs. Knightley to throwcold water on every thing. --Extremely disagreeable! But she was not at allsorry that she had abused the housekeeper the other day. --Shocking plan, living together. It would never do. She knew a family near Maple Grovewho had tried it, and been obliged to separate before the end of the firstquarter. CHAPTER XVIIITime passed on. A few more to-morrows, and the party from Londonwould be arriving. It was an alarming change; and Emma was thinking of itone morning, as what must bring a great deal to agitate and grieve her, when Mr. Knightley came in, and distressing thoughts were put by. Afterthe first chat of pleasure he was silent; and then, in a graver tone, beganwith, "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 notto 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 whichpleases or amuses you, should not please and amuse me too. ""There is one subject, " he replied, "I hope but one, on which we do notthink alike. " He paused a moment, again smiling, with his eyes fixed on herface. "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, Ibelieve, 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. HarrietSmith marries Robert Martin. "Emma gave a start, which did not seem like being prepared--and hereyes, in eager gaze, said, "No, this is impossible!" but her lips were closed. "It is so, indeed, " continued Mr. Knightley; "I have it from RobertMartin 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 werethe same. But in time they will. Time, you may be sure, will make one orthe other of us think differently; and, in the meanwhile, we need not talkmuch 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 Icannot believe it. It seems an impossibility!--You cannot mean to say, thatHarriet Smith has accepted Robert Martin. You cannot mean that he haseven proposed to her again--yet. You only mean, that he intends it. ""I mean that he has done it, " answered Mr. Knightley, with smiling butdetermined decision, "and been accepted. ""Good God!" she cried. --"Well!"--Then having recourse to herworkbasket, in excuse for leaning down her face, and concealing all theexquisite feelings of delight and entertainment which she knew she must beexpressing, she added, "Well, now tell me every thing; make this intelligibleto me. How, where, when?--Let me know it all. I never was moresurprized--but it does not make me unhappy, I assure you. --How--howhas 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 toJohn. --He delivered these papers to John, at his chambers, and was askedby him to join their party the same evening to Astley's. They were going totake the two eldest boys to Astley's. The party was to be our brother andsister, Henry, John--and Miss Smith. My friend Robert could not resist. They called for him in their way; were all extremely amused; and mybrother asked him to dine with them the next day--which he did--and inthe course of that visit (as I understand) he found an opportunity ofspeaking 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 byyesterday's coach, and was with me this morning immediately afterbreakfast, to report his proceedings, first on my affairs, and then on hisown. This is all that I can relate of the how, where, and when. Your friendHarriet will make a much longer history when you see her. -- She will giveyou all the minute particulars, which only woman's language can makeinteresting. --In our communications we deal only in the great. --However, Imust say, that Robert Martin's heart seemed for him, and to me, veryoverflowing; and that he did mention, without its being much to thepurpose, that on quitting their box at Astley's, my brother took charge ofMrs. John Knightley and little John, and he followed with Miss Smith andHenry; and that at one time they were in such a crowd, as to make MissSmith 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 disturbedhim; and after observing her a little while, he added, "Emma, my love, you said that this circumstance would not now makeyou unhappy; but I am afraid it gives you more pain than you expected. Hissituation 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 knowhim more. His good sense and good principles would delight you. --As faras 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 Iassure you, Emma. --You laugh at me about William Larkins; but I couldquite as ill spare Robert Martin. "He wanted her to look up and smile; and having now brought herselfnot to smile too broadly--she did--cheerfully answering, "You need not be at any pains to reconcile me to the match. I thinkHarriet is doing extremely well. Her connexions may be worse than his. Inrespectability of character, there can be no doubt that they are. I have beensilent from surprize merely, excessive surprize. You cannot imagine howsuddenly it has come on me! how peculiarly unprepared I was!--for I hadreason 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 Ishould 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, Ibelieve you know her quite as well as I do. --But, Mr. Knightley, are youperfectly sure that she has absolutely and downright accepted him. I couldsuppose she might in time--but can she already?-- Did not youmisunderstand him?--You were both talking of other things; of business, shows of cattle, or new drills--and might not you, in the confusion of somany subjects, mistake him?