diff --git a/Code/zeke/Django Mastake/manage.py b/Code/zeke/Django Mastake/manage.py new file mode 100755 index 00000000..75829b38 --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/Django Mastake/manage.py @@ -0,0 +1,22 @@ +#!/usr/bin/env python +"""Django's command-line utility for administrative tasks.""" +import os +import sys + + +def main(): + """Run administrative tasks.""" + os.environ.setdefault('DJANGO_SETTINGS_MODULE', 'rps_proj.settings') + try: + from django.core.management import execute_from_command_line + except ImportError as exc: + raise ImportError( + "Couldn't import Django. Are you sure it's installed and " + "available on your PYTHONPATH environment variable? Did you " + "forget to activate a virtual environment?" + ) from exc + execute_from_command_line(sys.argv) + + +if __name__ == '__main__': + main() diff --git a/Code/zeke/Django Mastake/rps_app/__init__.py b/Code/zeke/Django Mastake/rps_app/__init__.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..e69de29b diff --git a/Code/zeke/Django Mastake/rps_app/admin.py b/Code/zeke/Django Mastake/rps_app/admin.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..8c38f3f3 --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/Django Mastake/rps_app/admin.py @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +from django.contrib import admin + +# Register your models here. diff --git a/Code/zeke/Django Mastake/rps_app/apps.py b/Code/zeke/Django Mastake/rps_app/apps.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..6da1c1c6 --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/Django Mastake/rps_app/apps.py @@ -0,0 +1,6 @@ +from django.apps import AppConfig + + +class RpsAppConfig(AppConfig): + default_auto_field = 'django.db.models.BigAutoField' + name = 'rps_app' diff --git a/Code/zeke/Django Mastake/rps_app/migrations/__init__.py b/Code/zeke/Django Mastake/rps_app/migrations/__init__.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..e69de29b diff --git a/Code/zeke/Django Mastake/rps_app/models.py b/Code/zeke/Django Mastake/rps_app/models.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..71a83623 --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/Django Mastake/rps_app/models.py @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +from django.db import models + +# Create your models here. diff --git a/Code/zeke/Django Mastake/rps_app/templates/rps_app/index.html b/Code/zeke/Django Mastake/rps_app/templates/rps_app/index.html new file mode 100644 index 00000000..469a88ac --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/Django Mastake/rps_app/templates/rps_app/index.html @@ -0,0 +1,14 @@ + + + + + + + Rock Paper Scissors + + +

Welcome to RPS

+

Please select a choice:

+ + + \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/Code/zeke/Django Mastake/rps_app/templates/rps_app/results.html b/Code/zeke/Django Mastake/rps_app/templates/rps_app/results.html new file mode 100644 index 00000000..974d2954 --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/Django Mastake/rps_app/templates/rps_app/results.html @@ -0,0 +1,13 @@ + + + + + + + Results + + +

Congrates. You win!

+ + + \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/Code/zeke/Django Mastake/rps_app/tests.py b/Code/zeke/Django Mastake/rps_app/tests.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..7ce503c2 --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/Django Mastake/rps_app/tests.py @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +from django.test import TestCase + +# Create your tests here. diff --git a/Code/zeke/Django Mastake/rps_app/urls.py b/Code/zeke/Django Mastake/rps_app/urls.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..81be6ceb --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/Django Mastake/rps_app/urls.py @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +from django.urls import path, include +from . import views + +urlpatterns = [ + + #manage 8000/ + path('',views.index, name='index'), + + #manage 8000? + path('result/', views.result, name='result' ) +] diff --git a/Code/zeke/Django Mastake/rps_app/views.py b/Code/zeke/Django Mastake/rps_app/views.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..0e050d45 --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/Django Mastake/rps_app/views.py @@ -0,0 +1,8 @@ +from django.shortcuts import render + +# Create your views here. +def index(request): + return render(request, 'rps_app/index.html') + +def results(request): + return render(request, 'rps_app/results.html') diff --git a/Code/zeke/Django Mastake/rps_proj/__init__.py b/Code/zeke/Django Mastake/rps_proj/__init__.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..e69de29b diff --git a/Code/zeke/Django Mastake/rps_proj/asgi.py b/Code/zeke/Django Mastake/rps_proj/asgi.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..64c8e196 --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/Django Mastake/rps_proj/asgi.py @@ -0,0 +1,16 @@ +""" +ASGI config for rps_proj project. + +It exposes the ASGI callable as a module-level variable named ``application``. + +For more information on this file, see +https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/howto/deployment/asgi/ +""" + +import os + +from django.core.asgi import get_asgi_application + +os.environ.setdefault('DJANGO_SETTINGS_MODULE', 'rps_proj.settings') + +application = get_asgi_application() diff --git a/Code/zeke/Django Mastake/rps_proj/settings.py b/Code/zeke/Django Mastake/rps_proj/settings.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..b549b01e --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/Django Mastake/rps_proj/settings.py @@ -0,0 +1,123 @@ +""" +Django settings for rps_proj project. + +Generated by 'django-admin startproject' using Django 4.0.3. + +For more information on this file, see +https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/topics/settings/ + +For the full list of settings and their values, see +https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/ref/settings/ +""" + +from pathlib import Path + +# Build paths inside the project like this: BASE_DIR / 'subdir'. +BASE_DIR = Path(__file__).resolve().parent.parent + + +# Quick-start development settings - unsuitable for production +# See https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/howto/deployment/checklist/ + +# SECURITY WARNING: keep the secret key used in production secret! +SECRET_KEY = 'django-insecure-hhtpe7c*xe)i4(+zpn_#ygs!ako@0pq@o_jw-!x)%s3lk(k-+=' + +# SECURITY WARNING: don't run with debug turned on in production! +DEBUG = True + +ALLOWED_HOSTS = [] + + +# Application definition + +INSTALLED_APPS = [ + 'django.contrib.admin', + 'django.contrib.auth', + 'django.contrib.contenttypes', + 'django.contrib.sessions', + 'django.contrib.messages', + 'django.contrib.staticfiles', +] + +MIDDLEWARE = [ + 'django.middleware.security.SecurityMiddleware', + 'django.contrib.sessions.middleware.SessionMiddleware', + 'django.middleware.common.CommonMiddleware', + 'django.middleware.csrf.CsrfViewMiddleware', + 'django.contrib.auth.middleware.AuthenticationMiddleware', + 'django.contrib.messages.middleware.MessageMiddleware', + 'django.middleware.clickjacking.XFrameOptionsMiddleware', +] + +ROOT_URLCONF = 'rps_proj.urls' + +TEMPLATES = [ + { + 'BACKEND': 'django.template.backends.django.DjangoTemplates', + 'DIRS': [], + 'APP_DIRS': True, + 'OPTIONS': { + 'context_processors': [ + 'django.template.context_processors.debug', + 'django.template.context_processors.request', + 'django.contrib.auth.context_processors.auth', + 'django.contrib.messages.context_processors.messages', + ], + }, + }, +] + +WSGI_APPLICATION = 'rps_proj.wsgi.application' + + +# Database +# https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/ref/settings/#databases + +DATABASES = { + 'default': { + 'ENGINE': 'django.db.backends.sqlite3', + 'NAME': BASE_DIR / 'db.sqlite3', + } +} + + +# Password validation +# https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/ref/settings/#auth-password-validators + +AUTH_PASSWORD_VALIDATORS = [ + { + 'NAME': 'django.contrib.auth.password_validation.UserAttributeSimilarityValidator', + }, + { + 'NAME': 'django.contrib.auth.password_validation.MinimumLengthValidator', + }, + { + 'NAME': 'django.contrib.auth.password_validation.CommonPasswordValidator', + }, + { + 'NAME': 'django.contrib.auth.password_validation.NumericPasswordValidator', + }, +] + + +# Internationalization +# https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/topics/i18n/ + +LANGUAGE_CODE = 'en-us' + +TIME_ZONE = 'America/Los_Angeles' + +USE_I18N = True + +USE_TZ = True + + +# Static files (CSS, JavaScript, Images) +# https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/howto/static-files/ + +STATIC_URL = 'static/' + +# Default primary key field type +# https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/ref/settings/#default-auto-field + +DEFAULT_AUTO_FIELD = 'django.db.models.BigAutoField' diff --git a/Code/zeke/Django Mastake/rps_proj/urls.py b/Code/zeke/Django Mastake/rps_proj/urls.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..9e44eb88 --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/Django Mastake/rps_proj/urls.py @@ -0,0 +1,22 @@ +"""rps_proj URL Configuration + +The `urlpatterns` list routes URLs to views. For more information please see: + https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/topics/http/urls/ +Examples: +Function views + 1. Add an import: from my_app import views + 2. Add a URL to urlpatterns: path('', views.home, name='home') +Class-based views + 1. Add an import: from other_app.views import Home + 2. Add a URL to urlpatterns: path('', Home.as_view(), name='home') +Including another URLconf + 1. Import the include() function: from django.urls import include, path + 2. Add a URL to urlpatterns: path('blog/', include('blog.urls')) +""" +from django.contrib import admin +from django.urls import path, include + +urlpatterns = [ + path('admin/', admin.site.urls), + path('rps/', include('rps_app')) +] diff --git a/Code/zeke/Django Mastake/rps_proj/wsgi.py b/Code/zeke/Django Mastake/rps_proj/wsgi.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..0ee160a2 --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/Django Mastake/rps_proj/wsgi.py @@ -0,0 +1,16 @@ +""" +WSGI config for rps_proj project. + +It exposes the WSGI callable as a module-level variable named ``application``. + +For more information on this file, see +https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/howto/deployment/wsgi/ +""" + +import os + +from django.core.wsgi import get_wsgi_application + +os.environ.setdefault('DJANGO_SETTINGS_MODULE', 'rps_proj.settings') + +application = get_wsgi_application() diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/Grocery2/grocery_app/__init__.py b/Code/zeke/django/Grocery2/grocery_app/__init__.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..e69de29b diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/Grocery2/grocery_app/admin.py b/Code/zeke/django/Grocery2/grocery_app/admin.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..1201be3a --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/django/Grocery2/grocery_app/admin.py @@ -0,0 +1,6 @@ +from django.contrib import admin +from .models import * + +# Register your models here. +admin.site.register(Department) +admin.site.register(GroceryItem) \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/Grocery2/grocery_app/apps.py b/Code/zeke/django/Grocery2/grocery_app/apps.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..87b0bfcb --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/django/Grocery2/grocery_app/apps.py @@ -0,0 +1,6 @@ +from django.apps import AppConfig + + +class GroceryAppConfig(AppConfig): + default_auto_field = 'django.db.models.BigAutoField' + name = 'grocery_app' diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/Grocery2/grocery_app/migrations/0001_initial.py b/Code/zeke/django/Grocery2/grocery_app/migrations/0001_initial.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..4683b4b1 --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/django/Grocery2/grocery_app/migrations/0001_initial.py @@ -0,0 +1,31 @@ +# Generated by Django 4.0.3 on 2022-04-14 02:16 + +from django.db import migrations, models +import django.db.models.deletion + + +class Migration(migrations.Migration): + + initial = True + + dependencies = [ + ] + + operations = [ + migrations.CreateModel( + name='Department', + fields=[ + ('id', models.BigAutoField(auto_created=True, primary_key=True, serialize=False, verbose_name='ID')), + ('name', models.CharField(max_length=20)), + ], + ), + migrations.CreateModel( + name='GroceryItem', + fields=[ + ('id', models.BigAutoField(auto_created=True, primary_key=True, serialize=False, verbose_name='ID')), + ('item', models.CharField(max_length=40)), + ('completed', models.BooleanField(default=False)), + ('department', models.ForeignKey(blank=True, null=True, on_delete=django.db.models.deletion.CASCADE, related_name='items', to='grocery_app.department')), + ], + ), + ] diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/Grocery2/grocery_app/migrations/__init__.py b/Code/zeke/django/Grocery2/grocery_app/migrations/__init__.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..e69de29b diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/Grocery2/grocery_app/models.py b/Code/zeke/django/Grocery2/grocery_app/models.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..d5a57e3c --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/django/Grocery2/grocery_app/models.py @@ -0,0 +1,16 @@ +from django.db import models + +# Create your models here. +class Department(models.Model): + name=models.CharField(max_length=20) + + def __str__(self) : + return f'{self.name}' + +class GroceryItem(models.Model): + item=models.CharField(max_length=40) + completed = models.BooleanField(default=False) + department = models.ForeignKey(Department, on_delete=models.CASCADE, related_name='items', null=True, blank=True) + + def __str__(self): + return f'{self.item} -- {self.completed}' \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/Grocery2/grocery_app/templates/grocery_app/index.html b/Code/zeke/django/Grocery2/grocery_app/templates/grocery_app/index.html new file mode 100644 index 00000000..5d3a9085 --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/django/Grocery2/grocery_app/templates/grocery_app/index.html @@ -0,0 +1,51 @@ + + + + + + + Grocery + + +

My Grocery

+
+ {% csrf_token %} + + + + + + {% for department in departments %} +
+

{{department.name}}

+ +
+ {% endfor %} + + + +
+ + + \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/Grocery2/grocery_app/tests.py b/Code/zeke/django/Grocery2/grocery_app/tests.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..7ce503c2 --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/django/Grocery2/grocery_app/tests.py @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +from django.test import TestCase + +# Create your tests here. diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/Grocery2/grocery_app/urls.py b/Code/zeke/django/Grocery2/grocery_app/urls.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..49bbc043 --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/django/Grocery2/grocery_app/urls.py @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +from django.urls import path +from .import views + +app_name = 'grocery_list' +urlpatterns =[ + + path('',views.index,name='index'), + path('add_item', views.add_item, name='add'), + path('buy//', views.buy_item, name='buy'), + path('delete//', views.delete_item, name='delete'), +] \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/Grocery2/grocery_app/views.py b/Code/zeke/django/Grocery2/grocery_app/views.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..a339a99c --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/django/Grocery2/grocery_app/views.py @@ -0,0 +1,38 @@ +from django.shortcuts import render +from .models import * +from django.http import HttpResponseRedirect +from django.urls import reverse + + +# Create your views here. +def index(request): + grocery_list = GroceryItem.objects.all().order_by('department') + departments = Department.objects.all().order_by('name') + + + return render(request, 'grocery_app/index.html',{ + 'grocery_list': grocery_list, + 'departments' : departments + }) +def add_item(request): + item_text = request.POST['item'] + department_id = request.POST['department'] + new_item = GroceryItem() + new_item.item = item_text + if department_id: + department = Department.objects.get(id=department_id) + new_item.department = department + + new_item.save() + return HttpResponseRedirect(reverse('grocery_list:index')) + +def buy_item(request, item_id): + grocery_item = GroceryItem.objects.get(id=item_id) + grocery_item.completed = not grocery_item.completed + grocery_item.save() + return HttpResponseRedirect(reverse('grocery_list:index')) + +def delete_item(request, item_id): + grocery_item = GroceryItem.objects.get(id=item_id) + grocery_item.delete() + return HttpResponseRedirect(reverse('grocery_list:index')) diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/Grocery2/grocery_proj/__init__.py b/Code/zeke/django/Grocery2/grocery_proj/__init__.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..e69de29b diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/Grocery2/grocery_proj/asgi.py b/Code/zeke/django/Grocery2/grocery_proj/asgi.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..9012ee82 --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/django/Grocery2/grocery_proj/asgi.py @@ -0,0 +1,16 @@ +""" +ASGI config for grocery_proj project. + +It exposes the ASGI callable as a module-level variable named ``application``. + +For more information on this file, see +https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/howto/deployment/asgi/ +""" + +import os + +from django.core.asgi import get_asgi_application + +os.environ.setdefault('DJANGO_SETTINGS_MODULE', 'grocery_proj.settings') + +application = get_asgi_application() diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/Grocery2/grocery_proj/settings.py b/Code/zeke/django/Grocery2/grocery_proj/settings.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..c4049329 --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/django/Grocery2/grocery_proj/settings.py @@ -0,0 +1,124 @@ +""" +Django settings for grocery_proj project. + +Generated by 'django-admin startproject' using Django 4.0.3. + +For more information on this file, see +https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/topics/settings/ + +For the full list of settings and their values, see +https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/ref/settings/ +""" + +from pathlib import Path + +# Build paths inside the project like this: BASE_DIR / 'subdir'. +BASE_DIR = Path(__file__).resolve().parent.parent + + +# Quick-start development settings - unsuitable for production +# See https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/howto/deployment/checklist/ + +# SECURITY WARNING: keep the secret key used in production secret! +SECRET_KEY = 'django-insecure-8!&3%+al8l@^1r1-z%cixy$ghns&q9#ibpt@97%ewe^ip^w#4k' + +# SECURITY WARNING: don't run with debug turned on in production! +DEBUG = True + +ALLOWED_HOSTS = [] + + +# Application definition + +INSTALLED_APPS = [ + 'django.contrib.admin', + 'django.contrib.auth', + 'django.contrib.contenttypes', + 'django.contrib.sessions', + 'django.contrib.messages', + 'django.contrib.staticfiles', + 'grocery_app' +] + +MIDDLEWARE = [ + 'django.middleware.security.SecurityMiddleware', + 'django.contrib.sessions.middleware.SessionMiddleware', + 'django.middleware.common.CommonMiddleware', + 'django.middleware.csrf.CsrfViewMiddleware', + 'django.contrib.auth.middleware.AuthenticationMiddleware', + 'django.contrib.messages.middleware.MessageMiddleware', + 'django.middleware.clickjacking.XFrameOptionsMiddleware', +] + +ROOT_URLCONF = 'grocery_proj.urls' + +TEMPLATES = [ + { + 'BACKEND': 'django.template.backends.django.DjangoTemplates', + 'DIRS': [], + 'APP_DIRS': True, + 'OPTIONS': { + 'context_processors': [ + 'django.template.context_processors.debug', + 'django.template.context_processors.request', + 'django.contrib.auth.context_processors.auth', + 'django.contrib.messages.context_processors.messages', + ], + }, + }, +] + +WSGI_APPLICATION = 'grocery_proj.wsgi.application' + + +# Database +# https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/ref/settings/#databases + +DATABASES = { + 'default': { + 'ENGINE': 'django.db.backends.sqlite3', + 'NAME': BASE_DIR / 'db.sqlite3', + } +} + + +# Password validation +# https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/ref/settings/#auth-password-validators + +AUTH_PASSWORD_VALIDATORS = [ + { + 'NAME': 'django.contrib.auth.password_validation.UserAttributeSimilarityValidator', + }, + { + 'NAME': 'django.contrib.auth.password_validation.MinimumLengthValidator', + }, + { + 'NAME': 'django.contrib.auth.password_validation.CommonPasswordValidator', + }, + { + 'NAME': 'django.contrib.auth.password_validation.NumericPasswordValidator', + }, +] + + +# Internationalization +# https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/topics/i18n/ + +LANGUAGE_CODE = 'en-us' + +TIME_ZONE = 'America/Los_Angeles' + +USE_I18N = True + +USE_TZ = True + + +# Static files (CSS, JavaScript, Images) +# https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/howto/static-files/ + +STATIC_URL = 'static/' + +# Default primary key field type +# https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/ref/settings/#default-auto-field + +DEFAULT_AUTO_FIELD = 'django.db.models.BigAutoField' diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/Grocery2/grocery_proj/urls.py b/Code/zeke/django/Grocery2/grocery_proj/urls.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..bcd57905 --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/django/Grocery2/grocery_proj/urls.py @@ -0,0 +1,22 @@ +"""grocery_proj URL Configuration + +The `urlpatterns` list routes URLs to views. For more information please see: + https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/topics/http/urls/ +Examples: +Function views + 1. Add an import: from my_app import views + 2. Add a URL to urlpatterns: path('', views.home, name='home') +Class-based views + 1. Add an import: from other_app.views import Home + 2. Add a URL to urlpatterns: path('', Home.as_view(), name='home') +Including another URLconf + 1. Import the include() function: from django.urls import include, path + 2. Add a URL to urlpatterns: path('blog/', include('blog.urls')) +""" +from django.contrib import admin +from django.urls import path, include + +urlpatterns = [ + path('admin/', admin.site.urls), + path('grocery/', include('grocery_app.urls')) +] diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/Grocery2/grocery_proj/wsgi.py b/Code/zeke/django/Grocery2/grocery_proj/wsgi.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..567bce68 --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/django/Grocery2/grocery_proj/wsgi.py @@ -0,0 +1,16 @@ +""" +WSGI config for grocery_proj project. + +It exposes the WSGI callable as a module-level variable named ``application``. + +For more information on this file, see +https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/howto/deployment/wsgi/ +""" + +import os + +from django.core.wsgi import get_wsgi_application + +os.environ.setdefault('DJANGO_SETTINGS_MODULE', 'grocery_proj.settings') + +application = get_wsgi_application() diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/Grocery2/manage.py b/Code/zeke/django/Grocery2/manage.py new file mode 100755 index 00000000..f97e4e6d --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/django/Grocery2/manage.py @@ -0,0 +1,22 @@ +#!/usr/bin/env python +"""Django's command-line utility for administrative tasks.""" +import os +import sys + + +def main(): + """Run administrative tasks.""" + os.environ.setdefault('DJANGO_SETTINGS_MODULE', 'grocery_proj.settings') + try: + from django.core.management import execute_from_command_line + except ImportError as exc: + raise ImportError( + "Couldn't import Django. Are you sure it's installed and " + "available on your PYTHONPATH environment variable? Did you " + "forget to activate a virtual environment?" + ) from exc + execute_from_command_line(sys.argv) + + +if __name__ == '__main__': + main() diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/grocery_folder/grocery_app/__init__.py b/Code/zeke/django/grocery_folder/grocery_app/__init__.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..e69de29b diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/grocery_folder/grocery_app/admin.py b/Code/zeke/django/grocery_folder/grocery_app/admin.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..114a98bb --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/django/grocery_folder/grocery_app/admin.py @@ -0,0 +1,5 @@ +from django.contrib import admin +from .models import * +# Register your models here. +admin.site.register(Department) +admin.site.register(GroceryItem) \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/grocery_folder/grocery_app/apps.py b/Code/zeke/django/grocery_folder/grocery_app/apps.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..87b0bfcb --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/django/grocery_folder/grocery_app/apps.py @@ -0,0 +1,6 @@ +from django.apps import AppConfig + + +class GroceryAppConfig(AppConfig): + default_auto_field = 'django.db.models.BigAutoField' + name = 'grocery_app' diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/grocery_folder/grocery_app/migrations/__init__.py b/Code/zeke/django/grocery_folder/grocery_app/migrations/__init__.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..e69de29b diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/grocery_folder/grocery_app/models.py b/Code/zeke/django/grocery_folder/grocery_app/models.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..b2afd266 --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/django/grocery_folder/grocery_app/models.py @@ -0,0 +1,19 @@ +from django.db import models +from django.shortcuts import render +from django import forms + + +# Create your models here. +class Department (models.Model): + name = models.CharField(max_length=120) + + def __str__(self): + return f'{self.name}' + +class GroceryItem(models.Model): + item= models.CharField(max_length=40) + completed = models.BooleanField(default=False) + department = models.ForeignKey(Department, on_delete=models.CASCADE, related_name='items', null=True, blank=True) + + def __str__(self): + return f'{self.item} -- {self.completed}' \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/grocery_folder/grocery_app/templates/index.html b/Code/zeke/django/grocery_folder/grocery_app/templates/index.html new file mode 100644 index 00000000..182676bc --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/django/grocery_folder/grocery_app/templates/index.html @@ -0,0 +1,16 @@ + + + + + + + Grocery + + +

My Grocery

+ + {{grocery_list}} +
+ {{deparments}} + + \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/grocery_folder/grocery_app/tests.py b/Code/zeke/django/grocery_folder/grocery_app/tests.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..7ce503c2 --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/django/grocery_folder/grocery_app/tests.py @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +from django.test import TestCase + +# Create your tests here. diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/grocery_folder/grocery_app/views.py b/Code/zeke/django/grocery_folder/grocery_app/views.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..e9a4103a --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/django/grocery_folder/grocery_app/views.py @@ -0,0 +1,13 @@ +from django.shortcuts import render + +# Create your views here. + +def index(request): + return render(request, 'grocery_app/index.html') + grocery_list = models.GroceryItem.objects.all().order_by('department') + departments = models.Department.objects.all().order_by('name') + + return render(request, 'grocery_app/index.html',{ + 'grocery_list': grocery_list, + 'departments': departments + } \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/grocery_folder/grocery_proj/__init__.py b/Code/zeke/django/grocery_folder/grocery_proj/__init__.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..e69de29b diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/grocery_folder/grocery_proj/asgi.py b/Code/zeke/django/grocery_folder/grocery_proj/asgi.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..9012ee82 --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/django/grocery_folder/grocery_proj/asgi.py @@ -0,0 +1,16 @@ +""" +ASGI config for grocery_proj project. + +It exposes the ASGI callable as a module-level variable named ``application``. + +For more information on this file, see +https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/howto/deployment/asgi/ +""" + +import os + +from django.core.asgi import get_asgi_application + +os.environ.setdefault('DJANGO_SETTINGS_MODULE', 'grocery_proj.settings') + +application = get_asgi_application() diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/grocery_folder/grocery_proj/settings.py b/Code/zeke/django/grocery_folder/grocery_proj/settings.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..58e255ee --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/django/grocery_folder/grocery_proj/settings.py @@ -0,0 +1,124 @@ +""" +Django settings for grocery_proj project. + +Generated by 'django-admin startproject' using Django 4.0.3. + +For more information on this file, see +https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/topics/settings/ + +For the full list of settings and their values, see +https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/ref/settings/ +""" + +from pathlib import Path + +# Build paths inside the project like this: BASE_DIR / 'subdir'. +BASE_DIR = Path(__file__).resolve().parent.parent + + +# Quick-start development settings - unsuitable for production +# See https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/howto/deployment/checklist/ + +# SECURITY WARNING: keep the secret key used in production secret! +SECRET_KEY = 'django-insecure-nbs074wgr*#6^926c-t9gugwz36635j3&3oiw*m2use%6l5*_)' + +# SECURITY WARNING: don't run with debug turned on in production! +DEBUG = True + +ALLOWED_HOSTS = [] + + +# Application definition + +INSTALLED_APPS = [ + 'django.contrib.admin', + 'django.contrib.auth', + 'django.contrib.contenttypes', + 'django.contrib.sessions', + 'django.contrib.messages', + 'django.contrib.staticfiles', + 'grocery_app' +] + +MIDDLEWARE = [ + 'django.middleware.security.SecurityMiddleware', + 'django.contrib.sessions.middleware.SessionMiddleware', + 'django.middleware.common.CommonMiddleware', + 'django.middleware.csrf.CsrfViewMiddleware', + 'django.contrib.auth.middleware.AuthenticationMiddleware', + 'django.contrib.messages.middleware.MessageMiddleware', + 'django.middleware.clickjacking.XFrameOptionsMiddleware', +] + +ROOT_URLCONF = 'grocery_proj.urls' + +TEMPLATES = [ + { + 'BACKEND': 'django.template.backends.django.DjangoTemplates', + 'DIRS': [], + 'APP_DIRS': True, + 'OPTIONS': { + 'context_processors': [ + 'django.template.context_processors.debug', + 'django.template.context_processors.request', + 'django.contrib.auth.context_processors.auth', + 'django.contrib.messages.context_processors.messages', + ], + }, + }, +] + +WSGI_APPLICATION = 'grocery_proj.wsgi.application' + + +# Database +# https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/ref/settings/#databases + +DATABASES = { + 'default': { + 'ENGINE': 'django.db.backends.sqlite3', + 'NAME': BASE_DIR / 'db.sqlite3', + } +} + + +# Password validation +# https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/ref/settings/#auth-password-validators + +AUTH_PASSWORD_VALIDATORS = [ + { + 'NAME': 'django.contrib.auth.password_validation.UserAttributeSimilarityValidator', + }, + { + 'NAME': 'django.contrib.auth.password_validation.MinimumLengthValidator', + }, + { + 'NAME': 'django.contrib.auth.password_validation.CommonPasswordValidator', + }, + { + 'NAME': 'django.contrib.auth.password_validation.NumericPasswordValidator', + }, +] + + +# Internationalization +# https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/topics/i18n/ + +LANGUAGE_CODE = 'en-us' + +TIME_ZONE = 'America/Los_Angeles' + +USE_I18N = True + +USE_TZ = True + + +# Static files (CSS, JavaScript, Images) +# https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/howto/static-files/ + +STATIC_URL = 'static/' + +# Default primary key field type +# https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/ref/settings/#default-auto-field + +DEFAULT_AUTO_FIELD = 'django.db.models.BigAutoField' diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/grocery_folder/grocery_proj/urls.py b/Code/zeke/django/grocery_folder/grocery_proj/urls.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..f8bf0c88 --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/django/grocery_folder/grocery_proj/urls.py @@ -0,0 +1,23 @@ +"""grocery_proj URL Configuration + +The `urlpatterns` list routes URLs to views. For more information please see: + https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/topics/http/urls/ +Examples: +Function views + 1. Add an import: from my_app import views + 2. Add a URL to urlpatterns: path('', views.home, name='home') +Class-based views + 1. Add an import: from other_app.views import Home + 2. Add a URL to urlpatterns: path('', Home.as_view(), name='home') +Including another URLconf + 1. Import the include() function: from django.urls import include, path + 2. Add a URL to urlpatterns: path('blog/', include('blog.urls')) +""" + +from django.contrib import admin +from django.urls import path, include + +urlpatterns = [ + path('admin/', admin.site.urls), + path('grocery/', include('grocery_app.urls')) +] diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/grocery_folder/grocery_proj/wsgi.py b/Code/zeke/django/grocery_folder/grocery_proj/wsgi.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..567bce68 --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/django/grocery_folder/grocery_proj/wsgi.py @@ -0,0 +1,16 @@ +""" +WSGI config for grocery_proj project. + +It exposes the WSGI callable as a module-level variable named ``application``. + +For more information on this file, see +https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/howto/deployment/wsgi/ +""" + +import os + +from django.core.wsgi import get_wsgi_application + +os.environ.setdefault('DJANGO_SETTINGS_MODULE', 'grocery_proj.settings') + +application = get_wsgi_application() diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/manage.py b/Code/zeke/django/manage.py new file mode 100755 index 00000000..f97e4e6d --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/django/manage.py @@ -0,0 +1,22 @@ +#!/usr/bin/env python +"""Django's command-line utility for administrative tasks.""" +import os +import sys + + +def main(): + """Run administrative tasks.""" + os.environ.setdefault('DJANGO_SETTINGS_MODULE', 'grocery_proj.settings') + try: + from django.core.management import execute_from_command_line + except ImportError as exc: + raise ImportError( + "Couldn't import Django. Are you sure it's installed and " + "available on your PYTHONPATH environment variable? Did you " + "forget to activate a virtual environment?" + ) from exc + execute_from_command_line(sys.argv) + + +if __name__ == '__main__': + main() diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/phonebook_folder/phonebook_proj/manage.py b/Code/zeke/django/phonebook_folder/phonebook_proj/manage.py new file mode 100755 index 00000000..75f0d8b9 --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/django/phonebook_folder/phonebook_proj/manage.py @@ -0,0 +1,22 @@ +#!/usr/bin/env python +"""Django's command-line utility for administrative tasks.""" +import os +import sys + + +def main(): + """Run administrative tasks.""" + os.environ.setdefault('DJANGO_SETTINGS_MODULE', 'phonebook_proj.settings') + try: + from django.core.management import execute_from_command_line + except ImportError as exc: + raise ImportError( + "Couldn't import Django. Are you sure it's installed and " + "available on your PYTHONPATH environment variable? Did you " + "forget to activate a virtual environment?" + ) from exc + execute_from_command_line(sys.argv) + + +if __name__ == '__main__': + main() diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/phonebook_folder/phonebook_proj/phonebook_proj/__init__.py b/Code/zeke/django/phonebook_folder/phonebook_proj/phonebook_proj/__init__.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..e69de29b diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/phonebook_folder/phonebook_proj/phonebook_proj/asgi.py b/Code/zeke/django/phonebook_folder/phonebook_proj/phonebook_proj/asgi.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..9226ab4b --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/django/phonebook_folder/phonebook_proj/phonebook_proj/asgi.py @@ -0,0 +1,16 @@ +""" +ASGI config for phonebook_proj project. + +It exposes the ASGI callable as a module-level variable named ``application``. + +For more information on this file, see +https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/howto/deployment/asgi/ +""" + +import os + +from django.core.asgi import get_asgi_application + +os.environ.setdefault('DJANGO_SETTINGS_MODULE', 'phonebook_proj.settings') + +application = get_asgi_application() diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/phonebook_folder/phonebook_proj/phonebook_proj/settings.py b/Code/zeke/django/phonebook_folder/phonebook_proj/phonebook_proj/settings.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..8a48467f --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/django/phonebook_folder/phonebook_proj/phonebook_proj/settings.py @@ -0,0 +1,123 @@ +""" +Django settings for phonebook_proj project. + +Generated by 'django-admin startproject' using Django 4.0.3. + +For more information on this file, see +https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/topics/settings/ + +For the full list of settings and their values, see +https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/ref/settings/ +""" + +from pathlib import Path + +# Build paths inside the project like this: BASE_DIR / 'subdir'. +BASE_DIR = Path(__file__).resolve().parent.parent + + +# Quick-start development settings - unsuitable for production +# See https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/howto/deployment/checklist/ + +# SECURITY WARNING: keep the secret key used in production secret! +SECRET_KEY = 'django-insecure-0#e#u1kn4%4oxakdjh(j1lf2hyqk*woa2lx$tl(i78t^9pkf-a' + +# SECURITY WARNING: don't run with debug turned on in production! +DEBUG = True + +ALLOWED_HOSTS = [] + + +# Application definition + +INSTALLED_APPS = [ + 'django.contrib.admin', + 'django.contrib.auth', + 'django.contrib.contenttypes', + 'django.contrib.sessions', + 'django.contrib.messages', + 'django.contrib.staticfiles', +] + +MIDDLEWARE = [ + 'django.middleware.security.SecurityMiddleware', + 'django.contrib.sessions.middleware.SessionMiddleware', + 'django.middleware.common.CommonMiddleware', + 'django.middleware.csrf.CsrfViewMiddleware', + 'django.contrib.auth.middleware.AuthenticationMiddleware', + 'django.contrib.messages.middleware.MessageMiddleware', + 'django.middleware.clickjacking.XFrameOptionsMiddleware', +] + +ROOT_URLCONF = 'phonebook_proj.urls' + +TEMPLATES = [ + { + 'BACKEND': 'django.template.backends.django.DjangoTemplates', + 'DIRS': [], + 'APP_DIRS': True, + 'OPTIONS': { + 'context_processors': [ + 'django.template.context_processors.debug', + 'django.template.context_processors.request', + 'django.contrib.auth.context_processors.auth', + 'django.contrib.messages.context_processors.messages', + ], + }, + }, +] + +WSGI_APPLICATION = 'phonebook_proj.wsgi.application' + + +# Database +# https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/ref/settings/#databases + +DATABASES = { + 'default': { + 'ENGINE': 'django.db.backends.sqlite3', + 'NAME': BASE_DIR / 'db.sqlite3', + } +} + + +# Password validation +# https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/ref/settings/#auth-password-validators + +AUTH_PASSWORD_VALIDATORS = [ + { + 'NAME': 'django.contrib.auth.password_validation.UserAttributeSimilarityValidator', + }, + { + 'NAME': 'django.contrib.auth.password_validation.MinimumLengthValidator', + }, + { + 'NAME': 'django.contrib.auth.password_validation.CommonPasswordValidator', + }, + { + 'NAME': 'django.contrib.auth.password_validation.NumericPasswordValidator', + }, +] + + +# Internationalization +# https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/topics/i18n/ + +LANGUAGE_CODE = 'en-us' + +TIME_ZONE = 'UTC' + +USE_I18N = True + +USE_TZ = True + + +# Static files (CSS, JavaScript, Images) +# https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/howto/static-files/ + +STATIC_URL = 'static/' + +# Default primary key field type +# https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/ref/settings/#default-auto-field + +DEFAULT_AUTO_FIELD = 'django.db.models.BigAutoField' diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/phonebook_folder/phonebook_proj/phonebook_proj/urls.py b/Code/zeke/django/phonebook_folder/phonebook_proj/phonebook_proj/urls.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..6deb3f11 --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/django/phonebook_folder/phonebook_proj/phonebook_proj/urls.py @@ -0,0 +1,21 @@ +"""phonebook_proj URL Configuration + +The `urlpatterns` list routes URLs to views. For more information please see: + https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/topics/http/urls/ +Examples: +Function views + 1. Add an import: from my_app import views + 2. Add a URL to urlpatterns: path('', views.home, name='home') +Class-based views + 1. Add an import: from other_app.views import Home + 2. Add a URL to urlpatterns: path('', Home.as_view(), name='home') +Including another URLconf + 1. Import the include() function: from django.urls import include, path + 2. Add a URL to urlpatterns: path('blog/', include('blog.urls')) +""" +from django.contrib import admin +from django.urls import path + +urlpatterns = [ + path('admin/', admin.site.urls), +] diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/phonebook_folder/phonebook_proj/phonebook_proj/wsgi.py b/Code/zeke/django/phonebook_folder/phonebook_proj/phonebook_proj/wsgi.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..54e908f5 --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/django/phonebook_folder/phonebook_proj/phonebook_proj/wsgi.py @@ -0,0 +1,16 @@ +""" +WSGI config for phonebook_proj project. + +It exposes the WSGI callable as a module-level variable named ``application``. + +For more information on this file, see +https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/howto/deployment/wsgi/ +""" + +import os + +from django.core.wsgi import get_wsgi_application + +os.environ.setdefault('DJANGO_SETTINGS_MODULE', 'phonebook_proj.settings') + +application = get_wsgi_application() diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/rot_cipher_lab1/rot_cipher/manage.py b/Code/zeke/django/rot_cipher_lab1/rot_cipher/manage.py new file mode 100755 index 00000000..baa69c35 --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/django/rot_cipher_lab1/rot_cipher/manage.py @@ -0,0 +1,22 @@ +#!/usr/bin/env python +"""Django's command-line utility for administrative tasks.""" +import os +import sys + + +def main(): + """Run administrative tasks.""" + os.environ.setdefault('DJANGO_SETTINGS_MODULE', 'rot_cipher.settings') + try: + from django.core.management import execute_from_command_line + except ImportError as exc: + raise ImportError( + "Couldn't import Django. Are you sure it's installed and " + "available on your PYTHONPATH environment variable? Did you " + "forget to activate a virtual environment?" + ) from exc + execute_from_command_line(sys.argv) + + +if __name__ == '__main__': + main() diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/rot_cipher_lab1/rot_cipher/rot_app/__init__.py b/Code/zeke/django/rot_cipher_lab1/rot_cipher/rot_app/__init__.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..e69de29b diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/rot_cipher_lab1/rot_cipher/rot_app/admin.py b/Code/zeke/django/rot_cipher_lab1/rot_cipher/rot_app/admin.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..8c38f3f3 --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/django/rot_cipher_lab1/rot_cipher/rot_app/admin.py @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +from django.contrib import admin + +# Register your models here. diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/rot_cipher_lab1/rot_cipher/rot_app/apps.py b/Code/zeke/django/rot_cipher_lab1/rot_cipher/rot_app/apps.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..85c7329e --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/django/rot_cipher_lab1/rot_cipher/rot_app/apps.py @@ -0,0 +1,6 @@ +from django.apps import AppConfig + + +class RotAppConfig(AppConfig): + default_auto_field = 'django.db.models.BigAutoField' + name = 'rot_app' diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/rot_cipher_lab1/rot_cipher/rot_app/index.html b/Code/zeke/django/rot_cipher_lab1/rot_cipher/rot_app/index.html new file mode 100644 index 00000000..200fd2ab --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/django/rot_cipher_lab1/rot_cipher/rot_app/index.html @@ -0,0 +1,19 @@ + + + + + + + ROT + + +

Welcome to ROT

+
+ {% csrf_token%} + name +
+ + + + + \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/rot_cipher_lab1/rot_cipher/rot_app/migrations/__init__.py b/Code/zeke/django/rot_cipher_lab1/rot_cipher/rot_app/migrations/__init__.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..e69de29b diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/rot_cipher_lab1/rot_cipher/rot_app/models.py b/Code/zeke/django/rot_cipher_lab1/rot_cipher/rot_app/models.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..71a83623 --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/django/rot_cipher_lab1/rot_cipher/rot_app/models.py @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +from django.db import models + +# Create your models here. diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/rot_cipher_lab1/rot_cipher/rot_app/tests.py b/Code/zeke/django/rot_cipher_lab1/rot_cipher/rot_app/tests.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..7ce503c2 --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/django/rot_cipher_lab1/rot_cipher/rot_app/tests.py @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +from django.test import TestCase + +# Create your tests here. diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/rot_cipher_lab1/rot_cipher/rot_app/views.py b/Code/zeke/django/rot_cipher_lab1/rot_cipher/rot_app/views.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..52ddbc12 --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/django/rot_cipher_lab1/rot_cipher/rot_app/views.py @@ -0,0 +1,16 @@ +from django.shortcuts import render + +# Create your views here. +def index(request): + return render(request, ' numphase_app/index.html') + +def index(request): + if request.method == 'GET': + return render(request, ' numphase_app/index.html') + + elif request.method == 'POST': + print(request.POST['number'], 'find request data') + + user = request.POST['number'] + user_number = int(user) + diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/rot_cipher_lab1/rot_cipher/rot_cipher/__init__.py b/Code/zeke/django/rot_cipher_lab1/rot_cipher/rot_cipher/__init__.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..e69de29b diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/rot_cipher_lab1/rot_cipher/rot_cipher/asgi.py b/Code/zeke/django/rot_cipher_lab1/rot_cipher/rot_cipher/asgi.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..709a2364 --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/django/rot_cipher_lab1/rot_cipher/rot_cipher/asgi.py @@ -0,0 +1,16 @@ +""" +ASGI config for rot_cipher project. + +It exposes the ASGI callable as a module-level variable named ``application``. + +For more information on this file, see +https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/howto/deployment/asgi/ +""" + +import os + +from django.core.asgi import get_asgi_application + +os.environ.setdefault('DJANGO_SETTINGS_MODULE', 'rot_cipher.settings') + +application = get_asgi_application() diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/rot_cipher_lab1/rot_cipher/rot_cipher/settings.py b/Code/zeke/django/rot_cipher_lab1/rot_cipher/rot_cipher/settings.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..96675307 --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/django/rot_cipher_lab1/rot_cipher/rot_cipher/settings.py @@ -0,0 +1,124 @@ +""" +Django settings for rot_cipher project. + +Generated by 'django-admin startproject' using Django 4.0.3. + +For more information on this file, see +https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/topics/settings/ + +For the full list of settings and their values, see +https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/ref/settings/ +""" + +from pathlib import Path + +# Build paths inside the project like this: BASE_DIR / 'subdir'. +BASE_DIR = Path(__file__).resolve().parent.parent + + +# Quick-start development settings - unsuitable for production +# See https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/howto/deployment/checklist/ + +# SECURITY WARNING: keep the secret key used in production secret! +SECRET_KEY = 'django-insecure-gd4z+c(es)edw@uc)nib+=%s6k7_!(-+ghks^l06lrkx50$!(l' + +# SECURITY WARNING: don't run with debug turned on in production! +DEBUG = True + +ALLOWED_HOSTS = [] + + +# Application definition + +INSTALLED_APPS = [ + 'django.contrib.admin', + 'django.contrib.auth', + 'django.contrib.contenttypes', + 'django.contrib.sessions', + 'django.contrib.messages', + 'django.contrib.staticfiles', + 'rot_app' +] + +MIDDLEWARE = [ + 'django.middleware.security.SecurityMiddleware', + 'django.contrib.sessions.middleware.SessionMiddleware', + 'django.middleware.common.CommonMiddleware', + 'django.middleware.csrf.CsrfViewMiddleware', + 'django.contrib.auth.middleware.AuthenticationMiddleware', + 'django.contrib.messages.middleware.MessageMiddleware', + 'django.middleware.clickjacking.XFrameOptionsMiddleware', +] + +ROOT_URLCONF = 'rot_cipher.urls' + +TEMPLATES = [ + { + 'BACKEND': 'django.template.backends.django.DjangoTemplates', + 'DIRS': [], + 'APP_DIRS': True, + 'OPTIONS': { + 'context_processors': [ + 'django.template.context_processors.debug', + 'django.template.context_processors.request', + 'django.contrib.auth.context_processors.auth', + 'django.contrib.messages.context_processors.messages', + ], + }, + }, +] + +WSGI_APPLICATION = 'rot_cipher.wsgi.application' + + +# Database +# https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/ref/settings/#databases + +DATABASES = { + 'default': { + 'ENGINE': 'django.db.backends.sqlite3', + 'NAME': BASE_DIR / 'db.sqlite3', + } +} + + +# Password validation +# https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/ref/settings/#auth-password-validators + +AUTH_PASSWORD_VALIDATORS = [ + { + 'NAME': 'django.contrib.auth.password_validation.UserAttributeSimilarityValidator', + }, + { + 'NAME': 'django.contrib.auth.password_validation.MinimumLengthValidator', + }, + { + 'NAME': 'django.contrib.auth.password_validation.CommonPasswordValidator', + }, + { + 'NAME': 'django.contrib.auth.password_validation.NumericPasswordValidator', + }, +] + + +# Internationalization +# https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/topics/i18n/ + +LANGUAGE_CODE = 'en-us' + +TIME_ZONE = 'America/Los_Angeles' + +USE_I18N = True + +USE_TZ = True + + +# Static files (CSS, JavaScript, Images) +# https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/howto/static-files/ + +STATIC_URL = 'static/' + +# Default primary key field type +# https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/ref/settings/#default-auto-field + +DEFAULT_AUTO_FIELD = 'django.db.models.BigAutoField' diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/rot_cipher_lab1/rot_cipher/rot_cipher/urls.py b/Code/zeke/django/rot_cipher_lab1/rot_cipher/rot_cipher/urls.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..63283080 --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/django/rot_cipher_lab1/rot_cipher/rot_cipher/urls.py @@ -0,0 +1,27 @@ +"""rot_cipher URL Configuration + +The `urlpatterns` list routes URLs to views. For more information please see: + https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/topics/http/urls/ +Examples: +Function views + 1. Add an import: from my_app import views + 2. Add a URL to urlpatterns: path('', views.home, name='home') +Class-based views + 1. Add an import: from other_app.views import Home + 2. Add a URL to urlpatterns: path('', Home.as_view(), name='home') +Including another URLconf + 1. Import the include() function: from django.urls import include, path + 2. Add a URL to urlpatterns: path('blog/', include('blog.urls')) +""" +from django.contrib import admin +from django.urls import path + +app_name='convertletter' +urlpatterns = [ + #manage 8000/convert/ + path('', views.index, name='index'), + + #manage 8000/convert/result + path('result/', views.result, name='result'), + +] diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/rot_cipher_lab1/rot_cipher/rot_cipher/wsgi.py b/Code/zeke/django/rot_cipher_lab1/rot_cipher/rot_cipher/wsgi.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..53fb3a9c --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/django/rot_cipher_lab1/rot_cipher/rot_cipher/wsgi.py @@ -0,0 +1,16 @@ +""" +WSGI config for rot_cipher project. + +It exposes the WSGI callable as a module-level variable named ``application``. + +For more information on this file, see +https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/howto/deployment/wsgi/ +""" + +import os + +from django.core.wsgi import get_wsgi_application + +os.environ.setdefault('DJANGO_SETTINGS_MODULE', 'rot_cipher.settings') + +application = get_wsgi_application() diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/todo_proj/manage.py b/Code/zeke/django/todo_proj/manage.py new file mode 100755 index 00000000..6be564d2 --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/django/todo_proj/manage.py @@ -0,0 +1,22 @@ +#!/usr/bin/env python +"""Django's command-line utility for administrative tasks.""" +import os +import sys + + +def main(): + """Run administrative tasks.""" + os.environ.setdefault('DJANGO_SETTINGS_MODULE', 'todo_proj.settings') + try: + from django.core.management import execute_from_command_line + except ImportError as exc: + raise ImportError( + "Couldn't import Django. Are you sure it's installed and " + "available on your PYTHONPATH environment variable? Did you " + "forget to activate a virtual environment?" + ) from exc + execute_from_command_line(sys.argv) + + +if __name__ == '__main__': + main() diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/todo_proj/todo_app/__init__.py b/Code/zeke/django/todo_proj/todo_app/__init__.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..e69de29b diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/todo_proj/todo_app/admin.py b/Code/zeke/django/todo_proj/todo_app/admin.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..7e334fc7 --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/django/todo_proj/todo_app/admin.py @@ -0,0 +1,6 @@ +from django.contrib import admin +from .models import * + +# Register your models here. +admin.site.register(TodoItem) +admin.site.register(Priority) \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/todo_proj/todo_app/apps.py b/Code/zeke/django/todo_proj/todo_app/apps.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..d8f1498d --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/django/todo_proj/todo_app/apps.py @@ -0,0 +1,6 @@ +from django.apps import AppConfig + + +class TodoAppConfig(AppConfig): + default_auto_field = 'django.db.models.BigAutoField' + name = 'todo_app' diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/todo_proj/todo_app/migrations/0001_initial.py b/Code/zeke/django/todo_proj/todo_app/migrations/0001_initial.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..a302326e --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/django/todo_proj/todo_app/migrations/0001_initial.py @@ -0,0 +1,31 @@ +# Generated by Django 4.0.3 on 2022-04-08 23:56 + +from django.db import migrations, models +import django.db.models.deletion + + +class Migration(migrations.Migration): + + initial = True + + dependencies = [ + ] + + operations = [ + migrations.CreateModel( + name='Priority', + fields=[ + ('id', models.BigAutoField(auto_created=True, primary_key=True, serialize=False, verbose_name='ID')), + ('A', models.CharField(max_length=200)), + ], + ), + migrations.CreateModel( + name='TodoItem', + fields=[ + ('id', models.BigAutoField(auto_created=True, primary_key=True, serialize=False, verbose_name='ID')), + ('text', models.CharField(max_length=200)), + ('date', models.DateTimeField(auto_now=True)), + ('priority', models.ForeignKey(on_delete=django.db.models.deletion.CASCADE, related_name='todo', to='todo_app.priority')), + ], + ), + ] diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/todo_proj/todo_app/migrations/0002_remove_priority_a_priority_list_alter_todoitem_date.py b/Code/zeke/django/todo_proj/todo_app/migrations/0002_remove_priority_a_priority_list_alter_todoitem_date.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..58a79a1f --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/django/todo_proj/todo_app/migrations/0002_remove_priority_a_priority_list_alter_todoitem_date.py @@ -0,0 +1,27 @@ +# Generated by Django 4.0.3 on 2022-04-09 02:41 + +from django.db import migrations, models + + +class Migration(migrations.Migration): + + dependencies = [ + ('todo_app', '0001_initial'), + ] + + operations = [ + migrations.RemoveField( + model_name='priority', + name='A', + ), + migrations.AddField( + model_name='priority', + name='list', + field=models.CharField(choices=[('high', 'High'), ('medium', 'Meedium'), ('low', 'Low')], default='low', max_length=200), + ), + migrations.AlterField( + model_name='todoitem', + name='date', + field=models.DateTimeField(auto_now_add=True), + ), + ] diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/todo_proj/todo_app/migrations/__init__.py b/Code/zeke/django/todo_proj/todo_app/migrations/__init__.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..e69de29b diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/todo_proj/todo_app/models.py b/Code/zeke/django/todo_proj/todo_app/models.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..6027bb9a --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/django/todo_proj/todo_app/models.py @@ -0,0 +1,23 @@ +from django.db import models + + +# Create your models here. +PRIORITIES = [ + ("high", "High"), + ("medium", "Medium"), + ("low","Low"), +] +class Priority(models.Model): + list = models.CharField(max_length=200, choices=PRIORITIES, default="low") + + + def __str__(self): + return f"{self.list}" + +class TodoItem(models.Model): + text= models.CharField(max_length=200) + priority = models.ForeignKey(Priority, on_delete=models.CASCADE, related_name="todo") + date=models.DateTimeField(auto_now_add=True) + + def __str__(self): + return f"{self.text}" \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/todo_proj/todo_app/templates/todo_app/mytemplate.html b/Code/zeke/django/todo_proj/todo_app/templates/todo_app/mytemplate.html new file mode 100644 index 00000000..bb322c6c --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/django/todo_proj/todo_app/templates/todo_app/mytemplate.html @@ -0,0 +1,24 @@ + + + + + + + + + +