--It was not Harriet's hand that he was certainof--it was the dimensions of some famous ox. "The contrast between the countenance and air of Mr. Knightley andRobert Martin was, at this moment, so strong to Emma's feelings, and sostrong was the recollection of all that had so recently passed on Harriet'sside, so fresh the sound of those words, spoken with such emphasis, "No, Ihope I know better than to think of Robert Martin, " that she was reallyexpecting the intelligence to prove, in some measure, premature. It couldnot be otherwise. "Do you dare say this?" cried Mr. Knightley. "Do you dare to supposeme so great a blockhead, as not to know what a man is talking of?-- Whatdo you deserve?""Oh! I always deserve the best treatment, because I never put up withany other; and, therefore, you must give me a plain, direct answer. Are youquite sure that you understand the terms on which Mr. Martin and Harrietnow are?""I am quite sure, " he replied, speaking very distinctly, "that he told meshe 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 butMrs. Goddard to whom he could apply for information of her relations orfriends. 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 wouldendeavour to see her in the course of this day. ""I am perfectly satisfied, " replied Emma, with the brightest smiles, "andmost 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 allHarriet's good qualities. I have taken some pains for your sake, and forRobert Martin's sake, (whom I have always had reason to believe as muchin love with her as ever, ) to get acquainted with her. I have often talked toher a good deal. You must have seen that I did. Sometimes, indeed, I havethought you were half suspecting me of pleading poor Martin's cause, which was never the case; but, from all my observations, I am convinced ofher being an artless, amiable girl, with very good notions, very seriouslygood principles, and placing her happiness in the affections and utility ofdomestic 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 morepraise than she deserved. Their conversation was soon afterwards closed by the entrance of herfather. She was not sorry. She wanted to be alone. Her mind was in a stateof flutter and wonder, which made it impossible for her to be collected. Shewas in dancing, singing, exclaiming spirits; and till she had moved about, and talked to herself, and laughed and reflected, she could be fit fornothing rational. Her father's business was to announce James's being gone out to put thehorses 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 beimagined. The sole grievance and alloy thus removed in the prospect ofHarriet's welfare, she was really in danger of becoming too happy forsecurity. --What had she to wish for? Nothing, but to grow more worthy ofhim, 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 andcircumspection in future. Serious she was, very serious in her thankfulness, and in herresolutions; and yet there was no preventing a laugh, sometimes in the verymidst of them. She must laugh at such a close! Such an end of the dolefuldisappointment of five weeks back! Such a heart--such a Harriet!Now there would be pleasure in her returning--Every thing would be apleasure. It would be a great pleasure to know Robert Martin. High in the rank of her most serious and heartfelt felicities, was thereflection that all necessity of concealment from Mr. Knightley would soonbe 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 andperfect confidence which her disposition was most ready to welcome as aduty. In the gayest and happiest spirits she set forward with her father; notalways listening, but always agreeing to what he said; and, whether inspeech or silence, conniving at the comfortable persuasion of his beingobliged to go to Randalls every day, or poor Mrs. Weston would bedisappointed. They arrived. --Mrs. Weston was alone in the drawing-room:--buthardly had they been told of the baby, and Mr. Woodhouse received thethanks for coming, which he asked for, when a glimpse was caught throughthe blind, of two figures passing near the window. "It is Frank and Miss Fairfax, " said Mrs. Weston. "I was just going totell you of our agreeable surprize in seeing him arrive this morning. Hestays till to-morrow, and Miss Fairfax has been persuaded to spend the daywith us. --They are coming in, I hope. "In half a minute they were in the room. Emma was extremely glad tosee him--but there was a degree of confusion--a number of embarrassingrecollections on each side. They met readily and smiling, but with aconsciousness which at first allowed little to be said; and having all satdown again, there was for some time such a blank in the circle, that Emmabegan to doubt whether the wish now indulged, which she had long felt, ofseeing Frank Churchill once more, and of seeing him with Jane, would yieldits proportion of pleasure. When Mr. Weston joined the party, however, and when the baby was fetched, there was no longer a want of subject oranimation--or of courage and opportunity for Frank Churchill to draw nearher and say, "I have to thank you, Miss Woodhouse, for a very kind forgivingmessage in one of Mrs. Weston's letters. I hope time has not made you lesswilling 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 amparticularly glad to see and shake hands with you--and to give you joy inperson. "He thanked her with all his heart, and continued some time to speakwith serious feeling of his gratitude and happiness. "Is not she looking well?" said he, turning his eyes towards Jane. "Betterthan she ever used to do?