Welcome

+ {% for d in data %} +

{{ d }}

+ + + + {% comment %} +

{{data}}

+

{{d.text}}

+ {% endcomment %} + {% endfor %} + + + + \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/todo_proj/todo_app/tests.py b/Code/zeke/django/todo_proj/todo_app/tests.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..7ce503c2 --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/django/todo_proj/todo_app/tests.py @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +from django.test import TestCase + +# Create your tests here. diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/todo_proj/todo_app/urls.py b/Code/zeke/django/todo_proj/todo_app/urls.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..a1d25d95 --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/django/todo_proj/todo_app/urls.py @@ -0,0 +1,9 @@ +from django.urls import path +from . import views + + +app_name='todo_app' +urlpatterns = [ + path('mytodo/', views.mytodo, name='mytodo') + +] diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/todo_proj/todo_app/views.py b/Code/zeke/django/todo_proj/todo_app/views.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..91b971a5 --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/django/todo_proj/todo_app/views.py @@ -0,0 +1,18 @@ +from django.shortcuts import render +from django.http import HttpResponse +from .models import * + +# Create your views here. + +def mytodo(request): + data = TodoItem.objects.all() + context ={ + 'message': 'TO DO LIST ', + 'data': data + + + + } + return render(request, 'todo_app/mytemplate.html', context) + + diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/todo_proj/todo_proj/__init__.py b/Code/zeke/django/todo_proj/todo_proj/__init__.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..e69de29b diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/todo_proj/todo_proj/asgi.py b/Code/zeke/django/todo_proj/todo_proj/asgi.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..5a0fd4de --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/django/todo_proj/todo_proj/asgi.py @@ -0,0 +1,16 @@ +""" +ASGI config for todo_proj project. + +It exposes the ASGI callable as a module-level variable named ``application``. + +For more information on this file, see +https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/howto/deployment/asgi/ +""" + +import os + +from django.core.asgi import get_asgi_application + +os.environ.setdefault('DJANGO_SETTINGS_MODULE', 'todo_proj.settings') + +application = get_asgi_application() diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/todo_proj/todo_proj/settings.py b/Code/zeke/django/todo_proj/todo_proj/settings.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..8a9cccd7 --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/django/todo_proj/todo_proj/settings.py @@ -0,0 +1,124 @@ +""" +Django settings for todo_proj project. + +Generated by 'django-admin startproject' using Django 4.0.3. + +For more information on this file, see +https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/topics/settings/ + +For the full list of settings and their values, see +https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/ref/settings/ +""" + +from pathlib import Path + +# Build paths inside the project like this: BASE_DIR / 'subdir'. +BASE_DIR = Path(__file__).resolve().parent.parent + + +# Quick-start development settings - unsuitable for production +# See https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/howto/deployment/checklist/ + +# SECURITY WARNING: keep the secret key used in production secret! +SECRET_KEY = 'django-insecure-!*h^kj-z_j-zv+egfony&)1*nqw#+*n@&l!al*qh)wn-mxyptb' + +# SECURITY WARNING: don't run with debug turned on in production! +DEBUG = True + +ALLOWED_HOSTS = [] + + +# Application definition + +INSTALLED_APPS = [ + 'django.contrib.admin', + 'django.contrib.auth', + 'django.contrib.contenttypes', + 'django.contrib.sessions', + 'django.contrib.messages', + 'django.contrib.staticfiles', + 'todo_app' +] + +MIDDLEWARE = [ + 'django.middleware.security.SecurityMiddleware', + 'django.contrib.sessions.middleware.SessionMiddleware', + 'django.middleware.common.CommonMiddleware', + 'django.middleware.csrf.CsrfViewMiddleware', + 'django.contrib.auth.middleware.AuthenticationMiddleware', + 'django.contrib.messages.middleware.MessageMiddleware', + 'django.middleware.clickjacking.XFrameOptionsMiddleware', +] + +ROOT_URLCONF = 'todo_proj.urls' + +TEMPLATES = [ + { + 'BACKEND': 'django.template.backends.django.DjangoTemplates', + 'DIRS': [], + 'APP_DIRS': True, + 'OPTIONS': { + 'context_processors': [ + 'django.template.context_processors.debug', + 'django.template.context_processors.request', + 'django.contrib.auth.context_processors.auth', + 'django.contrib.messages.context_processors.messages', + ], + }, + }, +] + +WSGI_APPLICATION = 'todo_proj.wsgi.application' + + +# Database +# https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/ref/settings/#databases + +DATABASES = { + 'default': { + 'ENGINE': 'django.db.backends.sqlite3', + 'NAME': BASE_DIR / 'db.sqlite3', + } +} + + +# Password validation +# https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/ref/settings/#auth-password-validators + +AUTH_PASSWORD_VALIDATORS = [ + { + 'NAME': 'django.contrib.auth.password_validation.UserAttributeSimilarityValidator', + }, + { + 'NAME': 'django.contrib.auth.password_validation.MinimumLengthValidator', + }, + { + 'NAME': 'django.contrib.auth.password_validation.CommonPasswordValidator', + }, + { + 'NAME': 'django.contrib.auth.password_validation.NumericPasswordValidator', + }, +] + + +# Internationalization +# https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/topics/i18n/ + +LANGUAGE_CODE = 'en-us' + +TIME_ZONE = 'America/Los_Angeles' + +USE_I18N = True + +USE_TZ = True + + +# Static files (CSS, JavaScript, Images) +# https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/howto/static-files/ + +STATIC_URL = 'static/' + +# Default primary key field type +# https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/ref/settings/#default-auto-field + +DEFAULT_AUTO_FIELD = 'django.db.models.BigAutoField' diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/todo_proj/todo_proj/urls.py b/Code/zeke/django/todo_proj/todo_proj/urls.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..c0eb0a23 --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/django/todo_proj/todo_proj/urls.py @@ -0,0 +1,22 @@ +"""todo_proj URL Configuration + +The `urlpatterns` list routes URLs to views. For more information please see: + https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/topics/http/urls/ +Examples: +Function views + 1. Add an import: from my_app import views + 2. Add a URL to urlpatterns: path('', views.home, name='home') +Class-based views + 1. Add an import: from other_app.views import Home + 2. Add a URL to urlpatterns: path('', Home.as_view(), name='home') +Including another URLconf + 1. Import the include() function: from django.urls import include, path + 2. Add a URL to urlpatterns: path('blog/', include('blog.urls')) +""" +from django.contrib import admin +from django.urls import path, include + +urlpatterns = [ + path('admin/', admin.site.urls), + path('', include('todo_app.urls')), +] diff --git a/Code/zeke/django/todo_proj/todo_proj/wsgi.py b/Code/zeke/django/todo_proj/todo_proj/wsgi.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..5f96a37b --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/django/todo_proj/todo_proj/wsgi.py @@ -0,0 +1,16 @@ +""" +WSGI config for todo_proj project. + +It exposes the WSGI callable as a module-level variable named ``application``. + +For more information on this file, see +https://docs.djangoproject.com/en/4.0/howto/deployment/wsgi/ +""" + +import os + +from django.core.wsgi import get_wsgi_application + +os.environ.setdefault('DJANGO_SETTINGS_MODULE', 'todo_proj.settings') + +application = get_wsgi_application() diff --git a/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/Flask_9_Folder/10_rock_paper/app.py b/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/Flask_9_Folder/10_rock_paper/app.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..fd476177 --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/Flask_9_Folder/10_rock_paper/app.py @@ -0,0 +1,7 @@ +from flask import Flask + +app = Flask (__name__) + +@app.route('/') +def index(): + return 'Welcome to RPS' \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/Flask_9_Folder/rot_cipher_flask/app.py b/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/Flask_9_Folder/rot_cipher_flask/app.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..b6c64098 --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/Flask_9_Folder/rot_cipher_flask/app.py @@ -0,0 +1,26 @@ +from flask import Flask, render_template, request + +app = Flask(__name__) + +#localhost:5000/ +@app.route('/') +def index(): + name="Ryan" + return render_template('index.html', name=name) + +@app.route('/about') +def about(): + return render_template('about.html') + +@app.route('/contact') +def contact(): + return render_template ('contact.html') + +@app.route('/check-grade/') +def check_grade(grade): + return render_template ('check-grade.html', grade=grade) + +@app.route('/llama', methods=['POST']) +def display_name(): + print(request.form) + return render_template('contact.html') \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/Flask_9_Folder/rot_cipher_flask/static/style.css b/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/Flask_9_Folder/rot_cipher_flask/static/style.css new file mode 100644 index 00000000..442dffa0 --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/Flask_9_Folder/rot_cipher_flask/static/style.css @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +body { + text-align: center; + color: gray; +} \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/Flask_9_Folder/rot_cipher_flask/templates/about.html b/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/Flask_9_Folder/rot_cipher_flask/templates/about.html new file mode 100644 index 00000000..4833097a --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/Flask_9_Folder/rot_cipher_flask/templates/about.html @@ -0,0 +1,14 @@ + + + + + + + About + + +

About page

+ Home + Contact + + \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/Flask_9_Folder/rot_cipher_flask/templates/check-grade.html b/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/Flask_9_Folder/rot_cipher_flask/templates/check-grade.html new file mode 100644 index 00000000..23555a6b --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/Flask_9_Folder/rot_cipher_flask/templates/check-grade.html @@ -0,0 +1,24 @@ + + + + + + + Grade Checker + + +

Grade Checker

+ {% if grade >= 90 %} +

You got an A

+ {% elif grade >= 80 %} +

You got a B

+ {% elif grade >=70 %} +

You got a C

+ {% elif grade >= 60 %} +

You got a D

+ {% else%} +
You got an F
+ + {% endif %} + + \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/Flask_9_Folder/rot_cipher_flask/templates/contact.html b/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/Flask_9_Folder/rot_cipher_flask/templates/contact.html new file mode 100644 index 00000000..06bbd209 --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/Flask_9_Folder/rot_cipher_flask/templates/contact.html @@ -0,0 +1,14 @@ + + + + + + + Contact + + +

This is my contact page!

+ Home + About + + \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/Flask_9_Folder/rot_cipher_flask/templates/index.html b/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/Flask_9_Folder/rot_cipher_flask/templates/index.html new file mode 100644 index 00000000..8662ce2a --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/Flask_9_Folder/rot_cipher_flask/templates/index.html @@ -0,0 +1,23 @@ + + + + + + + ROT_FLASK + + + +

Welcome to my ROT app

+

Hello {{ name }}

+ About + Contact + +
+ + + + +
+ + \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/html_folders/zeke_lab1/A.Wells Photo.jpg b/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/html_folders/zeke_lab1/A.Wells Photo.jpg new file mode 100644 index 00000000..123c2063 Binary files /dev/null and b/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/html_folders/zeke_lab1/A.Wells Photo.jpg differ diff --git a/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/html_folders/zeke_lab1/Emmanuel-Temple.jpeg b/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/html_folders/zeke_lab1/Emmanuel-Temple.jpeg new file mode 100644 index 00000000..d80b582c Binary files /dev/null and b/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/html_folders/zeke_lab1/Emmanuel-Temple.jpeg differ diff --git a/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/html_folders/zeke_lab1/index.html b/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/html_folders/zeke_lab1/index.html new file mode 100644 index 00000000..8675a1be --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/html_folders/zeke_lab1/index.html @@ -0,0 +1,63 @@ + + + + + + + Adolph Wells Bio + + + + + + + + +
+

Adolph A. Wells

+ + + + Picture of Adolph Wells not found +

September 29, 1938 - March 14, 2020

+
+

+ "Turn right and go straight" +

+

About:

+ +

Born and reared in the state of Mississippi, Bishop Wells attended Seattle Central College and Seattle University in 1957 and 1958. + After retiring from the US Postal Service, he pursued the path of theology. + He is a graduate of the A.L. Hardy Academy of Theology, with earned Masters of Divinity (1988), Doctorate of Ministry (1995) and Doctorate of Theology (1995) degrees. + In addition, in 1995, he received an honorary Doctorate of Divinity Degree from the George Fox Evangelical Seminary where he was also the baccalaureate speaker 1987. + In 1963, he was ordained to the Ministry by Bishop E.F. Morris in Seattle, Washington. + In 1965, he founded the Emmanuel Temple Church; in 1970, he founded the Full Gospel Pentecostal Association and in 1971, he was consummated to the Bishopric. +

+ For more information click here + +

State's lived

+
    +
  • Mississippi
    • +
  • Washington
    • +
  • Oregon
    • + +
+ +

Children

+ + +
    +
  • Clifton Wells
    • +
  • Deborah Kimbrough
    • +
  • Carol Davis
    • +
  • Joel Wells
    • +
+ +
+ + \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/html_folders/zeke_lab1/styles.css b/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/html_folders/zeke_lab1/styles.css new file mode 100644 index 00000000..fa36fa13 --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/html_folders/zeke_lab1/styles.css @@ -0,0 +1,72 @@ +@import url("https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Open+Sans:wght@300&family=Playfair+Display:ital@1&display=swap"); + + +h3{ + text-decoration: underline; + text-align: center; + font-style: italic; + font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;} + +.church { + background-repeat: no-repeat; + background-attachment: fixed; + background-position: center; + background-size: cover; + + background-image: url("Emmanuel-Temple.jpeg") ; +} +.a_button { + + border: 0; + line-height: 2.5; + padding: 0 8px; + font-size: 1rem; + text-align: center; + color: #fff; + text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #000; + border-radius: 10px; + background-color: darkslateblue; + box-shadow: inset 2px 2px 3px rgba(255, 255, 255, .6), + inset -2px -2px 3px rgba(0, 0, 0, .6); +} + +h2 { + text-decoration: underline + } + + + + +h1{ + opacity: 100%; + background-color: darkslateblue; + font-family: 'Open Sans', sans-serif; + text-align: center; +} + + +img { + + border: solid; + border-radius: 25%; + display: block; + width: 150px; + margin: 0 auto; +} +p{ + font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; + color: rgba(21, 19, 29, 0.432); + display: block; + background-color: rgba(129, 112, 223, 0.973); + text-align: left; + padding: 0 70px; +} +ul{ + background-color: darkslateblue; + display: inline-block; + } + +#background2 { + background-color: rgba(71, 61, 139, 0.404); + margin: 30px; +} \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/html_folders/zeke_lab2/lab2.html b/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/html_folders/zeke_lab2/lab2.html new file mode 100644 index 00000000..fa905120 --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/html_folders/zeke_lab2/lab2.html @@ -0,0 +1,98 @@ + + + + + + + Zeke Blog + + + + + + + + + + +
+

My Blog

+
+ Sign in + Home + About + Blogs +
+ +
+
+ +
+
+ + + Facebook + Instagram + + + +

Welcome Home

+
+

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet consectetur adipisicing elit. + Eligendi sequi soluta aut praesentium placeat voluptas tempore optio omnis! + Assumenda, accusantium dolorem cupiditate + sed distinctio consequuntur excepturi debitis sint ullam temporibus quam + ratione molestias incidunt vero expedita odio commodi. + Autem omnis vitae velit eaque neque. Quo, alias. Iure culpa alias labore? +

+ +

About

+ +

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet consectetur adipisicing elit. + Eligendi sequi soluta aut praesentium placeat voluptas tempore optio omnis! + Assumenda, accusantium dolorem cupiditate + sed distinctio consequuntur excepturi debitis sint ullam temporibus quam + ratione molestias incidunt vero expedita odio commodi. + Autem omnis vitae velit eaque neque. Quo, alias. Iure culpa alias labore? +

+ +

Blogs

+

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet consectetur adipisicing elit. + Eligendi sequi soluta aut praesentium placeat voluptas tempore optio omnis! + Assumenda, accusantium dolorem cupiditate + sed distinctio consequuntur excepturi debitis sint ullam temporibus quam + ratione molestias incidunt vero expedita odio commodi. + Autem omnis vitae velit eaque neque. Quo, alias. Iure culpa alias labore? +

+ +

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet consectetur adipisicing elit. + Eligendi sequi soluta aut praesentium placeat voluptas tempore optio omnis! + Assumenda, accusantium dolorem cupiditate + sed distinctio consequuntur excepturi debitis sint ullam temporibus quam + ratione molestias incidunt vero expedita odio commodi. + Autem omnis vitae velit eaque neque. Quo, alias. Iure culpa alias labore? +

+ + + + + +
Contact
+
+ +

Address: 123 ne Pdx, Portland, Or, 123

+

Phone: 123-456-7898

+ + + + + +
+ + + + + + + \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/html_folders/zeke_lab2/style.css b/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/html_folders/zeke_lab2/style.css new file mode 100644 index 00000000..7114d04c --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/html_folders/zeke_lab2/style.css @@ -0,0 +1,60 @@ + header { + display: flex; + justify-content: space-between; + padding-left: 7px; + padding-right: 10px; + background-color: rgba(133, 56, 21, 0.781); + } + h2 {color: aliceblue; +} +a { + color: aliceblue; +} + +div { + margin-top: 26px; + justify-content: space-between; +} +.picsum{ + background-image: url("https://picsum.photos/200/300"); + background-position: center; + background-repeat: no-repeat; + height: 100px; + + + +} +h3 { + font-style: italic; + font-size: medium; + font-display: bold; + text-align: center; + text-decoration: underline; +} +div2 { + + font-style:initial; + font-display: bold; + text-align: right; + flex-wrap: wrap; + +} +.side{ + height: 100px; +} +.side a{ + color:blue +} +.footer{ +background-color: aqua; +text-align: center; +padding: 1px; +margin: 0; +display: inline-block; +text-align: center; + +} +h5 { + text-align: center; + text-decoration: underline; +} \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/html_folders/zeke_lab3/index3.html b/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/html_folders/zeke_lab3/index3.html new file mode 100644 index 00000000..fecacb3f --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/html_folders/zeke_lab3/index3.html @@ -0,0 +1,139 @@ + + + + + + + A1 Shoes + + + + + + + + + +
+ +

A1 Shoes

+ + + + + + +
+ + + + + + +
+ + + +
+
+ + +

A1 SHOES THE SHOES MADE FOR YOU!

+ + +
+
+ +
+ + + +
+ + sports image + +
+ +
+
+ +

OUR STORY

+

+ Lorem ipsum, dolor sit amet consectetur adipisicing elit. Assumenda ut fugiat cupiditate aliquam aliquid voluptates, explicabo ab inventore sint! Dolore quasi molestias accusantium itaque odio cumque libero deserunt explicabo recusandae. +

+ +

OUR MISSION

+ +

+ Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet consectetur adipisicing elit. Numquam facilis omnis magnam fugiat architecto tempore ipsum corporis, libero alias at nemo, dolor reprehenderit cum ea placeat? Ducimus iusto eveniet nisi? +

+ +

HOW TO JOIN

+ +

Lorem ipsum dolor sit, amet consectetur adipisicing elit. Corrupti asperiores ipsa doloremque, dolorem inventore at animi nostrum porro commodi maxime voluptatum perspiciatis sunt, recusandae aspernatur ad rem temporibus dignissimos. Minima? + +

+ +
+ +
+
+ + +
+
+ + + sports image + + sports image + +
+
+ +
+
+ sports image + sports image + sports image + sports image +
+
+
+
+
+ +
+ A1 SHOES MADE FOR YOU!
+
+

Contact

+

Address: 123 ne Pdx, Portland, Or, 123

+

Phone: 123-456-7898

+
+
+ + + \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/html_folders/zeke_lab3/lab3s.html b/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/html_folders/zeke_lab3/lab3s.html new file mode 100644 index 00000000..002500c0 --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/html_folders/zeke_lab3/lab3s.html @@ -0,0 +1,137 @@ + + + + + + + A1 Shoes + + + + + + + + +
+ +

A1 Shoes

+ + + + + + +
+ + + + + + +
+ + + +
+
+ + +

A1 SHOES THE SHOES MADE FOR YOU!

+ + +
+
+ + + + + +
+ + sports image + +
+ +
+
+ +

OUR STORY

+

+ Lorem ipsum, dolor sit amet consectetur adipisicing elit. Assumenda ut fugiat cupiditate aliquam aliquid voluptates, explicabo ab inventore sint! Dolore quasi molestias accusantium itaque odio cumque libero deserunt explicabo recusandae. +

+ +

OUR MISSION

+ +

+ Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet consectetur adipisicing elit. Numquam facilis omnis magnam fugiat architecto tempore ipsum corporis, libero alias at nemo, dolor reprehenderit cum ea placeat? Ducimus iusto eveniet nisi? +

+ +

HOW TO JOIN

+ +

Lorem ipsum dolor sit, amet consectetur adipisicing elit. Corrupti asperiores ipsa doloremque, dolorem inventore at animi nostrum porro commodi maxime voluptatum perspiciatis sunt, recusandae aspernatur ad rem temporibus dignissimos. Minima? + +

+ +
+ +
+
+ + +
+
+ + + sports image + sports image + sports image + +
+
+ +
+
+ sports image + sports image + sports image +
+
+
+
+
+ +
+ A1 SHOES MADE FOR YOU!
+
+

Contact

+

Address: 123 ne Pdx, Portland, Or, 123

+

Phone: 123-456-7898

+
+
+ + + \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/html_folders/zeke_lab3/style.css b/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/html_folders/zeke_lab3/style.css new file mode 100644 index 00000000..8025c6a6 --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/html_folders/zeke_lab3/style.css @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +/* +@media only screen and (max-width: 576px) {.add-color {background-color: red}} */ +/* +@media only screen and (max-width: 767.98px) {.body {background-color: yellow}} */ \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/html_folders/zeke_lab4/Byzeke cover.jpg b/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/html_folders/zeke_lab4/Byzeke cover.jpg new file mode 100644 index 00000000..0af8d6dd Binary files /dev/null and b/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/html_folders/zeke_lab4/Byzeke cover.jpg differ diff --git a/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/html_folders/zeke_lab4/lab4.html b/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/html_folders/zeke_lab4/lab4.html new file mode 100644 index 00000000..85444e8a --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/html_folders/zeke_lab4/lab4.html @@ -0,0 +1,110 @@ + + + + + + + Zeke Wells Portfolio + + + + + + + +
+ +
+
+ + + BIO + SKILLS + WORK HISTORY + EDUCATION +
+ +
+ logo + + +

BIO

+

Hi my name is Zeke, I am a student at PDX Code Guild based in Portland, Oregon. I currently studying full stack programming, with hopes of a frontend internship after school. I enjoy learning new applications and new ways of programming. I enjoy helping people and using my critical thinking skills to solve complex problems and issues based on data. I majored in Social Work in social work and have worked with a lot of data and found a new love for its value in serving people and complex problems. With my love for serving people and also utilizing data to solve complex problems I am working towards merging the two in the tech industry.

+ + +

SKILLS

+
+
  • Python
    • +
  • HTML
    • +
  • CSS
    • +
    + +

    WORK HISTORY

    +
    +
  • Photographer
    • +
  • Social Worker
    • +
  • Student Administrator
    • +
  • Media Rep
    • + + +

    EDUCATION

    +
    +
  • Eastern Washington University
    • +
  • PDX Code Guild
    • +
    + + + +
    + +
    + +
    + + + +
    + \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/html_folders/zeke_lab4/logo.jpg b/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/html_folders/zeke_lab4/logo.jpg new file mode 100644 index 00000000..24023f93 Binary files /dev/null and b/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/html_folders/zeke_lab4/logo.jpg differ diff --git a/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/html_folders/zeke_lab4/style.css b/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/html_folders/zeke_lab4/style.css new file mode 100644 index 00000000..c9862d89 --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/html_folders/zeke_lab4/style.css @@ -0,0 +1,91 @@ +* { + padding: 0px; + margin: 0px; + box-sizing:border-box; + list-style: none; + font-family:'Times New Roman', Times, serif; +} +.main { + width: 100%; + height: 100vh; + display: flex; + text-align: center; +} +.menu { + width: 20%; + background-color:rgb(25, 60, 112); +} + +#logo { + background-color: black; + font-size: 15px; + border: black; + border-top: 3px solid black; + border-bottom: 3px solid black; + border-radius: 3px solid black; + color: ghostwhite; + + +} +.menu a { + text-decoration: none; + color:ghostwhite; + font-size: 15px; + letter-spacing: 2px; + display: list-item; + padding: 15px; + border-top: 1px solid black; + border-bottom: 1px solid black; + +} + +.menu a:hover{ + background-color: rgb(218, 33, 33); + transition: 0.5s; + letter-spacing: 4px; + text-transform: uppercase; + +} + +img { + + border: solid; + border-radius: 25%; + display: block; + width: 150px; + margin: 0 auto; + +} + + +.body { + + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + background-color: rgb(194, 206, 218); + +} +/* .columns { + justify-content:center; + display: flex; + margin: 4rem; + padding: 4rem; + gap: 4rem; +} */ +.footer { + background-color: rgb(173, 182, 190); + + +} +.row { + margin: 0; + padding: 0; + box-sizing: border-box; + display:flex; + gap: 4rem; + justify-content: center; + + + +} + diff --git a/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/html_folders/zeke_lab5/lab5.html b/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/html_folders/zeke_lab5/lab5.html new file mode 100644 index 00000000..0ae57c9d --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/html_folders/zeke_lab5/lab5.html @@ -0,0 +1,118 @@ + + + + + + + El Burrito + + + + +
    +

    El Burrito

    +
    +
    + + +
    +
    + + +
    +
    + + +
    +
    + +
    +
    + +
    + +
    + +
    + + +
    + + +
    + Home + Menu + Place Order + + +
    +
    +
    + Burrito picture not found +
    +
    +
    +

    Home

    +

    Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet consectetur adipisicing elit. Cupiditate eaque et quaerat praesentium quos ex perferendis sapiente, id, velit hic nobis sunt corrupti soluta minima. Vero aliquid dolorem nobis autem?

    +
    +
    +

    Place Order

    + +
    +
    Tortilla: + + + + +
    +
    Meat: + + + + +
    Toppings: + + + + +
    +
    + + +
    +
    + + +
    + +
    +
    +
    ©2022 El Burrito
    + + \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/html_folders/zeke_lab5/style.css b/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/html_folders/zeke_lab5/style.css new file mode 100644 index 00000000..2cdf40b1 --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/html_folders/zeke_lab5/style.css @@ -0,0 +1,100 @@ +body { + background-color: rgb(223, 215, 215); + +} + +body { + font-size: 24px; + display: flex; + flex-direction: column; + justify-content: center; +} + + + +h1 { + text-align: center; +} +.link { + display: flex; + flex-direction: column; + +} +.link > a { + border:1px solid black; + background-color: rgb(190, 196, 196); + margin: 1rem; + box-shadow: inset 0 0 8px 4px rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.308); + padding: .25em 0; + text-align: center; + text-decoration: none; + color: rgb(43, 85, 85); +} + +main { + display: flex; + flex-direction: column; + align-items: center; +} + +img { + width: 100%; + margin-bottom: 1.5em; +} + +section { + + background-color: rgb(248, 247, 247); + box-shadow: 0 0 8px 4px rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.432); + margin-bottom: 1em; + max-width: 54ch; +} + +section > h1 { + text-decoration: underline; + +} + +section p { + text-align: center; + margin: 2rem; +} + +/* Tablet Style */ +@media screen and (min-width: 768px) { + .link { + flex-direction: row; + justify-content: space-evenly; + } + .pic { + display: flex; + justify-content: center; + } + img{ + width: 75%; + } + + +} + +@media screen and (min-width: 1440px) { + header { + display: flex; + align-items: center; + justify-content: space-between + } + .link { + display: block; + } + img { + max-width: 900px; + } + main { + flex-direction: row; + flex-wrap: wrap; + justify-content: center; + gap: 4rem + + } +} + diff --git a/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/lectures/5_semantic_elements/index.html b/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/lectures/5_semantic_elements/index.html new file mode 100644 index 00000000..1af25120 --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/lectures/5_semantic_elements/index.html @@ -0,0 +1,13 @@ + + + + + + + Document + + +
    Hello World
    + Hello World + + \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/lectures/Responsive Design/Re.html b/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/lectures/Responsive Design/Re.html new file mode 100644 index 00000000..143c5c40 --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/html_css_flask/lectures/Responsive Design/Re.html @@ -0,0 +1,81 @@ + + + + + + + Responsive Design + + + +
    +

    Class Kiwi

    +
    + Home + About + Market Place + Login +
    +
    +
    + +
    +
    +
    +

    Title 1

    +

    + Lorem, ipsum dolor sit amet consectetur adipisicing elit. Nihil earum + rerum porro ducimus, rem dolorum, nisi qui possimus, assumenda + quisquam ipsum aliquam nostrum velit exercitationem harum similique. + Dolorem, nostrum sequi. +

    +
    +
    +

    Title 2

    +

    + Architecto corrupti, veritatis ullam facilis odit nihil, deleniti + soluta accusantium, corporis iste dolore! A itaque deleniti + dignissimos cum, consequuntur natus aliquam nemo ex aut non obcaecati + ipsum perferendis reiciendis exercitationem. +

    +
    +
    +

    Title 3

    +

    + Pariatur voluptas ratione illo asperiores ad, non fugiat. Harum, saepe + veniam. Facere provident reiciendis odit aliquam repudiandae eligendi. + Ipsa suscipit delectus deleniti officiis quod deserunt asperiores + blanditiis amet corrupti quaerat! +

    +
    +
    +

    Title 4

    +

    + Culpa quisquam, eos sapiente, aliquid fuga dolorem repudiandae totam, + in molestias iste itaque ipsa! Quod adipisci possimus, natus sunt rem + voluptate odio obcaecati sit nihil suscipit nam harum. Nostrum, rerum. +

    +
    +
    +

    Title 5

    +

    + Qui odio aspernatur vero voluptatum, similique minus blanditiis et + cupiditate autem quia atque expedita, ducimus sequi, non vel totam ab. + Libero cumque eos assumenda dolorem officia, expedita sint dolorum + itaque! +

    +
    +
    +

    Title 6

    +

    + Deserunt perspiciatis excepturi ipsum consequatur aperiam quod veniam + distinctio doloribus. Velit, dignissimos sapiente error qui fugit, + ipsam ipsa cupiditate, illum eos expedita odio nesciunt omnis tenetur. + Officiis molestias aliquam quos! +