--You see how my father and Mrs. Weston doatupon her. "But his spirits were soon rising again, and with laughing eyes, aftermentioning the expected return of the Campbells, he named the name ofDixon. --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 possiblethat 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 Ihad--it would have been better. But though I was always doing wrongthings, 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 ofsecrecy 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 paya visit at Randalls; he wants to be introduced to her. When the Campbellsare returned, we shall meet them in London, and continue there, I trust, tillwe 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 metsince the day of reconciliation. Do not you pity me?"Emma spoke her pity so very kindly, that with a sudden accession ofgay thought, he cried, "Ah! by the bye, " then sinking his voice, and looking demure for themoment--"I hope Mr. Knightley is well?" He paused. --She coloured andlaughed. --"I know you saw my letter, and think you may remember mywish in your favour. Let me return your congratulations. -- I assure youthat I have heard the news with the warmest interest and satisfaction. --Heis 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 ownJane, and his next words were, "Did you ever see such a skin?--such smoothness! such delicacy!--andyet without being actually fair. --One cannot call her fair. It is a mostuncommon complexion, with her dark eye-lashes and hair--a mostdistinguishing complexion! So peculiarly the lady in it. -- Just colour enoughfor beauty. ""I have always admired her complexion, " replied Emma, archly; "but donot I remember the time when you found fault with her for being sopale?-- 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 helpsaying, "I do suspect that in the midst of your perplexities at that time, you hadvery great amusement in tricking us all. --I am sure you had. -- I am sure itwas a consolation to you. ""Oh! no, no, no--how can you suspect me of such a thing? I was themost miserable wretch!""Not quite so miserable as to be insensible to mirth. I am sure it was asource of high entertainment to you, to feel that you were taking us allin. --Perhaps I am the readier to suspect, because, to tell you the truth, Ithink it might have been some amusement to myself in the same situation. Ithink there is a little likeness between us. "He bowed. "If not in our dispositions, " she presently added, with a look of truesensibility, "there is a likeness in our destiny; the destiny which bids fair toconnect us with two characters so much superior to our own. ""True, true, " he answered, warmly. "No, not true on your side. You canhave no superior, but most true on mine. --She is a complete angel. Look ather. 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 tohear (inclining his head, and whispering seriously) that my uncle means togive her all my aunt's jewels. They are to be new set. I am resolved to havesome in an ornament for the head. Will not it be beautiful in her darkhair?""Very beautiful, indeed, " replied Emma; and she spoke so kindly, thathe gratefully burst out, "How delighted I am to see you again! and to see you in such excellentlooks!--I would not have missed this meeting for the world. I shouldcertainly have called at Hartfield, had you failed to come. "The others had been talking of the child, Mrs. Weston giving anaccount of a little alarm she had been under, the evening before, from theinfant's appearing not quite well. She believed she had been foolish, but ithad 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 almostas uneasy as herself. --In ten minutes, however, the child had beenperfectly well again. This was her history; and particularly interesting itwas to Mr. Woodhouse, who commended her very much for thinking ofsending for Perry, and only regretted that she had not done it. "She shouldalways send for Perry, if the child appeared in the slightest degreedisordered, 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 comelast night; for, though the child seemed well now, very well considering, itwould 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 MissFairfax'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 inthe laugh, it was evident from Jane's countenance that she too was reallyhearing him, though trying to seem deaf. "Such an extraordinary dream of mine!" he cried. "I can never think of itwithout laughing. --She hears us, she hears us, Miss Woodhouse. I see it inher cheek, her smile, her vain attempt to frown. Look at her. Do not yousee that, at this instant, the very passage of her own letter, which sent methe report, is passing under her eye--that the whole blunder is spreadbefore her--that she can attend to nothing else, though pretending to listento the others?"Jane was forced to smile completely, for a moment; and the smile partlyremained as she turned towards him, and said in a conscious, low, yetsteady voice, "How you can bear such recollections, is astonishing to me!-- They willsometimes obtrude--but how you can court them!"He had a great deal to say in return, and very entertainingly; butEmma's feelings were chiefly with Jane, in the argument; and on leavingRandalls, and falling naturally into a comparison of the two men, she felt, that pleased as she had been to see Frank Churchill, and really regardinghim as she did with friendship, she had never been more sensible of Mr. Knightley's high superiority of character. The happiness of this most happyday, received its completion, in the animated contemplation of his worthwhich this comparison produced. CHAPTER XIXIf Emma had still, at intervals, an anxious feeling for Harriet, amomentary doubt of its being possible for her to be really cured of herattachment to Mr. Knightley, and really able to accept another man fromunbiased inclination, it was not long that she had to suffer from therecurrence of any such uncertainty. A very few days brought the party fromLondon, and she had no sooner an opportunity of being one hour alonewith Harriet, than she became perfectly satisfied--unaccountable as itwas!