    +
    +
    +
    ©2022 Class Kiwi
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    + + + + + + \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/Code/zeke/portfolio/style.css b/Code/zeke/portfolio/style.css new file mode 100644 index 00000000..cb1c51e2 --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/portfolio/style.css @@ -0,0 +1,40 @@ + +header{ + text-align: center; +} + +.nav-list { + display: flex; + margin: 0; + padding: 0; + list-style: none; + gap: 1rem; + flex-wrap: wrap + +} + +.BIO{ + display: flex; + gap: 2rem; + +} +.BIO-text{ + background-color: ghostwhite; + margin: ; + padding: ; + +} +.skills { + + display: flex; + gap: 2rem; + + flex-shrink: 1; + display: flex; + margin:0; + padding: 0; + list-style: none; + gap: 10rem; + justify-content: center; + background-color: ghostwhite; +} diff --git a/Code/zeke/python/emma.txt b/Code/zeke/python/emma.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..ef6cbebb --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/python/emma.txt @@ -0,0 +1,16865 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of Emma, by Jane Austen + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you +will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before +using this eBook. + +Title: Emma + +Author: Jane Austen + +Release Date: August, 1994 [eBook #158] +[Most recently updated: December 14, 2021] + +Language: English + + +Produced by: An Anonymous Volunteer and David Widger + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EMMA *** + + + + +Emma + +by Jane Austen + + +Contents + + VOLUME I. + CHAPTER I. + CHAPTER II. + CHAPTER III. + CHAPTER IV. + CHAPTER V. + CHAPTER VI. + CHAPTER VII. + CHAPTER VIII. + CHAPTER IX. + CHAPTER X. + CHAPTER XI. + CHAPTER XII. + CHAPTER XIII. + CHAPTER XIV. + CHAPTER XV. + CHAPTER XVI. + CHAPTER XVII. + CHAPTER XVIII. + + VOLUME II. + CHAPTER I. + CHAPTER II. + CHAPTER III. + CHAPTER IV. + CHAPTER V. + CHAPTER VI. + CHAPTER VII. + CHAPTER VIII. + CHAPTER IX. + CHAPTER X. + CHAPTER XI. + CHAPTER XII. + CHAPTER XIII. + CHAPTER XIV. + CHAPTER XV. + CHAPTER XVI. + CHAPTER XVII. + CHAPTER XVIII. + + VOLUME III. + CHAPTER I. + CHAPTER II. + CHAPTER III. + CHAPTER IV. + CHAPTER V. + CHAPTER VI. + CHAPTER VII. + CHAPTER VIII. + CHAPTER IX. + CHAPTER X. + CHAPTER XI. + CHAPTER XII. + CHAPTER XIII. + CHAPTER XIV. + CHAPTER XV. + CHAPTER XVI. + CHAPTER XVII. + CHAPTER XVIII. + CHAPTER XIX. + + + + +VOLUME I + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +Emma Woodhouse, handsome, clever, and rich, with a comfortable home and +happy disposition, seemed to unite some of the best blessings of +existence; and had lived nearly twenty-one years in the world with very +little to distress or vex her. + +She was the youngest of the two daughters of a most affectionate, +indulgent father; and had, in consequence of her sister’s marriage, +been mistress of his house from a very early period. Her mother had +died too long ago for her to have more than an indistinct remembrance +of her caresses; and her place had been supplied by an excellent woman +as governess, who had fallen little short of a mother in affection. + +Sixteen years had Miss Taylor been in Mr. Woodhouse’s family, less as a +governess than a friend, very fond of both daughters, but particularly +of Emma. Between _them_ it was more the intimacy of sisters. Even +before Miss Taylor had ceased to hold the nominal office of governess, +the mildness of her temper had hardly allowed her to impose any +restraint; and the shadow of authority being now long passed away, they +had been living together as friend and friend very mutually attached, +and Emma doing just what she liked; highly esteeming Miss Taylor’s +judgment, but directed chiefly by her own. + +The real evils, indeed, of Emma’s situation were the power of having +rather too much her own way, and a disposition to think a little too +well of herself; these were the disadvantages which threatened alloy to +her many enjoyments. The danger, however, was at present so +unperceived, that they did not by any means rank as misfortunes with +her. + +Sorrow came—a gentle sorrow—but not at all in the shape of any +disagreeable consciousness.—Miss Taylor married. It was Miss Taylor’s +loss which first brought grief. It was on the wedding-day of this +beloved friend that Emma first sat in mournful thought of any +continuance. The wedding over, and the bride-people gone, her father +and herself were left to dine together, with no prospect of a third to +cheer a long evening. Her father composed himself to sleep after +dinner, as usual, and she had then only to sit and think of what she +had lost. + +The event had every promise of happiness for her friend. Mr. Weston was +a man of unexceptionable character, easy fortune, suitable age, and +pleasant manners; and there was some satisfaction in considering with +what self-denying, generous friendship she had always wished and +promoted the match; but it was a black morning’s work for her. The want +of Miss Taylor would be felt every hour of every day. She recalled her +past kindness—the kindness, the affection of sixteen years—how she had +taught and how she had played with her from five years old—how she had +devoted all her powers to attach and amuse her in health—and how nursed +her through the various illnesses of childhood. A large debt of +gratitude was owing here; but the intercourse of the last seven years, +the equal footing and perfect unreserve which had soon followed +Isabella’s marriage, on their being left to each other, was yet a +dearer, tenderer recollection. She had been a friend and companion such +as few possessed: intelligent, well-informed, useful, gentle, knowing +all the ways of the family, interested in all its concerns, and +peculiarly interested in herself, in every pleasure, every scheme of +hers—one to whom she could speak every thought as it arose, and who had +such an affection for her as could never find fault. + +How was she to bear the change?—It was true that her friend was going +only half a mile from them; but Emma was aware that great must be the +difference between a Mrs. Weston, only half a mile from them, and a +Miss Taylor in the house; and with all her advantages, natural and +domestic, she was now in great danger of suffering from intellectual +solitude. She dearly loved her father, but he was no companion for her. +He could not meet her in conversation, rational or playful. + +The evil of the actual disparity in their ages (and Mr. Woodhouse had +not married early) was much increased by his constitution and habits; +for having been a valetudinarian all his life, without activity of mind +or body, he was a much older man in ways than in years; and though +everywhere beloved for the friendliness of his heart and his amiable +temper, his talents could not have recommended him at any time. + +Her sister, though comparatively but little removed by matrimony, being +settled in London, only sixteen miles off, was much beyond her daily +reach; and many a long October and November evening must be struggled +through at Hartfield, before Christmas brought the next visit from +Isabella and her husband, and their little children, to fill the house, +and give her pleasant society again. + +Highbury, the large and populous village, almost amounting to a town, +to which Hartfield, in spite of its separate lawn, and shrubberies, and +name, did really belong, afforded her no equals. The Woodhouses were +first in consequence there. All looked up to them. She had many +acquaintance in the place, for her father was universally civil, but +not one among them who could be accepted in lieu of Miss Taylor for +even half a day. It was a melancholy change; and Emma could not but +sigh over it, and wish for impossible things, till her father awoke, +and made it necessary to be cheerful. His spirits required support. He +was a nervous man, easily depressed; fond of every body that he was +used to, and hating to part with them; hating change of every kind. +Matrimony, as the origin of change, was always disagreeable; and he was +by no means yet reconciled to his own daughter’s marrying, nor could +ever speak of her but with compassion, though it had been entirely a +match of affection, when he was now obliged to part with Miss Taylor +too; and from his habits of gentle selfishness, and of being never able +to suppose that other people could feel differently from himself, he +was very much disposed to think Miss Taylor had done as sad a thing for +herself as for them, and would have been a great deal happier if she +had spent all the rest of her life at Hartfield. Emma smiled and +chatted as cheerfully as she could, to keep him from such thoughts; but +when tea came, it was impossible for him not to say exactly as he had +said at dinner, + +“Poor Miss Taylor!—I wish she were here again. What a pity it is that +Mr. Weston ever thought of her!” + +“I cannot agree with you, papa; you know I cannot. Mr. Weston is such a +good-humoured, pleasant, excellent man, that he thoroughly deserves a +good wife;—and you would not have had Miss Taylor live with us for +ever, and bear all my odd humours, when she might have a house of her +own?” + +“A house of her own!—But where is the advantage of a house of her own? +This is three times as large.—And you have never any odd humours, my +dear.” + +“How often we shall be going to see them, and they coming to see us!—We +shall be always meeting! _We_ must begin; we must go and pay wedding +visit very soon.” + +“My dear, how am I to get so far? Randalls is such a distance. I could +not walk half so far.” + +“No, papa, nobody thought of your walking. We must go in the carriage, +to be sure.” + +“The carriage! But James will not like to put the horses to for such a +little way;—and where are the poor horses to be while we are paying our +visit?” + +“They are to be put into Mr. Weston’s stable, papa. You know we have +settled all that already. We talked it all over with Mr. Weston last +night. And as for James, you may be very sure he will always like going +to Randalls, because of his daughter’s being housemaid there. I only +doubt whether he will ever take us anywhere else. That was your doing, +papa. You got Hannah that good place. Nobody thought of Hannah till you +mentioned her—James is so obliged to you!” + +“I am very glad I did think of her. It was very lucky, for I would not +have had poor James think himself slighted upon any account; and I am +sure she will make a very good servant: she is a civil, pretty-spoken +girl; I have a great opinion of her. Whenever I see her, she always +curtseys and asks me how I do, in a very pretty manner; and when you +have had her here to do needlework, I observe she always turns the lock +of the door the right way and never bangs it. I am sure she will be an +excellent servant; and it will be a great comfort to poor Miss Taylor +to have somebody about her that she is used to see. Whenever James goes +over to see his daughter, you know, she will be hearing of us. He will +be able to tell her how we all are.” + +Emma spared no exertions to maintain this happier flow of ideas, and +hoped, by the help of backgammon, to get her father tolerably through +the evening, and be attacked by no regrets but her own. The +backgammon-table was placed; but a visitor immediately afterwards +walked in and made it unnecessary. + +Mr. Knightley, a sensible man about seven or eight-and-thirty, was not +only a very old and intimate friend of the family, but particularly +connected with it, as the elder brother of Isabella’s husband. He lived +about a mile from Highbury, was a frequent visitor, and always welcome, +and at this time more welcome than usual, as coming directly from their +mutual connexions in London. He had returned to a late dinner, after +some days’ absence, and now walked up to Hartfield to say that all were +well in Brunswick Square. It was a happy circumstance, and animated Mr. +Woodhouse for some time. Mr. Knightley had a cheerful manner, which +always did him good; and his many inquiries after “poor Isabella” and +her children were answered most satisfactorily. When this was over, Mr. +Woodhouse gratefully observed, “It is very kind of you, Mr. Knightley, +to come out at this late hour to call upon us. I am afraid you must +have had a shocking walk.” + +“Not at all, sir. It is a beautiful moonlight night; and so mild that I +must draw back from your great fire.” + +“But you must have found it very damp and dirty. I wish you may not +catch cold.” + +“Dirty, sir! Look at my shoes. Not a speck on them.” + +“Well! that is quite surprising, for we have had a vast deal of rain +here. It rained dreadfully hard for half an hour while we were at +breakfast. I wanted them to put off the wedding.” + +“By the bye—I have not wished you joy. Being pretty well aware of what +sort of joy you must both be feeling, I have been in no hurry with my +congratulations; but I hope it all went off tolerably well. How did you +all behave? Who cried most?” + +“Ah! poor Miss Taylor! ’Tis a sad business.” + +“Poor Mr. and Miss Woodhouse, if you please; but I cannot possibly say +‘poor Miss Taylor.’ I have a great regard for you and Emma; but when it +comes to the question of dependence or independence!—At any rate, it +must be better to have only one to please than two.” + +“Especially when _one_ of those two is such a fanciful, troublesome +creature!” said Emma playfully. “That is what you have in your head, I +know—and what you would certainly say if my father were not by.” + +“I believe it is very true, my dear, indeed,” said Mr. Woodhouse, with +a sigh. “I am afraid I am sometimes very fanciful and troublesome.” + +“My dearest papa! You do not think I could mean _you_, or suppose Mr. +Knightley to mean _you_. What a horrible idea! Oh no! I meant only +myself. Mr. Knightley loves to find fault with me, you know—in a +joke—it is all a joke. We always say what we like to one another.” + +Mr. Knightley, in fact, was one of the few people who could see faults +in Emma Woodhouse, and the only one who ever told her of them: and +though this was not particularly agreeable to Emma herself, she knew it +would be so much less so to her father, that she would not have him +really suspect such a circumstance as her not being thought perfect by +every body. + +“Emma knows I never flatter her,” said Mr. Knightley, “but I meant no +reflection on any body. Miss Taylor has been used to have two persons +to please; she will now have but one. The chances are that she must be +a gainer.” + +“Well,” said Emma, willing to let it pass—“you want to hear about the +wedding; and I shall be happy to tell you, for we all behaved +charmingly. Every body was punctual, every body in their best looks: +not a tear, and hardly a long face to be seen. Oh no; we all felt that +we were going to be only half a mile apart, and were sure of meeting +every day.” + +“Dear Emma bears every thing so well,” said her father. “But, Mr. +Knightley, she is really very sorry to lose poor Miss Taylor, and I am +sure she _will_ miss her more than she thinks for.” + +Emma turned away her head, divided between tears and smiles. “It is +impossible that Emma should not miss such a companion,” said Mr. +Knightley. “We should not like her so well as we do, sir, if we could +suppose it; but she knows how much the marriage is to Miss Taylor’s +advantage; she knows how very acceptable it must be, at Miss Taylor’s +time of life, to be settled in a home of her own, and how important to +her to be secure of a comfortable provision, and therefore cannot allow +herself to feel so much pain as pleasure. Every friend of Miss Taylor +must be glad to have her so happily married.” + +“And you have forgotten one matter of joy to me,” said Emma, “and a +very considerable one—that I made the match myself. I made the match, +you know, four years ago; and to have it take place, and be proved in +the right, when so many people said Mr. Weston would never marry again, +may comfort me for any thing.” + +Mr. Knightley shook his head at her. Her father fondly replied, “Ah! my +dear, I wish you would not make matches and foretell things, for +whatever you say always comes to pass. Pray do not make any more +matches.” + +“I promise you to make none for myself, papa; but I must, indeed, for +other people. It is the greatest amusement in the world! And after such +success, you know!—Every body said that Mr. Weston would never marry +again. Oh dear, no! Mr. Weston, who had been a widower so long, and who +seemed so perfectly comfortable without a wife, so constantly occupied +either in his business in town or among his friends here, always +acceptable wherever he went, always cheerful—Mr. Weston need not spend +a single evening in the year alone if he did not like it. Oh no! Mr. +Weston certainly would never marry again. Some people even talked of a +promise to his wife on her deathbed, and others of the son and the +uncle not letting him. All manner of solemn nonsense was talked on the +subject, but I believed none of it. + +“Ever since the day—about four years ago—that Miss Taylor and I met +with him in Broadway Lane, when, because it began to drizzle, he darted +away with so much gallantry, and borrowed two umbrellas for us from +Farmer Mitchell’s, I made up my mind on the subject. I planned the +match from that hour; and when such success has blessed me in this +instance, dear papa, you cannot think that I shall leave off +match-making.” + +“I do not understand what you mean by ‘success,’” said Mr. Knightley. +“Success supposes endeavour. Your time has been properly and delicately +spent, if you have been endeavouring for the last four years to bring +about this marriage. A worthy employment for a young lady’s mind! But +if, which I rather imagine, your making the match, as you call it, +means only your planning it, your saying to yourself one idle day, ‘I +think it would be a very good thing for Miss Taylor if Mr. Weston were +to marry her,’ and saying it again to yourself every now and then +afterwards, why do you talk of success? Where is your merit? What are +you proud of? You made a lucky guess; and _that_ is all that can be +said.” + +“And have you never known the pleasure and triumph of a lucky guess?—I +pity you.—I thought you cleverer—for, depend upon it a lucky guess is +never merely luck. There is always some talent in it. And as to my poor +word ‘success,’ which you quarrel with, I do not know that I am so +entirely without any claim to it. You have drawn two pretty pictures; +but I think there may be a third—a something between the do-nothing and +the do-all. If I had not promoted Mr. Weston’s visits here, and given +many little encouragements, and smoothed many little matters, it might +not have come to any thing after all. I think you must know Hartfield +enough to comprehend that.” + +“A straightforward, open-hearted man like Weston, and a rational, +unaffected woman like Miss Taylor, may be safely left to manage their +own concerns. You are more likely to have done harm to yourself, than +good to them, by interference.” + +“Emma never thinks of herself, if she can do good to others,” rejoined +Mr. Woodhouse, understanding but in part. “But, my dear, pray do not +make any more matches; they are silly things, and break up one’s family +circle grievously.” + +“Only one more, papa; only for Mr. Elton. Poor Mr. Elton! You like Mr. +Elton, papa,—I must look about for a wife for him. There is nobody in +Highbury who deserves him—and he has been here a whole year, and has +fitted up his house so comfortably, that it would be a shame to have +him single any longer—and I thought when he was joining their hands +to-day, he looked so very much as if he would like to have the same +kind office done for him! I think very well of Mr. Elton, and this is +the only way I have of doing him a service.” + +“Mr. Elton is a very pretty young man, to be sure, and a very good +young man, and I have a great regard for him. But if you want to shew +him any attention, my dear, ask him to come and dine with us some day. +That will be a much better thing. I dare say Mr. Knightley will be so +kind as to meet him.” + +“With a great deal of pleasure, sir, at any time,” said Mr. Knightley, +laughing, “and I agree with you entirely, that it will be a much better +thing. Invite him to dinner, Emma, and help him to the best of the fish +and the chicken, but leave him to chuse his own wife. Depend upon it, a +man of six or seven-and-twenty can take care of himself.” + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +Mr. Weston was a native of Highbury, and born of a respectable family, +which for the last two or three generations had been rising into +gentility and property. He had received a good education, but, on +succeeding early in life to a small independence, had become indisposed +for any of the more homely pursuits in which his brothers were engaged, +and had satisfied an active, cheerful mind and social temper by +entering into the militia of his county, then embodied. + +Captain Weston was a general favourite; and when the chances of his +military life had introduced him to Miss Churchill, of a great +Yorkshire family, and Miss Churchill fell in love with him, nobody was +surprized, except her brother and his wife, who had never seen him, and +who were full of pride and importance, which the connexion would +offend. + +Miss Churchill, however, being of age, and with the full command of her +fortune—though her fortune bore no proportion to the family-estate—was +not to be dissuaded from the marriage, and it took place, to the +infinite mortification of Mr. and Mrs. Churchill, who threw her off +with due decorum. It was an unsuitable connexion, and did not produce +much happiness. Mrs. Weston ought to have found more in it, for she had +a husband whose warm heart and sweet temper made him think every thing +due to her in return for the great goodness of being in love with him; +but though she had one sort of spirit, she had not the best. She had +resolution enough to pursue her own will in spite of her brother, but +not enough to refrain from unreasonable regrets at that brother’s +unreasonable anger, nor from missing the luxuries of her former home. +They lived beyond their income, but still it was nothing in comparison +of Enscombe: she did not cease to love her husband, but she wanted at +once to be the wife of Captain Weston, and Miss Churchill of Enscombe. + +Captain Weston, who had been considered, especially by the Churchills, +as making such an amazing match, was proved to have much the worst of +the bargain; for when his wife died, after a three years’ marriage, he +was rather a poorer man than at first, and with a child to maintain. +From the expense of the child, however, he was soon relieved. The boy +had, with the additional softening claim of a lingering illness of his +mother’s, been the means of a sort of reconciliation; and Mr. and Mrs. +Churchill, having no children of their own, nor any other young +creature of equal kindred to care for, offered to take the whole charge +of the little Frank soon after her decease. Some scruples and some +reluctance the widower-father may be supposed to have felt; but as they +were overcome by other considerations, the child was given up to the +care and the wealth of the Churchills, and he had only his own comfort +to seek, and his own situation to improve as he could. + +A complete change of life became desirable. He quitted the militia and +engaged in trade, having brothers already established in a good way in +London, which afforded him a favourable opening. It was a concern which +brought just employment enough. He had still a small house in Highbury, +where most of his leisure days were spent; and between useful +occupation and the pleasures of society, the next eighteen or twenty +years of his life passed cheerfully away. He had, by that time, +realised an easy competence—enough to secure the purchase of a little +estate adjoining Highbury, which he had always longed for—enough to +marry a woman as portionless even as Miss Taylor, and to live according +to the wishes of his own friendly and social disposition. + +It was now some time since Miss Taylor had begun to influence his +schemes; but as it was not the tyrannic influence of youth on youth, it +had not shaken his determination of never settling till he could +purchase Randalls, and the sale of Randalls was long looked forward to; +but he had gone steadily on, with these objects in view, till they were +accomplished. He had made his fortune, bought his house, and obtained +his wife; and was beginning a new period of existence, with every +probability of greater happiness than in any yet passed through. He had +never been an unhappy man; his own temper had secured him from that, +even in his first marriage; but his second must shew him how delightful +a well-judging and truly amiable woman could be, and must give him the +pleasantest proof of its being a great deal better to choose than to be +chosen, to excite gratitude than to feel it. + +He had only himself to please in his choice: his fortune was his own; +for as to Frank, it was more than being tacitly brought up as his +uncle’s heir, it had become so avowed an adoption as to have him assume +the name of Churchill on coming of age. It was most unlikely, +therefore, that he should ever want his father’s assistance. His father +had no apprehension of it. The aunt was a capricious woman, and +governed her husband entirely; but it was not in Mr. Weston’s nature to +imagine that any caprice could be strong enough to affect one so dear, +and, as he believed, so deservedly dear. He saw his son every year in +London, and was proud of him; and his fond report of him as a very fine +young man had made Highbury feel a sort of pride in him too. He was +looked on as sufficiently belonging to the place to make his merits and +prospects a kind of common concern. + +Mr. Frank Churchill was one of the boasts of Highbury, and a lively +curiosity to see him prevailed, though the compliment was so little +returned that he had never been there in his life. His coming to visit +his father had been often talked of but never achieved. + +Now, upon his father’s marriage, it was very generally proposed, as a +most proper attention, that the visit should take place. There was not +a dissentient voice on the subject, either when Mrs. Perry drank tea +with Mrs. and Miss Bates, or when Mrs. and Miss Bates returned the +visit. Now was the time for Mr. Frank Churchill to come among them; and +the hope strengthened when it was understood that he had written to his +new mother on the occasion. For a few days, every morning visit in +Highbury included some mention of the handsome letter Mrs. Weston had +received. “I suppose you have heard of the handsome letter Mr. Frank +Churchill has written to Mrs. Weston? I understand it was a very +handsome letter, indeed. Mr. Woodhouse told me of it. Mr. Woodhouse saw +the letter, and he says he never saw such a handsome letter in his +life.” + +It was, indeed, a highly prized letter. Mrs. Weston had, of course, +formed a very favourable idea of the young man; and such a pleasing +attention was an irresistible proof of his great good sense, and a most +welcome addition to every source and every expression of congratulation +which her marriage had already secured. She felt herself a most +fortunate woman; and she had lived long enough to know how fortunate +she might well be thought, where the only regret was for a partial +separation from friends whose friendship for her had never cooled, and +who could ill bear to part with her. + +She knew that at times she must be missed; and could not think, without +pain, of Emma’s losing a single pleasure, or suffering an hour’s ennui, +from the want of her companionableness: but dear Emma was of no feeble +character; she was more equal to her situation than most girls would +have been, and had sense, and energy, and spirits that might be hoped +would bear her well and happily through its little difficulties and +privations. And then there was such comfort in the very easy distance +of Randalls from Hartfield, so convenient for even solitary female +walking, and in Mr. Weston’s disposition and circumstances, which would +make the approaching season no hindrance to their spending half the +evenings in the week together. + +Her situation was altogether the subject of hours of gratitude to Mrs. +Weston, and of moments only of regret; and her satisfaction—her more +than satisfaction—her cheerful enjoyment, was so just and so apparent, +that Emma, well as she knew her father, was sometimes taken by surprize +at his being still able to pity ‘poor Miss Taylor,’ when they left her +at Randalls in the centre of every domestic comfort, or saw her go away +in the evening attended by her pleasant husband to a carriage of her +own. But never did she go without Mr. Woodhouse’s giving a gentle sigh, +and saying, “Ah, poor Miss Taylor! She would be very glad to stay.” + +There was no recovering Miss Taylor—nor much likelihood of ceasing to +pity her; but a few weeks brought some alleviation to Mr. Woodhouse. +The compliments of his neighbours were over; he was no longer teased by +being wished joy of so sorrowful an event; and the wedding-cake, which +had been a great distress to him, was all eat up. His own stomach could +bear nothing rich, and he could never believe other people to be +different from himself. What was unwholesome to him he regarded as +unfit for any body; and he had, therefore, earnestly tried to dissuade +them from having any wedding-cake at all, and when that proved vain, as +earnestly tried to prevent any body’s eating it. He had been at the +pains of consulting Mr. Perry, the apothecary, on the subject. Mr. +Perry was an intelligent, gentlemanlike man, whose frequent visits were +one of the comforts of Mr. Woodhouse’s life; and upon being applied to, +he could not but acknowledge (though it seemed rather against the bias +of inclination) that wedding-cake might certainly disagree with +many—perhaps with most people, unless taken moderately. With such an +opinion, in confirmation of his own, Mr. Woodhouse hoped to influence +every visitor of the newly married pair; but still the cake was eaten; +and there was no rest for his benevolent nerves till it was all gone. + +There was a strange rumour in Highbury of all the little Perrys being +seen with a slice of Mrs. Weston’s wedding-cake in their hands: but Mr. +Woodhouse would never believe it. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Mr. Woodhouse was fond of society in his own way. He liked very much to +have his friends come and see him; and from various united causes, from +his long residence at Hartfield, and his good nature, from his fortune, +his house, and his daughter, he could command the visits of his own +little circle, in a great measure, as he liked. He had not much +intercourse with any families beyond that circle; his horror of late +hours, and large dinner-parties, made him unfit for any acquaintance +but such as would visit him on his own terms. Fortunately for him, +Highbury, including Randalls in the same parish, and Donwell Abbey in +the parish adjoining, the seat of Mr. Knightley, comprehended many +such. Not unfrequently, through Emma’s persuasion, he had some of the +chosen and the best to dine with him: but evening parties were what he +preferred; and, unless he fancied himself at any time unequal to +company, there was scarcely an evening in the week in which Emma could +not make up a card-table for him. + +Real, long-standing regard brought the Westons and Mr. Knightley; and +by Mr. Elton, a young man living alone without liking it, the privilege +of exchanging any vacant evening of his own blank solitude for the +elegancies and society of Mr. Woodhouse’s drawing-room, and the smiles +of his lovely daughter, was in no danger of being thrown away. + +After these came a second set; among the most come-at-able of whom were +Mrs. and Miss Bates, and Mrs. Goddard, three ladies almost always at +the service of an invitation from Hartfield, and who were fetched and +carried home so often, that Mr. Woodhouse thought it no hardship for +either James or the horses. Had it taken place only once a year, it +would have been a grievance. + +Mrs. Bates, the widow of a former vicar of Highbury, was a very old +lady, almost past every thing but tea and quadrille. She lived with her +single daughter in a very small way, and was considered with all the +regard and respect which a harmless old lady, under such untoward +circumstances, can excite. Her daughter enjoyed a most uncommon degree +of popularity for a woman neither young, handsome, rich, nor married. +Miss Bates stood in the very worst predicament in the world for having +much of the public favour; and she had no intellectual superiority to +make atonement to herself, or frighten those who might hate her into +outward respect. She had never boasted either beauty or cleverness. Her +youth had passed without distinction, and her middle of life was +devoted to the care of a failing mother, and the endeavour to make a +small income go as far as possible. And yet she was a happy woman, and +a woman whom no one named without good-will. It was her own universal +good-will and contented temper which worked such wonders. She loved +every body, was interested in every body’s happiness, quicksighted to +every body’s merits; thought herself a most fortunate creature, and +surrounded with blessings in such an excellent mother, and so many good +neighbours and friends, and a home that wanted for nothing. The +simplicity and cheerfulness of her nature, her contented and grateful +spirit, were a recommendation to every body, and a mine of felicity to +herself. She was a great talker upon little matters, which exactly +suited Mr. Woodhouse, full of trivial communications and harmless +gossip. + +Mrs. Goddard was the mistress of a School—not of a seminary, or an +establishment, or any thing which professed, in long sentences of +refined nonsense, to combine liberal acquirements with elegant +morality, upon new principles and new systems—and where young ladies +for enormous pay might be screwed out of health and into vanity—but a +real, honest, old-fashioned Boarding-school, where a reasonable +quantity of accomplishments were sold at a reasonable price, and where +girls might be sent to be out of the way, and scramble themselves into +a little education, without any danger of coming back prodigies. Mrs. +Goddard’s school was in high repute—and very deservedly; for Highbury +was reckoned a particularly healthy spot: she had an ample house and +garden, gave the children plenty of wholesome food, let them run about +a great deal in the summer, and in winter dressed their chilblains with +her own hands. It was no wonder that a train of twenty young couple now +walked after her to church. She was a plain, motherly kind of woman, +who had worked hard in her youth, and now thought herself entitled to +the occasional holiday of a tea-visit; and having formerly owed much to +Mr. Woodhouse’s kindness, felt his particular claim on her to leave her +neat parlour, hung round with fancy-work, whenever she could, and win +or lose a few sixpences by his fireside. + +These were the ladies whom Emma found herself very frequently able to +collect; and happy was she, for her father’s sake, in the power; +though, as far as she was herself concerned, it was no remedy for the +absence of Mrs. Weston. She was delighted to see her father look +comfortable, and very much pleased with herself for contriving things +so well; but the quiet prosings of three such women made her feel that +every evening so spent was indeed one of the long evenings she had +fearfully anticipated. + +As she sat one morning, looking forward to exactly such a close of the +present day, a note was brought from Mrs. Goddard, requesting, in most +respectful terms, to be allowed to bring Miss Smith with her; a most +welcome request: for Miss Smith was a girl of seventeen, whom Emma knew +very well by sight, and had long felt an interest in, on account of her +beauty. A very gracious invitation was returned, and the evening no +longer dreaded by the fair mistress of the mansion. + +Harriet Smith was the natural daughter of somebody. Somebody had placed +her, several years back, at Mrs. Goddard’s school, and somebody had +lately raised her from the condition of scholar to that of +parlour-boarder. This was all that was generally known of her history. +She had no visible friends but what had been acquired at Highbury, and +was now just returned from a long visit in the country to some young +ladies who had been at school there with her. + +She was a very pretty girl, and her beauty happened to be of a sort +which Emma particularly admired. She was short, plump, and fair, with a +fine bloom, blue eyes, light hair, regular features, and a look of +great sweetness, and, before the end of the evening, Emma was as much +pleased with her manners as her person, and quite determined to +continue the acquaintance. + +She was not struck by any thing remarkably clever in Miss Smith’s +conversation, but she found her altogether very engaging—not +inconveniently shy, not unwilling to talk—and yet so far from pushing, +shewing so proper and becoming a deference, seeming so pleasantly +grateful for being admitted to Hartfield, and so artlessly impressed by +the appearance of every thing in so superior a style to what she had +been used to, that she must have good sense, and deserve encouragement. +Encouragement should be given. Those soft blue eyes, and all those +natural graces, should not be wasted on the inferior society of +Highbury and its connexions. The acquaintance she had already formed +were unworthy of her. The friends from whom she had just parted, though +very good sort of people, must be doing her harm. They were a family of +the name of Martin, whom Emma well knew by character, as renting a +large farm of Mr. Knightley, and residing in the parish of Donwell—very +creditably, she believed—she knew Mr. Knightley thought highly of +them—but they must be coarse and unpolished, and very unfit to be the +intimates of a girl who wanted only a little more knowledge and +elegance to be quite perfect. _She_ would notice her; she would improve +her; she would detach her from her bad acquaintance, and introduce her +into good society; she would form her opinions and her manners. It +would be an interesting, and certainly a very kind undertaking; highly +becoming her own situation in life, her leisure, and powers. + +She was so busy in admiring those soft blue eyes, in talking and +listening, and forming all these schemes in the in-betweens, that the +evening flew away at a very unusual rate; and the supper-table, which +always closed such parties, and for which she had been used to sit and +watch the due time, was all set out and ready, and moved forwards to +the fire, before she was aware. With an alacrity beyond the common +impulse of a spirit which yet was never indifferent to the credit of +doing every thing well and attentively, with the real good-will of a +mind delighted with its own ideas, did she then do all the honours of +the meal, and help and recommend the minced chicken and scalloped +oysters, with an urgency which she knew would be acceptable to the +early hours and civil scruples of their guests. + +Upon such occasions poor Mr. Woodhouse’s feelings were in sad warfare. +He loved to have the cloth laid, because it had been the fashion of his +youth, but his conviction of suppers being very unwholesome made him +rather sorry to see any thing put on it; and while his hospitality +would have welcomed his visitors to every thing, his care for their +health made him grieve that they would eat. + +Such another small basin of thin gruel as his own was all that he +could, with thorough self-approbation, recommend; though he might +constrain himself, while the ladies were comfortably clearing the nicer +things, to say: + +“Mrs. Bates, let me propose your venturing on one of these eggs. An egg +boiled very soft is not unwholesome. Serle understands boiling an egg +better than any body. I would not recommend an egg boiled by any body +else; but you need not be afraid, they are very small, you see—one of +our small eggs will not hurt you. Miss Bates, let Emma help you to a +_little_ bit of tart—a _very_ little bit. Ours are all apple-tarts. You +need not be afraid of unwholesome preserves here. I do not advise the +custard. Mrs. Goddard, what say you to _half_ a glass of wine? A +_small_ half-glass, put into a tumbler of water? I do not think it +could disagree with you.” + +Emma allowed her father to talk—but supplied her visitors in a much +more satisfactory style, and on the present evening had particular +pleasure in sending them away happy. The happiness of Miss Smith was +quite equal to her intentions. Miss Woodhouse was so great a personage +in Highbury, that the prospect of the introduction had given as much +panic as pleasure; but the humble, grateful little girl went off with +highly gratified feelings, delighted with the affability with which +Miss Woodhouse had treated her all the evening, and actually shaken +hands with her at last! + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Harriet Smith’s intimacy at Hartfield was soon a settled thing. Quick +and decided in her ways, Emma lost no time in inviting, encouraging, +and telling her to come very often; and as their acquaintance +increased, so did their satisfaction in each other. As a walking +companion, Emma had very early foreseen how useful she might find her. +In that respect Mrs. Weston’s loss had been important. Her father never +went beyond the shrubbery, where two divisions of the ground sufficed +him for his long walk, or his short, as the year varied; and since Mrs. +Weston’s marriage her exercise had been too much confined. She had +ventured once alone to Randalls, but it was not pleasant; and a Harriet +Smith, therefore, one whom she could summon at any time to a walk, +would be a valuable addition to her privileges. But in every respect, +as she saw more of her, she approved her, and was confirmed in all her +kind designs. + +Harriet certainly was not clever, but she had a sweet, docile, grateful +disposition, was totally free from conceit, and only desiring to be +guided by any one she looked up to. Her early attachment to herself was +very amiable; and her inclination for good company, and power of +appreciating what was elegant and clever, shewed that there was no want +of taste, though strength of understanding must not be expected. +Altogether she was quite convinced of Harriet Smith’s being exactly the +young friend she wanted—exactly the something which her home required. +Such a friend as Mrs. Weston was out of the question. Two such could +never be granted. Two such she did not want. It was quite a different +sort of thing, a sentiment distinct and independent. Mrs. Weston was +the object of a regard which had its basis in gratitude and esteem. +Harriet would be loved as one to whom she could be useful. For Mrs. +Weston there was nothing to be done; for Harriet every thing. + +Her first attempts at usefulness were in an endeavour to find out who +were the parents, but Harriet could not tell. She was ready to tell +every thing in her power, but on this subject questions were vain. Emma +was obliged to fancy what she liked—but she could never believe that in +the same situation _she_ should not have discovered the truth. Harriet +had no penetration. She had been satisfied to hear and believe just +what Mrs. Goddard chose to tell her; and looked no farther. + +Mrs. Goddard, and the teachers, and the girls and the affairs of the +school in general, formed naturally a great part of the +conversation—and but for her acquaintance with the Martins of +Abbey-Mill Farm, it must have been the whole. But the Martins occupied +her thoughts a good deal; she had spent two very happy months with +them, and now loved to talk of the pleasures of her visit, and describe +the many comforts and wonders of the place. Emma encouraged her +talkativeness—amused by such a picture of another set of beings, and +enjoying the youthful simplicity which could speak with so much +exultation of Mrs. Martin’s having “_two_ parlours, two very good +parlours, indeed; one of them quite as large as Mrs. Goddard’s +drawing-room; and of her having an upper maid who had lived +five-and-twenty years with her; and of their having eight cows, two of +them Alderneys, and one a little Welch cow, a very pretty little Welch +cow indeed; and of Mrs. Martin’s saying as she was so fond of it, it +should be called _her_ cow; and of their having a very handsome +summer-house in their garden, where some day next year they were all to +drink tea:—a very handsome summer-house, large enough to hold a dozen +people.” + +For some time she was amused, without thinking beyond the immediate +cause; but as she came to understand the family better, other feelings +arose. She had taken up a wrong idea, fancying it was a mother and +daughter, a son and son’s wife, who all lived together; but when it +appeared that the Mr. Martin, who bore a part in the narrative, and was +always mentioned with approbation for his great good-nature in doing +something or other, was a single man; that there was no young Mrs. +Martin, no wife in the case; she did suspect danger to her poor little +friend from all this hospitality and kindness, and that, if she were +not taken care of, she might be required to sink herself forever. + +With this inspiriting notion, her questions increased in number and +meaning; and she particularly led Harriet to talk more of Mr. Martin, +and there was evidently no dislike to it. Harriet was very ready to +speak of the share he had had in their moonlight walks and merry +evening games; and dwelt a good deal upon his being so very +good-humoured and obliging. He had gone three miles round one day in +order to bring her some walnuts, because she had said how fond she was +of them, and in every thing else he was so very obliging. He had his +shepherd’s son into the parlour one night on purpose to sing to her. +She was very fond of singing. He could sing a little himself. She +believed he was very clever, and understood every thing. He had a very +fine flock, and, while she was with them, he had been bid more for his +wool than any body in the country. She believed every body spoke well +of him. His mother and sisters were very fond of him. Mrs. Martin had +told her one day (and there was a blush as she said it,) that it was +impossible for any body to be a better son, and therefore she was sure, +whenever he married, he would make a good husband. Not that she +_wanted_ him to marry. She was in no hurry at all. + +“Well done, Mrs. Martin!” thought Emma. “You know what you are about.” + +“And when she had come away, Mrs. Martin was so very kind as to send +Mrs. Goddard a beautiful goose—the finest goose Mrs. Goddard had ever +seen. Mrs. Goddard had dressed it on a Sunday, and asked all the three +teachers, Miss Nash, and Miss Prince, and Miss Richardson, to sup with +her.” + +“Mr. Martin, I suppose, is not a man of information beyond the line of +his own business? He does not read?” + +“Oh yes!—that is, no—I do not know—but I believe he has read a good +deal—but not what you would think any thing of. He reads the +Agricultural Reports, and some other books that lay in one of the +window seats—but he reads all _them_ to himself. But sometimes of an +evening, before we went to cards, he would read something aloud out of +the Elegant Extracts, very entertaining. And I know he has read the +Vicar of Wakefield. He never read the Romance of the Forest, nor The +Children of the Abbey. He had never heard of such books before I +mentioned them, but he is determined to get them now as soon as ever he +can.” + +The next question was— + +“What sort of looking man is Mr. Martin?” + +“Oh! not handsome—not at all handsome. I thought him very plain at +first, but I do not think him so plain now. One does not, you know, +after a time. But did you never see him? He is in Highbury every now +and then, and he is sure to ride through every week in his way to +Kingston. He has passed you very often.” + +“That may be, and I may have seen him fifty times, but without having +any idea of his name. A young farmer, whether on horseback or on foot, +is the very last sort of person to raise my curiosity. The yeomanry are +precisely the order of people with whom I feel I can have nothing to +do. A degree or two lower, and a creditable appearance might interest +me; I might hope to be useful to their families in some way or other. +But a farmer can need none of my help, and is, therefore, in one sense, +as much above my notice as in every other he is below it.” + +“To be sure. Oh yes! It is not likely you should ever have observed +him; but he knows you very well indeed—I mean by sight.” + +“I have no doubt of his being a very respectable young man. I know, +indeed, that he is so, and, as such, wish him well. What do you imagine +his age to be?” + +“He was four-and-twenty the 8th of last June, and my birthday is the +23rd just a fortnight and a day’s difference—which is very odd.” + +“Only four-and-twenty. That is too young to settle. His mother is +perfectly right not to be in a hurry. They seem very comfortable as +they are, and if she were to take any pains to marry him, she would +probably repent it. Six years hence, if he could meet with a good sort +of young woman in the same rank as his own, with a little money, it +might be very desirable.” + +“Six years hence! Dear Miss Woodhouse, he would be thirty years old!” + +“Well, and that is as early as most men can afford to marry, who are +not born to an independence. Mr. Martin, I imagine, has his fortune +entirely to make—cannot be at all beforehand with the world. Whatever +money he might come into when his father died, whatever his share of +the family property, it is, I dare say, all afloat, all employed in his +stock, and so forth; and though, with diligence and good luck, he may +be rich in time, it is next to impossible that he should have realised +any thing yet.” + +“To be sure, so it is. But they live very comfortably. They have no +indoors man, else they do not want for any thing; and Mrs. Martin talks +of taking a boy another year.” + +“I wish you may not get into a scrape, Harriet, whenever he does +marry;—I mean, as to being acquainted with his wife—for though his +sisters, from a superior education, are not to be altogether objected +to, it does not follow that he might marry any body at all fit for you +to notice. The misfortune of your birth ought to make you particularly +careful as to your associates. There can be no doubt of your being a +gentleman’s daughter, and you must support your claim to that station +by every thing within your own power, or there will be plenty of people +who would take pleasure in degrading you.” + +“Yes, to be sure, I suppose there are. But while I visit at Hartfield, +and you are so kind to me, Miss Woodhouse, I am not afraid of what any +body can do.” + +“You understand the force of influence pretty well, Harriet; but I +would have you so firmly established in good society, as to be +independent even of Hartfield and Miss Woodhouse. I want to see you +permanently well connected, and to that end it will be advisable to +have as few odd acquaintance as may be; and, therefore, I say that if +you should still be in this country when Mr. Martin marries, I wish you +may not be drawn in by your intimacy with the sisters, to be acquainted +with the wife, who will probably be some mere farmer’s daughter, +without education.” + +“To be sure. Yes. Not that I think Mr. Martin would ever marry any body +but what had had some education—and been very well brought up. However, +I do not mean to set up my opinion against yours—and I am sure I shall +not wish for the acquaintance of his wife. I shall always have a great +regard for the Miss Martins, especially Elizabeth, and should be very +sorry to give them up, for they are quite as well educated as me. But +if he marries a very ignorant, vulgar woman, certainly I had better not +visit her, if I can help it.” + +Emma watched her through the fluctuations of this speech, and saw no +alarming symptoms of love. The young man had been the first admirer, +but she trusted there was no other hold, and that there would be no +serious difficulty, on Harriet’s side, to oppose any friendly +arrangement of her own. + +They met Mr. Martin the very next day, as they were walking on the +Donwell road. He was on foot, and after looking very respectfully at +her, looked with most unfeigned satisfaction at her companion. Emma was +not sorry to have such an opportunity of survey; and walking a few +yards forward, while they talked together, soon made her quick eye +sufficiently acquainted with Mr. Robert Martin. His appearance was very +neat, and he looked like a sensible young man, but his person had no +other advantage; and when he came to be contrasted with gentlemen, she +thought he must lose all the ground he had gained in Harriet’s +inclination. Harriet was not insensible of manner; she had voluntarily +noticed her father’s gentleness with admiration as well as wonder. Mr. +Martin looked as if he did not know what manner was. + +They remained but a few minutes together, as Miss Woodhouse must not be +kept waiting; and Harriet then came running to her with a smiling face, +and in a flutter of spirits, which Miss Woodhouse hoped very soon to +compose. + +“Only think of our happening to meet him!—How very odd! It was quite a +chance, he said, that he had not gone round by Randalls. He did not +think we ever walked this road. He thought we walked towards Randalls +most days. He has not been able to get the Romance of the Forest yet. +He was so busy the last time he was at Kingston that he quite forgot +it, but he goes again to-morrow. So very odd we should happen to meet! +Well, Miss Woodhouse, is he like what you expected? What do you think +of him? Do you think him so very plain?” + +“He is very plain, undoubtedly—remarkably plain:—but that is nothing +compared with his entire want of gentility. I had no right to expect +much, and I did not expect much; but I had no idea that he could be so +very clownish, so totally without air. I had imagined him, I confess, a +degree or two nearer gentility.” + +“To be sure,” said Harriet, in a mortified voice, “he is not so genteel +as real gentlemen.” + +“I think, Harriet, since your acquaintance with us, you have been +repeatedly in the company of some such very real gentlemen, that you +must yourself be struck with the difference in Mr. Martin. At +Hartfield, you have had very good specimens of well educated, well bred +men. I should be surprized if, after seeing them, you could be in +company with Mr. Martin again without perceiving him to be a very +inferior creature—and rather wondering at yourself for having ever +thought him at all agreeable before. Do not you begin to feel that now? +Were not you struck? I am sure you must have been struck by his awkward +look and abrupt manner, and the uncouthness of a voice which I heard to +be wholly unmodulated as I stood here.” + +“Certainly, he is not like Mr. Knightley. He has not such a fine air +and way of walking as Mr. Knightley. I see the difference plain enough. +But Mr. Knightley is so very fine a man!” + +“Mr. Knightley’s air is so remarkably good that it is not fair to +compare Mr. Martin with _him_. You might not see one in a hundred with +_gentleman_ so plainly written as in Mr. Knightley. But he is not the +only gentleman you have been lately used to. What say you to Mr. Weston +and Mr. Elton? Compare Mr. Martin with either of _them_. Compare their +manner of carrying themselves; of walking; of speaking; of being +silent. You must see the difference.” + +“Oh yes!—there is a great difference. But Mr. Weston is almost an old +man. Mr. Weston must be between forty and fifty.” + +“Which makes his good manners the more valuable. The older a person +grows, Harriet, the more important it is that their manners should not +be bad; the more glaring and disgusting any loudness, or coarseness, or +awkwardness becomes. What is passable in youth is detestable in later +age. Mr. Martin is now awkward and abrupt; what will he be at Mr. +Weston’s time of life?” + +“There is no saying, indeed,” replied Harriet rather solemnly. + +“But there may be pretty good guessing. He will be a completely gross, +vulgar farmer, totally inattentive to appearances, and thinking of +nothing but profit and loss.” + +“Will he, indeed? That will be very bad.” + +“How much his business engrosses him already is very plain from the +circumstance of his forgetting to inquire for the book you recommended. +He was a great deal too full of the market to think of any thing +else—which is just as it should be, for a thriving man. What has he to +do with books? And I have no doubt that he _will_ thrive, and be a very +rich man in time—and his being illiterate and coarse need not disturb +_us_.” + +“I wonder he did not remember the book”—was all Harriet’s answer, and +spoken with a degree of grave displeasure which Emma thought might be +safely left to itself. She, therefore, said no more for some time. Her +next beginning was, + +“In one respect, perhaps, Mr. Elton’s manners are superior to Mr. +Knightley’s or Mr. Weston’s. They have more gentleness. They might be +more safely held up as a pattern. There is an openness, a quickness, +almost a bluntness in Mr. Weston, which every body likes in _him_, +because there is so much good-humour with it—but that would not do to +be copied. Neither would Mr. Knightley’s downright, decided, commanding +sort of manner, though it suits _him_ very well; his figure, and look, +and situation in life seem to allow it; but if any young man were to +set about copying him, he would not be sufferable. On the contrary, I +think a young man might be very safely recommended to take Mr. Elton as +a model. Mr. Elton is good-humoured, cheerful, obliging, and gentle. He +seems to me to be grown particularly gentle of late. I do not know +whether he has any design of ingratiating himself with either of us, +Harriet, by additional softness, but it strikes me that his manners are +softer than they used to be. If he means any thing, it must be to +please you. Did not I tell you what he said of you the other day?” + +She then repeated some warm personal praise which she had drawn from +Mr. Elton, and now did full justice to; and Harriet blushed and smiled, +and said she had always thought Mr. Elton very agreeable. + +Mr. Elton was the very person fixed on by Emma for driving the young +farmer out of Harriet’s head. She thought it would be an excellent +match; and only too palpably desirable, natural, and probable, for her +to have much merit in planning it. She feared it was what every body +else must think of and predict. It was not likely, however, that any +body should have equalled her in the date of the plan, as it had +entered her brain during the very first evening of Harriet’s coming to +Hartfield. The longer she considered it, the greater was her sense of +its expediency. Mr. Elton’s situation was most suitable, quite the +gentleman himself, and without low connexions; at the same time, not of +any family that could fairly object to the doubtful birth of Harriet. +He had a comfortable home for her, and Emma imagined a very sufficient +income; for though the vicarage of Highbury was not large, he was known +to have some independent property; and she thought very highly of him +as a good-humoured, well-meaning, respectable young man, without any +deficiency of useful understanding or knowledge of the world. + +She had already satisfied herself that he thought Harriet a beautiful +girl, which she trusted, with such frequent meetings at Hartfield, was +foundation enough on his side; and on Harriet’s there could be little +doubt that the idea of being preferred by him would have all the usual +weight and efficacy. And he was really a very pleasing young man, a +young man whom any woman not fastidious might like. He was reckoned +very handsome; his person much admired in general, though not by her, +there being a want of elegance of feature which she could not dispense +with:—but the girl who could be gratified by a Robert Martin’s riding +about the country to get walnuts for her might very well be conquered +by Mr. Elton’s admiration. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +“I do not know what your opinion may be, Mrs. Weston,” said Mr. +Knightley, “of this great intimacy between Emma and Harriet Smith, but +I think it a bad thing.” + +“A bad thing! Do you really think it a bad thing?—why so?” + +“I think they will neither of them do the other any good.” + +“You surprize me! Emma must do Harriet good: and by supplying her with +a new object of interest, Harriet may be said to do Emma good. I have +been seeing their intimacy with the greatest pleasure. How very +differently we feel!—Not think they will do each other any good! This +will certainly be the beginning of one of our quarrels about Emma, Mr. +Knightley.” + +“Perhaps you think I am come on purpose to quarrel with you, knowing +Weston to be out, and that you must still fight your own battle.” + +“Mr. Weston would undoubtedly support me, if he were here, for he +thinks exactly as I do on the subject. We were speaking of it only +yesterday, and agreeing how fortunate it was for Emma, that there +should be such a girl in Highbury for her to associate with. Mr. +Knightley, I shall not allow you to be a fair judge in this case. You +are so much used to live alone, that you do not know the value of a +companion; and, perhaps no man can be a good judge of the comfort a +woman feels in the society of one of her own sex, after being used to +it all her life. I can imagine your objection to Harriet Smith. She is +not the superior young woman which Emma’s friend ought to be. But on +the other hand, as Emma wants to see her better informed, it will be an +inducement to her to read more herself. They will read together. She +means it, I know.” + +“Emma has been meaning to read more ever since she was twelve years +old. I have seen a great many lists of her drawing-up at various times +of books that she meant to read regularly through—and very good lists +they were—very well chosen, and very neatly arranged—sometimes +alphabetically, and sometimes by some other rule. The list she drew up +when only fourteen—I remember thinking it did her judgment so much +credit, that I preserved it some time; and I dare say she may have made +out a very good list now. But I have done with expecting any course of +steady reading from Emma. She will never submit to any thing requiring +industry and patience, and a subjection of the fancy to the +understanding. Where Miss Taylor failed to stimulate, I may safely +affirm that Harriet Smith will do nothing.—You never could persuade her +to read half so much as you wished.—You know you could not.” + +“I dare say,” replied Mrs. Weston, smiling, “that I thought so +_then_;—but since we have parted, I can never remember Emma’s omitting +to do any thing I wished.” + +“There is hardly any desiring to refresh such a memory as _that_,”—said +Mr. Knightley, feelingly; and for a moment or two he had done. “But I,” +he soon added, “who have had no such charm thrown over my senses, must +still see, hear, and remember. Emma is spoiled by being the cleverest +of her family. At ten years old, she had the misfortune of being able +to answer questions which puzzled her sister at seventeen. She was +always quick and assured: Isabella slow and diffident. And ever since +she was twelve, Emma has been mistress of the house and of you all. In +her mother she lost the only person able to cope with her. She inherits +her mother’s talents, and must have been under subjection to her.” + +“I should have been sorry, Mr. Knightley, to be dependent on _your_ +recommendation, had I quitted Mr. Woodhouse’s family and wanted another +situation; I do not think you would have spoken a good word for me to +any body. I am sure you always thought me unfit for the office I held.” + +“Yes,” said he, smiling. “You are better placed _here_; very fit for a +wife, but not at all for a governess. But you were preparing yourself +to be an excellent wife all the time you were at Hartfield. You might +not give Emma such a complete education as your powers would seem to +promise; but you were receiving a very good education from _her_, on +the very material matrimonial point of submitting your own will, and +doing as you were bid; and if Weston had asked me to recommend him a +wife, I should certainly have named Miss Taylor.” + +“Thank you. There will be very little merit in making a good wife to +such a man as Mr. Weston.” + +“Why, to own the truth, I am afraid you are rather thrown away, and +that with every disposition to bear, there will be nothing to be borne. +We will not despair, however. Weston may grow cross from the wantonness +of comfort, or his son may plague him.” + +“I hope not _that_.—It is not likely. No, Mr. Knightley, do not +foretell vexation from that quarter.” + +“Not I, indeed. I only name possibilities. I do not pretend to Emma’s +genius for foretelling and guessing. I hope, with all my heart, the +young man may be a Weston in merit, and a Churchill in fortune.—But +Harriet Smith—I have not half done about Harriet Smith. I think her the +very worst sort of companion that Emma could possibly have. She knows +nothing herself, and looks upon Emma as knowing every thing. She is a +flatterer in all her ways; and so much the worse, because undesigned. +Her ignorance is hourly flattery. How can Emma imagine she has any +thing to learn herself, while Harriet is presenting such a delightful +inferiority? And as for Harriet, I will venture to say that _she_ +cannot gain by the acquaintance. Hartfield will only put her out of +conceit with all the other places she belongs to. She will grow just +refined enough to be uncomfortable with those among whom birth and +circumstances have placed her home. I am much mistaken if Emma’s +doctrines give any strength of mind, or tend at all to make a girl +adapt herself rationally to the varieties of her situation in +life.—They only give a little polish.” + +“I either depend more upon Emma’s good sense than you do, or am more +anxious for her present comfort; for I cannot lament the acquaintance. +How well she looked last night!” + +“Oh! you would rather talk of her person than her mind, would you? Very +well; I shall not attempt to deny Emma’s being pretty.” + +“Pretty! say beautiful rather. Can you imagine any thing nearer perfect +beauty than Emma altogether—face and figure?” + +“I do not know what I could imagine, but I confess that I have seldom +seen a face or figure more pleasing to me than hers. But I am a partial +old friend.” + +“Such an eye!—the true hazle eye—and so brilliant! regular features, +open countenance, with a complexion! oh! what a bloom of full health, +and such a pretty height and size; such a firm and upright figure! +There is health, not merely in her bloom, but in her air, her head, her +glance. One hears sometimes of a child being ‘the picture of health;’ +now, Emma always gives me the idea of being the complete picture of +grown-up health. She is loveliness itself. Mr. Knightley, is not she?” + +“I have not a fault to find with her person,” he replied. “I think her +all you describe. I love to look at her; and I will add this praise, +that I do not think her personally vain. Considering how very handsome +she is, she appears to be little occupied with it; her vanity lies +another way. Mrs. Weston, I am not to be talked out of my dislike of +Harriet Smith, or my dread of its doing them both harm.” + +“And I, Mr. Knightley, am equally stout in my confidence of its not +doing them any harm. With all dear Emma’s little faults, she is an +excellent creature. Where shall we see a better daughter, or a kinder +sister, or a truer friend? No, no; she has qualities which may be +trusted; she will never lead any one really wrong; she will make no +lasting blunder; where Emma errs once, she is in the right a hundred +times.” + +“Very well; I will not plague you any more. Emma shall be an angel, and +I will keep my spleen to myself till Christmas brings John and +Isabella. John loves Emma with a reasonable and therefore not a blind +affection, and Isabella always thinks as he does; except when he is not +quite frightened enough about the children. I am sure of having their +opinions with me.” + +“I know that you all love her really too well to be unjust or unkind; +but excuse me, Mr. Knightley, if I take the liberty (I consider myself, +you know, as having somewhat of the privilege of speech that Emma’s +mother might have had) the liberty of hinting that I do not think any +possible good can arise from Harriet Smith’s intimacy being made a +matter of much discussion among you. Pray excuse me; but supposing any +little inconvenience may be apprehended from the intimacy, it cannot be +expected that Emma, accountable to nobody but her father, who perfectly +approves the acquaintance, should put an end to it, so long as it is a +source of pleasure to herself. It has been so many years my province to +give advice, that you cannot be surprized, Mr. Knightley, at this +little remains of office.” + +“Not at all,” cried he; “I am much obliged to you for it. It is very +good advice, and it shall have a better fate than your advice has often +found; for it shall be attended to.” + +“Mrs. John Knightley is easily alarmed, and might be made unhappy about +her sister.” + +“Be satisfied,” said he, “I will not raise any outcry. I will keep my +ill-humour to myself. I have a very sincere interest in Emma. Isabella +does not seem more my sister; has never excited a greater interest; +perhaps hardly so great. There is an anxiety, a curiosity in what one +feels for Emma. I wonder what will become of her!” + +“So do I,” said Mrs. Weston gently, “very much.” + +“She always declares she will never marry, which, of course, means just +nothing at all. But I have no idea that she has yet ever seen a man she +cared for. It would not be a bad thing for her to be very much in love +with a proper object. I should like to see Emma in love, and in some +doubt of a return; it would do her good. But there is nobody hereabouts +to attach her; and she goes so seldom from home.” + +“There does, indeed, seem as little to tempt her to break her +resolution at present,” said Mrs. Weston, “as can well be; and while +she is so happy at Hartfield, I cannot wish her to be forming any +attachment which would be creating such difficulties on poor Mr. +Woodhouse’s account. I do not recommend matrimony at present to Emma, +though I mean no slight to the state, I assure you.” + +Part of her meaning was to conceal some favourite thoughts of her own +and Mr. Weston’s on the subject, as much as possible. There were wishes +at Randalls respecting Emma’s destiny, but it was not desirable to have +them suspected; and the quiet transition which Mr. Knightley soon +afterwards made to “What does Weston think of the weather; shall we +have rain?” convinced her that he had nothing more to say or surmise +about Hartfield. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +Emma could not feel a doubt of having given Harriet’s fancy a proper +direction and raised the gratitude of her young vanity to a very good +purpose, for she found her decidedly more sensible than before of Mr. +Elton’s being a remarkably handsome man, with most agreeable manners; +and as she had no hesitation in following up the assurance of his +admiration by agreeable hints, she was soon pretty confident of +creating as much liking on Harriet’s side, as there could be any +occasion for. She was quite convinced of Mr. Elton’s being in the +fairest way of falling in love, if not in love already. She had no +scruple with regard to him. He talked of Harriet, and praised her so +warmly, that she could not suppose any thing wanting which a little +time would not add. His perception of the striking improvement of +Harriet’s manner, since her introduction at Hartfield, was not one of +the least agreeable proofs of his growing attachment. + +“You have given Miss Smith all that she required,” said he; “you have +made her graceful and easy. She was a beautiful creature when she came +to you, but, in my opinion, the attractions you have added are +infinitely superior to what she received from nature.” + +“I am glad you think I have been useful to her; but Harriet only wanted +drawing out, and receiving a few, very few hints. She had all the +natural grace of sweetness of temper and artlessness in herself. I have +done very little.” + +“If it were admissible to contradict a lady,” said the gallant Mr. +Elton— + +“I have perhaps given her a little more decision of character, have +taught her to think on points which had not fallen in her way before.” + +“Exactly so; that is what principally strikes me. So much superadded +decision of character! Skilful has been the hand!” + +“Great has been the pleasure, I am sure. I never met with a disposition +more truly amiable.” + +“I have no doubt of it.” And it was spoken with a sort of sighing +animation, which had a vast deal of the lover. She was not less pleased +another day with the manner in which he seconded a sudden wish of hers, +to have Harriet’s picture. + +“Did you ever have your likeness taken, Harriet?” said she: “did you +ever sit for your picture?” + +Harriet was on the point of leaving the room, and only stopt to say, +with a very interesting naïveté, + +“Oh! dear, no, never.” + +No sooner was she out of sight, than Emma exclaimed, + +“What an exquisite possession a good picture of her would be! I would +give any money for it. I almost long to attempt her likeness myself. +You do not know it I dare say, but two or three years ago I had a great +passion for taking likenesses, and attempted several of my friends, and +was thought to have a tolerable eye in general. But from one cause or +another, I gave it up in disgust. But really, I could almost venture, +if Harriet would sit to me. It would be such a delight to have her +picture!” + +“Let me entreat you,” cried Mr. Elton; “it would indeed be a delight! +Let me entreat you, Miss Woodhouse, to exercise so charming a talent in +favour of your friend. I know what your drawings are. How could you +suppose me ignorant? Is not this room rich in specimens of your +landscapes and flowers; and has not Mrs. Weston some inimitable +figure-pieces in her drawing-room, at Randalls?” + +Yes, good man!—thought Emma—but what has all that to do with taking +likenesses? You know nothing of drawing. Don’t pretend to be in +raptures about mine. Keep your raptures for Harriet’s face. “Well, if +you give me such kind encouragement, Mr. Elton, I believe I shall try +what I can do. Harriet’s features are very delicate, which makes a +likeness difficult; and yet there is a peculiarity in the shape of the +eye and the lines about the mouth which one ought to catch.” + +“Exactly so—The shape of the eye and the lines about the mouth—I have +not a doubt of your success. Pray, pray attempt it. As you will do it, +it will indeed, to use your own words, be an exquisite possession.” + +“But I am afraid, Mr. Elton, Harriet will not like to sit. She thinks +so little of her own beauty. Did not you observe her manner of +answering me? How completely it meant, ‘why should my picture be +drawn?’” + +“Oh! yes, I observed it, I assure you. It was not lost on me. But still +I cannot imagine she would not be persuaded.” + +Harriet was soon back again, and the proposal almost immediately made; +and she had no scruples which could stand many minutes against the +earnest pressing of both the others. Emma wished to go to work +directly, and therefore produced the portfolio containing her various +attempts at portraits, for not one of them had ever been finished, that +they might decide together on the best size for Harriet. Her many +beginnings were displayed. Miniatures, half-lengths, whole-lengths, +pencil, crayon, and water-colours had been all tried in turn. She had +always wanted to do every thing, and had made more progress both in +drawing and music than many might have done with so little labour as +she would ever submit to. She played and sang;—and drew in almost every +style; but steadiness had always been wanting; and in nothing had she +approached the degree of excellence which she would have been glad to +command, and ought not to have failed of. She was not much deceived as +to her own skill either as an artist or a musician, but she was not +unwilling to have others deceived, or sorry to know her reputation for +accomplishment often higher than it deserved. + +There was merit in every drawing—in the least finished, perhaps the +most; her style was spirited; but had there been much less, or had +there been ten times more, the delight and admiration of her two +companions would have been the same. They were both in ecstasies. A +likeness pleases every body; and Miss Woodhouse’s performances must be +capital. + +“No great variety of faces for you,” said Emma. “I had only my own +family to study from. There is my father—another of my father—but the +idea of sitting for his picture made him so nervous, that I could only +take him by stealth; neither of them very like therefore. Mrs. Weston +again, and again, and again, you see. Dear Mrs. Weston! always my +kindest friend on every occasion. She would sit whenever I asked her. +There is my sister; and really quite her own little elegant figure!—and +the face not unlike. I should have made a good likeness of her, if she +would have sat longer, but she was in such a hurry to have me draw her +four children that she would not be quiet. Then, here come all my +attempts at three of those four children;—there they are, Henry and +John and Bella, from one end of the sheet to the other, and any one of +them might do for any one of the rest. She was so eager to have them +drawn that I could not refuse; but there is no making children of three +or four years old stand still you know; nor can it be very easy to take +any likeness of them, beyond the air and complexion, unless they are +coarser featured than any of mama’s children ever were. Here is my +sketch of the fourth, who was a baby. I took him as he was sleeping on +the sofa, and it is as strong a likeness of his cockade as you would +wish to see. He had nestled down his head most conveniently. That’s +very like. I am rather proud of little George. The corner of the sofa +is very good. Then here is my last,”—unclosing a pretty sketch of a +gentleman in small size, whole-length—“my last and my best—my brother, +Mr. John Knightley.—This did not want much of being finished, when I +put it away in a pet, and vowed I would never take another likeness. I +could not help being provoked; for after all my pains, and when I had +really made a very good likeness of it—(Mrs. Weston and I were quite +agreed in thinking it _very_ like)—only too handsome—too flattering—but +that was a fault on the right side”—after all this, came poor dear +Isabella’s cold approbation of—“Yes, it was a little like—but to be +sure it did not do him justice. We had had a great deal of trouble in +persuading him to sit at all. It was made a great favour of; and +altogether it was more than I could bear; and so I never would finish +it, to have it apologised over as an unfavourable likeness, to every +morning visitor in Brunswick Square;—and, as I said, I did then +forswear ever drawing any body again. But for Harriet’s sake, or rather +for my own, and as there are no husbands and wives in the case _at_ +_present_, I will break my resolution now.” + +Mr. Elton seemed very properly struck and delighted by the idea, and +was repeating, “No husbands and wives in the case at present indeed, as +you observe. Exactly so. No husbands and wives,” with so interesting a +consciousness, that Emma began to consider whether she had not better +leave them together at once. But as she wanted to be drawing, the +declaration must wait a little longer. + +She had soon fixed on the size and sort of portrait. It was to be a +whole-length in water-colours, like Mr. John Knightley’s, and was +destined, if she could please herself, to hold a very honourable +station over the mantelpiece. + +The sitting began; and Harriet, smiling and blushing, and afraid of not +keeping her attitude and countenance, presented a very sweet mixture of +youthful expression to the steady eyes of the artist. But there was no +doing any thing, with Mr. Elton fidgeting behind her and watching every +touch. She gave him credit for stationing himself where he might gaze +and gaze again without offence; but was really obliged to put an end to +it, and request him to place himself elsewhere. It then occurred to her +to employ him in reading. + +“If he would be so good as to read to them, it would be a kindness +indeed! It would amuse away the difficulties of her part, and lessen +the irksomeness of Miss Smith’s.” + +Mr. Elton was only too happy. Harriet listened, and Emma drew in peace. +She must allow him to be still frequently coming to look; any thing +less would certainly have been too little in a lover; and he was ready +at the smallest intermission of the pencil, to jump up and see the +progress, and be charmed.—There was no being displeased with such an +encourager, for his admiration made him discern a likeness almost +before it was possible. She could not respect his eye, but his love and +his complaisance were unexceptionable. + +The sitting was altogether very satisfactory; she was quite enough +pleased with the first day’s sketch to wish to go on. There was no want +of likeness, she had been fortunate in the attitude, and as she meant +to throw in a little improvement to the figure, to give a little more +height, and considerably more elegance, she had great confidence of its +being in every way a pretty drawing at last, and of its filling its +destined place with credit to them both—a standing memorial of the +beauty of one, the skill of the other, and the friendship of both; with +as many other agreeable associations as Mr. Elton’s very promising +attachment was likely to add. + +Harriet was to sit again the next day; and Mr. Elton, just as he ought, +entreated for the permission of attending and reading to them again. + +“By all means. We shall be most happy to consider you as one of the +party.” + +The same civilities and courtesies, the same success and satisfaction, +took place on the morrow, and accompanied the whole progress of the +picture, which was rapid and happy. Every body who saw it was pleased, +but Mr. Elton was in continual raptures, and defended it through every +criticism. + +“Miss Woodhouse has given her friend the only beauty she +wanted,”—observed Mrs. Weston to him—not in the least suspecting that +she was addressing a lover.—“The expression of the eye is most correct, +but Miss Smith has not those eyebrows and eyelashes. It is the fault of +her face that she has them not.” + +“Do you think so?” replied he. “I cannot agree with you. It appears to +me a most perfect resemblance in every feature. I never saw such a +likeness in my life. We must allow for the effect of shade, you know.” + +“You have made her too tall, Emma,” said Mr. Knightley. + +Emma knew that she had, but would not own it; and Mr. Elton warmly +added, + +“Oh no! certainly not too tall; not in the least too tall. Consider, +she is sitting down—which naturally presents a different—which in short +gives exactly the idea—and the proportions must be preserved, you know. +Proportions, fore-shortening.—Oh no! it gives one exactly the idea of +such a height as Miss Smith’s. Exactly so indeed!” + +“It is very pretty,” said Mr. Woodhouse. “So prettily done! Just as +your drawings always are, my dear. I do not know any body who draws so +well as you do. The only thing I do not thoroughly like is, that she +seems to be sitting out of doors, with only a little shawl over her +shoulders—and it makes one think she must catch cold.” + +“But, my dear papa, it is supposed to be summer; a warm day in summer. +Look at the tree.” + +“But it is never safe to sit out of doors, my dear.” + +“You, sir, may say any thing,” cried Mr. Elton, “but I must confess +that I regard it as a most happy thought, the placing of Miss Smith out +of doors; and the tree is touched with such inimitable spirit! Any +other situation would have been much less in character. The naïveté of +Miss Smith’s manners—and altogether—Oh, it is most admirable! I cannot +keep my eyes from it. I never saw such a likeness.” + +The next thing wanted was to get the picture framed; and here were a +few difficulties. It must be done directly; it must be done in London; +the order must go through the hands of some intelligent person whose +taste could be depended on; and Isabella, the usual doer of all +commissions, must not be applied to, because it was December, and Mr. +Woodhouse could not bear the idea of her stirring out of her house in +the fogs of December. But no sooner was the distress known to Mr. +Elton, than it was removed. His gallantry was always on the alert. +“Might he be trusted with the commission, what infinite pleasure should +he have in executing it! he could ride to London at any time. It was +impossible to say how much he should be gratified by being employed on +such an errand.” + +“He was too good!—she could not endure the thought!—she would not give +him such a troublesome office for the world,”—brought on the desired +repetition of entreaties and assurances,—and a very few minutes settled +the business. + +Mr. Elton was to take the drawing to London, chuse the frame, and give +the directions; and Emma thought she could so pack it as to ensure its +safety without much incommoding him, while he seemed mostly fearful of +not being incommoded enough. + +“What a precious deposit!” said he with a tender sigh, as he received +it. + +“This man is almost too gallant to be in love,” thought Emma. “I should +say so, but that I suppose there may be a hundred different ways of +being in love. He is an excellent young man, and will suit Harriet +exactly; it will be an ‘Exactly so,’ as he says himself; but he does +sigh and languish, and study for compliments rather more than I could +endure as a principal. I come in for a pretty good share as a second. +But it is his gratitude on Harriet’s account.” + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +The very day of Mr. Elton’s going to London produced a fresh occasion +for Emma’s services towards her friend. Harriet had been at Hartfield, +as usual, soon after breakfast; and, after a time, had gone home to +return again to dinner: she returned, and sooner than had been talked +of, and with an agitated, hurried look, announcing something +extraordinary to have happened which she was longing to tell. Half a +minute brought it all out. She had heard, as soon as she got back to +Mrs. Goddard’s, that Mr. Martin had been there an hour before, and +finding she was not at home, nor particularly expected, had left a +little parcel for her from one of his sisters, and gone away; and on +opening this parcel, she had actually found, besides the two songs +which she had lent Elizabeth to copy, a letter to herself; and this +letter was from him, from Mr. Martin, and contained a direct proposal +of marriage. “Who could have thought it? She was so surprized she did +not know what to do. Yes, quite a proposal of marriage; and a very good +letter, at least she thought so. And he wrote as if he really loved her +very much—but she did not know—and so, she was come as fast as she +could to ask Miss Woodhouse what she should do.—” Emma was half-ashamed +of her friend for seeming so pleased and so doubtful. + +“Upon my word,” she cried, “the young man is determined not to lose any +thing for want of asking. He will connect himself well if he can.” + +“Will you read the letter?” cried Harriet. “Pray do. II’d rather you +would.” + +Emma was not sorry to be pressed. She read, and was surprized. The +style of the letter was much above her expectation. There were not +merely no grammatical errors, but as a composition it would not have +disgraced a gentleman; the language, though plain, was strong and +unaffected, and the sentiments it conveyed very much to the credit of +the writer. It was short, but expressed good sense, warm attachment, +liberality, propriety, even delicacy of feeling. She paused over it, +while Harriet stood anxiously watching for her opinion, with a “Well, +well,” and was at last forced to add, “Is it a good letter? or is it +too short?” + +“Yes, indeed, a very good letter,” replied Emma rather slowly—“so good +a letter, Harriet, that every thing considered, I think one of his +sisters must have helped him. I can hardly imagine the young man whom I +saw talking with you the other day could express himself so well, if +left quite to his own powers, and yet it is not the style of a woman; +no, certainly, it is too strong and concise; not diffuse enough for a +woman. No doubt he is a sensible man, and I suppose may have a natural +talent for—thinks strongly and clearly—and when he takes a pen in hand, +his thoughts naturally find proper words. It is so with some men. Yes, +I understand the sort of mind. Vigorous, decided, with sentiments to a +certain point, not coarse. A better written letter, Harriet (returning +it,) than I had expected.” + +“Well,” said the still waiting Harriet;—“well—and—and what shall I do?” + +“What shall you do! In what respect? Do you mean with regard to this +letter?” + +“Yes.” + +“But what are you in doubt of? You must answer it of course—and +speedily.” + +“Yes. But what shall I say? Dear Miss Woodhouse, do advise me.” + +“Oh no, no! the letter had much better be all your own. You will +express yourself very properly, I am sure. There is no danger of your +not being intelligible, which is the first thing. Your meaning must be +unequivocal; no doubts or demurs: and such expressions of gratitude and +concern for the pain you are inflicting as propriety requires, will +present themselves unbidden to _your_ mind, I am persuaded. You need +not be prompted to write with the appearance of sorrow for his +disappointment.” + +“You think I ought to refuse him then,” said Harriet, looking down. + +“Ought to refuse him! My dear Harriet, what do you mean? Are you in any +doubt as to that? I thought—but I beg your pardon, perhaps I have been +under a mistake. I certainly have been misunderstanding you, if you +feel in doubt as to the _purport_ of your answer. I had imagined you +were consulting me only as to the wording of it.” + +Harriet was silent. With a little reserve of manner, Emma continued: + +“You mean to return a favourable answer, I collect.” + +“No, I do not; that is, I do not mean—What shall I do? What would you +advise me to do? Pray, dear Miss Woodhouse, tell me what I ought to +do.” + +“I shall not give you any advice, Harriet. I will have nothing to do +with it. This is a point which you must settle with your feelings.” + +“I had no notion that he liked me so very much,” said Harriet, +contemplating the letter. For a little while Emma persevered in her +silence; but beginning to apprehend the bewitching flattery of that +letter might be too powerful, she thought it best to say, + +“I lay it down as a general rule, Harriet, that if a woman _doubts_ as +to whether she should accept a man or not, she certainly ought to +refuse him. If she can hesitate as to ‘Yes,’ she ought to say ‘No’ +directly. It is not a state to be safely entered into with doubtful +feelings, with half a heart. I thought it my duty as a friend, and +older than yourself, to say thus much to you. But do not imagine that I +want to influence you.” + +“Oh! no, I am sure you are a great deal too kind to—but if you would +just advise me what I had best do—No, no, I do not mean that—As you +say, one’s mind ought to be quite made up—One should not be +hesitating—It is a very serious thing.—It will be safer to say ‘No,’ +perhaps.—Do you think I had better say ‘No?’” + +“Not for the world,” said Emma, smiling graciously, “would I advise you +either way. You must be the best judge of your own happiness. If you +prefer Mr. Martin to every other person; if you think him the most +agreeable man you have ever been in company with, why should you +hesitate? You blush, Harriet.—Does any body else occur to you at this +moment under such a definition? Harriet, Harriet, do not deceive +yourself; do not be run away with by gratitude and compassion. At this +moment whom are you thinking of?” + +The symptoms were favourable.—Instead of answering, Harriet turned away +confused, and stood thoughtfully by the fire; and though the letter was +still in her hand, it was now mechanically twisted about without +regard. Emma waited the result with impatience, but not without strong +hopes. At last, with some hesitation, Harriet said— + +“Miss Woodhouse, as you will not give me your opinion, I must do as +well as I can by myself; and I have now quite determined, and really +almost made up my mind—to refuse Mr. Martin. Do you think I am right?” + +“Perfectly, perfectly right, my dearest Harriet; you are doing just +what you ought. While you were at all in suspense I kept my feelings to +myself, but now that you are so completely decided I have no hesitation +in approving. Dear Harriet, I give myself joy of this. It would have +grieved me to lose your acquaintance, which must have been the +consequence of your marrying Mr. Martin. While you were in the smallest +degree wavering, I said nothing about it, because I would not +influence; but it would have been the loss of a friend to me. I could +not have visited Mrs. Robert Martin, of Abbey-Mill Farm. Now I am +secure of you for ever.” + +Harriet had not surmised her own danger, but the idea of it struck her +forcibly. + +“You could not have visited me!” she cried, looking aghast. “No, to be +sure you could not; but I never thought of that before. That would have +been too dreadful!—What an escape!—Dear Miss Woodhouse, I would not +give up the pleasure and honour of being intimate with you for any +thing in the world.” + +“Indeed, Harriet, it would have been a severe pang to lose you; but it +must have been. You would have thrown yourself out of all good society. +I must have given you up.” + +“Dear me!—How should I ever have borne it! It would have killed me +never to come to Hartfield any more!” + +“Dear affectionate creature!—_You_ banished to Abbey-Mill Farm!—_You_ +confined to the society of the illiterate and vulgar all your life! I +wonder how the young man could have the assurance to ask it. He must +have a pretty good opinion of himself.” + +“I do not think he is conceited either, in general,” said Harriet, her +conscience opposing such censure; “at least, he is very good natured, +and I shall always feel much obliged to him, and have a great regard +for—but that is quite a different thing from—and you know, though he +may like me, it does not follow that I should—and certainly I must +confess that since my visiting here I have seen people—and if one comes +to compare them, person and manners, there is no comparison at all, +_one_ is so very handsome and agreeable. However, I do really think Mr. +Martin a very amiable young man, and have a great opinion of him; and +his being so much attached to me—and his writing such a letter—but as +to leaving you, it is what I would not do upon any consideration.” + +“Thank you, thank you, my own sweet little friend. We will not be +parted. A woman is not to marry a man merely because she is asked, or +because he is attached to her, and can write a tolerable letter.” + +“Oh no;—and it is but a short letter too.” + +Emma felt the bad taste of her friend, but let it pass with a “very +true; and it would be a small consolation to her, for the clownish +manner which might be offending her every hour of the day, to know that +her husband could write a good letter.” + +“Oh! yes, very. Nobody cares for a letter; the thing is, to be always +happy with pleasant companions. I am quite determined to refuse him. +But how shall I do? What shall I say?” + +Emma assured her there would be no difficulty in the answer, and +advised its being written directly, which was agreed to, in the hope of +her assistance; and though Emma continued to protest against any +assistance being wanted, it was in fact given in the formation of every +sentence. The looking over his letter again, in replying to it, had +such a softening tendency, that it was particularly necessary to brace +her up with a few decisive expressions; and she was so very much +concerned at the idea of making him unhappy, and thought so much of +what his mother and sisters would think and say, and was so anxious +that they should not fancy her ungrateful, that Emma believed if the +young man had come in her way at that moment, he would have been +accepted after all. + +This letter, however, was written, and sealed, and sent. The business +was finished, and Harriet safe. She was rather low all the evening, but +Emma could allow for her amiable regrets, and sometimes relieved them +by speaking of her own affection, sometimes by bringing forward the +idea of Mr. Elton. + +“I shall never be invited to Abbey-Mill again,” was said in rather a +sorrowful tone. + +“Nor, if you were, could I ever bear to part with you, my Harriet. You +are a great deal too necessary at Hartfield to be spared to +Abbey-Mill.” + +“And I am sure I should never want to go there; for I am never happy +but at Hartfield.” + +Some time afterwards it was, “I think Mrs. Goddard would be very much +surprized if she knew what had happened. I am sure Miss Nash would—for +Miss Nash thinks her own sister very well married, and it is only a +linen-draper.” + +“One should be sorry to see greater pride or refinement in the teacher +of a school, Harriet. I dare say Miss Nash would envy you such an +opportunity as this of being married. Even this conquest would appear +valuable in her eyes. As to any thing superior for you, I suppose she +is quite in the dark. The attentions of a certain person can hardly be +among the tittle-tattle of Highbury yet. Hitherto I fancy you and I are +the only people to whom his looks and manners have explained +themselves.” + +Harriet blushed and smiled, and said something about wondering that +people should like her so much. The idea of Mr. Elton was certainly +cheering; but still, after a time, she was tender-hearted again towards +the rejected Mr. Martin. + +“Now he has got my letter,” said she softly. “I wonder what they are +all doing—whether his sisters know—if he is unhappy, they will be +unhappy too. I hope he will not mind it so very much.” + +“Let us think of those among our absent friends who are more cheerfully +employed,” cried Emma. “At this moment, perhaps, Mr. Elton is shewing +your picture to his mother and sisters, telling how much more beautiful +is the original, and after being asked for it five or six times, +allowing them to hear your name, your own dear name.” + +“My picture!—But he has left my picture in Bond-street.” + +“Has he so!—Then I know nothing of Mr. Elton. No, my dear little modest +Harriet, depend upon it the picture will not be in Bond-street till +just before he mounts his horse to-morrow. It is his companion all this +evening, his solace, his delight. It opens his designs to his family, +it introduces you among them, it diffuses through the party those +pleasantest feelings of our nature, eager curiosity and warm +prepossession. How cheerful, how animated, how suspicious, how busy +their imaginations all are!” + +Harriet smiled again, and her smiles grew stronger. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Harriet slept at Hartfield that night. For some weeks past she had been +spending more than half her time there, and gradually getting to have a +bed-room appropriated to herself; and Emma judged it best in every +respect, safest and kindest, to keep her with them as much as possible +just at present. She was obliged to go the next morning for an hour or +two to Mrs. Goddard’s, but it was then to be settled that she should +return to Hartfield, to make a regular visit of some days. + +While she was gone, Mr. Knightley called, and sat some time with Mr. +Woodhouse and Emma, till Mr. Woodhouse, who had previously made up his +mind to walk out, was persuaded by his daughter not to defer it, and +was induced by the entreaties of both, though against the scruples of +his own civility, to leave Mr. Knightley for that purpose. Mr. +Knightley, who had nothing of ceremony about him, was offering by his +short, decided answers, an amusing contrast to the protracted apologies +and civil hesitations of the other. + +“Well, I believe, if you will excuse me, Mr. Knightley, if you will not +consider me as doing a very rude thing, I shall take Emma’s advice and +go out for a quarter of an hour. As the sun is out, I believe I had +better take my three turns while I can. I treat you without ceremony, +Mr. Knightley. We invalids think we are privileged people.” + +“My dear sir, do not make a stranger of me.” + +“I leave an excellent substitute in my daughter. Emma will be happy to +entertain you. And therefore I think I will beg your excuse and take my +three turns—my winter walk.” + +“You cannot do better, sir.” + +“I would ask for the pleasure of your company, Mr. Knightley, but I am +a very slow walker, and my pace would be tedious to you; and, besides, +you have another long walk before you, to Donwell Abbey.” + +“Thank you, sir, thank you; I am going this moment myself; and I think +the sooner _you_ go the better. I will fetch your greatcoat and open +the garden door for you.” + +Mr. Woodhouse at last was off; but Mr. Knightley, instead of being +immediately off likewise, sat down again, seemingly inclined for more +chat. He began speaking of Harriet, and speaking of her with more +voluntary praise than Emma had ever heard before. + +“I cannot rate her beauty as you do,” said he; “but she is a pretty +little creature, and I am inclined to think very well of her +disposition. Her character depends upon those she is with; but in good +hands she will turn out a valuable woman.” + +“I am glad you think so; and the good hands, I hope, may not be +wanting.” + +“Come,” said he, “you are anxious for a compliment, so I will tell you +that you have improved her. You have cured her of her school-girl’s +giggle; she really does you credit.” + +“Thank you. I should be mortified indeed if I did not believe I had +been of some use; but it is not every body who will bestow praise where +they may. _You_ do not often overpower me with it.” + +“You are expecting her again, you say, this morning?” + +“Almost every moment. She has been gone longer already than she +intended.” + +“Something has happened to delay her; some visitors perhaps.” + +“Highbury gossips!—Tiresome wretches!” + +“Harriet may not consider every body tiresome that you would.” + +Emma knew this was too true for contradiction, and therefore said +nothing. He presently added, with a smile, + +“I do not pretend to fix on times or places, but I must tell you that I +have good reason to believe your little friend will soon hear of +something to her advantage.” + +“Indeed! how so? of what sort?” + +“A very serious sort, I assure you;” still smiling. + +“Very serious! I can think of but one thing—Who is in love with her? +Who makes you their confidant?” + +Emma was more than half in hopes of Mr. Elton’s having dropt a hint. +Mr. Knightley was a sort of general friend and adviser, and she knew +Mr. Elton looked up to him. + +“I have reason to think,” he replied, “that Harriet Smith will soon +have an offer of marriage, and from a most unexceptionable +quarter:—Robert Martin is the man. Her visit to Abbey-Mill, this +summer, seems to have done his business. He is desperately in love and +means to marry her.” + +“He is very obliging,” said Emma; “but is he sure that Harriet means to +marry him?” + +“Well, well, means to make her an offer then. Will that do? He came to +the Abbey two evenings ago, on purpose to consult me about it. He knows +I have a thorough regard for him and all his family, and, I believe, +considers me as one of his best friends. He came to ask me whether I +thought it would be imprudent in him to settle so early; whether I +thought her too young: in short, whether I approved his choice +altogether; having some apprehension perhaps of her being considered +(especially since _your_ making so much of her) as in a line of society +above him. I was very much pleased with all that he said. I never hear +better sense from any one than Robert Martin. He always speaks to the +purpose; open, straightforward, and very well judging. He told me every +thing; his circumstances and plans, and what they all proposed doing in +the event of his marriage. He is an excellent young man, both as son +and brother. I had no hesitation in advising him to marry. He proved to +me that he could afford it; and that being the case, I was convinced he +could not do better. I praised the fair lady too, and altogether sent +him away very happy. If he had never esteemed my opinion before, he +would have thought highly of me then; and, I dare say, left the house +thinking me the best friend and counsellor man ever had. This happened +the night before last. Now, as we may fairly suppose, he would not +allow much time to pass before he spoke to the lady, and as he does not +appear to have spoken yesterday, it is not unlikely that he should be +at Mrs. Goddard’s to-day; and she may be detained by a visitor, without +thinking him at all a tiresome wretch.” + +“Pray, Mr. Knightley,” said Emma, who had been smiling to herself +through a great part of this speech, “how do you know that Mr. Martin +did not speak yesterday?” + +“Certainly,” replied he, surprized, “I do not absolutely know it; but +it may be inferred. Was not she the whole day with you?” + +“Come,” said she, “I will tell you something, in return for what you +have told me. He did speak yesterday—that is, he wrote, and was +refused.” + +This was obliged to be repeated before it could be believed; and Mr. +Knightley actually looked red with surprize and displeasure, as he +stood up, in tall indignation, and said, + +“Then she is a greater simpleton than I ever believed her. What is the +foolish girl about?” + +“Oh! to be sure,” cried Emma, “it is always incomprehensible to a man +that a woman should ever refuse an offer of marriage. A man always +imagines a woman to be ready for any body who asks her.” + +“Nonsense! a man does not imagine any such thing. But what is the +meaning of this? Harriet Smith refuse Robert Martin? madness, if it is +so; but I hope you are mistaken.” + +“I saw her answer!—nothing could be clearer.” + +“You saw her answer!—you wrote her answer too. Emma, this is your +doing. You persuaded her to refuse him.” + +“And if I did, (which, however, I am far from allowing) I should not +feel that I had done wrong. Mr. Martin is a very respectable young man, +but I cannot admit him to be Harriet’s equal; and am rather surprized +indeed that he should have ventured to address her. By your account, he +does seem to have had some scruples. It is a pity that they were ever +got over.” + +“Not Harriet’s equal!” exclaimed Mr. Knightley loudly and warmly; and +with calmer asperity, added, a few moments afterwards, “No, he is not +her equal indeed, for he is as much her superior in sense as in +situation. Emma, your infatuation about that girl blinds you. What are +Harriet Smith’s claims, either of birth, nature or education, to any +connexion higher than Robert Martin? She is the natural daughter of +nobody knows whom, with probably no settled provision at all, and +certainly no respectable relations. She is known only as +parlour-boarder at a common school. She is not a sensible girl, nor a +girl of any information. She has been taught nothing useful, and is too +young and too simple to have acquired any thing herself. At her age she +can have no experience, and with her little wit, is not very likely +ever to have any that can avail her. She is pretty, and she is good +tempered, and that is all. My only scruple in advising the match was on +his account, as being beneath his deserts, and a bad connexion for him. +I felt that, as to fortune, in all probability he might do much better; +and that as to a rational companion or useful helpmate, he could not do +worse. But I could not reason so to a man in love, and was willing to +trust to there being no harm in her, to her having that sort of +disposition, which, in good hands, like his, might be easily led aright +and turn out very well. The advantage of the match I felt to be all on +her side; and had not the smallest doubt (nor have I now) that there +would be a general cry-out upon her extreme good luck. Even _your_ +satisfaction I made sure of. It crossed my mind immediately that you +would not regret your friend’s leaving Highbury, for the sake of her +being settled so well. I remember saying to myself, ‘Even Emma, with +all her partiality for Harriet, will think this a good match.’” + +“I cannot help wondering at your knowing so little of Emma as to say +any such thing. What! think a farmer, (and with all his sense and all +his merit Mr. Martin is nothing more,) a good match for my intimate +friend! Not regret her leaving Highbury for the sake of marrying a man +whom I could never admit as an acquaintance of my own! I wonder you +should think it possible for me to have such feelings. I assure you +mine are very different. I must think your statement by no means fair. +You are not just to Harriet’s claims. They would be estimated very +differently by others as well as myself; Mr. Martin may be the richest +of the two, but he is undoubtedly her inferior as to rank in +society.—The sphere in which she moves is much above his.—It would be a +degradation.” + +“A degradation to illegitimacy and ignorance, to be married to a +respectable, intelligent gentleman-farmer!” + +“As to the circumstances of her birth, though in a legal sense she may +be called Nobody, it will not hold in common sense. She is not to pay +for the offence of others, by being held below the level of those with +whom she is brought up.—There can scarcely be a doubt that her father +is a gentleman—and a gentleman of fortune.—Her allowance is very +liberal; nothing has ever been grudged for her improvement or +comfort.—That she is a gentleman’s daughter, is indubitable to me; that +she associates with gentlemen’s daughters, no one, I apprehend, will +deny.—She is superior to Mr. Robert Martin.” + +“Whoever might be her parents,” said Mr. Knightley, “whoever may have +had the charge of her, it does not appear to have been any part of +their plan to introduce her into what you would call good society. +After receiving a very indifferent education she is left in Mrs. +Goddard’s hands to shift as she can;—to move, in short, in Mrs. +Goddard’s line, to have Mrs. Goddard’s acquaintance. Her friends +evidently thought this good enough for her; and it _was_ good enough. +She desired nothing better herself. Till you chose to turn her into a +friend, her mind had no distaste for her own set, nor any ambition +beyond it. She was as happy as possible with the Martins in the summer. +She had no sense of superiority then. If she has it now, you have given +it. You have been no friend to Harriet Smith, Emma. Robert Martin would +never have proceeded so far, if he had not felt persuaded of her not +being disinclined to him. I know him well. He has too much real feeling +to address any woman on the haphazard of selfish passion. And as to +conceit, he is the farthest from it of any man I know. Depend upon it +he had encouragement.” + +It was most convenient to Emma not to make a direct reply to this +assertion; she chose rather to take up her own line of the subject +again. + +“You are a very warm friend to Mr. Martin; but, as I said before, are +unjust to Harriet. Harriet’s claims to marry well are not so +contemptible as you represent them. She is not a clever girl, but she +has better sense than you are aware of, and does not deserve to have +her understanding spoken of so slightingly. Waiving that point, +however, and supposing her to be, as you describe her, only pretty and +good-natured, let me tell you, that in the degree she possesses them, +they are not trivial recommendations to the world in general, for she +is, in fact, a beautiful girl, and must be thought so by ninety-nine +people out of an hundred; and till it appears that men are much more +philosophic on the subject of beauty than they are generally supposed; +till they do fall in love with well-informed minds instead of handsome +faces, a girl, with such loveliness as Harriet, has a certainty of +being admired and sought after, of having the power of chusing from +among many, consequently a claim to be nice. Her good-nature, too, is +not so very slight a claim, comprehending, as it does, real, thorough +sweetness of temper and manner, a very humble opinion of herself, and a +great readiness to be pleased with other people. I am very much +mistaken if your sex in general would not think such beauty, and such +temper, the highest claims a woman could possess.” + +“Upon my word, Emma, to hear you abusing the reason you have, is almost +enough to make me think so too. Better be without sense, than misapply +it as you do.” + +“To be sure!” cried she playfully. “I know _that_ is the feeling of you +all. I know that such a girl as Harriet is exactly what every man +delights in—what at once bewitches his senses and satisfies his +judgment. Oh! Harriet may pick and chuse. Were you, yourself, ever to +marry, she is the very woman for you. And is she, at seventeen, just +entering into life, just beginning to be known, to be wondered at +because she does not accept the first offer she receives? No—pray let +her have time to look about her.” + +“I have always thought it a very foolish intimacy,” said Mr. Knightley +presently, “though I have kept my thoughts to myself; but I now +perceive that it will be a very unfortunate one for Harriet. You will +puff her up with such ideas of her own beauty, and of what she has a +claim to, that, in a little while, nobody within her reach will be good +enough for her. Vanity working on a weak head, produces every sort of +mischief. Nothing so easy as for a young lady to raise her expectations +too high. Miss Harriet Smith may not find offers of marriage flow in so +fast, though she is a very pretty girl. Men of sense, whatever you may +chuse to say, do not want silly wives. Men of family would not be very +fond of connecting themselves with a girl of such obscurity—and most +prudent men would be afraid of the inconvenience and disgrace they +might be involved in, when the mystery of her parentage came to be +revealed. Let her marry Robert Martin, and she is safe, respectable, +and happy for ever; but if you encourage her to expect to marry +greatly, and teach her to be satisfied with nothing less than a man of +consequence and large fortune, she may be a parlour-boarder at Mrs. +Goddard’s all the rest of her life—or, at least, (for Harriet Smith is +a girl who will marry somebody or other,) till she grow desperate, and +is glad to catch at the old writing-master’s son.” + +“We think so very differently on this point, Mr. Knightley, that there +can be no use in canvassing it. We shall only be making each other more +angry. But as to my _letting_ her marry Robert Martin, it is +impossible; she has refused him, and so decidedly, I think, as must +prevent any second application. She must abide by the evil of having +refused him, whatever it may be; and as to the refusal itself, I will +not pretend to say that I might not influence her a little; but I +assure you there was very little for me or for any body to do. His +appearance is so much against him, and his manner so bad, that if she +ever were disposed to favour him, she is not now. I can imagine, that +before she had seen any body superior, she might tolerate him. He was +the brother of her friends, and he took pains to please her; and +altogether, having seen nobody better (that must have been his great +assistant) she might not, while she was at Abbey-Mill, find him +disagreeable. But the case is altered now. She knows now what gentlemen +are; and nothing but a gentleman in education and manner has any chance +with Harriet.” + +“Nonsense, errant nonsense, as ever was talked!” cried Mr. +Knightley.—“Robert Martin’s manners have sense, sincerity, and +good-humour to recommend them; and his mind has more true gentility +than Harriet Smith could understand.” + +Emma made no answer, and tried to look cheerfully unconcerned, but was +really feeling uncomfortable and wanting him very much to be gone. She +did not repent what she had done; she still thought herself a better +judge of such a point of female right and refinement than he could be; +but yet she had a sort of habitual respect for his judgment in general, +which made her dislike having it so loudly against her; and to have him +sitting just opposite to her in angry state, was very disagreeable. +Some minutes passed in this unpleasant silence, with only one attempt +on Emma’s side to talk of the weather, but he made no answer. He was +thinking. The result of his thoughts appeared at last in these words. + +“Robert Martin has no great loss—if he can but think so; and I hope it +will not be long before he does. Your views for Harriet are best known +to yourself; but as you make no secret of your love of match-making, it +is fair to suppose that views, and plans, and projects you have;—and as +a friend I shall just hint to you that if Elton is the man, I think it +will be all labour in vain.” + +Emma laughed and disclaimed. He continued, + +“Depend upon it, Elton will not do. Elton is a very good sort of man, +and a very respectable vicar of Highbury, but not at all likely to make +an imprudent match. He knows the value of a good income as well as any +body. Elton may talk sentimentally, but he will act rationally. He is +as well acquainted with his own claims, as you can be with Harriet’s. +He knows that he is a very handsome young man, and a great favourite +wherever he goes; and from his general way of talking in unreserved +moments, when there are only men present, I am convinced that he does +not mean to throw himself away. I have heard him speak with great +animation of a large family of young ladies that his sisters are +intimate with, who have all twenty thousand pounds apiece.” + +“I am very much obliged to you,” said Emma, laughing again. “If I had +set my heart on Mr. Elton’s marrying Harriet, it would have been very +kind to open my eyes; but at present I only want to keep Harriet to +myself. I have done with match-making indeed. I could never hope to +equal my own doings at Randalls. I shall leave off while I am well.” + +“Good morning to you,”—said he, rising and walking off abruptly. He was +very much vexed. He felt the disappointment of the young man, and was +mortified to have been the means of promoting it, by the sanction he +had given; and the part which he was persuaded Emma had taken in the +affair, was provoking him exceedingly. + +Emma remained in a state of vexation too; but there was more +indistinctness in the causes of her’s, than in his. She did not always +feel so absolutely satisfied with herself, so entirely convinced that +her opinions were right and her adversary’s wrong, as Mr. Knightley. He +walked off in more complete self-approbation than he left for her. She +was not so materially cast down, however, but that a little time and +the return of Harriet were very adequate restoratives. Harriet’s +staying away so long was beginning to make her uneasy. The possibility +of the young man’s coming to Mrs. Goddard’s that morning, and meeting +with Harriet and pleading his own cause, gave alarming ideas. The dread +of such a failure after all became the prominent uneasiness; and when +Harriet appeared, and in very good spirits, and without having any such +reason to give for her long absence, she felt a satisfaction which +settled her with her own mind, and convinced her, that let Mr. +Knightley think or say what he would, she had done nothing which +woman’s friendship and woman’s feelings would not justify. + +He had frightened her a little about Mr. Elton; but when she considered +that Mr. Knightley could not have observed him as she had done, neither +with the interest, nor (she must be allowed to tell herself, in spite +of Mr. Knightley’s pretensions) with the skill of such an observer on +such a question as herself, that he had spoken it hastily and in anger, +she was able to believe, that he had rather said what he wished +resentfully to be true, than what he knew any thing about. He certainly +might have heard Mr. Elton speak with more unreserve than she had ever +done, and Mr. Elton might not be of an imprudent, inconsiderate +disposition as to money matters; he might naturally be rather attentive +than otherwise to them; but then, Mr. Knightley did not make due +allowance for the influence of a strong passion at war with all +interested motives. Mr. Knightley saw no such passion, and of course +thought nothing of its effects; but she saw too much of it to feel a +doubt of its overcoming any hesitations that a reasonable prudence +might originally suggest; and more than a reasonable, becoming degree +of prudence, she was very sure did not belong to Mr. Elton. + +Harriet’s cheerful look and manner established hers: she came back, not +to think of Mr. Martin, but to talk of Mr. Elton. Miss Nash had been +telling her something, which she repeated immediately with great +delight. Mr. Perry had been to Mrs. Goddard’s to attend a sick child, +and Miss Nash had seen him, and he had told Miss Nash, that as he was +coming back yesterday from Clayton Park, he had met Mr. Elton, and +found to his great surprize, that Mr. Elton was actually on his road to +London, and not meaning to return till the morrow, though it was the +whist-club night, which he had been never known to miss before; and Mr. +Perry had remonstrated with him about it, and told him how shabby it +was in him, their best player, to absent himself, and tried very much +to persuade him to put off his journey only one day; but it would not +do; Mr. Elton had been determined to go on, and had said in a _very_ +_particular_ way indeed, that he was going on business which he would +not put off for any inducement in the world; and something about a very +enviable commission, and being the bearer of something exceedingly +precious. Mr. Perry could not quite understand him, but he was very +sure there must be a _lady_ in the case, and he told him so; and Mr. +Elton only looked very conscious and smiling, and rode off in great +spirits. Miss Nash had told her all this, and had talked a great deal +more about Mr. Elton; and said, looking so very significantly at her, +“that she did not pretend to understand what his business might be, but +she only knew that any woman whom Mr. Elton could prefer, she should +think the luckiest woman in the world; for, beyond a doubt, Mr. Elton +had not his equal for beauty or agreeableness.” + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +Mr. Knightley might quarrel with her, but Emma could not quarrel with +herself. He was so much displeased, that it was longer than usual +before he came to Hartfield again; and when they did meet, his grave +looks shewed that she was not forgiven. She was sorry, but could not +repent. On the contrary, her plans and proceedings were more and more +justified and endeared to her by the general appearances of the next +few days. + +The Picture, elegantly framed, came safely to hand soon after Mr. +Elton’s return, and being hung over the mantelpiece of the common +sitting-room, he got up to look at it, and sighed out his half +sentences of admiration just as he ought; and as for Harriet’s +feelings, they were visibly forming themselves into as strong and +steady an attachment as her youth and sort of mind admitted. Emma was +soon perfectly satisfied of Mr. Martin’s being no otherwise remembered, +than as he furnished a contrast with Mr. Elton, of the utmost advantage +to the latter. + +Her views of improving her little friend’s mind, by a great deal of +useful reading and conversation, had never yet led to more than a few +first chapters, and the intention of going on to-morrow. It was much +easier to chat than to study; much pleasanter to let her imagination +range and work at Harriet’s fortune, than to be labouring to enlarge +her comprehension or exercise it on sober facts; and the only literary +pursuit which engaged Harriet at present, the only mental provision she +was making for the evening of life, was the collecting and transcribing +all the riddles of every sort that she could meet with, into a thin +quarto of hot-pressed paper, made up by her friend, and ornamented with +ciphers and trophies. + +In this age of literature, such collections on a very grand scale are +not uncommon. Miss Nash, head-teacher at Mrs. Goddard’s, had written +out at least three hundred; and Harriet, who had taken the first hint +of it from her, hoped, with Miss Woodhouse’s help, to get a great many +more. Emma assisted with her invention, memory and taste; and as +Harriet wrote a very pretty hand, it was likely to be an arrangement of +the first order, in form as well as quantity. + +Mr. Woodhouse was almost as much interested in the business as the +girls, and tried very often to recollect something worth their putting +in. “So many clever riddles as there used to be when he was young—he +wondered he could not remember them! but he hoped he should in time.” +And it always ended in “Kitty, a fair but frozen maid.” + +His good friend Perry, too, whom he had spoken to on the subject, did +not at present recollect any thing of the riddle kind; but he had +desired Perry to be upon the watch, and as he went about so much, +something, he thought, might come from that quarter. + +It was by no means his daughter’s wish that the intellects of Highbury +in general should be put under requisition. Mr. Elton was the only one +whose assistance she asked. He was invited to contribute any really +good enigmas, charades, or conundrums that he might recollect; and she +had the pleasure of seeing him most intently at work with his +recollections; and at the same time, as she could perceive, most +earnestly careful that nothing ungallant, nothing that did not breathe +a compliment to the sex should pass his lips. They owed to him their +two or three politest puzzles; and the joy and exultation with which at +last he recalled, and rather sentimentally recited, that well-known +charade, + +My first doth affliction denote, + Which my second is destin’d to feel +And my whole is the best antidote + That affliction to soften and heal.— + + +made her quite sorry to acknowledge that they had transcribed it some +pages ago already. + +“Why will not you write one yourself for us, Mr. Elton?” said she; +“that is the only security for its freshness; and nothing could be +easier to you.” + +“Oh no! he had never written, hardly ever, any thing of the kind in his +life. The stupidest fellow! He was afraid not even Miss Woodhouse”—he +stopt a moment—“or Miss Smith could inspire him.” + +The very next day however produced some proof of inspiration. He called +for a few moments, just to leave a piece of paper on the table +containing, as he said, a charade, which a friend of his had addressed +to a young lady, the object of his admiration, but which, from his +manner, Emma was immediately convinced must be his own. + +“I do not offer it for Miss Smith’s collection,” said he. “Being my +friend’s, I have no right to expose it in any degree to the public eye, +but perhaps you may not dislike looking at it.” + +The speech was more to Emma than to Harriet, which Emma could +understand. There was deep consciousness about him, and he found it +easier to meet her eye than her friend’s. He was gone the next +moment:—after another moment’s pause, + +“Take it,” said Emma, smiling, and pushing the paper towards +Harriet—“it is for you. Take your own.” + +But Harriet was in a tremor, and could not touch it; and Emma, never +loth to be first, was obliged to examine it herself. + +To Miss—— + + +CHARADE. + + +My first displays the wealth and pomp of kings, + Lords of the earth! their luxury and ease. +Another view of man, my second brings, + Behold him there, the monarch of the seas! + +But ah! united, what reverse we have! + Man’s boasted power and freedom, all are flown; +Lord of the earth and sea, he bends a slave, + And woman, lovely woman, reigns alone. + + Thy ready wit the word will soon supply, + May its approval beam in that soft eye! + + +She cast her eye over it, pondered, caught the meaning, read it through +again to be quite certain, and quite mistress of the lines, and then +passing it to Harriet, sat happily smiling, and saying to herself, +while Harriet was puzzling over the paper in all the confusion of hope +and dulness, “Very well, Mr. Elton, very well indeed. I have read worse +charades. _Courtship_—a very good hint. I give you credit for it. This +is feeling your way. This is saying very plainly—‘Pray, Miss Smith, +give me leave to pay my addresses to you. Approve my charade and my +intentions in the same glance.’ + +May its approval beam in that soft eye! + + +Harriet exactly. Soft is the very word for her eye—of all epithets, the +justest that could be given. + +Thy ready wit the word will soon supply. + + +Humph—Harriet’s ready wit! All the better. A man must be very much in +love, indeed, to describe her so. Ah! Mr. Knightley, I wish you had the +benefit of this; I think this would convince you. For once in your life +you would be obliged to own yourself mistaken. An excellent charade +indeed! and very much to the purpose. Things must come to a crisis soon +now.” + +She was obliged to break off from these very pleasant observations, +which were otherwise of a sort to run into great length, by the +eagerness of Harriet’s wondering questions. + +“What can it be, Miss Woodhouse?—what can it be? I have not an idea—I +cannot guess it in the least. What can it possibly be? Do try to find +it out, Miss Woodhouse. Do help me. I never saw any thing so hard. Is +it kingdom? I wonder who the friend was—and who could be the young +lady. Do you think it is a good one? Can it be woman? + +And woman, lovely woman, reigns alone. + + +Can it be Neptune? + +Behold him there, the monarch of the seas! + + +Or a trident? or a mermaid? or a shark? Oh, no! shark is only one +syllable. It must be very clever, or he would not have brought it. Oh! +Miss Woodhouse, do you think we shall ever find it out?” + +“Mermaids and sharks! Nonsense! My dear Harriet, what are you thinking +of? Where would be the use of his bringing us a charade made by a +friend upon a mermaid or a shark? Give me the paper and listen. + +For Miss ———, read Miss Smith. + +My first displays the wealth and pomp of kings, + Lords of the earth! their luxury and ease. + + +That is _court_. + +Another view of man, my second brings; + Behold him there, the monarch of the seas! + + +That is _ship_;—plain as it can be.—Now for the cream. + +But ah! united, (_courtship_, you know,) what reverse we have! + Man’s boasted power and freedom, all are flown. +Lord of the earth and sea, he bends a slave, + And woman, lovely woman, reigns alone. + + +A very proper compliment!—and then follows the application, which I +think, my dear Harriet, you cannot find much difficulty in +comprehending. Read it in comfort to yourself. There can be no doubt of +its being written for you and to you.” + +Harriet could not long resist so delightful a persuasion. She read the +concluding lines, and was all flutter and happiness. She could not +speak. But she was not wanted to speak. It was enough for her to feel. +Emma spoke for her. + +“There is so pointed, and so particular a meaning in this compliment,” +said she, “that I cannot have a doubt as to Mr. Elton’s intentions. You +are his object—and you will soon receive the completest proof of it. I +thought it must be so. I thought I could not be so deceived; but now, +it is clear; the state of his mind is as clear and decided, as my +wishes on the subject have been ever since I knew you. Yes, Harriet, +just so long have I been wanting the very circumstance to happen that +has happened. I could never tell whether an attachment between you and +Mr. Elton were most desirable or most natural. Its probability and its +eligibility have really so equalled each other! I am very happy. I +congratulate you, my dear Harriet, with all my heart. This is an +attachment which a woman may well feel pride in creating. This is a +connexion which offers nothing but good. It will give you every thing +that you want—consideration, independence, a proper home—it will fix +you in the centre of all your real friends, close to Hartfield and to +me, and confirm our intimacy for ever. This, Harriet, is an alliance +which can never raise a blush in either of us.” + +“Dear Miss Woodhouse!”—and “Dear Miss Woodhouse,” was all that Harriet, +with many tender embraces could articulate at first; but when they did +arrive at something more like conversation, it was sufficiently clear +to her friend that she saw, felt, anticipated, and remembered just as +she ought. Mr. Elton’s superiority had very ample acknowledgment. + +“Whatever you say is always right,” cried Harriet, “and therefore I +suppose, and believe, and hope it must be so; but otherwise I could not +have imagined it. It is so much beyond any thing I deserve. Mr. Elton, +who might marry any body! There cannot be two opinions about _him_. He +is so very superior. Only think of those sweet verses—‘To Miss ———.’ +Dear me, how clever!—Could it really be meant for me?” + +“I cannot make a question, or listen to a question about that. It is a +certainty. Receive it on my judgment. It is a sort of prologue to the +play, a motto to the chapter; and will be soon followed by +matter-of-fact prose.” + +“It is a sort of thing which nobody could have expected. I am sure, a +month ago, I had no more idea myself!—The strangest things do take +place!” + +“When Miss Smiths and Mr. Eltons get acquainted—they do indeed—and +really it is strange; it is out of the common course that what is so +evidently, so palpably desirable—what courts the pre-arrangement of +other people, should so immediately shape itself into the proper form. +You and Mr. Elton are by situation called together; you belong to one +another by every circumstance of your respective homes. Your marrying +will be equal to the match at Randalls. There does seem to be a +something in the air of Hartfield which gives love exactly the right +direction, and sends it into the very channel where it ought to flow. + +The course of true love never did run smooth— + + +A Hartfield edition of Shakespeare would have a long note on that +passage.” + +“That Mr. Elton should really be in love with me,—me, of all people, +who did not know him, to speak to him, at Michaelmas! And he, the very +handsomest man that ever was, and a man that every body looks up to, +quite like Mr. Knightley! His company so sought after, that every body +says he need not eat a single meal by himself if he does not chuse it; +that he has more invitations than there are days in the week. And so +excellent in the Church! Miss Nash has put down all the texts he has +ever preached from since he came to Highbury. Dear me! When I look back +to the first time I saw him! How little did I think!—The two Abbots and +I ran into the front room and peeped through the blind when we heard he +was going by, and Miss Nash came and scolded us away, and staid to look +through herself; however, she called me back presently, and let me look +too, which was very good-natured. And how beautiful we thought he +looked! He was arm-in-arm with Mr. Cole.” + +“This is an alliance which, whoever—whatever your friends may be, must +be agreeable to them, provided at least they have common sense; and we +are not to be addressing our conduct to fools. If they are anxious to +see you _happily_ married, here is a man whose amiable character gives +every assurance of it;—if they wish to have you settled in the same +country and circle which they have chosen to place you in, here it will +be accomplished; and if their only object is that you should, in the +common phrase, be _well_ married, here is the comfortable fortune, the +respectable establishment, the rise in the world which must satisfy +them.” + +“Yes, very true. How nicely you talk; I love to hear you. You +understand every thing. You and Mr. Elton are one as clever as the +other. This charade!—If I had studied a twelvemonth, I could never have +made any thing like it.” + +“I thought he meant to try his skill, by his manner of declining it +yesterday.” + +“I do think it is, without exception, the best charade I ever read.” + +“I never read one more to the purpose, certainly.” + +“It is as long again as almost all we have had before.” + +“I do not consider its length as particularly in its favour. Such +things in general cannot be too short.” + +Harriet was too intent on the lines to hear. The most satisfactory +comparisons were rising in her mind. + +“It is one thing,” said she, presently—her cheeks in a glow—“to have +very good sense in a common way, like every body else, and if there is +any thing to say, to sit down and write a letter, and say just what you +must, in a short way; and another, to write verses and charades like +this.” + +Emma could not have desired a more spirited rejection of Mr. Martin’s +prose. + +“Such sweet lines!” continued Harriet—“these two last!—But how shall I +ever be able to return the paper, or say I have found it out?—Oh! Miss +Woodhouse, what can we do about that?” + +“Leave it to me. You do nothing. He will be here this evening, I dare +say, and then I will give it him back, and some nonsense or other will +pass between us, and you shall not be committed.—Your soft eyes shall +chuse their own time for beaming. Trust to me.” + +“Oh! Miss Woodhouse, what a pity that I must not write this beautiful +charade into my book! I am sure I have not got one half so good.” + +“Leave out the two last lines, and there is no reason why you should +not write it into your book.” + +“Oh! but those two lines are”— + +—“The best of all. Granted;—for private enjoyment; and for private +enjoyment keep them. They are not at all the less written you know, +because you divide them. The couplet does not cease to be, nor does its +meaning change. But take it away, and all _appropriation_ ceases, and a +very pretty gallant charade remains, fit for any collection. Depend +upon it, he would not like to have his charade slighted, much better +than his passion. A poet in love must be encouraged in both capacities, +or neither. Give me the book, I will write it down, and then there can +be no possible reflection on you.” + +Harriet submitted, though her mind could hardly separate the parts, so +as to feel quite sure that her friend were not writing down a +declaration of love. It seemed too precious an offering for any degree +of publicity. + +“I shall never let that book go out of my own hands,” said she. + +“Very well,” replied Emma; “a most natural feeling; and the longer it +lasts, the better I shall be pleased. But here is my father coming: you +will not object to my reading the charade to him. It will be giving him +so much pleasure! He loves any thing of the sort, and especially any +thing that pays woman a compliment. He has the tenderest spirit of +gallantry towards us all!—You must let me read it to him.” + +Harriet looked grave. + +“My dear Harriet, you must not refine too much upon this charade.—You +will betray your feelings improperly, if you are too conscious and too +quick, and appear to affix more meaning, or even quite all the meaning +which may be affixed to it. Do not be overpowered by such a little +tribute of admiration. If he had been anxious for secrecy, he would not +have left the paper while I was by; but he rather pushed it towards me +than towards you. Do not let us be too solemn on the business. He has +encouragement enough to proceed, without our sighing out our souls over +this charade.” + +“Oh! no—I hope I shall not be ridiculous about it. Do as you please.” + +Mr. Woodhouse came in, and very soon led to the subject again, by the +recurrence of his very frequent inquiry of “Well, my dears, how does +your book go on?—Have you got any thing fresh?” + +“Yes, papa; we have something to read you, something quite fresh. A +piece of paper was found on the table this morning—(dropt, we suppose, +by a fairy)—containing a very pretty charade, and we have just copied +it in.” + +She read it to him, just as he liked to have any thing read, slowly and +distinctly, and two or three times over, with explanations of every +part as she proceeded—and he was very much pleased, and, as she had +foreseen, especially struck with the complimentary conclusion. + +“Aye, that’s very just, indeed, that’s very properly said. Very true. +‘Woman, lovely woman.’ It is such a pretty charade, my dear, that I can +easily guess what fairy brought it.—Nobody could have written so +prettily, but you, Emma.” + +Emma only nodded, and smiled.—After a little thinking, and a very +tender sigh, he added, + +“Ah! it is no difficulty to see who you take after! Your dear mother +was so clever at all those things! If I had but her memory! But I can +remember nothing;—not even that particular riddle which you have heard +me mention; I can only recollect the first stanza; and there are +several. + +Kitty, a fair but frozen maid, + Kindled a flame I yet deplore, +The hood-wink’d boy I called to aid, +Though of his near approach afraid, + So fatal to my suit before. + + +And that is all that I can recollect of it—but it is very clever all +the way through. But I think, my dear, you said you had got it.” + +“Yes, papa, it is written out in our second page. We copied it from the +Elegant Extracts. It was Garrick’s, you know.” + +“Aye, very true.—I wish I could recollect more of it. + +Kitty, a fair but frozen maid. + + +The name makes me think of poor Isabella; for she was very near being +christened Catherine after her grandmama. I hope we shall have her here +next week. Have you thought, my dear, where you shall put her—and what +room there will be for the children?” + +“Oh! yes—she will have her own room, of course; the room she always +has;—and there is the nursery for the children,—just as usual, you +know. Why should there be any change?” + +“I do not know, my dear—but it is so long since she was here!—not since +last Easter, and then only for a few days.—Mr. John Knightley’s being a +lawyer is very inconvenient.—Poor Isabella!—she is sadly taken away +from us all!—and how sorry she will be when she comes, not to see Miss +Taylor here!” + +“She will not be surprized, papa, at least.” + +“I do not know, my dear. I am sure I was very much surprized when I +first heard she was going to be married.” + +“We must ask Mr. and Mrs. Weston to dine with us, while Isabella is +here.” + +“Yes, my dear, if there is time.—But—(in a very depressed tone)—she is +coming for only one week. There will not be time for any thing.” + +“It is unfortunate that they cannot stay longer—but it seems a case of +necessity. Mr. John Knightley must be in town again on the 28th, and we +ought to be thankful, papa, that we are to have the whole of the time +they can give to the country, that two or three days are not to be +taken out for the Abbey. Mr. Knightley promises to give up his claim +this Christmas—though you know it is longer since they were with him, +than with us.” + +“It would be very hard, indeed, my dear, if poor Isabella were to be +anywhere but at Hartfield.” + +Mr. Woodhouse could never allow for Mr. Knightley’s claims on his +brother, or any body’s claims on Isabella, except his own. He sat +musing a little while, and then said, + +“But I do not see why poor Isabella should be obliged to go back so +soon, though he does. I think, Emma, I shall try and persuade her to +stay longer with us. She and the children might stay very well.” + +“Ah! papa—that is what you never have been able to accomplish, and I do +not think you ever will. Isabella cannot bear to stay behind her +husband.” + +This was too true for contradiction. Unwelcome as it was, Mr. Woodhouse +could only give a submissive sigh; and as Emma saw his spirits affected +by the idea of his daughter’s attachment to her husband, she +immediately led to such a branch of the subject as must raise them. + +“Harriet must give us as much of her company as she can while my +brother and sister are here. I am sure she will be pleased with the +children. We are very proud of the children, are not we, papa? I wonder +which she will think the handsomest, Henry or John?” + +“Aye, I wonder which she will. Poor little dears, how glad they will be +to come. They are very fond of being at Hartfield, Harriet.” + +“I dare say they are, sir. I am sure I do not know who is not.” + +“Henry is a fine boy, but John is very like his mama. Henry is the +eldest, he was named after me, not after his father. John, the second, +is named after his father. Some people are surprized, I believe, that +the eldest was not, but Isabella would have him called Henry, which I +thought very pretty of her. And he is a very clever boy, indeed. They +are all remarkably clever; and they have so many pretty ways. They will +come and stand by my chair, and say, ‘Grandpapa, can you give me a bit +of string?’ and once Henry asked me for a knife, but I told him knives +were only made for grandpapas. I think their father is too rough with +them very often.” + +“He appears rough to you,” said Emma, “because you are so very gentle +yourself; but if you could compare him with other papas, you would not +think him rough. He wishes his boys to be active and hardy; and if they +misbehave, can give them a sharp word now and then; but he is an +affectionate father—certainly Mr. John Knightley is an affectionate +father. The children are all fond of him.” + +“And then their uncle comes in, and tosses them up to the ceiling in a +very frightful way!” + +“But they like it, papa; there is nothing they like so much. It is such +enjoyment to them, that if their uncle did not lay down the rule of +their taking turns, whichever began would never give way to the other.” + +“Well, I cannot understand it.” + +“That is the case with us all, papa. One half of the world cannot +understand the pleasures of the other.” + +Later in the morning, and just as the girls were going to separate in +preparation for the regular four o’clock dinner, the hero of this +inimitable charade walked in again. Harriet turned away; but Emma could +receive him with the usual smile, and her quick eye soon discerned in +his the consciousness of having made a push—of having thrown a die; and +she imagined he was come to see how it might turn up. His ostensible +reason, however, was to ask whether Mr. Woodhouse’s party could be made +up in the evening without him, or whether he should be in the smallest +degree necessary at Hartfield. If he were, every thing else must give +way; but otherwise his friend Cole had been saying so much about his +dining with him—had made such a point of it, that he had promised him +conditionally to come. + +Emma thanked him, but could not allow of his disappointing his friend +on their account; her father was sure of his rubber. He re-urged—she +re-declined; and he seemed then about to make his bow, when taking the +paper from the table, she returned it— + +“Oh! here is the charade you were so obliging as to leave with us; +thank you for the sight of it. We admired it so much, that I have +ventured to write it into Miss Smith’s collection. Your friend will not +take it amiss I hope. Of course I have not transcribed beyond the first +eight lines.” + +Mr. Elton certainly did not very well know what to say. He looked +rather doubtingly—rather confused; said something about +“honour,”—glanced at Emma and at Harriet, and then seeing the book open +on the table, took it up, and examined it very attentively. With the +view of passing off an awkward moment, Emma smilingly said, + +“You must make my apologies to your friend; but so good a charade must +not be confined to one or two. He may be sure of every woman’s +approbation while he writes with such gallantry.” + +“I have no hesitation in saying,” replied Mr. Elton, though hesitating +a good deal while he spoke; “I have no hesitation in saying—at least if +my friend feels at all as _I_ do—I have not the smallest doubt that, +could he see his little effusion honoured as _I_ see it, (looking at +the book again, and replacing it on the table), he would consider it as +the proudest moment of his life.” + +After this speech he was gone as soon as possible. Emma could not think +it too soon; for with all his good and agreeable qualities, there was a +sort of parade in his speeches which was very apt to incline her to +laugh. She ran away to indulge the inclination, leaving the tender and +the sublime of pleasure to Harriet’s share. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Though now the middle of December, there had yet been no weather to +prevent the young ladies from tolerably regular exercise; and on the +morrow, Emma had a charitable visit to pay to a poor sick family, who +lived a little way out of Highbury. + +Their road to this detached cottage was down Vicarage Lane, a lane +leading at right angles from the broad, though irregular, main street +of the place; and, as may be inferred, containing the blessed abode of +Mr. Elton. A few inferior dwellings were first to be passed, and then, +about a quarter of a mile down the lane rose the Vicarage, an old and +not very good house, almost as close to the road as it could be. It had +no advantage of situation; but had been very much smartened up by the +present proprietor; and, such as it was, there could be no possibility +of the two friends passing it without a slackened pace and observing +eyes.—Emma’s remark was— + +“There it is. There go you and your riddle-book one of these +days.”—Harriet’s was— + +“Oh, what a sweet house!—How very beautiful!—There are the yellow +curtains that Miss Nash admires so much.” + +“I do not often walk this way _now_,” said Emma, as they proceeded, +“but _then_ there will be an inducement, and I shall gradually get +intimately acquainted with all the hedges, gates, pools and pollards of +this part of Highbury.” + +Harriet, she found, had never in her life been inside the Vicarage, and +her curiosity to see it was so extreme, that, considering exteriors and +probabilities, Emma could only class it, as a proof of love, with Mr. +Elton’s seeing ready wit in her. + +“I wish we could contrive it,” said she; “but I cannot think of any +tolerable pretence for going in;—no servant that I want to inquire +about of his housekeeper—no message from my father.” + +She pondered, but could think of nothing. After a mutual silence of +some minutes, Harriet thus began again— + +“I do so wonder, Miss Woodhouse, that you should not be married, or +going to be married! so charming as you are!”— + +Emma laughed, and replied, + +“My being charming, Harriet, is not quite enough to induce me to marry; +I must find other people charming—one other person at least. And I am +not only, not going to be married, at present, but have very little +intention of ever marrying at all.” + +“Ah!—so you say; but I cannot believe it.” + +“I must see somebody very superior to any one I have seen yet, to be +tempted; Mr. Elton, you know, (recollecting herself,) is out of the +question: and I do _not_ wish to see any such person. I would rather +not be tempted. I cannot really change for the better. If I were to +marry, I must expect to repent it.” + +“Dear me!—it is so odd to hear a woman talk so!”— + +“I have none of the usual inducements of women to marry. Were I to fall +in love, indeed, it would be a different thing! but I never have been +in love; it is not my way, or my nature; and I do not think I ever +shall. And, without love, I am sure I should be a fool to change such a +situation as mine. Fortune I do not want; employment I do not want; +consequence I do not want: I believe few married women are half as much +mistress of their husband’s house as I am of Hartfield; and never, +never could I expect to be so truly beloved and important; so always +first and always right in any man’s eyes as I am in my father’s.” + +“But then, to be an old maid at last, like Miss Bates!” + +“That is as formidable an image as you could present, Harriet; and if I +thought I should ever be like Miss Bates! so silly—so satisfied—so +smiling—so prosing—so undistinguishing and unfastidious—and so apt to +tell every thing relative to every body about me, I would marry +to-morrow. But between _us_, I am convinced there never can be any +likeness, except in being unmarried.” + +“But still, you will be an old maid! and that’s so dreadful!” + +“Never mind, Harriet, I shall not be a poor old maid; and it is poverty +only which makes celibacy contemptible to a generous public! A single +woman, with a very narrow income, must be a ridiculous, disagreeable +old maid! the proper sport of boys and girls, but a single woman, of +good fortune, is always respectable, and may be as sensible and +pleasant as any body else. And the distinction is not quite so much +against the candour and common sense of the world as appears at first; +for a very narrow income has a tendency to contract the mind, and sour +the temper. Those who can barely live, and who live perforce in a very +small, and generally very inferior, society, may well be illiberal and +cross. This does not apply, however, to Miss Bates; she is only too +good natured and too silly to suit me; but, in general, she is very +much to the taste of every body, though single and though poor. Poverty +certainly has not contracted her mind: I really believe, if she had +only a shilling in the world, she would be very likely to give away +sixpence of it; and nobody is afraid of her: that is a great charm.” + +“Dear me! but what shall you do? how shall you employ yourself when you +grow old?” + +“If I know myself, Harriet, mine is an active, busy mind, with a great +many independent resources; and I do not perceive why I should be more +in want of employment at forty or fifty than one-and-twenty. Woman’s +usual occupations of hand and mind will be as open to me then as they +are now; or with no important variation. If I draw less, I shall read +more; if I give up music, I shall take to carpet-work. And as for +objects of interest, objects for the affections, which is in truth the +great point of inferiority, the want of which is really the great evil +to be avoided in _not_ marrying, I shall be very well off, with all the +children of a sister I love so much, to care about. There will be +enough of them, in all probability, to supply every sort of sensation +that declining life can need. There will be enough for every hope and +every fear; and though my attachment to none can equal that of a +parent, it suits my ideas of comfort better than what is warmer and +blinder. My nephews and nieces!—I shall often have a niece with me.” + +“Do you know Miss Bates’s niece? That is, I know you must have seen her +a hundred times—but are you acquainted?” + +“Oh! yes; we are always forced to be acquainted whenever she comes to +Highbury. By the bye, _that_ is almost enough to put one out of conceit +with a niece. Heaven forbid! at least, that I should ever bore people +half so much about all the Knightleys together, as she does about Jane +Fairfax. One is sick of the very name of Jane Fairfax. Every letter +from her is read forty times over; her compliments to all friends go +round and round again; and if she does but send her aunt the pattern of +a stomacher, or knit a pair of garters for her grandmother, one hears +of nothing else for a month. I wish Jane Fairfax very well; but she +tires me to death.” + +They were now approaching the cottage, and all idle topics were +superseded. Emma was very compassionate; and the distresses of the poor +were as sure of relief from her personal attention and kindness, her +counsel and her patience, as from her purse. She understood their ways, +could allow for their ignorance and their temptations, had no romantic +expectations of extraordinary virtue from those for whom education had +done so little; entered into their troubles with ready sympathy, and +always gave her assistance with as much intelligence as good-will. In +the present instance, it was sickness and poverty together which she +came to visit; and after remaining there as long as she could give +comfort or advice, she quitted the cottage with such an impression of +the scene as made her say to Harriet, as they walked away, + +“These are the sights, Harriet, to do one good. How trifling they make +every thing else appear!—I feel now as if I could think of nothing but +these poor creatures all the rest of the day; and yet, who can say how +soon it may all vanish from my mind?” + +“Very true,” said Harriet. “Poor creatures! one can think of nothing +else.” + +“And really, I do not think the impression will soon be over,” said +Emma, as she crossed the low hedge, and tottering footstep which ended +the narrow, slippery path through the cottage garden, and brought them +into the lane again. “I do not think it will,” stopping to look once +more at all the outward wretchedness of the place, and recall the still +greater within. + +“Oh! dear, no,” said her companion. + +They walked on. The lane made a slight bend; and when that bend was +passed, Mr. Elton was immediately in sight; and so near as to give Emma +time only to say farther, + +“Ah! Harriet, here comes a very sudden trial of our stability in good +thoughts. Well, (smiling,) I hope it may be allowed that if compassion +has produced exertion and relief to the sufferers, it has done all that +is truly important. If we feel for the wretched, enough to do all we +can for them, the rest is empty sympathy, only distressing to +ourselves.” + +Harriet could just answer, “Oh! dear, yes,” before the gentleman joined +them. The wants and sufferings of the poor family, however, were the +first subject on meeting. He had been going to call on them. His visit +he would now defer; but they had a very interesting parley about what +could be done and should be done. Mr. Elton then turned back to +accompany them. + +“To fall in with each other on such an errand as this,” thought Emma; +“to meet in a charitable scheme; this will bring a great increase of +love on each side. I should not wonder if it were to bring on the +declaration. It must, if I were not here. I wish I were anywhere else.” + +Anxious to separate herself from them as far as she could, she soon +afterwards took possession of a narrow footpath, a little raised on one +side of the lane, leaving them together in the main road. But she had +not been there two minutes when she found that Harriet’s habits of +dependence and imitation were bringing her up too, and that, in short, +they would both be soon after her. This would not do; she immediately +stopped, under pretence of having some alteration to make in the lacing +of her half-boot, and stooping down in complete occupation of the +footpath, begged them to have the goodness to walk on, and she would +follow in half a minute. They did as they were desired; and by the time +she judged it reasonable to have done with her boot, she had the +comfort of farther delay in her power, being overtaken by a child from +the cottage, setting out, according to orders, with her pitcher, to +fetch broth from Hartfield. To walk by the side of this child, and talk +to and question her, was the most natural thing in the world, or would +have been the most natural, had she been acting just then without +design; and by this means the others were still able to keep ahead, +without any obligation of waiting for her. She gained on them, however, +involuntarily: the child’s pace was quick, and theirs rather slow; and +she was the more concerned at it, from their being evidently in a +conversation which interested them. Mr. Elton was speaking with +animation, Harriet listening with a very pleased attention; and Emma, +having sent the child on, was beginning to think how she might draw +back a little more, when they both looked around, and she was obliged +to join them. + +Mr. Elton was still talking, still engaged in some interesting detail; +and Emma experienced some disappointment when she found that he was +only giving his fair companion an account of the yesterday’s party at +his friend Cole’s, and that she was come in herself for the Stilton +cheese, the north Wiltshire, the butter, the celery, the beet-root, and +all the dessert. + +“This would soon have led to something better, of course,” was her +consoling reflection; “any thing interests between those who love; and +any thing will serve as introduction to what is near the heart. If I +could but have kept longer away!” + +They now walked on together quietly, till within view of the vicarage +pales, when a sudden resolution, of at least getting Harriet into the +house, made her again find something very much amiss about her boot, +and fall behind to arrange it once more. She then broke the lace off +short, and dexterously throwing it into a ditch, was presently obliged +to entreat them to stop, and acknowledged her inability to put herself +to rights so as to be able to walk home in tolerable comfort. + +“Part of my lace is gone,” said she, “and I do not know how I am to +contrive. I really am a most troublesome companion to you both, but I +hope I am not often so ill-equipped. Mr. Elton, I must beg leave to +stop at your house, and ask your housekeeper for a bit of ribband or +string, or any thing just to keep my boot on.” + +Mr. Elton looked all happiness at this proposition; and nothing could +exceed his alertness and attention in conducting them into his house +and endeavouring to make every thing appear to advantage. The room they +were taken into was the one he chiefly occupied, and looking forwards; +behind it was another with which it immediately communicated; the door +between them was open, and Emma passed into it with the housekeeper to +receive her assistance in the most comfortable manner. She was obliged +to leave the door ajar as she found it; but she fully intended that Mr. +Elton should close it. It was not closed, however, it still remained +ajar; but by engaging the housekeeper in incessant conversation, she +hoped to make it practicable for him to chuse his own subject in the +adjoining room. For ten minutes she could hear nothing but herself. It +could be protracted no longer. She was then obliged to be finished, and +make her appearance. + +The lovers were standing together at one of the windows. It had a most +favourable aspect; and, for half a minute, Emma felt the glory of +having schemed successfully. But it would not do; he had not come to +the point. He had been most agreeable, most delightful; he had told +Harriet that he had seen them go by, and had purposely followed them; +other little gallantries and allusions had been dropt, but nothing +serious. + +“Cautious, very cautious,” thought Emma; “he advances inch by inch, and +will hazard nothing till he believes himself secure.” + +Still, however, though every thing had not been accomplished by her +ingenious device, she could not but flatter herself that it had been +the occasion of much present enjoyment to both, and must be leading +them forward to the great event. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +Mr. Elton must now be left to himself. It was no longer in Emma’s power +to superintend his happiness or quicken his measures. The coming of her +sister’s family was so very near at hand, that first in anticipation, +and then in reality, it became henceforth her prime object of interest; +and during the ten days of their stay at Hartfield it was not to be +expected—she did not herself expect—that any thing beyond occasional, +fortuitous assistance could be afforded by her to the lovers. They +might advance rapidly if they would, however; they must advance somehow +or other whether they would or no. She hardly wished to have more +leisure for them. There are people, who the more you do for them, the +less they will do for themselves. + +Mr. and Mrs. John Knightley, from having been longer than usual absent +from Surry, were exciting of course rather more than the usual +interest. Till this year, every long vacation since their marriage had +been divided between Hartfield and Donwell Abbey; but all the holidays +of this autumn had been given to sea-bathing for the children, and it +was therefore many months since they had been seen in a regular way by +their Surry connexions, or seen at all by Mr. Woodhouse, who could not +be induced to get so far as London, even for poor Isabella’s sake; and +who consequently was now most nervously and apprehensively happy in +forestalling this too short visit. + +He thought much of the evils of the journey for her, and not a little +of the fatigues of his own horses and coachman who were to bring some +of the party the last half of the way; but his alarms were needless; +the sixteen miles being happily accomplished, and Mr. and Mrs. John +Knightley, their five children, and a competent number of +nursery-maids, all reaching Hartfield in safety. The bustle and joy of +such an arrival, the many to be talked to, welcomed, encouraged, and +variously dispersed and disposed of, produced a noise and confusion +which his nerves could not have borne under any other cause, nor have +endured much longer even for this; but the ways of Hartfield and the +feelings of her father were so respected by Mrs. John Knightley, that +in spite of maternal solicitude for the immediate enjoyment of her +little ones, and for their having instantly all the liberty and +attendance, all the eating and drinking, and sleeping and playing, +which they could possibly wish for, without the smallest delay, the +children were never allowed to be long a disturbance to him, either in +themselves or in any restless attendance on them. + +Mrs. John Knightley was a pretty, elegant little woman, of gentle, +quiet manners, and a disposition remarkably amiable and affectionate; +wrapt up in her family; a devoted wife, a doating mother, and so +tenderly attached to her father and sister that, but for these higher +ties, a warmer love might have seemed impossible. She could never see a +fault in any of them. She was not a woman of strong understanding or +any quickness; and with this resemblance of her father, she inherited +also much of his constitution; was delicate in her own health, +over-careful of that of her children, had many fears and many nerves, +and was as fond of her own Mr. Wingfield in town as her father could be +of Mr. Perry. They were alike too, in a general benevolence of temper, +and a strong habit of regard for every old acquaintance. + +Mr. John Knightley was a tall, gentleman-like, and very clever man; +rising in his profession, domestic, and respectable in his private +character; but with reserved manners which prevented his being +generally pleasing; and capable of being sometimes out of humour. He +was not an ill-tempered man, not so often unreasonably cross as to +deserve such a reproach; but his temper was not his great perfection; +and, indeed, with such a worshipping wife, it was hardly possible that +any natural defects in it should not be increased. The extreme +sweetness of her temper must hurt his. He had all the clearness and +quickness of mind which she wanted, and he could sometimes act an +ungracious, or say a severe thing. + +He was not a great favourite with his fair sister-in-law. Nothing wrong +in him escaped her. She was quick in feeling the little injuries to +Isabella, which Isabella never felt herself. Perhaps she might have +passed over more had his manners been flattering to Isabella’s sister, +but they were only those of a calmly kind brother and friend, without +praise and without blindness; but hardly any degree of personal +compliment could have made her regardless of that greatest fault of all +in her eyes which he sometimes fell into, the want of respectful +forbearance towards her father. There he had not always the patience +that could have been wished. Mr. Woodhouse’s peculiarities and +fidgetiness were sometimes provoking him to a rational remonstrance or +sharp retort equally ill-bestowed. It did not often happen; for Mr. +John Knightley had really a great regard for his father-in-law, and +generally a strong sense of what was due to him; but it was too often +for Emma’s charity, especially as there was all the pain of +apprehension frequently to be endured, though the offence came not. The +beginning, however, of every visit displayed none but the properest +feelings, and this being of necessity so short might be hoped to pass +away in unsullied cordiality. They had not been long seated and +composed when Mr. Woodhouse, with a melancholy shake of the head and a +sigh, called his daughter’s attention to the sad change at Hartfield +since she had been there last. + +“Ah, my dear,” said he, “poor Miss Taylor—It is a grievous business.” + +“Oh yes, sir,” cried she with ready sympathy, “how you must miss her! +And dear Emma, too!—What a dreadful loss to you both!—I have been so +grieved for you.—I could not imagine how you could possibly do without +her.—It is a sad change indeed.—But I hope she is pretty well, sir.” + +“Pretty well, my dear—I hope—pretty well.—I do not know but that the +place agrees with her tolerably.” + +Mr. John Knightley here asked Emma quietly whether there were any +doubts of the air of Randalls. + +“Oh! no—none in the least. I never saw Mrs. Weston better in my +life—never looking so well. Papa is only speaking his own regret.” + +“Very much to the honour of both,” was the handsome reply. + +“And do you see her, sir, tolerably often?” asked Isabella in the +plaintive tone which just suited her father. + +Mr. Woodhouse hesitated.—“Not near so often, my dear, as I could wish.” + +“Oh! papa, we have missed seeing them but one entire day since they +married. Either in the morning or evening of every day, excepting one, +have we seen either Mr. Weston or Mrs. Weston, and generally both, +either at Randalls or here—and as you may suppose, Isabella, most +frequently here. They are very, very kind in their visits. Mr. Weston +is really as kind as herself. Papa, if you speak in that melancholy +way, you will be giving Isabella a false idea of us all. Every body +must be aware that Miss Taylor must be missed, but every body ought +also to be assured that Mr. and Mrs. Weston do really prevent our +missing her by any means to the extent we ourselves anticipated—which +is the exact truth.” + +“Just as it should be,” said Mr. John Knightley, “and just as I hoped +it was from your letters. Her wish of shewing you attention could not +be doubted, and his being a disengaged and social man makes it all +easy. I have been always telling you, my love, that I had no idea of +the change being so very material to Hartfield as you apprehended; and +now you have Emma’s account, I hope you will be satisfied.” + +“Why, to be sure,” said Mr. Woodhouse—“yes, certainly—I cannot deny +that Mrs. Weston, poor Mrs. Weston, does come and see us pretty +often—but then—she is always obliged to go away again.” + +“It would be very hard upon Mr. Weston if she did not, papa.—You quite +forget poor Mr. Weston.” + +“I think, indeed,” said John Knightley pleasantly, “that Mr. Weston has +some little claim. You and I, Emma, will venture to take the part of +the poor husband. I, being a husband, and you not being a wife, the +claims of the man may very likely strike us with equal force. As for +Isabella, she has been married long enough to see the convenience of +putting all the Mr. Westons aside as much as she can.” + +“Me, my love,” cried his wife, hearing and understanding only in part.— +“Are you talking about me?—I am sure nobody ought to be, or can be, a +greater advocate for matrimony than I am; and if it had not been for +the misery of her leaving Hartfield, I should never have thought of +Miss Taylor but as the most fortunate woman in the world; and as to +slighting Mr. Weston, that excellent Mr. Weston, I think there is +nothing he does not deserve. I believe he is one of the very +best-tempered men that ever existed. Excepting yourself and your +brother, I do not know his equal for temper. I shall never forget his +flying Henry’s kite for him that very windy day last Easter—and ever +since his particular kindness last September twelvemonth in writing +that note, at twelve o’clock at night, on purpose to assure me that +there was no scarlet fever at Cobham, I have been convinced there could +not be a more feeling heart nor a better man in existence.—If any body +can deserve him, it must be Miss Taylor.” + +“Where is the young man?” said John Knightley. “Has he been here on +this occasion—or has he not?” + +“He has not been here yet,” replied Emma. “There was a strong +expectation of his coming soon after the marriage, but it ended in +nothing; and I have not heard him mentioned lately.” + +“But you should tell them of the letter, my dear,” said her father. “He +wrote a letter to poor Mrs. Weston, to congratulate her, and a very +proper, handsome letter it was. She shewed it to me. I thought it very +well done of him indeed. Whether it was his own idea you know, one +cannot tell. He is but young, and his uncle, perhaps—” + +“My dear papa, he is three-and-twenty. You forget how time passes.” + +“Three-and-twenty!—is he indeed?—Well, I could not have thought it—and +he was but two years old when he lost his poor mother! Well, time does +fly indeed!—and my memory is very bad. However, it was an exceeding +good, pretty letter, and gave Mr. and Mrs. Weston a great deal of +pleasure. I remember it was written from Weymouth, and dated Sept. +28th—and began, ‘My dear Madam,’ but I forget how it went on; and it +was signed ‘F. C. Weston Churchill.’—I remember that perfectly.” + +“How very pleasing and proper of him!” cried the good-hearted Mrs. John +Knightley. “I have no doubt of his being a most amiable young man. But +how sad it is that he should not live at home with his father! There is +something so shocking in a child’s being taken away from his parents +and natural home! I never could comprehend how Mr. Weston could part +with him. To give up one’s child! I really never could think well of +any body who proposed such a thing to any body else.” + +“Nobody ever did think well of the Churchills, I fancy,” observed Mr. +John Knightley coolly. “But you need not imagine Mr. Weston to have +felt what you would feel in giving up Henry or John. Mr. Weston is +rather an easy, cheerful-tempered man, than a man of strong feelings; +he takes things as he finds them, and makes enjoyment of them somehow +or other, depending, I suspect, much more upon what is called society +for his comforts, that is, upon the power of eating and drinking, and +playing whist with his neighbours five times a week, than upon family +affection, or any thing that home affords.” + +Emma could not like what bordered on a reflection on Mr. Weston, and +had half a mind to take it up; but she struggled, and let it pass. She +would keep the peace if possible; and there was something honourable +and valuable in the strong domestic habits, the all-sufficiency of home +to himself, whence resulted her brother’s disposition to look down on +the common rate of social intercourse, and those to whom it was +important.—It had a high claim to forbearance. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +Mr. Knightley was to dine with them—rather against the inclination of +Mr. Woodhouse, who did not like that any one should share with him in +Isabella’s first day. Emma’s sense of right however had decided it; and +besides the consideration of what was due to each brother, she had +particular pleasure, from the circumstance of the late disagreement +between Mr. Knightley and herself, in procuring him the proper +invitation. + +She hoped they might now become friends again. She thought it was time +to make up. Making-up indeed would not do. _She_ certainly had not been +in the wrong, and _he_ would never own that he had. Concession must be +out of the question; but it was time to appear to forget that they had +ever quarrelled; and she hoped it might rather assist the restoration +of friendship, that when he came into the room she had one of the +children with her—the youngest, a nice little girl about eight months +old, who was now making her first visit to Hartfield, and very happy to +be danced about in her aunt’s arms. It did assist; for though he began +with grave looks and short questions, he was soon led on to talk of +them all in the usual way, and to take the child out of her arms with +all the unceremoniousness of perfect amity. Emma felt they were friends +again; and the conviction giving her at first great satisfaction, and +then a little sauciness, she could not help saying, as he was admiring +the baby, + +“What a comfort it is, that we think alike about our nephews and +nieces. As to men and women, our opinions are sometimes very different; +but with regard to these children, I observe we never disagree.” + +“If you were as much guided by nature in your estimate of men and +women, and as little under the power of fancy and whim in your dealings +with them, as you are where these children are concerned, we might +always think alike.” + +“To be sure—our discordancies must always arise from my being in the +wrong.” + +“Yes,” said he, smiling—“and reason good. I was sixteen years old when +you were born.” + +“A material difference then,” she replied—“and no doubt you were much +my superior in judgment at that period of our lives; but does not the +lapse of one-and-twenty years bring our understandings a good deal +nearer?” + +“Yes—a good deal _nearer_.” + +“But still, not near enough to give me a chance of being right, if we +think differently.” + +“I have still the advantage of you by sixteen years’ experience, and by +not being a pretty young woman and a spoiled child. Come, my dear Emma, +let us be friends, and say no more about it. Tell your aunt, little +Emma, that she ought to set you a better example than to be renewing +old grievances, and that if she were not wrong before, she is now.” + +“That’s true,” she cried—“very true. Little Emma, grow up a better +woman than your aunt. Be infinitely cleverer and not half so conceited. +Now, Mr. Knightley, a word or two more, and I have done. As far as good +intentions went, we were _both_ right, and I must say that no effects +on my side of the argument have yet proved wrong. I only want to know +that Mr. Martin is not very, very bitterly disappointed.” + +“A man cannot be more so,” was his short, full answer. + +“Ah!—Indeed I am very sorry.—Come, shake hands with me.” + +This had just taken place and with great cordiality, when John +Knightley made his appearance, and “How d’ye do, George?” and “John, +how are you?” succeeded in the true English style, burying under a +calmness that seemed all but indifference, the real attachment which +would have led either of them, if requisite, to do every thing for the +good of the other. + +The evening was quiet and conversable, as Mr. Woodhouse declined cards +entirely for the sake of comfortable talk with his dear Isabella, and +the little party made two natural divisions; on one side he and his +daughter; on the other the two Mr. Knightleys; their subjects totally +distinct, or very rarely mixing—and Emma only occasionally joining in +one or the other. + +The brothers talked of their own concerns and pursuits, but principally +of those of the elder, whose temper was by much the most communicative, +and who was always the greater talker. As a magistrate, he had +generally some point of law to consult John about, or, at least, some +curious anecdote to give; and as a farmer, as keeping in hand the +home-farm at Donwell, he had to tell what every field was to bear next +year, and to give all such local information as could not fail of being +interesting to a brother whose home it had equally been the longest +part of his life, and whose attachments were strong. The plan of a +drain, the change of a fence, the felling of a tree, and the +destination of every acre for wheat, turnips, or spring corn, was +entered into with as much equality of interest by John, as his cooler +manners rendered possible; and if his willing brother ever left him any +thing to inquire about, his inquiries even approached a tone of +eagerness. + +While they were thus comfortably occupied, Mr. Woodhouse was enjoying a +full flow of happy regrets and fearful affection with his daughter. + +“My poor dear Isabella,” said he, fondly taking her hand, and +interrupting, for a few moments, her busy labours for some one of her +five children—“How long it is, how terribly long since you were here! +And how tired you must be after your journey! You must go to bed early, +my dear—and I recommend a little gruel to you before you go.—You and I +will have a nice basin of gruel together. My dear Emma, suppose we all +have a little gruel.” + +Emma could not suppose any such thing, knowing as she did, that both +the Mr. Knightleys were as unpersuadable on that article as +herself;—and two basins only were ordered. After a little more +discourse in praise of gruel, with some wondering at its not being +taken every evening by every body, he proceeded to say, with an air of +grave reflection, + +“It was an awkward business, my dear, your spending the autumn at South +End instead of coming here. I never had much opinion of the sea air.” + +“Mr. Wingfield most strenuously recommended it, sir—or we should not +have gone. He recommended it for all the children, but particularly for +the weakness in little Bella’s throat,—both sea air and bathing.” + +“Ah! my dear, but Perry had many doubts about the sea doing her any +good; and as to myself, I have been long perfectly convinced, though +perhaps I never told you so before, that the sea is very rarely of use +to any body. I am sure it almost killed me once.” + +“Come, come,” cried Emma, feeling this to be an unsafe subject, “I must +beg you not to talk of the sea. It makes me envious and miserable;—I +who have never seen it! South End is prohibited, if you please. My dear +Isabella, I have not heard you make one inquiry about Mr. Perry yet; +and he never forgets you.” + +“Oh! good Mr. Perry—how is he, sir?” + +“Why, pretty well; but not quite well. Poor Perry is bilious, and he +has not time to take care of himself—he tells me he has not time to +take care of himself—which is very sad—but he is always wanted all +round the country. I suppose there is not a man in such practice +anywhere. But then there is not so clever a man any where.” + +“And Mrs. Perry and the children, how are they? do the children grow? I +have a great regard for Mr. Perry. I hope he will be calling soon. He +will be so pleased to see my little ones.” + +“I hope he will be here to-morrow, for I have a question or two to ask +him about myself of some consequence. And, my dear, whenever he comes, +you had better let him look at little Bella’s throat.” + +“Oh! my dear sir, her throat is so much better that I have hardly any +uneasiness about it. Either bathing has been of the greatest service to +her, or else it is to be attributed to an excellent embrocation of Mr. +Wingfield’s, which we have been applying at times ever since August.” + +“It is not very likely, my dear, that bathing should have been of use +to her—and if I had known you were wanting an embrocation, I would have +spoken to— + +“You seem to me to have forgotten Mrs. and Miss Bates,” said Emma, “I +have not heard one inquiry after them.” + +“Oh! the good Bateses—I am quite ashamed of myself—but you mention them +in most of your letters. I hope they are quite well. Good old Mrs. +Bates—I will call upon her to-morrow, and take my children.—They are +always so pleased to see my children.—And that excellent Miss +Bates!—such thorough worthy people!—How are they, sir?” + +“Why, pretty well, my dear, upon the whole. But poor Mrs. Bates had a +bad cold about a month ago.” + +“How sorry I am! But colds were never so prevalent as they have been +this autumn. Mr. Wingfield told me that he has never known them more +general or heavy—except when it has been quite an influenza.” + +“That has been a good deal the case, my dear; but not to the degree you +mention. Perry says that colds have been very general, but not so heavy +as he has very often known them in November. Perry does not call it +altogether a sickly season.” + +“No, I do not know that Mr. Wingfield considers it _very_ sickly +except— + +“Ah! my poor dear child, the truth is, that in London it is always a +sickly season. Nobody is healthy in London, nobody can be. It is a +dreadful thing to have you forced to live there! so far off!—and the +air so bad!” + +“No, indeed—_we_ are not at all in a bad air. Our part of London is +very superior to most others!—You must not confound us with London in +general, my dear sir. The neighbourhood of Brunswick Square is very +different from almost all the rest. We are so very airy! I should be +unwilling, I own, to live in any other part of the town;—there is +hardly any other that I could be satisfied to have my children in: but +_we_ are so remarkably airy!—Mr. Wingfield thinks the vicinity of +Brunswick Square decidedly the most favourable as to air.” + +“Ah! my dear, it is not like Hartfield. You make the best of it—but +after you have been a week at Hartfield, you are all of you different +creatures; you do not look like the same. Now I cannot say, that I +think you are any of you looking well at present.” + +“I am sorry to hear you say so, sir; but I assure you, excepting those +little nervous head-aches and palpitations which I am never entirely +free from anywhere, I am quite well myself; and if the children were +rather pale before they went to bed, it was only because they were a +little more tired than usual, from their journey and the happiness of +coming. I hope you will think better of their looks to-morrow; for I +assure you Mr. Wingfield told me, that he did not believe he had ever +sent us off altogether, in such good case. I trust, at least, that you +do not think Mr. Knightley looking ill,” turning her eyes with +affectionate anxiety towards her husband. + +“Middling, my dear; I cannot compliment you. I think Mr. John Knightley +very far from looking well.” + +“What is the matter, sir?—Did you speak to me?” cried Mr. John +Knightley, hearing his own name. + +“I am sorry to find, my love, that my father does not think you looking +well—but I hope it is only from being a little fatigued. I could have +wished, however, as you know, that you had seen Mr. Wingfield before +you left home.” + +“My dear Isabella,”—exclaimed he hastily—“pray do not concern yourself +about my looks. Be satisfied with doctoring and coddling yourself and +the children, and let me look as I chuse.” + +“I did not thoroughly understand what you were telling your brother,” +cried Emma, “about your friend Mr. Graham’s intending to have a bailiff +from Scotland, to look after his new estate. What will it answer? Will +not the old prejudice be too strong?” + +And she talked in this way so long and successfully that, when forced +to give her attention again to her father and sister, she had nothing +worse to hear than Isabella’s kind inquiry after Jane Fairfax; and Jane +Fairfax, though no great favourite with her in general, she was at that +moment very happy to assist in praising. + +“That sweet, amiable Jane Fairfax!” said Mrs. John Knightley.—“It is so +long since I have seen her, except now and then for a moment +accidentally in town! What happiness it must be to her good old +grandmother and excellent aunt, when she comes to visit them! I always +regret excessively on dear Emma’s account that she cannot be more at +Highbury; but now their daughter is married, I suppose Colonel and Mrs. +Campbell will not be able to part with her at all. She would be such a +delightful companion for Emma.” + +Mr. Woodhouse agreed to it all, but added, + +“Our little friend Harriet Smith, however, is just such another pretty +kind of young person. You will like Harriet. Emma could not have a +better companion than Harriet.” + +“I am most happy to hear it—but only Jane Fairfax one knows to be so +very accomplished and superior!—and exactly Emma’s age.” + +This topic was discussed very happily, and others succeeded of similar +moment, and passed away with similar harmony; but the evening did not +close without a little return of agitation. The gruel came and supplied +a great deal to be said—much praise and many comments—undoubting +decision of its wholesomeness for every constitution, and pretty severe +Philippics upon the many houses where it was never met with +tolerably;—but, unfortunately, among the failures which the daughter +had to instance, the most recent, and therefore most prominent, was in +her own cook at South End, a young woman hired for the time, who never +had been able to understand what she meant by a basin of nice smooth +gruel, thin, but not too thin. Often as she had wished for and ordered +it, she had never been able to get any thing tolerable. Here was a +dangerous opening. + +“Ah!” said Mr. Woodhouse, shaking his head and fixing his eyes on her +with tender concern.—The ejaculation in Emma’s ear expressed, “Ah! +there is no end of the sad consequences of your going to South End. It +does not bear talking of.” And for a little while she hoped he would +not talk of it, and that a silent rumination might suffice to restore +him to the relish of his own smooth gruel. After an interval of some +minutes, however, he began with, + +“I shall always be very sorry that you went to the sea this autumn, +instead of coming here.” + +“But why should you be sorry, sir?—I assure you, it did the children a +great deal of good.” + +“And, moreover, if you must go to the sea, it had better not have been +to South End. South End is an unhealthy place. Perry was surprized to +hear you had fixed upon South End.” + +“I know there is such an idea with many people, but indeed it is quite +a mistake, sir.—We all had our health perfectly well there, never found +the least inconvenience from the mud; and Mr. Wingfield says it is +entirely a mistake to suppose the place unhealthy; and I am sure he may +be depended on, for he thoroughly understands the nature of the air, +and his own brother and family have been there repeatedly.” + +“You should have gone to Cromer, my dear, if you went anywhere.—Perry +was a week at Cromer once, and he holds it to be the best of all the +sea-bathing places. A fine open sea, he says, and very pure air. And, +by what I understand, you might have had lodgings there quite away from +the sea—a quarter of a mile off—very comfortable. You should have +consulted Perry.” + +“But, my dear sir, the difference of the journey;—only consider how +great it would have been.—An hundred miles, perhaps, instead of forty.” + +“Ah! my dear, as Perry says, where health is at stake, nothing else +should be considered; and if one is to travel, there is not much to +chuse between forty miles and an hundred.—Better not move at all, +better stay in London altogether than travel forty miles to get into a +worse air. This is just what Perry said. It seemed to him a very +ill-judged measure.” + +Emma’s attempts to stop her father had been vain; and when he had +reached such a point as this, she could not wonder at her +brother-in-law’s breaking out. + +“Mr. Perry,” said he, in a voice of very strong displeasure, “would do +as well to keep his opinion till it is asked for. Why does he make it +any business of his, to wonder at what I do?—at my taking my family to +one part of the coast or another?—I may be allowed, I hope, the use of +my judgment as well as Mr. Perry.—I want his directions no more than +his drugs.” He paused—and growing cooler in a moment, added, with only +sarcastic dryness, “If Mr. Perry can tell me how to convey a wife and +five children a distance of an hundred and thirty miles with no greater +expense or inconvenience than a distance of forty, I should be as +willing to prefer Cromer to South End as he could himself.” + +“True, true,” cried Mr. Knightley, with most ready interposition—“very +true. That’s a consideration indeed.—But John, as to what I was telling +you of my idea of moving the path to Langham, of turning it more to the +right that it may not cut through the home meadows, I cannot conceive +any difficulty. I should not attempt it, if it were to be the means of +inconvenience to the Highbury people, but if you call to mind exactly +the present line of the path.... The only way of proving it, however, +will be to turn to our maps. I shall see you at the Abbey to-morrow +morning I hope, and then we will look them over, and you shall give me +your opinion.” + +Mr. Woodhouse was rather agitated by such harsh reflections on his +friend Perry, to whom he had, in fact, though unconsciously, been +attributing many of his own feelings and expressions;—but the soothing +attentions of his daughters gradually removed the present evil, and the +immediate alertness of one brother, and better recollections of the +other, prevented any renewal of it. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +There could hardly be a happier creature in the world than Mrs. John +Knightley, in this short visit to Hartfield, going about every morning +among her old acquaintance with her five children, and talking over +what she had done every evening with her father and sister. She had +nothing to wish otherwise, but that the days did not pass so swiftly. +It was a delightful visit;—perfect, in being much too short. + +In general their evenings were less engaged with friends than their +mornings; but one complete dinner engagement, and out of the house too, +there was no avoiding, though at Christmas. Mr. Weston would take no +denial; they must all dine at Randalls one day;—even Mr. Woodhouse was +persuaded to think it a possible thing in preference to a division of +the party. + +How they were all to be conveyed, he would have made a difficulty if he +could, but as his son and daughter’s carriage and horses were actually +at Hartfield, he was not able to make more than a simple question on +that head; it hardly amounted to a doubt; nor did it occupy Emma long +to convince him that they might in one of the carriages find room for +Harriet also. + +Harriet, Mr. Elton, and Mr. Knightley, their own especial set, were the +only persons invited to meet them;—the hours were to be early, as well +as the numbers few; Mr. Woodhouse’s habits and inclination being +consulted in every thing. + +The evening before this great event (for it was a very great event that +Mr. Woodhouse should dine out, on the 24th of December) had been spent +by Harriet at Hartfield, and she had gone home so much indisposed with +a cold, that, but for her own earnest wish of being nursed by Mrs. +Goddard, Emma could not have allowed her to leave the house. Emma +called on her the next day, and found her doom already signed with +regard to Randalls. She was very feverish and had a bad sore throat: +Mrs. Goddard was full of care and affection, Mr. Perry was talked of, +and Harriet herself was too ill and low to resist the authority which +excluded her from this delightful engagement, though she could not +speak of her loss without many tears. + +Emma sat with her as long as she could, to attend her in Mrs. Goddard’s +unavoidable absences, and raise her spirits by representing how much +Mr. Elton’s would be depressed when he knew her state; and left her at +last tolerably comfortable, in the sweet dependence of his having a +most comfortless visit, and of their all missing her very much. She had +not advanced many yards from Mrs. Goddard’s door, when she was met by +Mr. Elton himself, evidently coming towards it, and as they walked on +slowly together in conversation about the invalid—of whom he, on the +rumour of considerable illness, had been going to inquire, that he +might carry some report of her to Hartfield—they were overtaken by Mr. +John Knightley returning from the daily visit to Donwell, with his two +eldest boys, whose healthy, glowing faces shewed all the benefit of a +country run, and seemed to ensure a quick despatch of the roast mutton +and rice pudding they were hastening home for. They joined company and +proceeded together. Emma was just describing the nature of her friend’s +complaint;—“a throat very much inflamed, with a great deal of heat +about her, a quick, low pulse, &c. and she was sorry to find from Mrs. +Goddard that Harriet was liable to very bad sore-throats, and had often +alarmed her with them.” Mr. Elton looked all alarm on the occasion, as +he exclaimed, + +“A sore-throat!—I hope not infectious. I hope not of a putrid +infectious sort. Has Perry seen her? Indeed you should take care of +yourself as well as of your friend. Let me entreat you to run no risks. +Why does not Perry see her?” + +Emma, who was not really at all frightened herself, tranquillised this +excess of apprehension by assurances of Mrs. Goddard’s experience and +care; but as there must still remain a degree of uneasiness which she +could not wish to reason away, which she would rather feed and assist +than not, she added soon afterwards—as if quite another subject, + +“It is so cold, so very cold—and looks and feels so very much like +snow, that if it were to any other place or with any other party, I +should really try not to go out to-day—and dissuade my father from +venturing; but as he has made up his mind, and does not seem to feel +the cold himself, I do not like to interfere, as I know it would be so +great a disappointment to Mr. and Mrs. Weston. But, upon my word, Mr. +Elton, in your case, I should certainly excuse myself. You appear to me +a little hoarse already, and when you consider what demand of voice and +what fatigues to-morrow will bring, I think it would be no more than +common prudence to stay at home and take care of yourself to-night.” + +Mr. Elton looked as if he did not very well know what answer to make; +which was exactly the case; for though very much gratified by the kind +care of such a fair lady, and not liking to resist any advice of her’s, +he had not really the least inclination to give up the visit;—but Emma, +too eager and busy in her own previous conceptions and views to hear +him impartially, or see him with clear vision, was very well satisfied +with his muttering acknowledgment of its being “very cold, certainly +very cold,” and walked on, rejoicing in having extricated him from +Randalls, and secured him the power of sending to inquire after Harriet +every hour of the evening. + +“You do quite right,” said she;—“we will make your apologies to Mr. and +Mrs. Weston.” + +But hardly had she so spoken, when she found her brother was civilly +offering a seat in his carriage, if the weather were Mr. Elton’s only +objection, and Mr. Elton actually accepting the offer with much prompt +satisfaction. It was a done thing; Mr. Elton was to go, and never had +his broad handsome face expressed more pleasure than at this moment; +never had his smile been stronger, nor his eyes more exulting than when +he next looked at her. + +“Well,” said she to herself, “this is most strange!—After I had got him +off so well, to chuse to go into company, and leave Harriet ill +behind!—Most strange indeed!—But there is, I believe, in many men, +especially single men, such an inclination—such a passion for dining +out—a dinner engagement is so high in the class of their pleasures, +their employments, their dignities, almost their duties, that any thing +gives way to it—and this must be the case with Mr. Elton; a most +valuable, amiable, pleasing young man undoubtedly, and very much in +love with Harriet; but still, he cannot refuse an invitation, he must +dine out wherever he is asked. What a strange thing love is! he can see +ready wit in Harriet, but will not dine alone for her.” + +Soon afterwards Mr. Elton quitted them, and she could not but do him +the justice of feeling that there was a great deal of sentiment in his +manner of naming Harriet at parting; in the tone of his voice while +assuring her that he should call at Mrs. Goddard’s for news of her fair +friend, the last thing before he prepared for the happiness of meeting +her again, when he hoped to be able to give a better report; and he +sighed and smiled himself off in a way that left the balance of +approbation much in his favour. + +After a few minutes of entire silence between them, John Knightley +began with— + +“I never in my life saw a man more intent on being agreeable than Mr. +Elton. It is downright labour to him where ladies are concerned. With +men he can be rational and unaffected, but when he has ladies to +please, every feature works.” + +“Mr. Elton’s manners are not perfect,” replied Emma; “but where there +is a wish to please, one ought to overlook, and one does overlook a +great deal. Where a man does his best with only moderate powers, he +will have the advantage over negligent superiority. There is such +perfect good-temper and good-will in Mr. Elton as one cannot but +value.” + +“Yes,” said Mr. John Knightley presently, with some slyness, “he seems +to have a great deal of good-will towards you.” + +“Me!” she replied with a smile of astonishment, “are you imagining me +to be Mr. Elton’s object?” + +“Such an imagination has crossed me, I own, Emma; and if it never +occurred to you before, you may as well take it into consideration +now.” + +“Mr. Elton in love with me!—What an idea!” + +“I do not say it is so; but you will do well to consider whether it is +so or not, and to regulate your behaviour accordingly. I think your +manners to him encouraging. I speak as a friend, Emma. You had better +look about you, and ascertain what you do, and what you mean to do.” + +“I thank you; but I assure you you are quite mistaken. Mr. Elton and I +are very good friends, and nothing more;” and she walked on, amusing +herself in the consideration of the blunders which often arise from a +partial knowledge of circumstances, of the mistakes which people of +high pretensions to judgment are for ever falling into; and not very +well pleased with her brother for imagining her blind and ignorant, and +in want of counsel. He said no more. + +Mr. Woodhouse had so completely made up his mind to the visit, that in +spite of the increasing coldness, he seemed to have no idea of +shrinking from it, and set forward at last most punctually with his +eldest daughter in his own carriage, with less apparent consciousness +of the weather than either of the others; too full of the wonder of his +own going, and the pleasure it was to afford at Randalls to see that it +was cold, and too well wrapt up to feel it. The cold, however, was +severe; and by the time the second carriage was in motion, a few flakes +of snow were finding their way down, and the sky had the appearance of +being so overcharged as to want only a milder air to produce a very +white world in a very short time. + +Emma soon saw that her companion was not in the happiest humour. The +preparing and the going abroad in such weather, with the sacrifice of +his children after dinner, were evils, were disagreeables at least, +which Mr. John Knightley did not by any means like; he anticipated +nothing in the visit that could be at all worth the purchase; and the +whole of their drive to the vicarage was spent by him in expressing his +discontent. + +“A man,” said he, “must have a very good opinion of himself when he +asks people to leave their own fireside, and encounter such a day as +this, for the sake of coming to see him. He must think himself a most +agreeable fellow; I could not do such a thing. It is the greatest +absurdity—Actually snowing at this moment!—The folly of not allowing +people to be comfortable at home—and the folly of people’s not staying +comfortably at home when they can! If we were obliged to go out such an +evening as this, by any call of duty or business, what a hardship we +should deem it;—and here are we, probably with rather thinner clothing +than usual, setting forward voluntarily, without excuse, in defiance of +the voice of nature, which tells man, in every thing given to his view +or his feelings, to stay at home himself, and keep all under shelter +that he can;—here are we setting forward to spend five dull hours in +another man’s house, with nothing to say or to hear that was not said +and heard yesterday, and may not be said and heard again to-morrow. +Going in dismal weather, to return probably in worse;—four horses and +four servants taken out for nothing but to convey five idle, shivering +creatures into colder rooms and worse company than they might have had +at home.” + +Emma did not find herself equal to give the pleased assent, which no +doubt he was in the habit of receiving, to emulate the “Very true, my +love,” which must have been usually administered by his travelling +companion; but she had resolution enough to refrain from making any +answer at all. She could not be complying, she dreaded being +quarrelsome; her heroism reached only to silence. She allowed him to +talk, and arranged the glasses, and wrapped herself up, without opening +her lips. + +They arrived, the carriage turned, the step was let down, and Mr. +Elton, spruce, black, and smiling, was with them instantly. Emma +thought with pleasure of some change of subject. Mr. Elton was all +obligation and cheerfulness; he was so very cheerful in his civilities +indeed, that she began to think he must have received a different +account of Harriet from what had reached her. She had sent while +dressing, and the answer had been, “Much the same—not better.” + +“_My_ report from Mrs. Goddard’s,” said she presently, “was not so +pleasant as I had hoped—‘Not better’ was _my_ answer.” + +His face lengthened immediately; and his voice was the voice of +sentiment as he answered. + +“Oh! no—I am grieved to find—I was on the point of telling you that +when I called at Mrs. Goddard’s door, which I did the very last thing +before I returned to dress, I was told that Miss Smith was not better, +by no means better, rather worse. Very much grieved and concerned—I had +flattered myself that she must be better after such a cordial as I knew +had been given her in the morning.” + +Emma smiled and answered—“My visit was of use to the nervous part of +her complaint, I hope; but not even I can charm away a sore throat; it +is a most severe cold indeed. Mr. Perry has been with her, as you +probably heard.” + +“Yes—I imagined—that is—I did not—” + +“He has been used to her in these complaints, and I hope to-morrow +morning will bring us both a more comfortable report. But it is +impossible not to feel uneasiness. Such a sad loss to our party +to-day!” + +“Dreadful!—Exactly so, indeed.—She will be missed every moment.” + +This was very proper; the sigh which accompanied it was really +estimable; but it should have lasted longer. Emma was rather in dismay +when only half a minute afterwards he began to speak of other things, +and in a voice of the greatest alacrity and enjoyment. + +“What an excellent device,” said he, “the use of a sheepskin for +carriages. How very comfortable they make it;—impossible to feel cold +with such precautions. The contrivances of modern days indeed have +rendered a gentleman’s carriage perfectly complete. One is so fenced +and guarded from the weather, that not a breath of air can find its way +unpermitted. Weather becomes absolutely of no consequence. It is a very +cold afternoon—but in this carriage we know nothing of the matter.