--that Robert Martin had thoroughly supplanted Mr. Knightley, andwas now forming all her views of happiness. Harriet was a little distressed--did look a little foolish at first: buthaving once owned that she had been presumptuous and silly, and self-deceived, before, her pain and confusion seemed to die away with thewords, and leave her without a care for the past, and with the fullestexultation in the present and future; for, as to her friend's approbation, Emma had instantly removed every fear of that nature, by meeting her withthe most unqualified congratulations. -- Harriet was most happy to giveevery particular of the evening at Astley's, and the dinner the next day; shecould dwell on it all with the utmost delight. But what did such particularsexplain?-- The fact was, as Emma could now acknowledge, that Harriethad always liked Robert Martin; and that his continuing to love her hadbeen irresistible. --Beyond this, it must ever be unintelligible to Emma. The event, however, was most joyful; and every day was giving herfresh reason for thinking so. --Harriet's parentage became known. Sheproved to be the daughter of a tradesman, rich enough to afford her thecomfortable maintenance which had ever been hers, and decent enough tohave always wished for concealment. --Such was the blood of gentilitywhich Emma had formerly been so ready to vouch for!-- It was likely to beas untainted, perhaps, as the blood of many a gentleman: but what aconnexion had she been preparing for Mr. Knightley--or for theChurchills--or even for Mr. Elton!-- The stain of illegitimacy, unbleachedby nobility or wealth, would have been a stain indeed. No objection was raised on the father's side; the young man was treatedliberally; it was all as it should be: and as Emma became acquainted withRobert Martin, who was now introduced at Hartfield, she fullyacknowledged in him all the appearance of sense and worth which couldbid fairest for her little friend. She had no doubt of Harriet's happiness withany good-tempered man; but with him, and in the home he offered, therewould be the hope of more, of security, stability, and improvement. Shewould be placed in the midst of those who loved her, and who had bettersense than herself; retired enough for safety, and occupied enough forcheerfulness. She would be never led into temptation, nor left for it to findher out. She would be respectable and happy; and Emma admitted her tobe the luckiest creature in the world, to have created so steady andpersevering an affection in such a man;--or, if not quite the luckiest, toyield 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. -- Theintimacy between her and Emma must sink; their friendship must changeinto a calmer sort of goodwill; and, fortunately, what ought to be, and mustbe, seemed already beginning, and in the most gradual, natural manner. Before the end of September, Emma attended Harriet to church, andsaw her hand bestowed on Robert Martin with so complete a satisfaction, as no remembrances, even connected with Mr. Elton as he stood beforethem, could impair. --Perhaps, indeed, at that time she scarcely saw Mr. Elton, but as the clergyman whose blessing at the altar might next fall onherself. --Robert Martin and Harriet Smith, the latest couple engaged of thethree, were the first to be married. Jane Fairfax had already quitted Highbury, and was restored to thecomforts of her beloved home with the Campbells. --The Mr. Churchillswere also in town; and they were only waiting for November. The intermediate month was the one fixed on, as far as they dared, byEmma and Mr. Knightley. --They had determined that their marriage oughtto be concluded while John and Isabella were still at Hartfield, to allowthem 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. ButMr. 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 werealmost hopeless. --A second allusion, indeed, gave less pain. -- He began tothink it was to be, and that he could not prevent it--a very promising stepof 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 himselfneglected; and though her understanding almost acquiesced in theassurance 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 suddenillumination of Mr. Woodhouse's mind, or any wonderful change of hisnervous 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 theneighbourhood 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 ofhis life. The strength, resolution, and presence of mind of the Mr. Knightleys, commanded his fullest dependence. While either of themprotected him and his, Hartfield was safe. -- But Mr. John Knightley mustbe 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 themoment, she was able to fix her wedding-day--and Mr. Elton was calledon, within a month from the marriage of Mr. And Mrs. Robert Martin, tojoin the hands of Mr. Knightley and Miss Woodhouse. The wedding was very much like other weddings, where the partieshave no taste for finery or parade; and Mrs. Elton, from the particularsdetailed by her husband, thought it all extremely shabby, and very inferiorto her own. --"Very little white satin, very few lace veils; a most pitifulbusiness!--Selina would stare when she heard of it. "--But, in spite of thesedeficiencies, the wishes, the hopes, the confidence, the predictions of thesmall band of true friends who witnessed the ceremony, were fullyanswered in the perfect happiness of the union.