—Ha! +snows a little I see.” + +“Yes,” said John Knightley, “and I think we shall have a good deal of +it.” + +“Christmas weather,” observed Mr. Elton. “Quite seasonable; and +extremely fortunate we may think ourselves that it did not begin +yesterday, and prevent this day’s party, which it might very possibly +have done, for Mr. Woodhouse would hardly have ventured had there been +much snow on the ground; but now it is of no consequence. This is quite +the season indeed for friendly meetings. At Christmas every body +invites their friends about them, and people think little of even the +worst weather. I was snowed up at a friend’s house once for a week. +Nothing could be pleasanter. I went for only one night, and could not +get away till that very day se’nnight.” + +Mr. John Knightley looked as if he did not comprehend the pleasure, but +said only, coolly, + +“I cannot wish to be snowed up a week at Randalls.” + +At another time Emma might have been amused, but she was too much +astonished now at Mr. Elton’s spirits for other feelings. Harriet +seemed quite forgotten in the expectation of a pleasant party. + +“We are sure of excellent fires,” continued he, “and every thing in the +greatest comfort. Charming people, Mr. and Mrs. Weston;—Mrs. Weston +indeed is much beyond praise, and he is exactly what one values, so +hospitable, and so fond of society;—it will be a small party, but where +small parties are select, they are perhaps the most agreeable of any. +Mr. Weston’s dining-room does not accommodate more than ten +comfortably; and for my part, I would rather, under such circumstances, +fall short by two than exceed by two. I think you will agree with me, +(turning with a soft air to Emma,) I think I shall certainly have your +approbation, though Mr. Knightley perhaps, from being used to the large +parties of London, may not quite enter into our feelings.” + +“I know nothing of the large parties of London, sir—I never dine with +any body.” + +“Indeed! (in a tone of wonder and pity,) I had no idea that the law had +been so great a slavery. Well, sir, the time must come when you will be +paid for all this, when you will have little labour and great +enjoyment.” + +“My first enjoyment,” replied John Knightley, as they passed through +the sweep-gate, “will be to find myself safe at Hartfield again.” + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +Some change of countenance was necessary for each gentleman as they +walked into Mrs. Weston’s drawing-room;—Mr. Elton must compose his +joyous looks, and Mr. John Knightley disperse his ill-humour. Mr. Elton +must smile less, and Mr. John Knightley more, to fit them for the +place.—Emma only might be as nature prompted, and shew herself just as +happy as she was. To her it was real enjoyment to be with the Westons. +Mr. Weston was a great favourite, and there was not a creature in the +world to whom she spoke with such unreserve, as to his wife; not any +one, to whom she related with such conviction of being listened to and +understood, of being always interesting and always intelligible, the +little affairs, arrangements, perplexities, and pleasures of her father +and herself. She could tell nothing of Hartfield, in which Mrs. Weston +had not a lively concern; and half an hour’s uninterrupted +communication of all those little matters on which the daily happiness +of private life depends, was one of the first gratifications of each. + +This was a pleasure which perhaps the whole day’s visit might not +afford, which certainly did not belong to the present half-hour; but +the very sight of Mrs. Weston, her smile, her touch, her voice was +grateful to Emma, and she determined to think as little as possible of +Mr. Elton’s oddities, or of any thing else unpleasant, and enjoy all +that was enjoyable to the utmost. + +The misfortune of Harriet’s cold had been pretty well gone through +before her arrival. Mr. Woodhouse had been safely seated long enough to +give the history of it, besides all the history of his own and +Isabella’s coming, and of Emma’s being to follow, and had indeed just +got to the end of his satisfaction that James should come and see his +daughter, when the others appeared, and Mrs. Weston, who had been +almost wholly engrossed by her attentions to him, was able to turn away +and welcome her dear Emma. + +Emma’s project of forgetting Mr. Elton for a while made her rather +sorry to find, when they had all taken their places, that he was close +to her. The difficulty was great of driving his strange insensibility +towards Harriet, from her mind, while he not only sat at her elbow, but +was continually obtruding his happy countenance on her notice, and +solicitously addressing her upon every occasion. Instead of forgetting +him, his behaviour was such that she could not avoid the internal +suggestion of “Can it really be as my brother imagined? can it be +possible for this man to be beginning to transfer his affections from +Harriet to me?—Absurd and insufferable!”—Yet he would be so anxious for +her being perfectly warm, would be so interested about her father, and +so delighted with Mrs. Weston; and at last would begin admiring her +drawings with so much zeal and so little knowledge as seemed terribly +like a would-be lover, and made it some effort with her to preserve her +good manners. For her own sake she could not be rude; and for +Harriet’s, in the hope that all would yet turn out right, she was even +positively civil; but it was an effort; especially as something was +going on amongst the others, in the most overpowering period of Mr. +Elton’s nonsense, which she particularly wished to listen to. She heard +enough to know that Mr. Weston was giving some information about his +son; she heard the words “my son,” and “Frank,” and “my son,” repeated +several times over; and, from a few other half-syllables very much +suspected that he was announcing an early visit from his son; but +before she could quiet Mr. Elton, the subject was so completely past +that any reviving question from her would have been awkward. + +Now, it so happened that in spite of Emma’s resolution of never +marrying, there was something in the name, in the idea of Mr. Frank +Churchill, which always interested her. She had frequently +thought—especially since his father’s marriage with Miss Taylor—that if +she _were_ to marry, he was the very person to suit her in age, +character and condition. He seemed by this connexion between the +families, quite to belong to her. She could not but suppose it to be a +match that every body who knew them must think of. That Mr. and Mrs. +Weston did think of it, she was very strongly persuaded; and though not +meaning to be induced by him, or by any body else, to give up a +situation which she believed more replete with good than any she could +change it for, she had a great curiosity to see him, a decided +intention of finding him pleasant, of being liked by him to a certain +degree, and a sort of pleasure in the idea of their being coupled in +their friends’ imaginations. + +With such sensations, Mr. Elton’s civilities were dreadfully ill-timed; +but she had the comfort of appearing very polite, while feeling very +cross—and of thinking that the rest of the visit could not possibly +pass without bringing forward the same information again, or the +substance of it, from the open-hearted Mr. Weston.—So it proved;—for +when happily released from Mr. Elton, and seated by Mr. Weston, at +dinner, he made use of the very first interval in the cares of +hospitality, the very first leisure from the saddle of mutton, to say +to her, + +“We want only two more to be just the right number. I should like to +see two more here,—your pretty little friend, Miss Smith, and my +son—and then I should say we were quite complete. I believe you did not +hear me telling the others in the drawing-room that we are expecting +Frank. I had a letter from him this morning, and he will be with us +within a fortnight.” + +Emma spoke with a very proper degree of pleasure; and fully assented to +his proposition of Mr. Frank Churchill and Miss Smith making their +party quite complete. + +“He has been wanting to come to us,” continued Mr. Weston, “ever since +September: every letter has been full of it; but he cannot command his +own time. He has those to please who must be pleased, and who (between +ourselves) are sometimes to be pleased only by a good many sacrifices. +But now I have no doubt of seeing him here about the second week in +January.” + +“What a very great pleasure it will be to you! and Mrs. Weston is so +anxious to be acquainted with him, that she must be almost as happy as +yourself.” + +“Yes, she would be, but that she thinks there will be another put-off. +She does not depend upon his coming so much as I do: but she does not +know the parties so well as I do. The case, you see, is—(but this is +quite between ourselves: I did not mention a syllable of it in the +other room. There are secrets in all families, you know)—The case is, +that a party of friends are invited to pay a visit at Enscombe in +January; and that Frank’s coming depends upon their being put off. If +they are not put off, he cannot stir. But I know they will, because it +is a family that a certain lady, of some consequence, at Enscombe, has +a particular dislike to: and though it is thought necessary to invite +them once in two or three years, they always are put off when it comes +to the point. I have not the smallest doubt of the issue. I am as +confident of seeing Frank here before the middle of January, as I am of +being here myself: but your good friend there (nodding towards the +upper end of the table) has so few vagaries herself, and has been so +little used to them at Hartfield, that she cannot calculate on their +effects, as I have been long in the practice of doing.” + +“I am sorry there should be any thing like doubt in the case,” replied +Emma; “but am disposed to side with you, Mr. Weston. If you think he +will come, I shall think so too; for you know Enscombe.” + +“Yes—I have some right to that knowledge; though I have never been at +the place in my life.—She is an odd woman!—But I never allow myself to +speak ill of her, on Frank’s account; for I do believe her to be very +fond of him. I used to think she was not capable of being fond of any +body, except herself: but she has always been kind to him (in her +way—allowing for little whims and caprices, and expecting every thing +to be as she likes). And it is no small credit, in my opinion, to him, +that he should excite such an affection; for, though I would not say it +to any body else, she has no more heart than a stone to people in +general; and the devil of a temper.” + +Emma liked the subject so well, that she began upon it, to Mrs. Weston, +very soon after their moving into the drawing-room: wishing her joy—yet +observing, that she knew the first meeting must be rather alarming.— +Mrs. Weston agreed to it; but added, that she should be very glad to be +secure of undergoing the anxiety of a first meeting at the time talked +of: “for I cannot depend upon his coming. I cannot be so sanguine as +Mr. Weston. I am very much afraid that it will all end in nothing. Mr. +Weston, I dare say, has been telling you exactly how the matter +stands?” + +“Yes—it seems to depend upon nothing but the ill-humour of Mrs. +Churchill, which I imagine to be the most certain thing in the world.” + +“My Emma!” replied Mrs. Weston, smiling, “what is the certainty of +caprice?” Then turning to Isabella, who had not been attending +before—“You must know, my dear Mrs. Knightley, that we are by no means +so sure of seeing Mr. Frank Churchill, in my opinion, as his father +thinks. It depends entirely upon his aunt’s spirits and pleasure; in +short, upon her temper. To you—to my two daughters—I may venture on the +truth. Mrs. Churchill rules at Enscombe, and is a very odd-tempered +woman; and his coming now, depends upon her being willing to spare +him.” + +“Oh, Mrs. Churchill; every body knows Mrs. Churchill,” replied +Isabella: “and I am sure I never think of that poor young man without +the greatest compassion. To be constantly living with an ill-tempered +person, must be dreadful. It is what we happily have never known any +thing of; but it must be a life of misery. What a blessing, that she +never had any children! Poor little creatures, how unhappy she would +have made them!” + +Emma wished she had been alone with Mrs. Weston. She should then have +heard more: Mrs. Weston would speak to her, with a degree of unreserve +which she would not hazard with Isabella; and, she really believed, +would scarcely try to conceal any thing relative to the Churchills from +her, excepting those views on the young man, of which her own +imagination had already given her such instinctive knowledge. But at +present there was nothing more to be said. Mr. Woodhouse very soon +followed them into the drawing-room. To be sitting long after dinner, +was a confinement that he could not endure. Neither wine nor +conversation was any thing to him; and gladly did he move to those with +whom he was always comfortable. + +While he talked to Isabella, however, Emma found an opportunity of +saying, + +“And so you do not consider this visit from your son as by any means +certain. I am sorry for it. The introduction must be unpleasant, +whenever it takes place; and the sooner it could be over, the better.” + +“Yes; and every delay makes one more apprehensive of other delays. Even +if this family, the Braithwaites, are put off, I am still afraid that +some excuse may be found for disappointing us. I cannot bear to imagine +any reluctance on his side; but I am sure there is a great wish on the +Churchills’ to keep him to themselves. There is jealousy. They are +jealous even of his regard for his father. In short, I can feel no +dependence on his coming, and I wish Mr. Weston were less sanguine.” + +“He ought to come,” said Emma. “If he could stay only a couple of days, +he ought to come; and one can hardly conceive a young man’s not having +it in his power to do as much as that. A young _woman_, if she fall +into bad hands, may be teased, and kept at a distance from those she +wants to be with; but one cannot comprehend a young _man_’s being under +such restraint, as not to be able to spend a week with his father, if +he likes it.” + +“One ought to be at Enscombe, and know the ways of the family, before +one decides upon what he can do,” replied Mrs. Weston. “One ought to +use the same caution, perhaps, in judging of the conduct of any one +individual of any one family; but Enscombe, I believe, certainly must +not be judged by general rules: _she_ is so very unreasonable; and +every thing gives way to her.” + +“But she is so fond of the nephew: he is so very great a favourite. +Now, according to my idea of Mrs. Churchill, it would be most natural, +that while she makes no sacrifice for the comfort of the husband, to +whom she owes every thing, while she exercises incessant caprice +towards _him_, she should frequently be governed by the nephew, to whom +she owes nothing at all.” + +“My dearest Emma, do not pretend, with your sweet temper, to understand +a bad one, or to lay down rules for it: you must let it go its own way. +I have no doubt of his having, at times, considerable influence; but it +may be perfectly impossible for him to know beforehand _when_ it will +be.” + +Emma listened, and then coolly said, “I shall not be satisfied, unless +he comes.” + +“He may have a great deal of influence on some points,” continued Mrs. +Weston, “and on others, very little: and among those, on which she is +beyond his reach, it is but too likely, may be this very circumstance +of his coming away from them to visit us.” + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +Mr. Woodhouse was soon ready for his tea; and when he had drank his tea +he was quite ready to go home; and it was as much as his three +companions could do, to entertain away his notice of the lateness of +the hour, before the other gentlemen appeared. Mr. Weston was chatty +and convivial, and no friend to early separations of any sort; but at +last the drawing-room party did receive an augmentation. Mr. Elton, in +very good spirits, was one of the first to walk in. Mrs. Weston and +Emma were sitting together on a sofa. He joined them immediately, and, +with scarcely an invitation, seated himself between them. + +Emma, in good spirits too, from the amusement afforded her mind by the +expectation of Mr. Frank Churchill, was willing to forget his late +improprieties, and be as well satisfied with him as before, and on his +making Harriet his very first subject, was ready to listen with most +friendly smiles. + +He professed himself extremely anxious about her fair friend—her fair, +lovely, amiable friend. “Did she know?—had she heard any thing about +her, since their being at Randalls?—he felt much anxiety—he must +confess that the nature of her complaint alarmed him considerably.” And +in this style he talked on for some time very properly, not much +attending to any answer, but altogether sufficiently awake to the +terror of a bad sore throat; and Emma was quite in charity with him. + +But at last there seemed a perverse turn; it seemed all at once as if +he were more afraid of its being a bad sore throat on her account, than +on Harriet’s—more anxious that she should escape the infection, than +that there should be no infection in the complaint. He began with great +earnestness to entreat her to refrain from visiting the sick-chamber +again, for the present—to entreat her to _promise_ _him_ not to venture +into such hazard till he had seen Mr. Perry and learnt his opinion; and +though she tried to laugh it off and bring the subject back into its +proper course, there was no putting an end to his extreme solicitude +about her. She was vexed. It did appear—there was no concealing +it—exactly like the pretence of being in love with her, instead of +Harriet; an inconstancy, if real, the most contemptible and abominable! +and she had difficulty in behaving with temper. He turned to Mrs. +Weston to implore her assistance, “Would not she give him her +support?—would not she add her persuasions to his, to induce Miss +Woodhouse not to go to Mrs. Goddard’s till it were certain that Miss +Smith’s disorder had no infection? He could not be satisfied without a +promise—would not she give him her influence in procuring it?” + +“So scrupulous for others,” he continued, “and yet so careless for +herself! She wanted me to nurse my cold by staying at home to-day, and +yet will not promise to avoid the danger of catching an ulcerated sore +throat herself. Is this fair, Mrs. Weston?—Judge between us. Have not I +some right to complain? I am sure of your kind support and aid.” + +Emma saw Mrs. Weston’s surprize, and felt that it must be great, at an +address which, in words and manner, was assuming to himself the right +of first interest in her; and as for herself, she was too much provoked +and offended to have the power of directly saying any thing to the +purpose. She could only give him a look; but it was such a look as she +thought must restore him to his senses, and then left the sofa, +removing to a seat by her sister, and giving her all her attention. + +She had not time to know how Mr. Elton took the reproof, so rapidly did +another subject succeed; for Mr. John Knightley now came into the room +from examining the weather, and opened on them all with the information +of the ground being covered with snow, and of its still snowing fast, +with a strong drifting wind; concluding with these words to Mr. +Woodhouse: + +“This will prove a spirited beginning of your winter engagements, sir. +Something new for your coachman and horses to be making their way +through a storm of snow.” + +Poor Mr. Woodhouse was silent from consternation; but every body else +had something to say; every body was either surprized or not surprized, +and had some question to ask, or some comfort to offer. Mrs. Weston and +Emma tried earnestly to cheer him and turn his attention from his +son-in-law, who was pursuing his triumph rather unfeelingly. + +“I admired your resolution very much, sir,” said he, “in venturing out +in such weather, for of course you saw there would be snow very soon. +Every body must have seen the snow coming on. I admired your spirit; +and I dare say we shall get home very well. Another hour or two’s snow +can hardly make the road impassable; and we are two carriages; if one +is blown over in the bleak part of the common field there will be the +other at hand. I dare say we shall be all safe at Hartfield before +midnight.” + +Mr. Weston, with triumph of a different sort, was confessing that he +had known it to be snowing some time, but had not said a word, lest it +should make Mr. Woodhouse uncomfortable, and be an excuse for his +hurrying away. As to there being any quantity of snow fallen or likely +to fall to impede their return, that was a mere joke; he was afraid +they would find no difficulty. He wished the road might be impassable, +that he might be able to keep them all at Randalls; and with the utmost +good-will was sure that accommodation might be found for every body, +calling on his wife to agree with him, that with a little contrivance, +every body might be lodged, which she hardly knew how to do, from the +consciousness of there being but two spare rooms in the house. + +“What is to be done, my dear Emma?—what is to be done?” was Mr. +Woodhouse’s first exclamation, and all that he could say for some time. +To her he looked for comfort; and her assurances of safety, her +representation of the excellence of the horses, and of James, and of +their having so many friends about them, revived him a little. + +His eldest daughter’s alarm was equal to his own. The horror of being +blocked up at Randalls, while her children were at Hartfield, was full +in her imagination; and fancying the road to be now just passable for +adventurous people, but in a state that admitted no delay, she was +eager to have it settled, that her father and Emma should remain at +Randalls, while she and her husband set forward instantly through all +the possible accumulations of drifted snow that might impede them. + +“You had better order the carriage directly, my love,” said she; “I +dare say we shall be able to get along, if we set off directly; and if +we do come to any thing very bad, I can get out and walk. I am not at +all afraid. I should not mind walking half the way. I could change my +shoes, you know, the moment I got home; and it is not the sort of thing +that gives me cold.” + +“Indeed!” replied he. “Then, my dear Isabella, it is the most +extraordinary sort of thing in the world, for in general every thing +does give you cold. Walk home!—you are prettily shod for walking home, +I dare say. It will be bad enough for the horses.” + +Isabella turned to Mrs. Weston for her approbation of the plan. Mrs. +Weston could only approve. Isabella then went to Emma; but Emma could +not so entirely give up the hope of their being all able to get away; +and they were still discussing the point, when Mr. Knightley, who had +left the room immediately after his brother’s first report of the snow, +came back again, and told them that he had been out of doors to +examine, and could answer for there not being the smallest difficulty +in their getting home, whenever they liked it, either now or an hour +hence. He had gone beyond the sweep—some way along the Highbury +road—the snow was nowhere above half an inch deep—in many places hardly +enough to whiten the ground; a very few flakes were falling at present, +but the clouds were parting, and there was every appearance of its +being soon over. He had seen the coachmen, and they both agreed with +him in there being nothing to apprehend. + +To Isabella, the relief of such tidings was very great, and they were +scarcely less acceptable to Emma on her father’s account, who was +immediately set as much at ease on the subject as his nervous +constitution allowed; but the alarm that had been raised could not be +appeased so as to admit of any comfort for him while he continued at +Randalls. He was satisfied of there being no present danger in +returning home, but no assurances could convince him that it was safe +to stay; and while the others were variously urging and recommending, +Mr. Knightley and Emma settled it in a few brief sentences: thus— + +“Your father will not be easy; why do not you go?” + +“I am ready, if the others are.” + +“Shall I ring the bell?” + +“Yes, do.” + +And the bell was rung, and the carriages spoken for. A few minutes +more, and Emma hoped to see one troublesome companion deposited in his +own house, to get sober and cool, and the other recover his temper and +happiness when this visit of hardship were over. + +The carriage came: and Mr. Woodhouse, always the first object on such +occasions, was carefully attended to his own by Mr. Knightley and Mr. +Weston; but not all that either could say could prevent some renewal of +alarm at the sight of the snow which had actually fallen, and the +discovery of a much darker night than he had been prepared for. “He was +afraid they should have a very bad drive. He was afraid poor Isabella +would not like it. And there would be poor Emma in the carriage behind. +He did not know what they had best do. They must keep as much together +as they could;” and James was talked to, and given a charge to go very +slow and wait for the other carriage. + +Isabella stept in after her father; John Knightley, forgetting that he +did not belong to their party, stept in after his wife very naturally; +so that Emma found, on being escorted and followed into the second +carriage by Mr. Elton, that the door was to be lawfully shut on them, +and that they were to have a tête-à-tête drive. It would not have been +the awkwardness of a moment, it would have been rather a pleasure, +previous to the suspicions of this very day; she could have talked to +him of Harriet, and the three-quarters of a mile would have seemed but +one. But now, she would rather it had not happened. She believed he had +been drinking too much of Mr. Weston’s good wine, and felt sure that he +would want to be talking nonsense. + +To restrain him as much as might be, by her own manners, she was +immediately preparing to speak with exquisite calmness and gravity of +the weather and the night; but scarcely had she begun, scarcely had +they passed the sweep-gate and joined the other carriage, than she +found her subject cut up—her hand seized—her attention demanded, and +Mr. Elton actually making violent love to her: availing himself of the +precious opportunity, declaring sentiments which must be already well +known, hoping—fearing—adoring—ready to die if she refused him; but +flattering himself that his ardent attachment and unequalled love and +unexampled passion could not fail of having some effect, and in short, +very much resolved on being seriously accepted as soon as possible. It +really was so. Without scruple—without apology—without much apparent +diffidence, Mr. Elton, the lover of Harriet, was professing himself +_her_ lover. She tried to stop him; but vainly; he would go on, and say +it all. Angry as she was, the thought of the moment made her resolve to +restrain herself when she did speak. She felt that half this folly must +be drunkenness, and therefore could hope that it might belong only to +the passing hour. Accordingly, with a mixture of the serious and the +playful, which she hoped would best suit his half and half state, she +replied, + +“I am very much astonished, Mr. Elton. This to _me_! you forget +yourself—you take me for my friend—any message to Miss Smith I shall be +happy to deliver; but no more of this to _me_, if you please.” + +“Miss Smith!—message to Miss Smith!—What could she possibly mean!”—And +he repeated her words with such assurance of accent, such boastful +pretence of amazement, that she could not help replying with quickness, + +“Mr. Elton, this is the most extraordinary conduct! and I can account +for it only in one way; you are not yourself, or you could not speak +either to me, or of Harriet, in such a manner. Command yourself enough +to say no more, and I will endeavour to forget it.” + +But Mr. Elton had only drunk wine enough to elevate his spirits, not at +all to confuse his intellects. He perfectly knew his own meaning; and +having warmly protested against her suspicion as most injurious, and +slightly touched upon his respect for Miss Smith as her friend,—but +acknowledging his wonder that Miss Smith should be mentioned at all,—he +resumed the subject of his own passion, and was very urgent for a +favourable answer. + +As she thought less of his inebriety, she thought more of his +inconstancy and presumption; and with fewer struggles for politeness, +replied, + +“It is impossible for me to doubt any longer. You have made yourself +too clear. Mr. Elton, my astonishment is much beyond any thing I can +express. After such behaviour, as I have witnessed during the last +month, to Miss Smith—such attentions as I have been in the daily habit +of observing—to be addressing me in this manner—this is an unsteadiness +of character, indeed, which I had not supposed possible! Believe me, +sir, I am far, very far, from gratified in being the object of such +professions.” + +“Good Heaven!” cried Mr. Elton, “what can be the meaning of this?—Miss +Smith!—I never thought of Miss Smith in the whole course of my +existence—never paid her any attentions, but as your friend: never +cared whether she were dead or alive, but as your friend. If she has +fancied otherwise, her own wishes have misled her, and I am very +sorry—extremely sorry—But, Miss Smith, indeed!—Oh! Miss Woodhouse! who +can think of Miss Smith, when Miss Woodhouse is near! No, upon my +honour, there is no unsteadiness of character. I have thought only of +you. I protest against having paid the smallest attention to any one +else. Every thing that I have said or done, for many weeks past, has +been with the sole view of marking my adoration of yourself. You cannot +really, seriously, doubt it. No!—(in an accent meant to be +insinuating)—I am sure you have seen and understood me.” + +It would be impossible to say what Emma felt, on hearing this—which of +all her unpleasant sensations was uppermost. She was too completely +overpowered to be immediately able to reply: and two moments of silence +being ample encouragement for Mr. Elton’s sanguine state of mind, he +tried to take her hand again, as he joyously exclaimed— + +“Charming Miss Woodhouse! allow me to interpret this interesting +silence. It confesses that you have long understood me.” + +“No, sir,” cried Emma, “it confesses no such thing. So far from having +long understood you, I have been in a most complete error with respect +to your views, till this moment. As to myself, I am very sorry that you +should have been giving way to any feelings—Nothing could be farther +from my wishes—your attachment to my friend Harriet—your pursuit of +her, (pursuit, it appeared,) gave me great pleasure, and I have been +very earnestly wishing you success: but had I supposed that she were +not your attraction to Hartfield, I should certainly have thought you +judged ill in making your visits so frequent. Am I to believe that you +have never sought to recommend yourself particularly to Miss +Smith?—that you have never thought seriously of her?” + +“Never, madam,” cried he, affronted in his turn: “never, I assure you. +_I_ think seriously of Miss Smith!—Miss Smith is a very good sort of +girl; and I should be happy to see her respectably settled. I wish her +extremely well: and, no doubt, there are men who might not object +to—Every body has their level: but as for myself, I am not, I think, +quite so much at a loss. I need not so totally despair of an equal +alliance, as to be addressing myself to Miss Smith!—No, madam, my +visits to Hartfield have been for yourself only; and the encouragement +I received—” + +“Encouragement!—I give you encouragement!—Sir, you have been entirely +mistaken in supposing it. I have seen you only as the admirer of my +friend. In no other light could you have been more to me than a common +acquaintance. I am exceedingly sorry: but it is well that the mistake +ends where it does. Had the same behaviour continued, Miss Smith might +have been led into a misconception of your views; not being aware, +probably, any more than myself, of the very great inequality which you +are so sensible of. But, as it is, the disappointment is single, and, I +trust, will not be lasting. I have no thoughts of matrimony at +present.” + +He was too angry to say another word; her manner too decided to invite +supplication; and in this state of swelling resentment, and mutually +deep mortification, they had to continue together a few minutes longer, +for the fears of Mr. Woodhouse had confined them to a foot-pace. If +there had not been so much anger, there would have been desperate +awkwardness; but their straightforward emotions left no room for the +little zigzags of embarrassment. Without knowing when the carriage +turned into Vicarage Lane, or when it stopped, they found themselves, +all at once, at the door of his house; and he was out before another +syllable passed.—Emma then felt it indispensable to wish him a good +night. The compliment was just returned, coldly and proudly; and, under +indescribable irritation of spirits, she was then conveyed to +Hartfield. + +There she was welcomed, with the utmost delight, by her father, who had +been trembling for the dangers of a solitary drive from Vicarage +Lane—turning a corner which he could never bear to think of—and in +strange hands—a mere common coachman—no James; and there it seemed as +if her return only were wanted to make every thing go well: for Mr. +John Knightley, ashamed of his ill-humour, was now all kindness and +attention; and so particularly solicitous for the comfort of her +father, as to seem—if not quite ready to join him in a basin of +gruel—perfectly sensible of its being exceedingly wholesome; and the +day was concluding in peace and comfort to all their little party, +except herself.—But her mind had never been in such perturbation; and +it needed a very strong effort to appear attentive and cheerful till +the usual hour of separating allowed her the relief of quiet +reflection. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +The hair was curled, and the maid sent away, and Emma sat down to think +and be miserable.—It was a wretched business indeed!—Such an overthrow +of every thing she had been wishing for!—Such a development of every +thing most unwelcome!—Such a blow for Harriet!—that was the worst of +all. Every part of it brought pain and humiliation, of some sort or +other; but, compared with the evil to Harriet, all was light; and she +would gladly have submitted to feel yet more mistaken—more in +error—more disgraced by mis-judgment, than she actually was, could the +effects of her blunders have been confined to herself. + +“If I had not persuaded Harriet into liking the man, I could have borne +any thing. He might have doubled his presumption to me—but poor +Harriet!” + +How she could have been so deceived!—He protested that he had never +thought seriously of Harriet—never! She looked back as well as she +could; but it was all confusion. She had taken up the idea, she +supposed, and made every thing bend to it. His manners, however, must +have been unmarked, wavering, dubious, or she could not have been so +misled. + +The picture!—How eager he had been about the picture!—and the +charade!—and an hundred other circumstances;—how clearly they had +seemed to point at Harriet. To be sure, the charade, with its “ready +wit”—but then the “soft eyes”—in fact it suited neither; it was a +jumble without taste or truth. Who could have seen through such +thick-headed nonsense? + +Certainly she had often, especially of late, thought his manners to +herself unnecessarily gallant; but it had passed as his way, as a mere +error of judgment, of knowledge, of taste, as one proof among others +that he had not always lived in the best society, that with all the +gentleness of his address, true elegance was sometimes wanting; but, +till this very day, she had never, for an instant, suspected it to mean +any thing but grateful respect to her as Harriet’s friend. + +To Mr. John Knightley was she indebted for her first idea on the +subject, for the first start of its possibility. There was no denying +that those brothers had penetration. She remembered what Mr. Knightley +had once said to her about Mr. Elton, the caution he had given, the +conviction he had professed that Mr. Elton would never marry +indiscreetly; and blushed to think how much truer a knowledge of his +character had been there shewn than any she had reached herself. It was +dreadfully mortifying; but Mr. Elton was proving himself, in many +respects, the very reverse of what she had meant and believed him; +proud, assuming, conceited; very full of his own claims, and little +concerned about the feelings of others. + +Contrary to the usual course of things, Mr. Elton’s wanting to pay his +addresses to her had sunk him in her opinion. His professions and his +proposals did him no service. She thought nothing of his attachment, +and was insulted by his hopes. He wanted to marry well, and having the +arrogance to raise his eyes to her, pretended to be in love; but she +was perfectly easy as to his not suffering any disappointment that need +be cared for. There had been no real affection either in his language +or manners. Sighs and fine words had been given in abundance; but she +could hardly devise any set of expressions, or fancy any tone of voice, +less allied with real love. She need not trouble herself to pity him. +He only wanted to aggrandise and enrich himself; and if Miss Woodhouse +of Hartfield, the heiress of thirty thousand pounds, were not quite so +easily obtained as he had fancied, he would soon try for Miss Somebody +else with twenty, or with ten. + +But—that he should talk of encouragement, should consider her as aware +of his views, accepting his attentions, meaning (in short), to marry +him!—should suppose himself her equal in connexion or mind!—look down +upon her friend, so well understanding the gradations of rank below +him, and be so blind to what rose above, as to fancy himself shewing no +presumption in addressing her!—It was most provoking. + +Perhaps it was not fair to expect him to feel how very much he was her +inferior in talent, and all the elegancies of mind. The very want of +such equality might prevent his perception of it; but he must know that +in fortune and consequence she was greatly his superior. He must know +that the Woodhouses had been settled for several generations at +Hartfield, the younger branch of a very ancient family—and that the +Eltons were nobody. The landed property of Hartfield certainly was +inconsiderable, being but a sort of notch in the Donwell Abbey estate, +to which all the rest of Highbury belonged; but their fortune, from +other sources, was such as to make them scarcely secondary to Donwell +Abbey itself, in every other kind of consequence; and the Woodhouses +had long held a high place in the consideration of the neighbourhood +which Mr. Elton had first entered not two years ago, to make his way as +he could, without any alliances but in trade, or any thing to recommend +him to notice but his situation and his civility.—But he had fancied +her in love with him; that evidently must have been his dependence; and +after raving a little about the seeming incongruity of gentle manners +and a conceited head, Emma was obliged in common honesty to stop and +admit that her own behaviour to him had been so complaisant and +obliging, so full of courtesy and attention, as (supposing her real +motive unperceived) might warrant a man of ordinary observation and +delicacy, like Mr. Elton, in fancying himself a very decided favourite. +If _she_ had so misinterpreted his feelings, she had little right to +wonder that _he_, with self-interest to blind him, should have mistaken +hers. + +The first error and the worst lay at her door. It was foolish, it was +wrong, to take so active a part in bringing any two people together. It +was adventuring too far, assuming too much, making light of what ought +to be serious, a trick of what ought to be simple. She was quite +concerned and ashamed, and resolved to do such things no more. + +“Here have I,” said she, “actually talked poor Harriet into being very +much attached to this man. She might never have thought of him but for +me; and certainly never would have thought of him with hope, if I had +not assured her of his attachment, for she is as modest and humble as I +used to think him. Oh! that I had been satisfied with persuading her +not to accept young Martin. There I was quite right. That was well done +of me; but there I should have stopped, and left the rest to time and +chance. I was introducing her into good company, and giving her the +opportunity of pleasing some one worth having; I ought not to have +attempted more. But now, poor girl, her peace is cut up for some time. +I have been but half a friend to her; and if she were _not_ to feel +this disappointment so very much, I am sure I have not an idea of any +body else who would be at all desirable for her;—William Coxe—Oh! no, I +could not endure William Coxe—a pert young lawyer.” + +She stopt to blush and laugh at her own relapse, and then resumed a +more serious, more dispiriting cogitation upon what had been, and might +be, and must be. The distressing explanation she had to make to +Harriet, and all that poor Harriet would be suffering, with the +awkwardness of future meetings, the difficulties of continuing or +discontinuing the acquaintance, of subduing feelings, concealing +resentment, and avoiding eclat, were enough to occupy her in most +unmirthful reflections some time longer, and she went to bed at last +with nothing settled but the conviction of her having blundered most +dreadfully. + +To youth and natural cheerfulness like Emma’s, though under temporary +gloom at night, the return of day will hardly fail to bring return of +spirits. The youth and cheerfulness of morning are in happy analogy, +and of powerful operation; and if the distress be not poignant enough +to keep the eyes unclosed, they will be sure to open to sensations of +softened pain and brighter hope. + +Emma got up on the morrow more disposed for comfort than she had gone +to bed, more ready to see alleviations of the evil before her, and to +depend on getting tolerably out of it. + +It was a great consolation that Mr. Elton should not be really in love +with her, or so particularly amiable as to make it shocking to +disappoint him—that Harriet’s nature should not be of that superior +sort in which the feelings are most acute and retentive—and that there +could be no necessity for any body’s knowing what had passed except the +three principals, and especially for her father’s being given a +moment’s uneasiness about it. + +These were very cheering thoughts; and the sight of a great deal of +snow on the ground did her further service, for any thing was welcome +that might justify their all three being quite asunder at present. + +The weather was most favourable for her; though Christmas Day, she +could not go to church. Mr. Woodhouse would have been miserable had his +daughter attempted it, and she was therefore safe from either exciting +or receiving unpleasant and most unsuitable ideas. The ground covered +with snow, and the atmosphere in that unsettled state between frost and +thaw, which is of all others the most unfriendly for exercise, every +morning beginning in rain or snow, and every evening setting in to +freeze, she was for many days a most honourable prisoner. No +intercourse with Harriet possible but by note; no church for her on +Sunday any more than on Christmas Day; and no need to find excuses for +Mr. Elton’s absenting himself. + +It was weather which might fairly confine every body at home; and +though she hoped and believed him to be really taking comfort in some +society or other, it was very pleasant to have her father so well +satisfied with his being all alone in his own house, too wise to stir +out; and to hear him say to Mr. Knightley, whom no weather could keep +entirely from them,— + +“Ah! Mr. Knightley, why do not you stay at home like poor Mr. Elton?” + +These days of confinement would have been, but for her private +perplexities, remarkably comfortable, as such seclusion exactly suited +her brother, whose feelings must always be of great importance to his +companions; and he had, besides, so thoroughly cleared off his +ill-humour at Randalls, that his amiableness never failed him during +the rest of his stay at Hartfield. He was always agreeable and +obliging, and speaking pleasantly of every body. But with all the hopes +of cheerfulness, and all the present comfort of delay, there was still +such an evil hanging over her in the hour of explanation with Harriet, +as made it impossible for Emma to be ever perfectly at ease. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +Mr. and Mrs. John Knightley were not detained long at Hartfield. The +weather soon improved enough for those to move who must move; and Mr. +Woodhouse having, as usual, tried to persuade his daughter to stay +behind with all her children, was obliged to see the whole party set +off, and return to his lamentations over the destiny of poor +Isabella;—which poor Isabella, passing her life with those she doated +on, full of their merits, blind to their faults, and always innocently +busy, might have been a model of right feminine happiness. + +The evening of the very day on which they went brought a note from Mr. +Elton to Mr. Woodhouse, a long, civil, ceremonious note, to say, with +Mr. Elton’s best compliments, “that he was proposing to leave Highbury +the following morning in his way to Bath; where, in compliance with the +pressing entreaties of some friends, he had engaged to spend a few +weeks, and very much regretted the impossibility he was under, from +various circumstances of weather and business, of taking a personal +leave of Mr. Woodhouse, of whose friendly civilities he should ever +retain a grateful sense—and had Mr. Woodhouse any commands, should be +happy to attend to them.” + +Emma was most agreeably surprized.—Mr. Elton’s absence just at this +time was the very thing to be desired. She admired him for contriving +it, though not able to give him much credit for the manner in which it +was announced. Resentment could not have been more plainly spoken than +in a civility to her father, from which she was so pointedly excluded. +She had not even a share in his opening compliments.—Her name was not +mentioned;—and there was so striking a change in all this, and such an +ill-judged solemnity of leave-taking in his graceful acknowledgments, +as she thought, at first, could not escape her father’s suspicion. + +It did, however.—Her father was quite taken up with the surprize of so +sudden a journey, and his fears that Mr. Elton might never get safely +to the end of it, and saw nothing extraordinary in his language. It was +a very useful note, for it supplied them with fresh matter for thought +and conversation during the rest of their lonely evening. Mr. Woodhouse +talked over his alarms, and Emma was in spirits to persuade them away +with all her usual promptitude. + +She now resolved to keep Harriet no longer in the dark. She had reason +to believe her nearly recovered from her cold, and it was desirable +that she should have as much time as possible for getting the better of +her other complaint before the gentleman’s return. She went to Mrs. +Goddard’s accordingly the very next day, to undergo the necessary +penance of communication; and a severe one it was.—She had to destroy +all the hopes which she had been so industriously feeding—to appear in +the ungracious character of the one preferred—and acknowledge herself +grossly mistaken and mis-judging in all her ideas on one subject, all +her observations, all her convictions, all her prophecies for the last +six weeks. + +The confession completely renewed her first shame—and the sight of +Harriet’s tears made her think that she should never be in charity with +herself again. + +Harriet bore the intelligence very well—blaming nobody—and in every +thing testifying such an ingenuousness of disposition and lowly opinion +of herself, as must appear with particular advantage at that moment to +her friend. + +Emma was in the humour to value simplicity and modesty to the utmost; +and all that was amiable, all that ought to be attaching, seemed on +Harriet’s side, not her own. Harriet did not consider herself as having +any thing to complain of. The affection of such a man as Mr. Elton +would have been too great a distinction.—She never could have deserved +him—and nobody but so partial and kind a friend as Miss Woodhouse would +have thought it possible. + +Her tears fell abundantly—but her grief was so truly artless, that no +dignity could have made it more respectable in Emma’s eyes—and she +listened to her and tried to console her with all her heart and +understanding—really for the time convinced that Harriet was the +superior creature of the two—and that to resemble her would be more for +her own welfare and happiness than all that genius or intelligence +could do. + +It was rather too late in the day to set about being simple-minded and +ignorant; but she left her with every previous resolution confirmed of +being humble and discreet, and repressing imagination all the rest of +her life. Her second duty now, inferior only to her father’s claims, +was to promote Harriet’s comfort, and endeavour to prove her own +affection in some better method than by match-making. She got her to +Hartfield, and shewed her the most unvarying kindness, striving to +occupy and amuse her, and by books and conversation, to drive Mr. Elton +from her thoughts. + +Time, she knew, must be allowed for this being thoroughly done; and she +could suppose herself but an indifferent judge of such matters in +general, and very inadequate to sympathise in an attachment to Mr. +Elton in particular; but it seemed to her reasonable that at Harriet’s +age, and with the entire extinction of all hope, such a progress might +be made towards a state of composure by the time of Mr. Elton’s return, +as to allow them all to meet again in the common routine of +acquaintance, without any danger of betraying sentiments or increasing +them. + +Harriet did think him all perfection, and maintained the non-existence +of any body equal to him in person or goodness—and did, in truth, prove +herself more resolutely in love than Emma had foreseen; but yet it +appeared to her so natural, so inevitable to strive against an +inclination of that sort _unrequited_, that she could not comprehend +its continuing very long in equal force. + +If Mr. Elton, on his return, made his own indifference as evident and +indubitable as she could not doubt he would anxiously do, she could not +imagine Harriet’s persisting to place her happiness in the sight or the +recollection of him. + +Their being fixed, so absolutely fixed, in the same place, was bad for +each, for all three. Not one of them had the power of removal, or of +effecting any material change of society. They must encounter each +other, and make the best of it. + +Harriet was farther unfortunate in the tone of her companions at Mrs. +Goddard’s; Mr. Elton being the adoration of all the teachers and great +girls in the school; and it must be at Hartfield only that she could +have any chance of hearing him spoken of with cooling moderation or +repellent truth. Where the wound had been given, there must the cure be +found if anywhere; and Emma felt that, till she saw her in the way of +cure, there could be no true peace for herself. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +Mr. Frank Churchill did not come. When the time proposed drew near, +Mrs. Weston’s fears were justified in the arrival of a letter of +excuse. For the present, he could not be spared, to his “very great +mortification and regret; but still he looked forward with the hope of +coming to Randalls at no distant period.” + +Mrs. Weston was exceedingly disappointed—much more disappointed, in +fact, than her husband, though her dependence on seeing the young man +had been so much more sober: but a sanguine temper, though for ever +expecting more good than occurs, does not always pay for its hopes by +any proportionate depression. It soon flies over the present failure, +and begins to hope again. For half an hour Mr. Weston was surprized and +sorry; but then he began to perceive that Frank’s coming two or three +months later would be a much better plan; better time of year; better +weather; and that he would be able, without any doubt, to stay +considerably longer with them than if he had come sooner. + +These feelings rapidly restored his comfort, while Mrs. Weston, of a +more apprehensive disposition, foresaw nothing but a repetition of +excuses and delays; and after all her concern for what her husband was +to suffer, suffered a great deal more herself. + +Emma was not at this time in a state of spirits to care really about +Mr. Frank Churchill’s not coming, except as a disappointment at +Randalls. The acquaintance at present had no charm for her. She wanted, +rather, to be quiet, and out of temptation; but still, as it was +desirable that she should appear, in general, like her usual self, she +took care to express as much interest in the circumstance, and enter as +warmly into Mr. and Mrs. Weston’s disappointment, as might naturally +belong to their friendship. + +She was the first to announce it to Mr. Knightley; and exclaimed quite +as much as was necessary, (or, being acting a part, perhaps rather +more,) at the conduct of the Churchills, in keeping him away. She then +proceeded to say a good deal more than she felt, of the advantage of +such an addition to their confined society in Surry; the pleasure of +looking at somebody new; the gala-day to Highbury entire, which the +sight of him would have made; and ending with reflections on the +Churchills again, found herself directly involved in a disagreement +with Mr. Knightley; and, to her great amusement, perceived that she was +taking the other side of the question from her real opinion, and making +use of Mrs. Weston’s arguments against herself. + +“The Churchills are very likely in fault,” said Mr. Knightley, coolly; +“but I dare say he might come if he would.” + +“I do not know why you should say so. He wishes exceedingly to come; +but his uncle and aunt will not spare him.” + +“I cannot believe that he has not the power of coming, if he made a +point of it. It is too unlikely, for me to believe it without proof.” + +“How odd you are! What has Mr. Frank Churchill done, to make you +suppose him such an unnatural creature?” + +“I am not supposing him at all an unnatural creature, in suspecting +that he may have learnt to be above his connexions, and to care very +little for any thing but his own pleasure, from living with those who +have always set him the example of it. It is a great deal more natural +than one could wish, that a young man, brought up by those who are +proud, luxurious, and selfish, should be proud, luxurious, and selfish +too. If Frank Churchill had wanted to see his father, he would have +contrived it between September and January. A man at his age—what is +he?—three or four-and-twenty—cannot be without the means of doing as +much as that. It is impossible.” + +“That’s easily said, and easily felt by you, who have always been your +own master. You are the worst judge in the world, Mr. Knightley, of the +difficulties of dependence. You do not know what it is to have tempers +to manage.” + +“It is not to be conceived that a man of three or four-and-twenty +should not have liberty of mind or limb to that amount. He cannot want +money—he cannot want leisure. We know, on the contrary, that he has so +much of both, that he is glad to get rid of them at the idlest haunts +in the kingdom. We hear of him for ever at some watering-place or +other. A little while ago, he was at Weymouth. This proves that he can +leave the Churchills.” + +“Yes, sometimes he can.” + +“And those times are whenever he thinks it worth his while; whenever +there is any temptation of pleasure.” + +“It is very unfair to judge of any body’s conduct, without an intimate +knowledge of their situation. Nobody, who has not been in the interior +of a family, can say what the difficulties of any individual of that +family may be. We ought to be acquainted with Enscombe, and with Mrs. +Churchill’s temper, before we pretend to decide upon what her nephew +can do. He may, at times, be able to do a great deal more than he can +at others.” + +“There is one thing, Emma, which a man can always do, if he chuses, and +that is, his duty; not by manoeuvring and finessing, but by vigour and +resolution. It is Frank Churchill’s duty to pay this attention to his +father. He knows it to be so, by his promises and messages; but if he +wished to do it, it might be done. A man who felt rightly would say at +once, simply and resolutely, to Mrs. Churchill—‘Every sacrifice of mere +pleasure you will always find me ready to make to your convenience; but +I must go and see my father immediately. I know he would be hurt by my +failing in such a mark of respect to him on the present occasion. I +shall, therefore, set off to-morrow.’—If he would say so to her at +once, in the tone of decision becoming a man, there would be no +opposition made to his going.” + +“No,” said Emma, laughing; “but perhaps there might be some made to his +coming back again. Such language for a young man entirely dependent, to +use!—Nobody but you, Mr. Knightley, would imagine it possible. But you +have not an idea of what is requisite in situations directly opposite +to your own. Mr. Frank Churchill to be making such a speech as that to +the uncle and aunt, who have brought him up, and are to provide for +him!—Standing up in the middle of the room, I suppose, and speaking as +loud as he could!—How can you imagine such conduct practicable?” + +“Depend upon it, Emma, a sensible man would find no difficulty in it. +He would feel himself in the right; and the declaration—made, of +course, as a man of sense would make it, in a proper manner—would do +him more good, raise him higher, fix his interest stronger with the +people he depended on, than all that a line of shifts and expedients +can ever do. Respect would be added to affection. They would feel that +they could trust him; that the nephew who had done rightly by his +father, would do rightly by them; for they know, as well as he does, as +well as all the world must know, that he ought to pay this visit to his +father; and while meanly exerting their power to delay it, are in their +hearts not thinking the better of him for submitting to their whims. +Respect for right conduct is felt by every body. If he would act in +this sort of manner, on principle, consistently, regularly, their +little minds would bend to his.” + +“I rather doubt that. You are very fond of bending little minds; but +where little minds belong to rich people in authority, I think they +have a knack of swelling out, till they are quite as unmanageable as +great ones. I can imagine, that if you, as you are, Mr. Knightley, were +to be transported and placed all at once in Mr. Frank Churchill’s +situation, you would be able to say and do just what you have been +recommending for him; and it might have a very good effect. The +Churchills might not have a word to say in return; but then, you would +have no habits of early obedience and long observance to break through. +To him who has, it might not be so easy to burst forth at once into +perfect independence, and set all their claims on his gratitude and +regard at nought. He may have as strong a sense of what would be right, +as you can have, without being so equal, under particular +circumstances, to act up to it.” + +“Then it would not be so strong a sense. If it failed to produce equal +exertion, it could not be an equal conviction.” + +“Oh, the difference of situation and habit! I wish you would try to +understand what an amiable young man may be likely to feel in directly +opposing those, whom as child and boy he has been looking up to all his +life.” + +“Our amiable young man is a very weak young man, if this be the first +occasion of his carrying through a resolution to do right against the +will of others. It ought to have been a habit with him by this time, of +following his duty, instead of consulting expediency. I can allow for +the fears of the child, but not of the man. As he became rational, he +ought to have roused himself and shaken off all that was unworthy in +their authority. He ought to have opposed the first attempt on their +side to make him slight his father. Had he begun as he ought, there +would have been no difficulty now.” + +“We shall never agree about him,” cried Emma; “but that is nothing +extraordinary. I have not the least idea of his being a weak young man: +I feel sure that he is not. Mr. Weston would not be blind to folly, +though in his own son; but he is very likely to have a more yielding, +complying, mild disposition than would suit your notions of man’s +perfection. I dare say he has; and though it may cut him off from some +advantages, it will secure him many others.” + +“Yes; all the advantages of sitting still when he ought to move, and of +leading a life of mere idle pleasure, and fancying himself extremely +expert in finding excuses for it. He can sit down and write a fine +flourishing letter, full of professions and falsehoods, and persuade +himself that he has hit upon the very best method in the world of +preserving peace at home and preventing his father’s having any right +to complain. His letters disgust me.” + +“Your feelings are singular. They seem to satisfy every body else.” + +“I suspect they do not satisfy Mrs. Weston. They hardly can satisfy a +woman of her good sense and quick feelings: standing in a mother’s +place, but without a mother’s affection to blind her. It is on her +account that attention to Randalls is doubly due, and she must doubly +feel the omission. Had she been a person of consequence herself, he +would have come I dare say; and it would not have signified whether he +did or no. Can you think your friend behindhand in these sort of +considerations? Do you suppose she does not often say all this to +herself? No, Emma, your amiable young man can be amiable only in +French, not in English. He may be very ‘amiable,’ have very good +manners, and be very agreeable; but he can have no English delicacy +towards the feelings of other people: nothing really amiable about +him.” + +“You seem determined to think ill of him.” + +“Me!—not at all,” replied Mr. Knightley, rather displeased; “I do not +want to think ill of him. I should be as ready to acknowledge his +merits as any other man; but I hear of none, except what are merely +personal; that he is well-grown and good-looking, with smooth, +plausible manners.” + +“Well, if he have nothing else to recommend him, he will be a treasure +at Highbury. We do not often look upon fine young men, well-bred and +agreeable. We must not be nice and ask for all the virtues into the +bargain. Cannot you imagine, Mr. Knightley, what a _sensation_ his +coming will produce? There will be but one subject throughout the +parishes of Donwell and Highbury; but one interest—one object of +curiosity; it will be all Mr. Frank Churchill; we shall think and speak +of nobody else.” + +“You will excuse my being so much over-powered. If I find him +conversable, I shall be glad of his acquaintance; but if he is only a +chattering coxcomb, he will not occupy much of my time or thoughts.” + +“My idea of him is, that he can adapt his conversation to the taste of +every body, and has the power as well as the wish of being universally +agreeable. To you, he will talk of farming; to me, of drawing or music; +and so on to every body, having that general information on all +subjects which will enable him to follow the lead, or take the lead, +just as propriety may require, and to speak extremely well on each; +that is my idea of him.” + +“And mine,” said Mr. Knightley warmly, “is, that if he turn out any +thing like it, he will be the most insufferable fellow breathing! What! +at three-and-twenty to be the king of his company—the great man—the +practised politician, who is to read every body’s character, and make +every body’s talents conduce to the display of his own superiority; to +be dispensing his flatteries around, that he may make all appear like +fools compared with himself! My dear Emma, your own good sense could +not endure such a puppy when it came to the point.” + +“I will say no more about him,” cried Emma, “you turn every thing to +evil. We are both prejudiced; you against, I for him; and we have no +chance of agreeing till he is really here.” + +“Prejudiced! I am not prejudiced.” + +“But I am very much, and without being at all ashamed of it. My love +for Mr. and Mrs. Weston gives me a decided prejudice in his favour.” + +“He is a person I never think of from one month’s end to another,” said +Mr. Knightley, with a degree of vexation, which made Emma immediately +talk of something else, though she could not comprehend why he should +be angry. + +To take a dislike to a young man, only because he appeared to be of a +different disposition from himself, was unworthy the real liberality of +mind which she was always used to acknowledge in him; for with all the +high opinion of himself, which she had often laid to his charge, she +had never before for a moment supposed it could make him unjust to the +merit of another. + + + + +VOLUME II + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +Emma and Harriet had been walking together one morning, and, in Emma’s +opinion, had been talking enough of Mr. Elton for that day. She could +not think that Harriet’s solace or her own sins required more; and she +was therefore industriously getting rid of the subject as they +returned;—but it burst out again when she thought she had succeeded, +and after speaking some time of what the poor must suffer in winter, +and receiving no other answer than a very plaintive—“Mr. Elton is so +good to the poor!” she found something else must be done. + +They were just approaching the house where lived Mrs. and Miss Bates. +She determined to call upon them and seek safety in numbers. There was +always sufficient reason for such an attention; Mrs. and Miss Bates +loved to be called on, and she knew she was considered by the very few +who presumed ever to see imperfection in her, as rather negligent in +that respect, and as not contributing what she ought to the stock of +their scanty comforts. + +She had had many a hint from Mr. Knightley and some from her own heart, +as to her deficiency—but none were equal to counteract the persuasion +of its being very disagreeable,—a waste of time—tiresome women—and all +the horror of being in danger of falling in with the second-rate and +third-rate of Highbury, who were calling on them for ever, and +therefore she seldom went near them. But now she made the sudden +resolution of not passing their door without going in—observing, as she +proposed it to Harriet, that, as well as she could calculate, they were +just now quite safe from any letter from Jane Fairfax. + +The house belonged to people in business. Mrs. and Miss Bates occupied +the drawing-room floor; and there, in the very moderate-sized +apartment, which was every thing to them, the visitors were most +cordially and even gratefully welcomed; the quiet neat old lady, who +with her knitting was seated in the warmest corner, wanting even to +give up her place to Miss Woodhouse, and her more active, talking +daughter, almost ready to overpower them with care and kindness, thanks +for their visit, solicitude for their shoes, anxious inquiries after +Mr. Woodhouse’s health, cheerful communications about her mother’s, and +sweet-cake from the beaufet—“Mrs. Cole had just been there, just called +in for ten minutes, and had been so good as to sit an hour with them, +and _she_ had taken a piece of cake and been so kind as to say she +liked it very much; and, therefore, she hoped Miss Woodhouse and Miss +Smith would do them the favour to eat a piece too.” + +The mention of the Coles was sure to be followed by that of Mr. Elton. +There was intimacy between them, and Mr. Cole had heard from Mr. Elton +since his going away. Emma knew what was coming; they must have the +letter over again, and settle how long he had been gone, and how much +he was engaged in company, and what a favourite he was wherever he +went, and how full the Master of the Ceremonies’ ball had been; and she +went through it very well, with all the interest and all the +commendation that could be requisite, and always putting forward to +prevent Harriet’s being obliged to say a word. + +This she had been prepared for when she entered the house; but meant, +having once talked him handsomely over, to be no farther incommoded by +any troublesome topic, and to wander at large amongst all the +Mistresses and Misses of Highbury, and their card-parties. She had not +been prepared to have Jane Fairfax succeed Mr. Elton; but he was +actually hurried off by Miss Bates, she jumped away from him at last +abruptly to the Coles, to usher in a letter from her niece. + +“Oh! yes—Mr. Elton, I understand—certainly as to dancing—Mrs. Cole was +telling me that dancing at the rooms at Bath was—Mrs. Cole was so kind +as to sit some time with us, talking of Jane; for as soon as she came +in, she began inquiring after her, Jane is so very great a favourite +there. Whenever she is with us, Mrs. Cole does not know how to shew her +kindness enough; and I must say that Jane deserves it as much as any +body can. And so she began inquiring after her directly, saying, ‘I +know you cannot have heard from Jane lately, because it is not her time +for writing;’ and when I immediately said, ‘But indeed we have, we had +a letter this very morning,’ I do not know that I ever saw any body +more surprized. ‘Have you, upon your honour?’ said she; ‘well, that is +quite unexpected. Do let me hear what she says.’” + +Emma’s politeness was at hand directly, to say, with smiling interest— + +“Have you heard from Miss Fairfax so lately? I am extremely happy. I +hope she is well?” + +“Thank you. You are so kind!” replied the happily deceived aunt, while +eagerly hunting for the letter.—“Oh! here it is. I was sure it could +not be far off; but I had put my huswife upon it, you see, without +being aware, and so it was quite hid, but I had it in my hand so very +lately that I was almost sure it must be on the table. I was reading it +to Mrs. Cole, and since she went away, I was reading it again to my +mother, for it is such a pleasure to her—a letter from Jane—that she +can never hear it often enough; so I knew it could not be far off, and +here it is, only just under my huswife—and since you are so kind as to +wish to hear what she says;—but, first of all, I really must, in +justice to Jane, apologise for her writing so short a letter—only two +pages you see—hardly two—and in general she fills the whole paper and +crosses half. My mother often wonders that I can make it out so well. +She often says, when the letter is first opened, ‘Well, Hetty, now I +think you will be put to it to make out all that checker-work’—don’t +you, ma’am?—And then I tell her, I am sure she would contrive to make +it out herself, if she had nobody to do it for her—every word of it—I +am sure she would pore over it till she had made out every word. And, +indeed, though my mother’s eyes are not so good as they were, she can +see amazingly well still, thank God! with the help of spectacles. It is +such a blessing! My mother’s are really very good indeed. Jane often +says, when she is here, ‘I am sure, grandmama, you must have had very +strong eyes to see as you do—and so much fine work as you have done +too!—I only wish my eyes may last me as well.’” + +All this spoken extremely fast obliged Miss Bates to stop for breath; +and Emma said something very civil about the excellence of Miss +Fairfax’s handwriting. + +“You are extremely kind,” replied Miss Bates, highly gratified; “you +who are such a judge, and write so beautifully yourself. I am sure +there is nobody’s praise that could give us so much pleasure as Miss +Woodhouse’s. My mother does not hear; she is a little deaf you know. +Ma’am,” addressing her, “do you hear what Miss Woodhouse is so obliging +to say about Jane’s handwriting?” + +And Emma had the advantage of hearing her own silly compliment repeated +twice over before the good old lady could comprehend it. She was +pondering, in the meanwhile, upon the possibility, without seeming very +rude, of making her escape from Jane Fairfax’s letter, and had almost +resolved on hurrying away directly under some slight excuse, when Miss +Bates turned to her again and seized her attention. + +“My mother’s deafness is very trifling you see—just nothing at all. By +only raising my voice, and saying any thing two or three times over, +she is sure to hear; but then she is used to my voice. But it is very +remarkable that she should always hear Jane better than she does me. +Jane speaks so distinct! However, she will not find her grandmama at +all deafer than she was two years ago; which is saying a great deal at +my mother’s time of life—and it really is full two years, you know, +since she was here. We never were so long without seeing her before, +and as I was telling Mrs. Cole, we shall hardly know how to make enough +of her now.” + +“Are you expecting Miss Fairfax here soon?” + +“Oh yes; next week.” + +“Indeed!—that must be a very great pleasure.” + +“Thank you. You are very kind. Yes, next week. Every body is so +surprized; and every body says the same obliging things. I am sure she +will be as happy to see her friends at Highbury, as they can be to see +her. Yes, Friday or Saturday; she cannot say which, because Colonel +Campbell will be wanting the carriage himself one of those days. So +very good of them to send her the whole way! But they always do, you +know. Oh yes, Friday or Saturday next. That is what she writes about. +That is the reason of her writing out of rule, as we call it; for, in +the common course, we should not have heard from her before next +Tuesday or Wednesday.” + +“Yes, so I imagined. I was afraid there could be little chance of my +hearing any thing of Miss Fairfax to-day.” + +“So obliging of you! No, we should not have heard, if it had not been +for this particular circumstance, of her being to come here so soon. My +mother is so delighted!—for she is to be three months with us at least. +Three months, she says so, positively, as I am going to have the +pleasure of reading to you. The case is, you see, that the Campbells +are going to Ireland. Mrs. Dixon has persuaded her father and mother to +come over and see her directly. They had not intended to go over till +the summer, but she is so impatient to see them again—for till she +married, last October, she was never away from them so much as a week, +which must make it very strange to be in different kingdoms, I was +going to say, but however different countries, and so she wrote a very +urgent letter to her mother—or her father, I declare I do not know +which it was, but we shall see presently in Jane’s letter—wrote in Mr. +Dixon’s name as well as her own, to press their coming over directly, +and they would give them the meeting in Dublin, and take them back to +their country seat, Baly-craig, a beautiful place, I fancy. Jane has +heard a great deal of its beauty; from Mr. Dixon, I mean—I do not know +that she ever heard about it from any body else; but it was very +natural, you know, that he should like to speak of his own place while +he was paying his addresses—and as Jane used to be very often walking +out with them—for Colonel and Mrs. Campbell were very particular about +their daughter’s not walking out often with only Mr. Dixon, for which I +do not at all blame them; of course she heard every thing he might be +telling Miss Campbell about his own home in Ireland; and I think she +wrote us word that he had shewn them some drawings of the place, views +that he had taken himself. He is a most amiable, charming young man, I +believe. Jane was quite longing to go to Ireland, from his account of +things.” + +At this moment, an ingenious and animating suspicion entering Emma’s +brain with regard to Jane Fairfax, this charming Mr. Dixon, and the not +going to Ireland, she said, with the insidious design of farther +discovery, + +“You must feel it very fortunate that Miss Fairfax should be allowed to +come to you at such a time. Considering the very particular friendship +between her and Mrs. Dixon, you could hardly have expected her to be +excused from accompanying Colonel and Mrs. Campbell.” + +“Very true, very true, indeed. The very thing that we have always been +rather afraid of; for we should not have liked to have her at such a +distance from us, for months together—not able to come if any thing was +to happen. But you see, every thing turns out for the best. They want +her (Mr. and Mrs. Dixon) excessively to come over with Colonel and Mrs. +Campbell; quite depend upon it; nothing can be more kind or pressing +than their _joint_ invitation, Jane says, as you will hear presently; +Mr. Dixon does not seem in the least backward in any attention. He is a +most charming young man. Ever since the service he rendered Jane at +Weymouth, when they were out in that party on the water, and she, by +the sudden whirling round of something or other among the sails, would +have been dashed into the sea at once, and actually was all but gone, +if he had not, with the greatest presence of mind, caught hold of her +habit— (I can never think of it without trembling!)—But ever since we +had the history of that day, I have been so fond of Mr. Dixon!” + +“But, in spite of all her friends’ urgency, and her own wish of seeing +Ireland, Miss Fairfax prefers devoting the time to you and Mrs. Bates?” + +“Yes—entirely her own doing, entirely her own choice; and Colonel and +Mrs. Campbell think she does quite right, just what they should +recommend; and indeed they particularly _wish_ her to try her native +air, as she has not been quite so well as usual lately.” + +“I am concerned to hear of it. I think they judge wisely. But Mrs. +Dixon must be very much disappointed. Mrs. Dixon, I understand, has no +remarkable degree of personal beauty; is not, by any means, to be +compared with Miss Fairfax.” + +“Oh! no. You are very obliging to say such things—but certainly not. +There is no comparison between them. Miss Campbell always was +absolutely plain—but extremely elegant and amiable.” + +“Yes, that of course.” + +“Jane caught a bad cold, poor thing! so long ago as the 7th of +November, (as I am going to read to you,) and has never been well +since. A long time, is not it, for a cold to hang upon her? She never +mentioned it before, because she would not alarm us. Just like her! so +considerate!—But however, she is so far from well, that her kind +friends the Campbells think she had better come home, and try an air +that always agrees with her; and they have no doubt that three or four +months at Highbury will entirely cure her—and it is certainly a great +deal better that she should come here, than go to Ireland, if she is +unwell. Nobody could nurse her, as we should do.” + +“It appears to me the most desirable arrangement in the world.” + +“And so she is to come to us next Friday or Saturday, and the Campbells +leave town in their way to Holyhead the Monday following—as you will +find from Jane’s letter. So sudden!—You may guess, dear Miss Woodhouse, +what a flurry it has thrown me in! If it was not for the drawback of +her illness—but I am afraid we must expect to see her grown thin, and +looking very poorly. I must tell you what an unlucky thing happened to +me, as to that. I always make a point of reading Jane’s letters through +to myself first, before I read them aloud to my mother, you know, for +fear of there being any thing in them to distress her. Jane desired me +to do it, so I always do: and so I began to-day with my usual caution; +but no sooner did I come to the mention of her being unwell, than I +burst out, quite frightened, with ‘Bless me! poor Jane is ill!’—which +my mother, being on the watch, heard distinctly, and was sadly alarmed +at. However, when I read on, I found it was not near so bad as I had +fancied at first; and I make so light of it now to her, that she does +not think much about it. But I cannot imagine how I could be so off my +guard. If Jane does not get well soon, we will call in Mr. Perry. The +expense shall not be thought of; and though he is so liberal, and so +fond of Jane that I dare say he would not mean to charge any thing for +attendance, we could not suffer it to be so, you know. He has a wife +and family to maintain, and is not to be giving away his time. Well, +now I have just given you a hint of what Jane writes about, we will +turn to her letter, and I am sure she tells her own story a great deal +better than I can tell it for her.” + +“I am afraid we must be running away,” said Emma, glancing at Harriet, +and beginning to rise—“My father will be expecting us. I had no +intention, I thought I had no power of staying more than five minutes, +when I first entered the house. I merely called, because I would not +pass the door without inquiring after Mrs. Bates; but I have been so +pleasantly detained! Now, however, we must wish you and Mrs. Bates good +morning.” + +And not all that could be urged to detain her succeeded. She regained +the street—happy in this, that though much had been forced on her +against her will, though she had in fact heard the whole substance of +Jane Fairfax’s letter, she had been able to escape the letter itself. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +Jane Fairfax was an orphan, the only child of Mrs. Bates’s youngest +daughter. + +The marriage of Lieut. Fairfax of the ——regiment of infantry, and Miss +Jane Bates, had had its day of fame and pleasure, hope and interest; +but nothing now remained of it, save the melancholy remembrance of him +dying in action abroad—of his widow sinking under consumption and grief +soon afterwards—and this girl. + +By birth she belonged to Highbury: and when at three years old, on +losing her mother, she became the property, the charge, the +consolation, the foundling of her grandmother and aunt, there had +seemed every probability of her being permanently fixed there; of her +being taught only what very limited means could command, and growing up +with no advantages of connexion or improvement, to be engrafted on what +nature had given her in a pleasing person, good understanding, and +warm-hearted, well-meaning relations. + +But the compassionate feelings of a friend of her father gave a change +to her destiny. This was Colonel Campbell, who had very highly regarded +Fairfax, as an excellent officer and most deserving young man; and +farther, had been indebted to him for such attentions, during a severe +camp-fever, as he believed had saved his life. These were claims which +he did not learn to overlook, though some years passed away from the +death of poor Fairfax, before his own return to England put any thing +in his power. When he did return, he sought out the child and took +notice of her. He was a married man, with only one living child, a +girl, about Jane’s age: and Jane became their guest, paying them long +visits and growing a favourite with all; and before she was nine years +old, his daughter’s great fondness for her, and his own wish of being a +real friend, united to produce an offer from Colonel Campbell of +undertaking the whole charge of her education. It was accepted; and +from that period Jane had belonged to Colonel Campbell’s family, and +had lived with them entirely, only visiting her grandmother from time +to time. + +The plan was that she should be brought up for educating others; the +very few hundred pounds which she inherited from her father making +independence impossible. To provide for her otherwise was out of +Colonel Campbell’s power; for though his income, by pay and +appointments, was handsome, his fortune was moderate and must be all +his daughter’s; but, by giving her an education, he hoped to be +supplying the means of respectable subsistence hereafter. + +Such was Jane Fairfax’s history. She had fallen into good hands, known +nothing but kindness from the Campbells, and been given an excellent +education. Living constantly with right-minded and well-informed +people, her heart and understanding had received every advantage of +discipline and culture; and Colonel Campbell’s residence being in +London, every lighter talent had been done full justice to, by the +attendance of first-rate masters. Her disposition and abilities were +equally worthy of all that friendship could do; and at eighteen or +nineteen she was, as far as such an early age can be qualified for the +care of children, fully competent to the office of instruction herself; +but she was too much beloved to be parted with. Neither father nor +mother could promote, and the daughter could not endure it. The evil +day was put off. It was easy to decide that she was still too young; +and Jane remained with them, sharing, as another daughter, in all the +rational pleasures of an elegant society, and a judicious mixture of +home and amusement, with only the drawback of the future, the sobering +suggestions of her own good understanding to remind her that all this +might soon be over. + +The affection of the whole family, the warm attachment of Miss Campbell +in particular, was the more honourable to each party from the +circumstance of Jane’s decided superiority both in beauty and +acquirements. That nature had given it in feature could not be unseen +by the young woman, nor could her higher powers of mind be unfelt by +the parents. They continued together with unabated regard however, till +the marriage of Miss Campbell, who by that chance, that luck which so +often defies anticipation in matrimonial affairs, giving attraction to +what is moderate rather than to what is superior, engaged the +affections of Mr. Dixon, a young man, rich and agreeable, almost as +soon as they were acquainted; and was eligibly and happily settled, +while Jane Fairfax had yet her bread to earn. + +This event had very lately taken place; too lately for any thing to be +yet attempted by her less fortunate friend towards entering on her path +of duty; though she had now reached the age which her own judgment had +fixed on for beginning. She had long resolved that one-and-twenty +should be the period. With the fortitude of a devoted novitiate, she +had resolved at one-and-twenty to complete the sacrifice, and retire +from all the pleasures of life, of rational intercourse, equal society, +peace and hope, to penance and mortification for ever. + +The good sense of Colonel and Mrs. Campbell could not oppose such a +resolution, though their feelings did. As long as they lived, no +exertions would be necessary, their home might be hers for ever; and +for their own comfort they would have retained her wholly; but this +would be selfishness:—what must be at last, had better be soon. Perhaps +they began to feel it might have been kinder and wiser to have resisted +the temptation of any delay, and spared her from a taste of such +enjoyments of ease and leisure as must now be relinquished. Still, +however, affection was glad to catch at any reasonable excuse for not +hurrying on the wretched moment. She had never been quite well since +the time of their daughter’s marriage; and till she should have +completely recovered her usual strength, they must forbid her engaging +in duties, which, so far from being compatible with a weakened frame +and varying spirits, seemed, under the most favourable circumstances, +to require something more than human perfection of body and mind to be +discharged with tolerable comfort. + +With regard to her not accompanying them to Ireland, her account to her +aunt contained nothing but truth, though there might be some truths not +told. It was her own choice to give the time of their absence to +Highbury; to spend, perhaps, her last months of perfect liberty with +those kind relations to whom she was so very dear: and the Campbells, +whatever might be their motive or motives, whether single, or double, +or treble, gave the arrangement their ready sanction, and said, that +they depended more on a few months spent in her native air, for the +recovery of her health, than on any thing else. Certain it was that she +was to come; and that Highbury, instead of welcoming that perfect +novelty which had been so long promised it—Mr. Frank Churchill—must put +up for the present with Jane Fairfax, who could bring only the +freshness of a two years’ absence. + +Emma was sorry;—to have to pay civilities to a person she did not like +through three long months!—to be always doing more than she wished, and +less than she ought! Why she did not like Jane Fairfax might be a +difficult question to answer; Mr. Knightley had once told her it was +because she saw in her the really accomplished young woman, which she +wanted to be thought herself; and though the accusation had been +eagerly refuted at the time, there were moments of self-examination in +which her conscience could not quite acquit her. But “she could never +get acquainted with her: she did not know how it was, but there was +such coldness and reserve—such apparent indifference whether she +pleased or not—and then, her aunt was such an eternal talker!—and she +was made such a fuss with by every body!—and it had been always +imagined that they were to be so intimate—because their ages were the +same, every body had supposed they must be so fond of each other.” +These were her reasons—she had no better. + +It was a dislike so little just—every imputed fault was so magnified by +fancy, that she never saw Jane Fairfax the first time after any +considerable absence, without feeling that she had injured her; and +now, when the due visit was paid, on her arrival, after a two years’ +interval, she was particularly struck with the very appearance and +manners, which for those two whole years she had been depreciating. +Jane Fairfax was very elegant, remarkably elegant; and she had herself +the highest value for elegance. Her height was pretty, just such as +almost every body would think tall, and nobody could think very tall; +her figure particularly graceful; her size a most becoming medium, +between fat and thin, though a slight appearance of ill-health seemed +to point out the likeliest evil of the two. Emma could not but feel all +this; and then, her face—her features—there was more beauty in them +altogether than she had remembered; it was not regular, but it was very +pleasing beauty. Her eyes, a deep grey, with dark eye-lashes and +eyebrows, had never been denied their praise; but the skin, which she +had been used to cavil at, as wanting colour, had a clearness and +delicacy which really needed no fuller bloom. It was a style of beauty, +of which elegance was the reigning character, and as such, she must, in +honour, by all her principles, admire it:—elegance, which, whether of +person or of mind, she saw so little in Highbury. There, not to be +vulgar, was distinction, and merit. + +In short, she sat, during the first visit, looking at Jane Fairfax with +twofold complacency; the sense of pleasure and the sense of rendering +justice, and was determining that she would dislike her no longer. When +she took in her history, indeed, her situation, as well as her beauty; +when she considered what all this elegance was destined to, what she +was going to sink from, how she was going to live, it seemed impossible +to feel any thing but compassion and respect; especially, if to every +well-known particular entitling her to interest, were added the highly +probable circumstance of an attachment to Mr. Dixon, which she had so +naturally started to herself. In that case, nothing could be more +pitiable or more honourable than the sacrifices she had resolved on. +Emma was very willing now to acquit her of having seduced Mr. Dixon’s +affections from his wife, or of any thing mischievous which her +imagination had suggested at first. If it were love, it might be +simple, single, successless love on her side alone. She might have been +unconsciously sucking in the sad poison, while a sharer of his +conversation with her friend; and from the best, the purest of motives, +might now be denying herself this visit to Ireland, and resolving to +divide herself effectually from him and his connexions by soon +beginning her career of laborious duty. + +Upon the whole, Emma left her with such softened, charitable feelings, +as made her look around in walking home, and lament that Highbury +afforded no young man worthy of giving her independence; nobody that +she could wish to scheme about for her. + +These were charming feelings—but not lasting. Before she had committed +herself by any public profession of eternal friendship for Jane +Fairfax, or done more towards a recantation of past prejudices and +errors, than saying to Mr. Knightley, “She certainly is handsome; she +is better than handsome!” Jane had spent an evening at Hartfield with +her grandmother and aunt, and every thing was relapsing much into its +usual state. Former provocations reappeared. The aunt was as tiresome +as ever; more tiresome, because anxiety for her health was now added to +admiration of her powers; and they had to listen to the description of +exactly how little bread and butter she ate for breakfast, and how +small a slice of mutton for dinner, as well as to see exhibitions of +new caps and new workbags for her mother and herself; and Jane’s +offences rose again. They had music; Emma was obliged to play; and the +thanks and praise which necessarily followed appeared to her an +affectation of candour, an air of greatness, meaning only to shew off +in higher style her own very superior performance. She was, besides, +which was the worst of all, so cold, so cautious! There was no getting +at her real opinion. Wrapt up in a cloak of politeness, she seemed +determined to hazard nothing. She was disgustingly, was suspiciously +reserved. + +If any thing could be more, where all was most, she was more reserved +on the subject of Weymouth and the Dixons than any thing. She seemed +bent on giving no real insight into Mr. Dixon’s character, or her own +value for his company, or opinion of the suitableness of the match. It +was all general approbation and smoothness; nothing delineated or +distinguished. It did her no service however. Her caution was thrown +away. Emma saw its artifice, and returned to her first surmises. There +probably _was_ something more to conceal than her own preference; Mr. +Dixon, perhaps, had been very near changing one friend for the other, +or been fixed only to Miss Campbell, for the sake of the future twelve +thousand pounds. + +The like reserve prevailed on other topics. She and Mr. Frank Churchill +had been at Weymouth at the same time. It was known that they were a +little acquainted; but not a syllable of real information could Emma +procure as to what he truly was. “Was he handsome?”—“She believed he +was reckoned a very fine young man.” “Was he agreeable?”—“He was +generally thought so.” “Did he appear a sensible young man; a young man +of information?”—“At a watering-place, or in a common London +acquaintance, it was difficult to decide on such points. Manners were +all that could be safely judged of, under a much longer knowledge than +they had yet had of Mr. Churchill. She believed every body found his +manners pleasing.” Emma could not forgive her. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Emma could not forgive her;—but as neither provocation nor resentment +were discerned by Mr. Knightley, who had been of the party, and had +seen only proper attention and pleasing behaviour on each side, he was +expressing the next morning, being at Hartfield again on business with +Mr. Woodhouse, his approbation of the whole; not so openly as he might +have done had her father been out of the room, but speaking plain +enough to be very intelligible to Emma. He had been used to think her +unjust to Jane, and had now great pleasure in marking an improvement. + +“A very pleasant evening,” he began, as soon as Mr. Woodhouse had been +talked into what was necessary, told that he understood, and the papers +swept away;—“particularly pleasant. You and Miss Fairfax gave us some +very good music. I do not know a more luxurious state, sir, than +sitting at one’s ease to be entertained a whole evening by two such +young women; sometimes with music and sometimes with conversation. I am +sure Miss Fairfax must have found the evening pleasant, Emma. You left +nothing undone. I was glad you made her play so much, for having no +instrument at her grandmother’s, it must have been a real indulgence.” + +“I am happy you approved,” said Emma, smiling; “but I hope I am not +often deficient in what is due to guests at Hartfield.” + +“No, my dear,” said her father instantly; “_that_ I am sure you are +not. There is nobody half so attentive and civil as you are. If any +thing, you are too attentive. The muffin last night—if it had been +handed round once, I think it would have been enough.” + +“No,” said Mr. Knightley, nearly at the same time; “you are not often +deficient; not often deficient either in manner or comprehension. I +think you understand me, therefore.” + +An arch look expressed—“I understand you well enough;” but she said +only, “Miss Fairfax is reserved.” + +“I always told you she was—a little; but you will soon overcome all +that part of her reserve which ought to be overcome, all that has its +foundation in diffidence. What arises from discretion must be +honoured.” + +“You think her diffident. I do not see it.” + +“My dear Emma,” said he, moving from his chair into one close by her, +“you are not going to tell me, I hope, that you had not a pleasant +evening.” + +“Oh! no; I was pleased with my own perseverance in asking questions; +and amused to think how little information I obtained.” + +“I am disappointed,” was his only answer. + +“I hope every body had a pleasant evening,” said Mr. Woodhouse, in his +quiet way. “I had. Once, I felt the fire rather too much; but then I +moved back my chair a little, a very little, and it did not disturb me. +Miss Bates was very chatty and good-humoured, as she always is, though +she speaks rather too quick. However, she is very agreeable, and Mrs. +Bates too, in a different way. I like old friends; and Miss Jane +Fairfax is a very pretty sort of young lady, a very pretty and a very +well-behaved young lady indeed. She must have found the evening +agreeable, Mr. Knightley, because she had Emma.” + +“True, sir; and Emma, because she had Miss Fairfax.” + +Emma saw his anxiety, and wishing to appease it, at least for the +present, said, and with a sincerity which no one could question— + +“She is a sort of elegant creature that one cannot keep one’s eyes +from. I am always watching her to admire; and I do pity her from my +heart.” + +Mr. Knightley looked as if he were more gratified than he cared to +express; and before he could make any reply, Mr. Woodhouse, whose +thoughts were on the Bates’s, said— + +“It is a great pity that their circumstances should be so confined! a +great pity indeed! and I have often wished—but it is so little one can +venture to do—small, trifling presents, of any thing uncommon—Now we +have killed a porker, and Emma thinks of sending them a loin or a leg; +it is very small and delicate—Hartfield pork is not like any other +pork—but still it is pork—and, my dear Emma, unless one could be sure +of their making it into steaks, nicely fried, as ours are fried, +without the smallest grease, and not roast it, for no stomach can bear +roast pork—I think we had better send the leg—do not you think so, my +dear?” + +“My dear papa, I sent the whole hind-quarter. I knew you would wish it. +There will be the leg to be salted, you know, which is so very nice, +and the loin to be dressed directly in any manner they like.” + +“That’s right, my dear, very right. I had not thought of it before, but +that is the best way. They must not over-salt the leg; and then, if it +is not over-salted, and if it is very thoroughly boiled, just as Serle +boils ours, and eaten very moderately of, with a boiled turnip, and a +little carrot or parsnip, I do not consider it unwholesome.” + +“Emma,” said Mr. Knightley presently, “I have a piece of news for you. +You like news—and I heard an article in my way hither that I think will +interest you.” + +“News! Oh! yes, I always like news. What is it?—why do you smile +so?—where did you hear it?—at Randalls?” + +He had time only to say, + +“No, not at Randalls; I have not been near Randalls,” when the door was +thrown open, and Miss Bates and Miss Fairfax walked into the room. Full +of thanks, and full of news, Miss Bates knew not which to give +quickest. Mr. Knightley soon saw that he had lost his moment, and that +not another syllable of communication could rest with him. + +“Oh! my dear sir, how are you this morning? My dear Miss Woodhouse—I +come quite over-powered. Such a beautiful hind-quarter of pork! You are +too bountiful! Have you heard the news? Mr. Elton is going to be +married.” + +Emma had not had time even to think of Mr. Elton, and she was so +completely surprized that she could not avoid a little start, and a +little blush, at the sound. + +“There is my news:—I thought it would interest you,” said Mr. +Knightley, with a smile which implied a conviction of some part of what +had passed between them. + +“But where could _you_ hear it?” cried Miss Bates. “Where could you +possibly hear it, Mr. Knightley? For it is not five minutes since I +received Mrs. Cole’s note—no, it cannot be more than five—or at least +ten—for I had got my bonnet and spencer on, just ready to come out—I +was only gone down to speak to Patty again about the pork—Jane was +standing in the passage—were not you, Jane?—for my mother was so afraid +that we had not any salting-pan large enough. So I said I would go down +and see, and Jane said, ‘Shall I go down instead? for I think you have +a little cold, and Patty has been washing the kitchen.’—‘Oh! my dear,’ +said I—well, and just then came the note. A Miss Hawkins—that’s all I +know. A Miss Hawkins of Bath. But, Mr. Knightley, how could you +possibly have heard it? for the very moment Mr. Cole told Mrs. Cole of +it, she sat down and wrote to me. A Miss Hawkins—” + +“I was with Mr. Cole on business an hour and a half ago. He had just +read Elton’s letter as I was shewn in, and handed it to me directly.” + +“Well! that is quite—I suppose there never was a piece of news more +generally interesting. My dear sir, you really are too bountiful. My +mother desires her very best compliments and regards, and a thousand +thanks, and says you really quite oppress her.” + +“We consider our Hartfield pork,” replied Mr. Woodhouse—“indeed it +certainly is, so very superior to all other pork, that Emma and I +cannot have a greater pleasure than—” + +“Oh! my dear sir, as my mother says, our friends are only too good to +us. If ever there were people who, without having great wealth +themselves, had every thing they could wish for, I am sure it is us. We +may well say that ‘our lot is cast in a goodly heritage.’ Well, Mr. +Knightley, and so you actually saw the letter; well—” + +“It was short—merely to announce—but cheerful, exulting, of course.”— +Here was a sly glance at Emma. “He had been so fortunate as to—I forget +the precise words—one has no business to remember them. The information +was, as you state, that he was going to be married to a Miss Hawkins. +By his style, I should imagine it just settled.” + +“Mr. Elton going to be married!” said Emma, as soon as she could speak. +“He will have every body’s wishes for his happiness.” + +“He is very young to settle,” was Mr. Woodhouse’s observation. “He had +better not be in a hurry. He seemed to me very well off as he was. We +were always glad to see him at Hartfield.” + +“A new neighbour for us all, Miss Woodhouse!” said Miss Bates, +joyfully; “my mother is so pleased!—she says she cannot bear to have +the poor old Vicarage without a mistress. This is great news, indeed. +Jane, you have never seen Mr. Elton!—no wonder that you have such a +curiosity to see him.” + +Jane’s curiosity did not appear of that absorbing nature as wholly to +occupy her. + +“No—I have never seen Mr. Elton,” she replied, starting on this appeal; +“is he—is he a tall man?” + +“Who shall answer that question?” cried Emma. “My father would say +‘yes,’ Mr. Knightley ‘no;’ and Miss Bates and I that he is just the +happy medium. When you have been here a little longer, Miss Fairfax, +you will understand that Mr. Elton is the standard of perfection in +Highbury, both in person and mind.” + +“Very true, Miss Woodhouse, so she will. He is the very best young +man—But, my dear Jane, if you remember, I told you yesterday he was +precisely the height of Mr. Perry. Miss Hawkins,—I dare say, an +excellent young woman. His extreme attention to my mother—wanting her +to sit in the vicarage pew, that she might hear the better, for my +mother is a little deaf, you know—it is not much, but she does not hear +quite quick. Jane says that Colonel Campbell is a little deaf. He +fancied bathing might be good for it—the warm bath—but she says it did +him no lasting benefit. Colonel Campbell, you know, is quite our angel. +And Mr. Dixon seems a very charming young man, quite worthy of him. It +is such a happiness when good people get together—and they always do. +Now, here will be Mr. Elton and Miss Hawkins; and there are the Coles, +such very good people; and the Perrys—I suppose there never was a +happier or a better couple than Mr. and Mrs. Perry. I say, sir,” +turning to Mr. Woodhouse, “I think there are few places with such +society as Highbury. I always say, we are quite blessed in our +neighbours.—My dear sir, if there is one thing my mother loves better +than another, it is pork—a roast loin of pork—” + +“As to who, or what Miss Hawkins is, or how long he has been acquainted +with her,” said Emma, “nothing I suppose can be known. One feels that +it cannot be a very long acquaintance. He has been gone only four +weeks.” + +Nobody had any information to give; and, after a few more wonderings, +Emma said, + +“You are silent, Miss Fairfax—but I hope you mean to take an interest +in this news. You, who have been hearing and seeing so much of late on +these subjects, who must have been so deep in the business on Miss +Campbell’s account—we shall not excuse your being indifferent about Mr. +Elton and Miss Hawkins.” + +“When I have seen Mr. Elton,” replied Jane, “I dare say I shall be +interested—but I believe it requires _that_ with me. And as it is some +months since Miss Campbell married, the impression may be a little worn +off.” + +“Yes, he has been gone just four weeks, as you observe, Miss +Woodhouse,” said Miss Bates, “four weeks yesterday.—A Miss +Hawkins!—Well, I had always rather fancied it would be some young lady +hereabouts; not that I ever—Mrs. Cole once whispered to me—but I +immediately said, ‘No, Mr. Elton is a most worthy young man—but’—In +short, I do not think I am particularly quick at those sort of +discoveries. I do not pretend to it. What is before me, I see. At the +same time, nobody could wonder if Mr. Elton should have aspired—Miss +Woodhouse lets me chatter on, so good-humouredly. She knows I would not +offend for the world. How does Miss Smith do? She seems quite recovered +now. Have you heard from Mrs. John Knightley lately? Oh! those dear +little children. Jane, do you know I always fancy Mr. Dixon like Mr. +John Knightley. I mean in person—tall, and with that sort of look—and +not very talkative.” + +“Quite wrong, my dear aunt; there is no likeness at all.” + +“Very odd! but one never does form a just idea of any body beforehand. +One takes up a notion, and runs away with it. Mr. Dixon, you say, is +not, strictly speaking, handsome?” + +“Handsome! Oh! no—far from it—certainly plain. I told you he was +plain.” + +“My dear, you said that Miss Campbell would not allow him to be plain, +and that you yourself—” + +“Oh! as for me, my judgment is worth nothing. Where I have a regard, I +always think a person well-looking. But I gave what I believed the +general opinion, when I called him plain.” + +“Well, my dear Jane, I believe we must be running away. The weather +does not look well, and grandmama will be uneasy. You are too obliging, +my dear Miss Woodhouse; but we really must take leave. This has been a +most agreeable piece of news indeed. I shall just go round by Mrs. +Cole’s; but I shall not stop three minutes: and, Jane, you had better +go home directly—I would not have you out in a shower!—We think she is +the better for Highbury already. Thank you, we do indeed. I shall not +attempt calling on Mrs. Goddard, for I really do not think she cares +for any thing but _boiled_ pork: when we dress the leg it will be +another thing. Good morning to you, my dear sir. Oh! Mr. Knightley is +coming too. Well, that is so very!—I am sure if Jane is tired, you will +be so kind as to give her your arm.—Mr. Elton, and Miss Hawkins!—Good +morning to you.” + +Emma, alone with her father, had half her attention wanted by him while +he lamented that young people would be in such a hurry to marry—and to +marry strangers too—and the other half she could give to her own view +of the subject. It was to herself an amusing and a very welcome piece +of news, as proving that Mr. Elton could not have suffered long; but +she was sorry for Harriet: Harriet must feel it—and all that she could +hope was, by giving the first information herself, to save her from +hearing it abruptly from others. It was now about the time that she was +likely to call. If she were to meet Miss Bates in her way!—and upon its +beginning to rain, Emma was obliged to expect that the weather would be +detaining her at Mrs. Goddard’s, and that the intelligence would +undoubtedly rush upon her without preparation. + +The shower was heavy, but short; and it had not been over five minutes, +when in came Harriet, with just the heated, agitated look which +hurrying thither with a full heart was likely to give; and the “Oh! +Miss Woodhouse, what do you think has happened!” which instantly burst +forth, had all the evidence of corresponding perturbation. As the blow +was given, Emma felt that she could not now shew greater kindness than +in listening; and Harriet, unchecked, ran eagerly through what she had +to tell. “She had set out from Mrs. Goddard’s half an hour ago—she had +been afraid it would rain—she had been afraid it would pour down every +moment—but she thought she might get to Hartfield first—she had hurried +on as fast as possible; but then, as she was passing by the house where +a young woman was making up a gown for her, she thought she would just +step in and see how it went on; and though she did not seem to stay +half a moment there, soon after she came out it began to rain, and she +did not know what to do; so she ran on directly, as fast as she could, +and took shelter at Ford’s.”—Ford’s was the principal woollen-draper, +linen-draper, and haberdasher’s shop united; the shop first in size and +fashion in the place.—“And so, there she had set, without an idea of +any thing in the world, full ten minutes, perhaps—when, all of a +sudden, who should come in—to be sure it was so very odd!—but they +always dealt at Ford’s—who should come in, but Elizabeth Martin and her +brother!—Dear Miss Woodhouse! only think. I thought I should have +fainted. I did not know what to do. I was sitting near the +door—Elizabeth saw me directly; but he did not; he was busy with the +umbrella. I am sure she saw me, but she looked away directly, and took +no notice; and they both went to quite the farther end of the shop; and +I kept sitting near the door!—Oh! dear; I was so miserable! I am sure I +must have been as white as my gown. I could not go away you know, +because of the rain; but I did so wish myself anywhere in the world but +there.—Oh! dear, Miss Woodhouse—well, at last, I fancy, he looked round +and saw me; for instead of going on with her buyings, they began +whispering to one another. I am sure they were talking of me; and I +could not help thinking that he was persuading her to speak to me—(do +you think he was, Miss Woodhouse?)—for presently she came forward—came +quite up to me, and asked me how I did, and seemed ready to shake +hands, if I would. She did not do any of it in the same way that she +used; I could see she was altered; but, however, she seemed to _try_ to +be very friendly, and we shook hands, and stood talking some time; but +I know no more what I said—I was in such a tremble!—I remember she said +she was sorry we never met now; which I thought almost too kind! Dear, +Miss Woodhouse, I was absolutely miserable! By that time, it was +beginning to hold up, and I was determined that nothing should stop me +from getting away—and then—only think!—I found he was coming up towards +me too—slowly you know, and as if he did not quite know what to do; and +so he came and spoke, and I answered—and I stood for a minute, feeling +dreadfully, you know, one can’t tell how; and then I took courage, and +said it did not rain, and I must go; and so off I set; and I had not +got three yards from the door, when he came after me, only to say, if I +was going to Hartfield, he thought I had much better go round by Mr. +Cole’s stables, for I should find the near way quite floated by this +rain. Oh! dear, I thought it would have been the death of me! So I +said, I was very much obliged to him: you know I could not do less; and +then he went back to Elizabeth, and I came round by the stables—I +believe I did—but I hardly knew where I was, or any thing about it. Oh! +Miss Woodhouse, I would rather done any thing than have it happen: and +yet, you know, there was a sort of satisfaction in seeing him behave so +pleasantly and so kindly. And Elizabeth, too. Oh! Miss Woodhouse, do +talk to me and make me comfortable again.” + +Very sincerely did Emma wish to do so; but it was not immediately in +her power. She was obliged to stop and think. She was not thoroughly +comfortable herself. The young man’s conduct, and his sister’s, seemed +the result of real feeling, and she could not but pity them. As Harriet +described it, there had been an interesting mixture of wounded +affection and genuine delicacy in their behaviour. But she had believed +them to be well-meaning, worthy people before; and what difference did +this make in the evils of the connexion? It was folly to be disturbed +by it. Of course, he must be sorry to lose her—they must be all sorry. +Ambition, as well as love, had probably been mortified. They might all +have hoped to rise by Harriet’s acquaintance: and besides, what was the +value of Harriet’s description?—So easily pleased—so little +discerning;—what signified her praise? + +She exerted herself, and did try to make her comfortable, by +considering all that had passed as a mere trifle, and quite unworthy of +being dwelt on, + +“It might be distressing, for the moment,” said she; “but you seem to +have behaved extremely well; and it is over—and may never—can never, as +a first meeting, occur again, and therefore you need not think about +it.” + +Harriet said, “very true,” and she “would not think about it;” but +still she talked of it—still she could talk of nothing else; and Emma, +at last, in order to put the Martins out of her head, was obliged to +hurry on the news, which she had meant to give with so much tender +caution; hardly knowing herself whether to rejoice or be angry, ashamed +or only amused, at such a state of mind in poor Harriet—such a +conclusion of Mr. Elton’s importance with her! + +Mr. Elton’s rights, however, gradually revived. Though she did not feel +the first intelligence as she might have done the day before, or an +hour before, its interest soon increased; and before their first +conversation was over, she had talked herself into all the sensations +of curiosity, wonder and regret, pain and pleasure, as to this +fortunate Miss Hawkins, which could conduce to place the Martins under +proper subordination in her fancy. + +Emma learned to be rather glad that there had been such a meeting. It +had been serviceable in deadening the first shock, without retaining +any influence to alarm. As Harriet now lived, the Martins could not get +at her, without seeking her, where hitherto they had wanted either the +courage or the condescension to seek her; for since her refusal of the +brother, the sisters never had been at Mrs. Goddard’s; and a +twelvemonth might pass without their being thrown together again, with +any necessity, or even any power of speech. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Human nature is so well disposed towards those who are in interesting +situations, that a young person, who either marries or dies, is sure of +being kindly spoken of. + +A week had not passed since Miss Hawkins’s name was first mentioned in +Highbury, before she was, by some means or other, discovered to have +every recommendation of person and mind; to be handsome, elegant, +highly accomplished, and perfectly amiable: and when Mr. Elton himself +arrived to triumph in his happy prospects, and circulate the fame of +her merits, there was very little more for him to do, than to tell her +Christian name, and say whose music she principally played. + +Mr. Elton returned, a very happy man. He had gone away rejected and +mortified—disappointed in a very sanguine hope, after a series of what +appeared to him strong encouragement; and not only losing the right +lady, but finding himself debased to the level of a very wrong one. He +had gone away deeply offended—he came back engaged to another—and to +another as superior, of course, to the first, as under such +circumstances what is gained always is to what is lost. He came back +gay and self-satisfied, eager and busy, caring nothing for Miss +Woodhouse, and defying Miss Smith. + +The charming Augusta Hawkins, in addition to all the usual advantages +of perfect beauty and merit, was in possession of an independent +fortune, of so many thousands as would always be called ten; a point of +some dignity, as well as some convenience: the story told well; he had +not thrown himself away—he had gained a woman of 10,000 _l_. or +thereabouts; and he had gained her with such delightful rapidity—the +first hour of introduction had been so very soon followed by +distinguishing notice; the history which he had to give Mrs. Cole of +the rise and progress of the affair was so glorious—the steps so quick, +from the accidental rencontre, to the dinner at Mr. Green’s, and the +party at Mrs. Brown’s—smiles and blushes rising in importance—with +consciousness and agitation richly scattered—the lady had been so +easily impressed—so sweetly disposed—had in short, to use a most +intelligible phrase, been so very ready to have him, that vanity and +prudence were equally contented. + +He had caught both substance and shadow—both fortune and affection, and +was just the happy man he ought to be; talking only of himself and his +own concerns—expecting to be congratulated—ready to be laughed at—and, +with cordial, fearless smiles, now addressing all the young ladies of +the place, to whom, a few weeks ago, he would have been more cautiously +gallant. + +The wedding was no distant event, as the parties had only themselves to +please, and nothing but the necessary preparations to wait for; and +when he set out for Bath again, there was a general expectation, which +a certain glance of Mrs. Cole’s did not seem to contradict, that when +he next entered Highbury he would bring his bride. + +During his present short stay, Emma had barely seen him; but just +enough to feel that the first meeting was over, and to give her the +impression of his not being improved by the mixture of pique and +pretension, now spread over his air. She was, in fact, beginning very +much to wonder that she had ever thought him pleasing at all; and his +sight was so inseparably connected with some very disagreeable +feelings, that, except in a moral light, as a penance, a lesson, a +source of profitable humiliation to her own mind, she would have been +thankful to be assured of never seeing him again. She wished him very +well; but he gave her pain, and his welfare twenty miles off would +administer most satisfaction. + +The pain of his continued residence in Highbury, however, must +certainly be lessened by his marriage. Many vain solicitudes would be +prevented—many awkwardnesses smoothed by it. A _Mrs._ _Elton_ would be +an excuse for any change of intercourse; former intimacy might sink +without remark. It would be almost beginning their life of civility +again. + +Of the lady, individually, Emma thought very little. She was good +enough for Mr. Elton, no doubt; accomplished enough for +Highbury—handsome enough—to look plain, probably, by Harriet’s side. As +to connexion, there Emma was perfectly easy; persuaded, that after all +his own vaunted claims and disdain of Harriet, he had done nothing. On +that article, truth seemed attainable. _What_ she was, must be +uncertain; but _who_ she was, might be found out; and setting aside the +10,000 l., it did not appear that she was at all Harriet’s superior. +She brought no name, no blood, no alliance. Miss Hawkins was the +youngest of the two daughters of a Bristol—merchant, of course, he must +be called; but, as the whole of the profits of his mercantile life +appeared so very moderate, it was not unfair to guess the dignity of +his line of trade had been very moderate also. Part of every winter she +had been used to spend in Bath; but Bristol was her home, the very +heart of Bristol; for though the father and mother had died some years +ago, an uncle remained—in the law line—nothing more distinctly +honourable was hazarded of him, than that he was in the law line; and +with him the daughter had lived. Emma guessed him to be the drudge of +some attorney, and too stupid to rise. And all the grandeur of the +connexion seemed dependent on the elder sister, who was _very_ _well_ +_married_, to a gentleman in a _great_ _way_, near Bristol, who kept +two carriages! That was the wind-up of the history; that was the glory +of Miss Hawkins. + +Could she but have given Harriet her feelings about it all! She had +talked her into love; but, alas! she was not so easily to be talked out +of it. The charm of an object to occupy the many vacancies of Harriet’s +mind was not to be talked away. He might be superseded by another; he +certainly would indeed; nothing could be clearer; even a Robert Martin +would have been sufficient; but nothing else, she feared, would cure +her. Harriet was one of those, who, having once begun, would be always +in love. And now, poor girl! she was considerably worse from this +reappearance of Mr. Elton. She was always having a glimpse of him +somewhere or other. Emma saw him only once; but two or three times +every day Harriet was sure _just_ to meet with him, or _just_ to miss +him, _just_ to hear his voice, or see his shoulder, _just_ to have +something occur to preserve him in her fancy, in all the favouring +warmth of surprize and conjecture. She was, moreover, perpetually +hearing about him; for, excepting when at Hartfield, she was always +among those who saw no fault in Mr. Elton, and found nothing so +interesting as the discussion of his concerns; and every report, +therefore, every guess—all that had already occurred, all that might +occur in the arrangement of his affairs, comprehending income, +servants, and furniture, was continually in agitation around her. Her +regard was receiving strength by invariable praise of him, and her +regrets kept alive, and feelings irritated by ceaseless repetitions of +Miss Hawkins’s happiness, and continual observation of, how much he +seemed attached!—his air as he walked by the house—the very sitting of +his hat, being all in proof of how much he was in love! + +Had it been allowable entertainment, had there been no pain to her +friend, or reproach to herself, in the waverings of Harriet’s mind, +Emma would have been amused by its variations. Sometimes Mr. Elton +predominated, sometimes the Martins; and each was occasionally useful +as a check to the other. Mr. Elton’s engagement had been the cure of +the agitation of meeting Mr. Martin. The unhappiness produced by the +knowledge of that engagement had been a little put aside by Elizabeth +Martin’s calling at Mrs. Goddard’s a few days afterwards. Harriet had +not been at home; but a note had been prepared and left for her, +written in the very style to touch; a small mixture of reproach, with a +great deal of kindness; and till Mr. Elton himself appeared, she had +been much occupied by it, continually pondering over what could be done +in return, and wishing to do more than she dared to confess. But Mr. +Elton, in person, had driven away all such cares. While he staid, the +Martins were forgotten; and on the very morning of his setting off for +Bath again, Emma, to dissipate some of the distress it occasioned, +judged it best for her to return Elizabeth Martin’s visit. + +How that visit was to be acknowledged—what would be necessary—and what +might be safest, had been a point of some doubtful consideration. +Absolute neglect of the mother and sisters, when invited to come, would +be ingratitude. It must not be: and yet the danger of a renewal of the +acquaintance—! + +After much thinking, she could determine on nothing better, than +Harriet’s returning the visit; but in a way that, if they had +understanding, should convince them that it was to be only a formal +acquaintance. She meant to take her in the carriage, leave her at the +Abbey Mill, while she drove a little farther, and call for her again so +soon, as to allow no time for insidious applications or dangerous +recurrences to the past, and give the most decided proof of what degree +of intimacy was chosen for the future. + +She could think of nothing better: and though there was something in it +which her own heart could not approve—something of ingratitude, merely +glossed over—it must be done, or what would become of Harriet? + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +Small heart had Harriet for visiting. Only half an hour before her +friend called for her at Mrs. Goddard’s, her evil stars had led her to +the very spot where, at that moment, a trunk, directed to _The Rev. +Philip Elton, White-Hart, Bath_, was to be seen under the operation of +being lifted into the butcher’s cart, which was to convey it to where +the coaches past; and every thing in this world, excepting that trunk +and the direction, was consequently a blank. + +She went, however; and when they reached the farm, and she was to be +put down, at the end of the broad, neat gravel walk, which led between +espalier apple-trees to the front door, the sight of every thing which +had given her so much pleasure the autumn before, was beginning to +revive a little local agitation; and when they parted, Emma observed +her to be looking around with a sort of fearful curiosity, which +determined her not to allow the visit to exceed the proposed quarter of +an hour. She went on herself, to give that portion of time to an old +servant who was married, and settled in Donwell. + +The quarter of an hour brought her punctually to the white gate again; +and Miss Smith receiving her summons, was with her without delay, and +unattended by any alarming young man. She came solitarily down the +gravel walk—a Miss Martin just appearing at the door, and parting with +her seemingly with ceremonious civility. + +Harriet could not very soon give an intelligible account. She was +feeling too much; but at last Emma collected from her enough to +understand the sort of meeting, and the sort of pain it was creating. +She had seen only Mrs. Martin and the two girls. They had received her +doubtingly, if not coolly; and nothing beyond the merest commonplace +had been talked almost all the time—till just at last, when Mrs. +Martin’s saying, all of a sudden, that she thought Miss Smith was +grown, had brought on a more interesting subject, and a warmer manner. +In that very room she had been measured last September, with her two +friends. There were the pencilled marks and memorandums on the wainscot +by the window. _He_ had done it. They all seemed to remember the day, +the hour, the party, the occasion—to feel the same consciousness, the +same regrets—to be ready to return to the same good understanding; and +they were just growing again like themselves, (Harriet, as Emma must +suspect, as ready as the best of them to be cordial and happy,) when +the carriage reappeared, and all was over. The style of the visit, and +the shortness of it, were then felt to be decisive. Fourteen minutes to +be given to those with whom she had thankfully passed six weeks not six +months ago!—Emma could not but picture it all, and feel how justly they +might resent, how naturally Harriet must suffer. It was a bad business. +She would have given a great deal, or endured a great deal, to have had +the Martins in a higher rank of life. They were so deserving, that a +_little_ higher should have been enough: but as it was, how could she +have done otherwise?—Impossible!—She could not repent. They must be +separated; but there was a great deal of pain in the process—so much to +herself at this time, that she soon felt the necessity of a little +consolation, and resolved on going home by way of Randalls to procure +it. Her mind was quite sick of Mr. Elton and the Martins. The +refreshment of Randalls was absolutely necessary. + +It was a good scheme; but on driving to the door they heard that +neither “master nor mistress was at home;” they had both been out some +time; the man believed they were gone to Hartfield. + +“This is too bad,” cried Emma, as they turned away. “And now we shall +just miss them; too provoking!—I do not know when I have been so +disappointed.” And she leaned back in the corner, to indulge her +murmurs, or to reason them away; probably a little of both—such being +the commonest process of a not ill-disposed mind. Presently the +carriage stopt; she looked up; it was stopt by Mr. and Mrs. Weston, who +were standing to speak to her. There was instant pleasure in the sight +of them, and still greater pleasure was conveyed in sound—for Mr. +Weston immediately accosted her with, + +“How d’ye do?—how d’ye do?—We have been sitting with your father—glad +to see him so well. Frank comes to-morrow—I had a letter this +morning—we see him to-morrow by dinner-time to a certainty—he is at +Oxford to-day, and he comes for a whole fortnight; I knew it would be +so. If he had come at Christmas he could not have staid three days; I +was always glad he did not come at Christmas; now we are going to have +just the right weather for him, fine, dry, settled weather. We shall +enjoy him completely; every thing has turned out exactly as we could +wish.” + +There was no resisting such news, no possibility of avoiding the +influence of such a happy face as Mr. Weston’s, confirmed as it all was +by the words and the countenance of his wife, fewer and quieter, but +not less to the purpose. To know that _she_ thought his coming certain +was enough to make Emma consider it so, and sincerely did she rejoice +in their joy. It was a most delightful reanimation of exhausted +spirits. The worn-out past was sunk in the freshness of what was +coming; and in the rapidity of half a moment’s thought, she hoped Mr. +Elton would now be talked of no more. + +Mr. Weston gave her the history of the engagements at Enscombe, which +allowed his son to answer for having an entire fortnight at his +command, as well as the route and the method of his journey; and she +listened, and smiled, and congratulated. + +“I shall soon bring him over to Hartfield,” said he, at the conclusion. + +Emma could imagine she saw a touch of the arm at this speech, from his +wife. + +“We had better move on, Mr. Weston,” said she, “we are detaining the +girls.” + +“Well, well, I am ready;”—and turning again to Emma, “but you must not +be expecting such a _very_ fine young man; you have only had _my_ +account you know; I dare say he is really nothing +extraordinary:”—though his own sparkling eyes at the moment were +speaking a very different conviction. + +Emma could look perfectly unconscious and innocent, and answer in a +manner that appropriated nothing. + +“Think of me to-morrow, my dear Emma, about four o’clock,” was Mrs. +Weston’s parting injunction; spoken with some anxiety, and meant only +for her. + +“Four o’clock!—depend upon it he will be here by three,” was Mr. +Weston’s quick amendment; and so ended a most satisfactory meeting. +Emma’s spirits were mounted quite up to happiness; every thing wore a +different air; James and his horses seemed not half so sluggish as +before. When she looked at the hedges, she thought the elder at least +must soon be coming out; and when she turned round to Harriet, she saw +something like a look of spring, a tender smile even there. + +“Will Mr. Frank Churchill pass through Bath as well as Oxford?”—was a +question, however, which did not augur much. + +But neither geography nor tranquillity could come all at once, and Emma +was now in a humour to resolve that they should both come in time. + +The morning of the interesting day arrived, and Mrs. Weston’s faithful +pupil did not forget either at ten, or eleven, or twelve o’clock, that +she was to think of her at four. + +“My dear, dear anxious friend,”—said she, in mental soliloquy, while +walking downstairs from her own room, “always overcareful for every +body’s comfort but your own; I see you now in all your little fidgets, +going again and again into his room, to be sure that all is right.” The +clock struck twelve as she passed through the hall. “’Tis twelve; I +shall not forget to think of you four hours hence; and by this time +to-morrow, perhaps, or a little later, I may be thinking of the +possibility of their all calling here. I am sure they will bring him +soon.” + +She opened the parlour door, and saw two gentlemen sitting with her +father—Mr. Weston and his son. They had been arrived only a few +minutes, and Mr. Weston had scarcely finished his explanation of +Frank’s being a day before his time, and her father was yet in the +midst of his very civil welcome and congratulations, when she appeared, +to have her share of surprize, introduction, and pleasure. + +The Frank Churchill so long talked of, so high in interest, was +actually before her—he was presented to her, and she did not think too +much had been said in his praise; he was a _very_ good looking young +man; height, air, address, all were unexceptionable, and his +countenance had a great deal of the spirit and liveliness of his +father’s; he looked quick and sensible. She felt immediately that she +should like him; and there was a well-bred ease of manner, and a +readiness to talk, which convinced her that he came intending to be +acquainted with her, and that acquainted they soon must be. + +He had reached Randalls the evening before. She was pleased with the +eagerness to arrive which had made him alter his plan, and travel +earlier, later, and quicker, that he might gain half a day. + +“I told you yesterday,” cried Mr. Weston with exultation, “I told you +all that he would be here before the time named. I remembered what I +used to do myself. One cannot creep upon a journey; one cannot help +getting on faster than one has planned; and the pleasure of coming in +upon one’s friends before the look-out begins, is worth a great deal +more than any little exertion it needs.” + +“It is a great pleasure where one can indulge in it,” said the young +man, “though there are not many houses that I should presume on so far; +but in coming _home_ I felt I might do any thing.” + +The word _home_ made his father look on him with fresh complacency. +Emma was directly sure that he knew how to make himself agreeable; the +conviction was strengthened by what followed. He was very much pleased +with Randalls, thought it a most admirably arranged house, would hardly +allow it even to be very small, admired the situation, the walk to +Highbury, Highbury itself, Hartfield still more, and professed himself +to have always felt the sort of interest in the country which none but +one’s _own_ country gives, and the greatest curiosity to visit it. That +he should never have been able to indulge so amiable a feeling before, +passed suspiciously through Emma’s brain; but still, if it were a +falsehood, it was a pleasant one, and pleasantly handled. His manner +had no air of study or exaggeration. He did really look and speak as if +in a state of no common enjoyment. + +Their subjects in general were such as belong to an opening +acquaintance. On his side were the inquiries,—“Was she a +horsewoman?—Pleasant rides?—Pleasant walks?—Had they a large +neighbourhood?—Highbury, perhaps, afforded society enough?—There were +several very pretty houses in and about it.—Balls—had they balls?—Was +it a musical society?” + +But when satisfied on all these points, and their acquaintance +proportionably advanced, he contrived to find an opportunity, while +their two fathers were engaged with each other, of introducing his +mother-in-law, and speaking of her with so much handsome praise, so +much warm admiration, so much gratitude for the happiness she secured +to his father, and her very kind reception of himself, as was an +additional proof of his knowing how to please—and of his certainly +thinking it worth while to try to please her. He did not advance a word +of praise beyond what she knew to be thoroughly deserved by Mrs. +Weston; but, undoubtedly he could know very little of the matter. He +understood what would be welcome; he could be sure of little else. “His +father’s marriage,” he said, “had been the wisest measure, every friend +must rejoice in it; and the family from whom he had received such a +blessing must be ever considered as having conferred the highest +obligation on him.” + +He got as near as he could to thanking her for Miss Taylor’s merits, +without seeming quite to forget that in the common course of things it +was to be rather supposed that Miss Taylor had formed Miss Woodhouse’s +character, than Miss Woodhouse Miss Taylor’s. And at last, as if +resolved to qualify his opinion completely for travelling round to its +object, he wound it all up with astonishment at the youth and beauty of +her person. + +“Elegant, agreeable manners, I was prepared for,” said he; “but I +confess that, considering every thing, I had not expected more than a +very tolerably well-looking woman of a certain age; I did not know that +I was to find a pretty young woman in Mrs. Weston.” + +“You cannot see too much perfection in Mrs. Weston for my feelings,” +said Emma; “were you to guess her to be _eighteen_, I should listen +with pleasure; but _she_ would be ready to quarrel with you for using +such words. Don’t let her imagine that you have spoken of her as a +pretty young woman.” + +“I hope I should know better,” he replied; “no, depend upon it, (with a +gallant bow,) that in addressing Mrs. Weston I should understand whom I +might praise without any danger of being thought extravagant in my +terms.” + +Emma wondered whether the same suspicion of what might be expected from +their knowing each other, which had taken strong possession of her +mind, had ever crossed his; and whether his compliments were to be +considered as marks of acquiescence, or proofs of defiance. She must +see more of him to understand his ways; at present she only felt they +were agreeable. + +She had no doubt of what Mr. Weston was often thinking about. His quick +eye she detected again and again glancing towards them with a happy +expression; and even, when he might have determined not to look, she +was confident that he was often listening. + +Her own father’s perfect exemption from any thought of the kind, the +entire deficiency in him of all such sort of penetration or suspicion, +was a most comfortable circumstance. Happily he was not farther from +approving matrimony than from foreseeing it.—Though always objecting to +every marriage that was arranged, he never suffered beforehand from the +apprehension of any; it seemed as if he could not think so ill of any +two persons’ understanding as to suppose they meant to marry till it +were proved against them. She blessed the favouring blindness. He could +now, without the drawback of a single unpleasant surmise, without a +glance forward at any possible treachery in his guest, give way to all +his natural kind-hearted civility in solicitous inquiries after Mr. +Frank Churchill’s accommodation on his journey, through the sad evils +of sleeping two nights on the road, and express very genuine unmixed +anxiety to know that he had certainly escaped catching cold—which, +however, he could not allow him to feel quite assured of himself till +after another night. + +A reasonable visit paid, Mr. Weston began to move.—“He must be going. +He had business at the Crown about his hay, and a great many errands +for Mrs. Weston at Ford’s, but he need not hurry any body else.” His +son, too well bred to hear the hint, rose immediately also, saying, + +“As you are going farther on business, sir, I will take the opportunity +of paying a visit, which must be paid some day or other, and therefore +may as well be paid now. I have the honour of being acquainted with a +neighbour of yours, (turning to Emma,) a lady residing in or near +Highbury; a family of the name of Fairfax. I shall have no difficulty, +I suppose, in finding the house; though Fairfax, I believe, is not the +proper name—I should rather say Barnes, or Bates. Do you know any +family of that name?” + +“To be sure we do,” cried his father; “Mrs. Bates—we passed her house—I +saw Miss Bates at the window. True, true, you are acquainted with Miss +Fairfax; I remember you knew her at Weymouth, and a fine girl she is. +Call upon her, by all means.” + +“There is no necessity for my calling this morning,” said the young +man; “another day would do as well; but there was that degree of +acquaintance at Weymouth which—” + +“Oh! go to-day, go to-day. Do not defer it. What is right to be done +cannot be done too soon. And, besides, I must give you a hint, Frank; +any want of attention to her _here_ should be carefully avoided. You +saw her with the Campbells, when she was the equal of every body she +mixed with, but here she is with a poor old grandmother, who has barely +enough to live on. If you do not call early it will be a slight.” + +The son looked convinced. + +“I have heard her speak of the acquaintance,” said Emma; “she is a very +elegant young woman.” + +He agreed to it, but with so quiet a “Yes,” as inclined her almost to +doubt his real concurrence; and yet there must be a very distinct sort +of elegance for the fashionable world, if Jane Fairfax could be thought +only ordinarily gifted with it. + +“If you were never particularly struck by her manners before,” said +she, “I think you will to-day. You will see her to advantage; see her +and hear her—no, I am afraid you will not hear her at all, for she has +an aunt who never holds her tongue.” + +“You are acquainted with Miss Jane Fairfax, sir, are you?” said Mr. +Woodhouse, always the last to make his way in conversation; “then give +me leave to assure you that you will find her a very agreeable young +lady. She is staying here on a visit to her grandmama and aunt, very +worthy people; I have known them all my life. They will be extremely +glad to see you, I am sure; and one of my servants shall go with you to +shew you the way.” + +“My dear sir, upon no account in the world; my father can direct me.” + +“But your father is not going so far; he is only going to the Crown, +quite on the other side of the street, and there are a great many +houses; you might be very much at a loss, and it is a very dirty walk, +unless you keep on the footpath; but my coachman can tell you where you +had best cross the street.” + +Mr. Frank Churchill still declined it, looking as serious as he could, +and his father gave his hearty support by calling out, “My good friend, +this is quite unnecessary; Frank knows a puddle of water when he sees +it, and as to Mrs. Bates’s, he may get there from the Crown in a hop, +step, and jump.” + +They were permitted to go alone; and with a cordial nod from one, and a +graceful bow from the other, the two gentlemen took leave. Emma +remained very well pleased with this beginning of the acquaintance, and +could now engage to think of them all at Randalls any hour of the day, +with full confidence in their comfort. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +The next morning brought Mr. Frank Churchill again. He came with Mrs. +Weston, to whom and to Highbury he seemed to take very cordially. He +had been sitting with her, it appeared, most companionably at home, +till her usual hour of exercise; and on being desired to chuse their +walk, immediately fixed on Highbury.—“He did not doubt there being very +pleasant walks in every direction, but if left to him, he should always +chuse the same. Highbury, that airy, cheerful, happy-looking Highbury, +would be his constant attraction.”—Highbury, with Mrs. Weston, stood +for Hartfield; and she trusted to its bearing the same construction +with him. They walked thither directly. + +Emma had hardly expected them: for Mr. Weston, who had called in for +half a minute, in order to hear that his son was very handsome, knew +nothing of their plans; and it was an agreeable surprize to her, +therefore, to perceive them walking up to the house together, arm in +arm. She was wanting to see him again, and especially to see him in +company with Mrs. Weston, upon his behaviour to whom her opinion of him +was to depend. If he were deficient there, nothing should make amends +for it. But on seeing them together, she became perfectly satisfied. It +was not merely in fine words or hyperbolical compliment that he paid +his duty; nothing could be more proper or pleasing than his whole +manner to her—nothing could more agreeably denote his wish of +considering her as a friend and securing her affection. And there was +time enough for Emma to form a reasonable judgment, as their visit +included all the rest of the morning. They were all three walking about +together for an hour or two—first round the shrubberies of Hartfield, +and afterwards in Highbury. He was delighted with every thing; admired +Hartfield sufficiently for Mr. Woodhouse’s ear; and when their going +farther was resolved on, confessed his wish to be made acquainted with +the whole village, and found matter of commendation and interest much +oftener than Emma could have supposed. + +Some of the objects of his curiosity spoke very amiable feelings. He +begged to be shewn the house which his father had lived in so long, and +which had been the home of his father’s father; and on recollecting +that an old woman who had nursed him was still living, walked in quest +of her cottage from one end of the street to the other; and though in +some points of pursuit or observation there was no positive merit, they +shewed, altogether, a good-will towards Highbury in general, which must +be very like a merit to those he was with. + +Emma watched and decided, that with such feelings as were now shewn, it +could not be fairly supposed that he had been ever voluntarily +absenting himself; that he had not been acting a part, or making a +parade of insincere professions; and that Mr. Knightley certainly had +not done him justice. + +Their first pause was at the Crown Inn, an inconsiderable house, though +the principal one of the sort, where a couple of pair of post-horses +were kept, more for the convenience of the neighbourhood than from any +run on the road; and his companions had not expected to be detained by +any interest excited there; but in passing it they gave the history of +the large room visibly added; it had been built many years ago for a +ball-room, and while the neighbourhood had been in a particularly +populous, dancing state, had been occasionally used as such;—but such +brilliant days had long passed away, and now the highest purpose for +which it was ever wanted was to accommodate a whist club established +among the gentlemen and half-gentlemen of the place. He was immediately +interested. Its character as a ball-room caught him; and instead of +passing on, he stopt for several minutes at the two superior sashed +windows which were open, to look in and contemplate its capabilities, +and lament that its original purpose should have ceased. He saw no +fault in the room, he would acknowledge none which they suggested. No, +it was long enough, broad enough, handsome enough. It would hold the +very number for comfort. They ought to have balls there at least every +fortnight through the winter. Why had not Miss Woodhouse revived the +former good old days of the room?—She who could do any thing in +Highbury! The want of proper families in the place, and the conviction +that none beyond the place and its immediate environs could be tempted +to attend, were mentioned; but he was not satisfied. He could not be +persuaded that so many good-looking houses as he saw around him, could +not furnish numbers enough for such a meeting; and even when +particulars were given and families described, he was still unwilling +to admit that the inconvenience of such a mixture would be any thing, +or that there would be the smallest difficulty in every body’s +returning into their proper place the next morning. He argued like a +young man very much bent on dancing; and Emma was rather surprized to +see the constitution of the Weston prevail so decidedly against the +habits of the Churchills. He seemed to have all the life and spirit, +cheerful feelings, and social inclinations of his father, and nothing +of the pride or reserve of Enscombe. Of pride, indeed, there was, +perhaps, scarcely enough; his indifference to a confusion of rank, +bordered too much on inelegance of mind. He could be no judge, however, +of the evil he was holding cheap. It was but an effusion of lively +spirits. + +At last he was persuaded to move on from the front of the Crown; and +being now almost facing the house where the Bateses lodged, Emma +recollected his intended visit the day before, and asked him if he had +paid it. + +“Yes, oh! yes”—he replied; “I was just going to mention it. A very +successful visit:—I saw all the three ladies; and felt very much +obliged to you for your preparatory hint. If the talking aunt had taken +me quite by surprize, it must have been the death of me. As it was, I +was only betrayed into paying a most unreasonable visit. Ten minutes +would have been all that was necessary, perhaps all that was proper; +and I had told my father I should certainly be at home before him—but +there was no getting away, no pause; and, to my utter astonishment, I +found, when he (finding me nowhere else) joined me there at last, that +I had been actually sitting with them very nearly three-quarters of an +hour. The good lady had not given me the possibility of escape before.” + +“And how did you think Miss Fairfax looking?” + +“Ill, very ill—that is, if a young lady can ever be allowed to look +ill. But the expression is hardly admissible, Mrs. Weston, is it? +Ladies can never look ill. And, seriously, Miss Fairfax is naturally so +pale, as almost always to give the appearance of ill health.—A most +deplorable want of complexion.” + +Emma would not agree to this, and began a warm defence of Miss +Fairfax’s complexion. “It was certainly never brilliant, but she would +not allow it to have a sickly hue in general; and there was a softness +and delicacy in her skin which gave peculiar elegance to the character +of her face.” He listened with all due deference; acknowledged that he +had heard many people say the same—but yet he must confess, that to him +nothing could make amends for the want of the fine glow of health. +Where features were indifferent, a fine complexion gave beauty to them +all; and where they were good, the effect was—fortunately he need not +attempt to describe what the effect was. + +“Well,” said Emma, “there is no disputing about taste.—At least you +admire her except her complexion.” + +He shook his head and laughed.—“I cannot separate Miss Fairfax and her +complexion.” + +“Did you see her often at Weymouth? Were you often in the same +society?” + +At this moment they were approaching Ford’s, and he hastily exclaimed, +“Ha! this must be the very shop that every body attends every day of +their lives, as my father informs me. He comes to Highbury himself, he +says, six days out of the seven, and has always business at Ford’s. If +it be not inconvenient to you, pray let us go in, that I may prove +myself to belong to the place, to be a true citizen of Highbury. I must +buy something at Ford’s. It will be taking out my freedom.—I dare say +they sell gloves.” + +“Oh! yes, gloves and every thing. I do admire your patriotism. You will +be adored in Highbury. You were very popular before you came, because +you were Mr. Weston’s son—but lay out half a guinea at Ford’s, and your +popularity will stand upon your own virtues.” + +They went in; and while the sleek, well-tied parcels of “Men’s Beavers” +and “York Tan” were bringing down and displaying on the counter, he +said—“But I beg your pardon, Miss Woodhouse, you were speaking to me, +you were saying something at the very moment of this burst of my _amor_ +_patriae_. Do not let me lose it. I assure you the utmost stretch of +public fame would not make me amends for the loss of any happiness in +private life.” + +“I merely asked, whether you had known much of Miss Fairfax and her +party at Weymouth.” + +“And now that I understand your question, I must pronounce it to be a +very unfair one. It is always the lady’s right to decide on the degree +of acquaintance. Miss Fairfax must already have given her account.—I +shall not commit myself by claiming more than she may chuse to allow.” + +“Upon my word! you answer as discreetly as she could do herself. But +her account of every thing leaves so much to be guessed, she is so very +reserved, so very unwilling to give the least information about any +body, that I really think you may say what you like of your +acquaintance with her.” + +“May I, indeed?—Then I will speak the truth, and nothing suits me so +well. I met her frequently at Weymouth. I had known the Campbells a +little in town; and at Weymouth we were very much in the same set. +Colonel Campbell is a very agreeable man, and Mrs. Campbell a friendly, +warm-hearted woman. I like them all.” + +“You know Miss Fairfax’s situation in life, I conclude; what she is +destined to be?” + +“Yes—(rather hesitatingly)—I believe I do.” + +“You get upon delicate subjects, Emma,” said Mrs. Weston smiling; +“remember that I am here.—Mr. Frank Churchill hardly knows what to say +when you speak of Miss Fairfax’s situation in life. I will move a +little farther off.” + +“I certainly do forget to think of _her_,” said Emma, “as having ever +been any thing but my friend and my dearest friend.” + +He looked as if he fully understood and honoured such a sentiment. + +When the gloves were bought, and they had quitted the shop again, “Did +you ever hear the young lady we were speaking of, play?” said Frank +Churchill. + +“Ever hear her!” repeated Emma. “You forget how much she belongs to +Highbury. I have heard her every year of our lives since we both began. +She plays charmingly.” + +“You think so, do you?—I wanted the opinion of some one who could +really judge. She appeared to me to play well, that is, with +considerable taste, but I know nothing of the matter myself.—I am +excessively fond of music, but without the smallest skill or right of +judging of any body’s performance.—I have been used to hear her’s +admired; and I remember one proof of her being thought to play well:—a +man, a very musical man, and in love with another woman—engaged to +her—on the point of marriage—would yet never ask that other woman to +sit down to the instrument, if the lady in question could sit down +instead—never seemed to like to hear one if he could hear the other. +That, I thought, in a man of known musical talent, was some proof.” + +“Proof indeed!” said Emma, highly amused.—“Mr. Dixon is very musical, +is he? We shall know more about them all, in half an hour, from you, +than Miss Fairfax would have vouchsafed in half a year.” + +“Yes, Mr. Dixon and Miss Campbell were the persons; and I thought it a +very strong proof.” + +“Certainly—very strong it was; to own the truth, a great deal stronger +than, if _I_ had been Miss Campbell, would have been at all agreeable +to me. I could not excuse a man’s having more music than love—more ear +than eye—a more acute sensibility to fine sounds than to my feelings. +How did Miss Campbell appear to like it?” + +“It was her very particular friend, you know.” + +“Poor comfort!” said Emma, laughing. “One would rather have a stranger +preferred than one’s very particular friend—with a stranger it might +not recur again—but the misery of having a very particular friend +always at hand, to do every thing better than one does oneself!—Poor +Mrs. Dixon! Well, I am glad she is gone to settle in Ireland.” + +“You are right. It was not very flattering to Miss Campbell; but she +really did not seem to feel it.” + +“So much the better—or so much the worse:—I do not know which. But be +it sweetness or be it stupidity in her—quickness of friendship, or +dulness of feeling—there was one person, I think, who must have felt +it: Miss Fairfax herself. She must have felt the improper and dangerous +distinction.” + +“As to that—I do not—” + +“Oh! do not imagine that I expect an account of Miss Fairfax’s +sensations from you, or from any body else. They are known to no human +being, I guess, but herself. But if she continued to play whenever she +was asked by Mr. Dixon, one may guess what one chuses.” + +“There appeared such a perfectly good understanding among them all—” he +began rather quickly, but checking himself, added, “however, it is +impossible for me to say on what terms they really were—how it might +all be behind the scenes. I can only say that there was smoothness +outwardly. But you, who have known Miss Fairfax from a child, must be a +better judge of her character, and of how she is likely to conduct +herself in critical situations, than I can be.” + +“I have known her from a child, undoubtedly; we have been children and +women together; and it is natural to suppose that we should be +intimate,—that we should have taken to each other whenever she visited +her friends. But we never did. I hardly know how it has happened; a +little, perhaps, from that wickedness on my side which was prone to +take disgust towards a girl so idolized and so cried up as she always +was, by her aunt and grandmother, and all their set. And then, her +reserve—I never could attach myself to any one so completely reserved.” + +“It is a most repulsive quality, indeed,” said he. “Oftentimes very +convenient, no doubt, but never pleasing. There is safety in reserve, +but no attraction. One cannot love a reserved person.” + +“Not till the reserve ceases towards oneself; and then the attraction +may be the greater. But I must be more in want of a friend, or an +agreeable companion, than I have yet been, to take the trouble of +conquering any body’s reserve to procure one. Intimacy between Miss +Fairfax and me is quite out of the question. I have no reason to think +ill of her—not the least—except that such extreme and perpetual +cautiousness of word and manner, such a dread of giving a distinct idea +about any body, is apt to suggest suspicions of there being something +to conceal.” + +He perfectly agreed with her: and after walking together so long, and +thinking so much alike, Emma felt herself so well acquainted with him, +that she could hardly believe it to be only their second meeting. He +was not exactly what she had expected; less of the man of the world in +some of his notions, less of the spoiled child of fortune, therefore +better than she had expected. His ideas seemed more moderate—his +feelings warmer. She was particularly struck by his manner of +considering Mr. Elton’s house, which, as well as the church, he would +go and look at, and would not join them in finding much fault with. No, +he could not believe it a bad house; not such a house as a man was to +be pitied for having. If it were to be shared with the woman he loved, +he could not think any man to be pitied for having that house. There +must be ample room in it for every real comfort. The man must be a +blockhead who wanted more. + +Mrs. Weston laughed, and said he did not know what he was talking +about. Used only to a large house himself, and without ever thinking +how many advantages and accommodations were attached to its size, he +could be no judge of the privations inevitably belonging to a small +one. But Emma, in her own mind, determined that he _did_ know what he +was talking about, and that he shewed a very amiable inclination to +settle early in life, and to marry, from worthy motives. He might not +be aware of the inroads on domestic peace to be occasioned by no +housekeeper’s room, or a bad butler’s pantry, but no doubt he did +perfectly feel that Enscombe could not make him happy, and that +whenever he were attached, he would willingly give up much of wealth to +be allowed an early establishment. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Emma’s very good opinion of Frank Churchill was a little shaken the +following day, by hearing that he was gone off to London, merely to +have his hair cut. A sudden freak seemed to have seized him at +breakfast, and he had sent for a chaise and set off, intending to +return to dinner, but with no more important view that appeared than +having his hair cut. There was certainly no harm in his travelling +sixteen miles twice over on such an errand; but there was an air of +foppery and nonsense in it which she could not approve. It did not +accord with the rationality of plan, the moderation in expense, or even +the unselfish warmth of heart, which she had believed herself to +discern in him yesterday. Vanity, extravagance, love of change, +restlessness of temper, which must be doing something, good or bad; +heedlessness as to the pleasure of his father and Mrs. Weston, +indifferent as to how his conduct might appear in general; he became +liable to all these charges. His father only called him a coxcomb, and +thought it a very good story; but that Mrs. Weston did not like it, was +clear enough, by her passing it over as quickly as possible, and making +no other comment than that “all young people would have their little +whims.” + +With the exception of this little blot, Emma found that his visit +hitherto had given her friend only good ideas of him. Mrs. Weston was +very ready to say how attentive and pleasant a companion he made +himself—how much she saw to like in his disposition altogether. He +appeared to have a very open temper—certainly a very cheerful and +lively one; she could observe nothing wrong in his notions, a great +deal decidedly right; he spoke of his uncle with warm regard, was fond +of talking of him—said he would be the best man in the world if he were +left to himself; and though there was no being attached to the aunt, he +acknowledged her kindness with gratitude, and seemed to mean always to +speak of her with respect. This was all very promising; and, but for +such an unfortunate fancy for having his hair cut, there was nothing to +denote him unworthy of the distinguished honour which her imagination +had given him; the honour, if not of being really in love with her, of +being at least very near it, and saved only by her own +indifference—(for still her resolution held of never marrying)—the +honour, in short, of being marked out for her by all their joint +acquaintance. + +Mr. Weston, on his side, added a virtue to the account which must have +some weight. He gave her to understand that Frank admired her +extremely—thought her very beautiful and very charming; and with so +much to be said for him altogether, she found she must not judge him +harshly. As Mrs. Weston observed, “all young people would have their +little whims.” + +There was one person among his new acquaintance in Surry, not so +leniently disposed. In general he was judged, throughout the parishes +of Donwell and Highbury, with great candour; liberal allowances were +made for the little excesses of such a handsome young man—one who +smiled so often and bowed so well; but there was one spirit among them +not to be softened, from its power of censure, by bows or smiles—Mr. +Knightley. The circumstance was told him at Hartfield; for the moment, +he was silent; but Emma heard him almost immediately afterwards say to +himself, over a newspaper he held in his hand, “Hum! just the trifling, +silly fellow I took him for.” She had half a mind to resent; but an +instant’s observation convinced her that it was really said only to +relieve his own feelings, and not meant to provoke; and therefore she +let it pass. + +Although in one instance the bearers of not good tidings, Mr. and Mrs. +Weston’s visit this morning was in another respect particularly +opportune. Something occurred while they were at Hartfield, to make +Emma want their advice; and, which was still more lucky, she wanted +exactly the advice they gave. + +This was the occurrence:—The Coles had been settled some years in +Highbury, and were very good sort of people—friendly, liberal, and +unpretending; but, on the other hand, they were of low origin, in +trade, and only moderately genteel. On their first coming into the +country, they had lived in proportion to their income, quietly, keeping +little company, and that little unexpensively; but the last year or two +had brought them a considerable increase of means—the house in town had +yielded greater profits, and fortune in general had smiled on them. +With their wealth, their views increased; their want of a larger house, +their inclination for more company. They added to their house, to their +number of servants, to their expenses of every sort; and by this time +were, in fortune and style of living, second only to the family at +Hartfield. Their love of society, and their new dining-room, prepared +every body for their keeping dinner-company; and a few parties, chiefly +among the single men, had already taken place. The regular and best +families Emma could hardly suppose they would presume to invite—neither +Donwell, nor Hartfield, nor Randalls. Nothing should tempt _her_ to go, +if they did; and she regretted that her father’s known habits would be +giving her refusal less meaning than she could wish. The Coles were +very respectable in their way, but they ought to be taught that it was +not for them to arrange the terms on which the superior families would +visit them. This lesson, she very much feared, they would receive only +from herself; she had little hope of Mr. Knightley, none of Mr. Weston. + +But she had made up her mind how to meet this presumption so many weeks +before it appeared, that when the insult came at last, it found her +very differently affected. Donwell and Randalls had received their +invitation, and none had come for her father and herself; and Mrs. +Weston’s accounting for it with “I suppose they will not take the +liberty with you; they know you do not dine out,” was not quite +sufficient. She felt that she should like to have had the power of +refusal; and afterwards, as the idea of the party to be assembled +there, consisting precisely of those whose society was dearest to her, +occurred again and again, she did not know that she might not have been +tempted to accept. Harriet was to be there in the evening, and the +Bateses. They had been speaking of it as they walked about Highbury the +day before, and Frank Churchill had most earnestly lamented her +absence. Might not the evening end in a dance? had been a question of +his. The bare possibility of it acted as a farther irritation on her +spirits; and her being left in solitary grandeur, even supposing the +omission to be intended as a compliment, was but poor comfort. + +It was the arrival of this very invitation while the Westons were at +Hartfield, which made their presence so acceptable; for though her +first remark, on reading it, was that “of course it must be declined,” +she so very soon proceeded to ask them what they advised her to do, +that their advice for her going was most prompt and successful. + +She owned that, considering every thing, she was not absolutely without +inclination for the party. The Coles expressed themselves so +properly—there was so much real attention in the manner of it—so much +consideration for her father. “They would have solicited the honour +earlier, but had been waiting the arrival of a folding-screen from +London, which they hoped might keep Mr. Woodhouse from any draught of +air, and therefore induce him the more readily to give them the honour +of his company.” Upon the whole, she was very persuadable; and it being +briefly settled among themselves how it might be done without +neglecting his comfort—how certainly Mrs. Goddard, if not Mrs. Bates, +might be depended on for bearing him company—Mr. Woodhouse was to be +talked into an acquiescence of his daughter’s going out to dinner on a +day now near at hand, and spending the whole evening away from him. As +for _his_ going, Emma did not wish him to think it possible, the hours +would be too late, and the party too numerous. He was soon pretty well +resigned. + +“I am not fond of dinner-visiting,” said he—“I never was. No more is +Emma. Late hours do not agree with us. I am sorry Mr. and Mrs. Cole +should have done it. I think it would be much better if they would come +in one afternoon next summer, and take their tea with us—take us in +their afternoon walk; which they might do, as our hours are so +reasonable, and yet get home without being out in the damp of the +evening. The dews of a summer evening are what I would not expose any +body to. However, as they are so very desirous to have dear Emma dine +with them, and as you will both be there, and Mr. Knightley too, to +take care of her, I cannot wish to prevent it, provided the weather be +what it ought, neither damp, nor cold, nor windy.” Then turning to Mrs. +Weston, with a look of gentle reproach—“Ah! Miss Taylor, if you had not +married, you would have staid at home with me.” + +“Well, sir,” cried Mr. Weston, “as I took Miss Taylor away, it is +incumbent on me to supply her place, if I can; and I will step to Mrs. +Goddard in a moment, if you wish it.” + +But the idea of any thing to be done in a _moment_, was increasing, not +lessening, Mr. Woodhouse’s agitation. The ladies knew better how to +allay it. Mr. Weston must be quiet, and every thing deliberately +arranged. + +With this treatment, Mr. Woodhouse was soon composed enough for talking +as usual. “He should be happy to see Mrs. Goddard. He had a great +regard for Mrs. Goddard; and Emma should write a line, and invite her. +James could take the note. But first of all, there must be an answer +written to Mrs. Cole.” + +“You will make my excuses, my dear, as civilly as possible. You will +say that I am quite an invalid, and go no where, and therefore must +decline their obliging invitation; beginning with my _compliments_, of +course. But you will do every thing right. I need not tell you what is +to be done. We must remember to let James know that the carriage will +be wanted on Tuesday. I shall have no fears for you with him. We have +never been there above once since the new approach was made; but still +I have no doubt that James will take you very safely. And when you get +there, you must tell him at what time you would have him come for you +again; and you had better name an early hour. You will not like staying +late. You will get very tired when tea is over.” + +“But you would not wish me to come away before I am tired, papa?” + +“Oh! no, my love; but you will soon be tired. There will be a great +many people talking at once. You will not like the noise.” + +“But, my dear sir,” cried Mr. Weston, “if Emma comes away early, it +will be breaking up the party.” + +“And no great harm if it does,” said Mr. Woodhouse. “The sooner every +party breaks up, the better.” + +“But you do not consider how it may appear to the Coles. Emma’s going +away directly after tea might be giving offence. They are good-natured +people, and think little of their own claims; but still they must feel +that any body’s hurrying away is no great compliment; and Miss +Woodhouse’s doing it would be more thought of than any other person’s +in the room. You would not wish to disappoint and mortify the Coles, I +am sure, sir; friendly, good sort of people as ever lived, and who have +been your neighbours these _ten_ years.” + +“No, upon no account in the world, Mr. Weston; I am much obliged to you +for reminding me. I should be extremely sorry to be giving them any +pain. I know what worthy people they are. Perry tells me that Mr. Cole +never touches malt liquor. You would not think it to look at him, but +he is bilious—Mr. Cole is very bilious. No, I would not be the means of +giving them any pain. My dear Emma, we must consider this. I am sure, +rather than run the risk of hurting Mr. and Mrs. Cole, you would stay a +little longer than you might wish. You will not regard being tired. You +will be perfectly safe, you know, among your friends.” + +“Oh yes, papa. I have no fears at all for myself; and I should have no +scruples of staying as late as Mrs. Weston, but on your account. I am +only afraid of your sitting up for me. I am not afraid of your not +being exceedingly comfortable with Mrs. Goddard. She loves piquet, you +know; but when she is gone home, I am afraid you will be sitting up by +yourself, instead of going to bed at your usual time—and the idea of +that would entirely destroy my comfort. You must promise me not to sit +up.” + +He did, on the condition of some promises on her side: such as that, if +she came home cold, she would be sure to warm herself thoroughly; if +hungry, that she would take something to eat; that her own maid should +sit up for her; and that Serle and the butler should see that every +thing were safe in the house, as usual. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Frank Churchill came back again; and if he kept his father’s dinner +waiting, it was not known at Hartfield; for Mrs. Weston was too anxious +for his being a favourite with Mr. Woodhouse, to betray any +imperfection which could be concealed. + +He came back, had had his hair cut, and laughed at himself with a very +good grace, but without seeming really at all ashamed of what he had +done. He had no reason to wish his hair longer, to conceal any +confusion of face; no reason to wish the money unspent, to improve his +spirits. He was quite as undaunted and as lively as ever; and, after +seeing him, Emma thus moralised to herself:— + +“I do not know whether it ought to be so, but certainly silly things do +cease to be silly if they are done by sensible people in an impudent +way. Wickedness is always wickedness, but folly is not always folly.—It +depends upon the character of those who handle it. Mr. Knightley, he is +_not_ a trifling, silly young man. If he were, he would have done this +differently. He would either have gloried in the achievement, or been +ashamed of it. There would have been either the ostentation of a +coxcomb, or the evasions of a mind too weak to defend its own +vanities.—No, I am perfectly sure that he is not trifling or silly.” + +With Tuesday came the agreeable prospect of seeing him again, and for a +longer time than hitherto; of judging of his general manners, and by +inference, of the meaning of his manners towards herself; of guessing +how soon it might be necessary for her to throw coldness into her air; +and of fancying what the observations of all those might be, who were +now seeing them together for the first time. + +She meant to be very happy, in spite of the scene being laid at Mr. +Cole’s; and without being able to forget that among the failings of Mr. +Elton, even in the days of his favour, none had disturbed her more than +his propensity to dine with Mr. Cole. + +Her father’s comfort was amply secured, Mrs. Bates as well as Mrs. +Goddard being able to come; and her last pleasing duty, before she left +the house, was to pay her respects to them as they sat together after +dinner; and while her father was fondly noticing the beauty of her +dress, to make the two ladies all the amends in her power, by helping +them to large slices of cake and full glasses of wine, for whatever +unwilling self-denial his care of their constitution might have obliged +them to practise during the meal.—She had provided a plentiful dinner +for them; she wished she could know that they had been allowed to eat +it. + +She followed another carriage to Mr. Cole’s door; and was pleased to +see that it was Mr. Knightley’s; for Mr. Knightley keeping no horses, +having little spare money and a great deal of health, activity, and +independence, was too apt, in Emma’s opinion, to get about as he could, +and not use his carriage so often as became the owner of Donwell Abbey. +She had an opportunity now of speaking her approbation while warm from +her heart, for he stopped to hand her out. + +“This is coming as you should do,” said she; “like a gentleman.—I am +quite glad to see you.” + +He thanked her, observing, “How lucky that we should arrive at the same +moment! for, if we had met first in the drawing-room, I doubt whether +you would have discerned me to be more of a gentleman than usual.—You +might not have distinguished how I came, by my look or manner.” + +“Yes I should, I am sure I should. There is always a look of +consciousness or bustle when people come in a way which they know to be +beneath them. You think you carry it off very well, I dare say, but +with you it is a sort of bravado, an air of affected unconcern; I +always observe it whenever I meet you under those circumstances. _Now_ +you have nothing to try for. You are not afraid of being supposed +ashamed. You are not striving to look taller than any body else. _Now_ +I shall really be very happy to walk into the same room with you.” + +“Nonsensical girl!” was his reply, but not at all in anger. + +Emma had as much reason to be satisfied with the rest of the party as +with Mr. Knightley. She was received with a cordial respect which could +not but please, and given all the consequence she could wish for. When +the Westons arrived, the kindest looks of love, the strongest of +admiration were for her, from both husband and wife; the son approached +her with a cheerful eagerness which marked her as his peculiar object, +and at dinner she found him seated by her—and, as she firmly believed, +not without some dexterity on his side. + +The party was rather large, as it included one other family, a proper +unobjectionable country family, whom the Coles had the advantage of +naming among their acquaintance, and the male part of Mr. Cox’s family, +the lawyer of Highbury. The less worthy females were to come in the +evening, with Miss Bates, Miss Fairfax, and Miss Smith; but already, at +dinner, they were too numerous for any subject of conversation to be +general; and, while politics and Mr. Elton were talked over, Emma could +fairly surrender all her attention to the pleasantness of her +neighbour. The first remote sound to which she felt herself obliged to +attend, was the name of Jane Fairfax. Mrs. Cole seemed to be relating +something of her that was expected to be very interesting. She +listened, and found it well worth listening to. That very dear part of +Emma, her fancy, received an amusing supply. Mrs. Cole was telling that +she had been calling on Miss Bates, and as soon as she entered the room +had been struck by the sight of a pianoforte—a very elegant looking +instrument—not a grand, but a large-sized square pianoforte; and the +substance of the story, the end of all the dialogue which ensued of +surprize, and inquiry, and congratulations on her side, and +explanations on Miss Bates’s, was, that this pianoforte had arrived +from Broadwood’s the day before, to the great astonishment of both aunt +and niece—entirely unexpected; that at first, by Miss Bates’s account, +Jane herself was quite at a loss, quite bewildered to think who could +possibly have ordered it—but now, they were both perfectly satisfied +that it could be from only one quarter;—of course it must be from +Colonel Campbell. + +“One can suppose nothing else,” added Mrs. Cole, “and I was only +surprized that there could ever have been a doubt. But Jane, it seems, +had a letter from them very lately, and not a word was said about it. +She knows their ways best; but I should not consider their silence as +any reason for their not meaning to make the present. They might chuse +to surprize her.” + +Mrs. Cole had many to agree with her; every body who spoke on the +subject was equally convinced that it must come from Colonel Campbell, +and equally rejoiced that such a present had been made; and there were +enough ready to speak to allow Emma to think her own way, and still +listen to Mrs. Cole. + +“I declare, I do not know when I have heard any thing that has given me +more satisfaction!—It always has quite hurt me that Jane Fairfax, who +plays so delightfully, should not have an instrument. It seemed quite a +shame, especially considering how many houses there are where fine +instruments are absolutely thrown away. This is like giving ourselves a +slap, to be sure! and it was but yesterday I was telling Mr. Cole, I +really was ashamed to look at our new grand pianoforte in the +drawing-room, while I do not know one note from another, and our little +girls, who are but just beginning, perhaps may never make any thing of +it; and there is poor Jane Fairfax, who is mistress of music, has not +any thing of the nature of an instrument, not even the pitifullest old +spinet in the world, to amuse herself with.—I was saying this to Mr. +Cole but yesterday, and he quite agreed with me; only he is so +particularly fond of music that he could not help indulging himself in +the purchase, hoping that some of our good neighbours might be so +obliging occasionally to put it to a better use than we can; and that +really is the reason why the instrument was bought—or else I am sure we +ought to be ashamed of it.—We are in great hopes that Miss Woodhouse +may be prevailed with to try it this evening.” + +Miss Woodhouse made the proper acquiescence; and finding that nothing +more was to be entrapped from any communication of Mrs. Cole’s, turned +to Frank Churchill. + +“Why do you smile?” said she. + +“Nay, why do you?” + +“Me!—I suppose I smile for pleasure at Colonel Campbell’s being so rich +and so liberal.—It is a handsome present.” + +“Very.” + +“I rather wonder that it was never made before.” + +“Perhaps Miss Fairfax has never been staying here so long before.” + +“Or that he did not give her the use of their own instrument—which must +now be shut up in London, untouched by any body.” + +“That is a grand pianoforte, and he might think it too large for Mrs. +Bates’s house.” + +“You may _say_ what you chuse—but your countenance testifies that your +_thoughts_ on this subject are very much like mine.” + +“I do not know. I rather believe you are giving me more credit for +acuteness than I deserve. I smile because you smile, and shall probably +suspect whatever I find you suspect; but at present I do not see what +there is to question. If Colonel Campbell is not the person, who can +be?” + +“What do you say to Mrs. Dixon?” + +“Mrs. Dixon! very true indeed. I had not thought of Mrs. Dixon. She +must know as well as her father, how acceptable an instrument would be; +and perhaps the mode of it, the mystery, the surprize, is more like a +young woman’s scheme than an elderly man’s. It is Mrs. Dixon, I dare +say. I told you that your suspicions would guide mine.” + +“If so, you must extend your suspicions and comprehend _Mr_. Dixon in +them.” + +“Mr. Dixon.—Very well. Yes, I immediately perceive that it must be the +joint present of Mr. and Mrs. Dixon. We were speaking the other day, +you know, of his being so warm an admirer of her performance.” + +“Yes, and what you told me on that head, confirmed an idea which I had +entertained before.—I do not mean to reflect upon the good intentions +of either Mr. Dixon or Miss Fairfax, but I cannot help suspecting +either that, after making his proposals to her friend, he had the +misfortune to fall in love with _her_, or that he became conscious of a +little attachment on her side. One might guess twenty things without +guessing exactly the right; but I am sure there must be a particular +cause for her chusing to come to Highbury instead of going with the +Campbells to Ireland. Here, she must be leading a life of privation and +penance; there it would have been all enjoyment. As to the pretence of +trying her native air, I look upon that as a mere excuse.—In the summer +it might have passed; but what can any body’s native air do for them in +the months of January, February, and March? Good fires and carriages +would be much more to the purpose in most cases of delicate health, and +I dare say in her’s. I do not require you to adopt all my suspicions, +though you make so noble a profession of doing it, but I honestly tell +you what they are.” + +“And, upon my word, they have an air of great probability. Mr. Dixon’s +preference of her music to her friend’s, I can answer for being very +decided.” + +“And then, he saved her life. Did you ever hear of that?—A water party; +and by some accident she was falling overboard. He caught her.” + +“He did. I was there—one of the party.” + +“Were you really?—Well!—But you observed nothing of course, for it +seems to be a new idea to you.—If I had been there, I think I should +have made some discoveries.” + +“I dare say you would; but I, simple I, saw nothing but the fact, that +Miss Fairfax was nearly dashed from the vessel and that Mr. Dixon +caught her.—It was the work of a moment. And though the consequent +shock and alarm was very great and much more durable—indeed I believe +it was half an hour before any of us were comfortable again—yet that +was too general a sensation for any thing of peculiar anxiety to be +observable. I do not mean to say, however, that you might not have made +discoveries.” + +The conversation was here interrupted. They were called on to share in +the awkwardness of a rather long interval between the courses, and +obliged to be as formal and as orderly as the others; but when the +table was again safely covered, when every corner dish was placed +exactly right, and occupation and ease were generally restored, Emma +said, + +“The arrival of this pianoforte is decisive with me. I wanted to know a +little more, and this tells me quite enough. Depend upon it, we shall +soon hear that it is a present from Mr. and Mrs. Dixon.” + +“And if the Dixons should absolutely deny all knowledge of it we must +conclude it to come from the Campbells.” + +“No, I am sure it is not from the Campbells. Miss Fairfax knows it is +not from the Campbells, or they would have been guessed at first. She +would not have been puzzled, had she dared fix on them. I may not have +convinced you perhaps, but I am perfectly convinced myself that Mr. +Dixon is a principal in the business.” + +“Indeed you injure me if you suppose me unconvinced. Your reasonings +carry my judgment along with them entirely. At first, while I supposed +you satisfied that Colonel Campbell was the giver, I saw it only as +paternal kindness, and thought it the most natural thing in the world. +But when you mentioned Mrs. Dixon, I felt how much more probable that +it should be the tribute of warm female friendship. And now I can see +it in no other light than as an offering of love.” + +There was no occasion to press the matter farther. The conviction +seemed real; he looked as if he felt it. She said no more, other +subjects took their turn; and the rest of the dinner passed away; the +dessert succeeded, the children came in, and were talked to and admired +amid the usual rate of conversation; a few clever things said, a few +downright silly, but by much the larger proportion neither the one nor +the other—nothing worse than everyday remarks, dull repetitions, old +news, and heavy jokes. + +The ladies had not been long in the drawing-room, before the other +ladies, in their different divisions, arrived. Emma watched the entree +of her own particular little friend; and if she could not exult in her +dignity and grace, she could not only love the blooming sweetness and +the artless manner, but could most heartily rejoice in that light, +cheerful, unsentimental disposition which allowed her so many +alleviations of pleasure, in the midst of the pangs of disappointed +affection. There she sat—and who would have guessed how many tears she +had been lately shedding? To be in company, nicely dressed herself and +seeing others nicely dressed, to sit and smile and look pretty, and say +nothing, was enough for the happiness of the present hour. Jane Fairfax +did look and move superior; but Emma suspected she might have been glad +to change feelings with Harriet, very glad to have purchased the +mortification of having loved—yes, of having loved even Mr. Elton in +vain—by the surrender of all the dangerous pleasure of knowing herself +beloved by the husband of her friend. + +In so large a party it was not necessary that Emma should approach her. +She did not wish to speak of the pianoforte, she felt too much in the +secret herself, to think the appearance of curiosity or interest fair, +and therefore purposely kept at a distance; but by the others, the +subject was almost immediately introduced, and she saw the blush of +consciousness with which congratulations were received, the blush of +guilt which accompanied the name of “my excellent friend Colonel +Campbell.” + +Mrs. Weston, kind-hearted and musical, was particularly interested by +the circumstance, and Emma could not help being amused at her +perseverance in dwelling on the subject; and having so much to ask and +to say as to tone, touch, and pedal, totally unsuspicious of that wish +of saying as little about it as possible, which she plainly read in the +fair heroine’s countenance. + +They were soon joined by some of the gentlemen; and the very first of +the early was Frank Churchill. In he walked, the first and the +handsomest; and after paying his compliments en passant to Miss Bates +and her niece, made his way directly to the opposite side of the +circle, where sat Miss Woodhouse; and till he could find a seat by her, +would not sit at all. Emma divined what every body present must be +thinking. She was his object, and every body must perceive it. She +introduced him to her friend, Miss Smith, and, at convenient moments +afterwards, heard what each thought of the other. “He had never seen so +lovely a face, and was delighted with her naïveté.” And she, “Only to +be sure it was paying him too great a compliment, but she did think +there were some looks a little like Mr. Elton.” Emma restrained her +indignation, and only turned from her in silence. + +Smiles of intelligence passed between her and the gentleman on first +glancing towards Miss Fairfax; but it was most prudent to avoid speech. +He told her that he had been impatient to leave the dining-room—hated +sitting long—was always the first to move when he could—that his +father, Mr. Knightley, Mr. Cox, and Mr. Cole, were left very busy over +parish business—that as long as he had staid, however, it had been +pleasant enough, as he had found them in general a set of +gentlemanlike, sensible men; and spoke so handsomely of Highbury +altogether—thought it so abundant in agreeable families—that Emma began +to feel she had been used to despise the place rather too much. She +questioned him as to the society in Yorkshire—the extent of the +neighbourhood about Enscombe, and the sort; and could make out from his +answers that, as far as Enscombe was concerned, there was very little +going on, that their visitings were among a range of great families, +none very near; and that even when days were fixed, and invitations +accepted, it was an even chance that Mrs. Churchill were not in health +and spirits for going; that they made a point of visiting no fresh +person; and that, though he had his separate engagements, it was not +without difficulty, without considerable address _at_ _times_, that he +could get away, or introduce an acquaintance for a night. + +She saw that Enscombe could not satisfy, and that Highbury, taken at +its best, might reasonably please a young man who had more retirement +at home than he liked. His importance at Enscombe was very evident. He +did not boast, but it naturally betrayed itself, that he had persuaded +his aunt where his uncle could do nothing, and on her laughing and +noticing it, he owned that he believed (excepting one or two points) he +could _with_ _time_ persuade her to any thing. One of those points on +which his influence failed, he then mentioned. He had wanted very much +to go abroad—had been very eager indeed to be allowed to travel—but she +would not hear of it. This had happened the year before. _Now_, he +said, he was beginning to have no longer the same wish. + +The unpersuadable point, which he did not mention, Emma guessed to be +good behaviour to his father. + +“I have made a most wretched discovery,” said he, after a short pause.— +“I have been here a week to-morrow—half my time. I never knew days fly +so fast. A week to-morrow!—And I have hardly begun to enjoy myself. But +just got acquainted with Mrs. Weston, and others!—I hate the +recollection.” + +“Perhaps you may now begin to regret that you spent one whole day, out +of so few, in having your hair cut.” + +“No,” said he, smiling, “that is no subject of regret at all. I have no +pleasure in seeing my friends, unless I can believe myself fit to be +seen.” + +The rest of the gentlemen being now in the room, Emma found herself +obliged to turn from him for a few minutes, and listen to Mr. Cole. +When Mr. Cole had moved away, and her attention could be restored as +before, she saw Frank Churchill looking intently across the room at +Miss Fairfax, who was sitting exactly opposite. + +“What is the matter?” said she. + +He started. “Thank you for rousing me,” he replied. “I believe I have +been very rude; but really Miss Fairfax has done her hair in so odd a +way—so very odd a way—that I cannot keep my eyes from her. I never saw +any thing so outrée!—Those curls!—This must be a fancy of her own. I +see nobody else looking like her!—I must go and ask her whether it is +an Irish fashion. Shall I?—Yes, I will—I declare I will—and you shall +see how she takes it;—whether she colours.” + +He was gone immediately; and Emma soon saw him standing before Miss +Fairfax, and talking to her; but as to its effect on the young lady, as +he had improvidently placed himself exactly between them, exactly in +front of Miss Fairfax, she could absolutely distinguish nothing. + +Before he could return to his chair, it was taken by Mrs. Weston. + +“This is the luxury of a large party,” said she:—“one can get near +every body, and say every thing. My dear Emma, I am longing to talk to +you. I have been making discoveries and forming plans, just like +yourself, and I must tell them while the idea is fresh. Do you know how +Miss Bates and her niece came here?” + +“How?—They were invited, were not they?” + +“Oh! yes—but how they were conveyed hither?—the manner of their +coming?” + +“They walked, I conclude. How else could they come?” + +“Very true.—Well, a little while ago it occurred to me how very sad it +would be to have Jane Fairfax walking home again, late at night, and +cold as the nights are now. And as I looked at her, though I never saw +her appear to more advantage, it struck me that she was heated, and +would therefore be particularly liable to take cold. Poor girl! I could +not bear the idea of it; so, as soon as Mr. Weston came into the room, +and I could get at him, I spoke to him about the carriage. You may +guess how readily he came into my wishes; and having his approbation, I +made my way directly to Miss Bates, to assure her that the carriage +would be at her service before it took us home; for I thought it would +be making her comfortable at once. Good soul! she was as grateful as +possible, you may be sure. ‘Nobody was ever so fortunate as +herself!’—but with many, many thanks—‘there was no occasion to trouble +us, for Mr. Knightley’s carriage had brought, and was to take them home +again.’ I was quite surprized;—very glad, I am sure; but really quite +surprized. Such a very kind attention—and so thoughtful an +attention!—the sort of thing that so few men would think of. And, in +short, from knowing his usual ways, I am very much inclined to think +that it was for their accommodation the carriage was used at all. I do +suspect he would not have had a pair of horses for himself, and that it +was only as an excuse for assisting them.” + +“Very likely,” said Emma—“nothing more likely. I know no man more +likely than Mr. Knightley to do the sort of thing—to do any thing +really good-natured, useful, considerate, or benevolent. He is not a +gallant man, but he is a very humane one; and this, considering Jane +Fairfax’s ill-health, would appear a case of humanity to him;—and for +an act of unostentatious kindness, there is nobody whom I would fix on +more than on Mr. Knightley. I know he had horses to-day—for we arrived +together; and I laughed at him about it, but he said not a word that +could betray.” + +“Well,” said Mrs. Weston, smiling, “you give him credit for more +simple, disinterested benevolence in this instance than I do; for while +Miss Bates was speaking, a suspicion darted into my head, and I have +never been able to get it out again. The more I think of it, the more +probable it appears. In short, I have made a match between Mr. +Knightley and Jane Fairfax. See the consequence of keeping you +company!—What do you say to it?” + +“Mr. Knightley and Jane Fairfax!” exclaimed Emma. “Dear Mrs. Weston, +how could you think of such a thing?—Mr. Knightley!—Mr. Knightley must +not marry!—You would not have little Henry cut out from Donwell?—Oh! +no, no, Henry must have Donwell. I cannot at all consent to Mr. +Knightley’s marrying; and I am sure it is not at all likely. I am +amazed that you should think of such a thing.” + +“My dear Emma, I have told you what led me to think of it. I do not +want the match—I do not want to injure dear little Henry—but the idea +has been given me by circumstances; and if Mr. Knightley really wished +to marry, you would not have him refrain on Henry’s account, a boy of +six years old, who knows nothing of the matter?” + +“Yes, I would. I could not bear to have Henry supplanted.—Mr. Knightley +marry!—No, I have never had such an idea, and I cannot adopt it now. +And Jane Fairfax, too, of all women!” + +“Nay, she has always been a first favourite with him, as you very well +know.” + +“But the imprudence of such a match!” + +“I am not speaking of its prudence; merely its probability.” + +“I see no probability in it, unless you have any better foundation than +what you mention. His good-nature, his humanity, as I tell you, would +be quite enough to account for the horses. He has a great regard for +the Bateses, you know, independent of Jane Fairfax—and is always glad +to shew them attention. My dear Mrs. Weston, do not take to +match-making. You do it very ill. Jane Fairfax mistress of the +Abbey!—Oh! no, no;—every feeling revolts. For his own sake, I would not +have him do so mad a thing.” + +“Imprudent, if you please—but not mad. Excepting inequality of fortune, +and perhaps a little disparity of age, I can see nothing unsuitable.” + +“But Mr. Knightley does not want to marry. I am sure he has not the +least idea of it. Do not put it into his head. Why should he marry?—He +is as happy as possible by himself; with his farm, and his sheep, and +his library, and all the parish to manage; and he is extremely fond of +his brother’s children. He has no occasion to marry, either to fill up +his time or his heart.” + +“My dear Emma, as long as he thinks so, it is so; but if he really +loves Jane Fairfax—” + +“Nonsense! He does not care about Jane Fairfax. In the way of love, I +am sure he does not. He would do any good to her, or her family; but—” + +“Well,” said Mrs. Weston, laughing, “perhaps the greatest good he could +do them, would be to give Jane such a respectable home.” + +“If it would be good to her, I am sure it would be evil to himself; a +very shameful and degrading connexion. How would he bear to have Miss +Bates belonging to him?—To have her haunting the Abbey, and thanking +him all day long for his great kindness in marrying Jane?—‘So very kind +and obliging!—But he always had been such a very kind neighbour!’ And +then fly off, through half a sentence, to her mother’s old petticoat. +‘Not that it was such a very old petticoat either—for still it would +last a great while—and, indeed, she must thankfully say that their +petticoats were all very strong.’” + +“For shame, Emma! Do not mimic her. You divert me against my +conscience. And, upon my word, I do not think Mr. Knightley would be +much disturbed by Miss Bates. Little things do not irritate him. She +might talk on; and if he wanted to say any thing himself, he would only +talk louder, and drown her voice. But the question is not, whether it +would be a bad connexion for him, but whether he wishes it; and I think +he does. I have heard him speak, and so must you, so very highly of +Jane Fairfax! The interest he takes in her—his anxiety about her +health—his concern that she should have no happier prospect! I have +heard him express himself so warmly on those points!—Such an admirer of +her performance on the pianoforte, and of her voice! I have heard him +say that he could listen to her for ever. Oh! and I had almost +forgotten one idea that occurred to me—this pianoforte that has been +sent here by somebody—though we have all been so well satisfied to +consider it a present from the Campbells, may it not be from Mr. +Knightley? I cannot help suspecting him. I think he is just the person +to do it, even without being in love.” + +“Then it can be no argument to prove that he is in love. But I do not +think it is at all a likely thing for him to do. Mr. Knightley does +nothing mysteriously.” + +“I have heard him lamenting her having no instrument repeatedly; +oftener than I should suppose such a circumstance would, in the common +course of things, occur to him.” + +“Very well; and if he had intended to give her one, he would have told +her so.” + +“There might be scruples of delicacy, my dear Emma. I have a very +strong notion that it comes from him. I am sure he was particularly +silent when Mrs. Cole told us of it at dinner.” + +“You take up an idea, Mrs. Weston, and run away with it; as you have +many a time reproached me with doing. I see no sign of attachment—I +believe nothing of the pianoforte—and proof only shall convince me that +Mr. Knightley has any thought of marrying Jane Fairfax.” + +They combated the point some time longer in the same way; Emma rather +gaining ground over the mind of her friend; for Mrs. Weston was the +most used of the two to yield; till a little bustle in the room shewed +them that tea was over, and the instrument in preparation;—and at the +same moment Mr. Cole approaching to entreat Miss Woodhouse would do +them the honour of trying it. Frank Churchill, of whom, in the +eagerness of her conversation with Mrs. Weston, she had been seeing +nothing, except that he had found a seat by Miss Fairfax, followed Mr. +Cole, to add his very pressing entreaties; and as, in every respect, it +suited Emma best to lead, she gave a very proper compliance. + +She knew the limitations of her own powers too well to attempt more +than she could perform with credit; she wanted neither taste nor spirit +in the little things which are generally acceptable, and could +accompany her own voice well. One accompaniment to her song took her +agreeably by surprize—a second, slightly but correctly taken by Frank +Churchill. Her pardon was duly begged at the close of the song, and +every thing usual followed. He was accused of having a delightful +voice, and a perfect knowledge of music; which was properly denied; and +that he knew nothing of the matter, and had no voice at all, roundly +asserted. They sang together once more; and Emma would then resign her +place to Miss Fairfax, whose performance, both vocal and instrumental, +she never could attempt to conceal from herself, was infinitely +superior to her own. + +With mixed feelings, she seated herself at a little distance from the +numbers round the instrument, to listen. Frank Churchill sang again. +They had sung together once or twice, it appeared, at Weymouth. But the +sight of Mr. Knightley among the most attentive, soon drew away half +Emma’s mind; and she fell into a train of thinking on the subject of +Mrs. Weston’s suspicions, to which the sweet sounds of the united +voices gave only momentary interruptions. Her objections to Mr. +Knightley’s marrying did not in the least subside. She could see +nothing but evil in it. It would be a great disappointment to Mr. John +Knightley; consequently to Isabella. A real injury to the children—a +most mortifying change, and material loss to them all;—a very great +deduction from her father’s daily comfort—and, as to herself, she could +not at all endure the idea of Jane Fairfax at Donwell Abbey. A Mrs. +Knightley for them all to give way to!—No—Mr. Knightley must never +marry. Little Henry must remain the heir of Donwell. + +Presently Mr. Knightley looked back, and came and sat down by her. They +talked at first only of the performance. His admiration was certainly +very warm; yet she thought, but for Mrs. Weston, it would not have +struck her. As a sort of touchstone, however, she began to speak of his +kindness in conveying the aunt and niece; and though his answer was in +the spirit of cutting the matter short, she believed it to indicate +only his disinclination to dwell on any kindness of his own. + +“I often feel concern,” said she, “that I dare not make our carriage +more useful on such occasions. It is not that I am without the wish; +but you know how impossible my father would deem it that James should +put-to for such a purpose.” + +“Quite out of the question, quite out of the question,” he +replied;—“but you must often wish it, I am sure.” And he smiled with +such seeming pleasure at the conviction, that she must proceed another +step. + +“This present from the Campbells,” said she—“this pianoforte is very +kindly given.” + +“Yes,” he replied, and without the smallest apparent +embarrassment.—“But they would have done better had they given her +notice of it. Surprizes are foolish things. The pleasure is not +enhanced, and the inconvenience is often considerable. I should have +expected better judgment in Colonel Campbell.” + +From that moment, Emma could have taken her oath that Mr. Knightley had +had no concern in giving the instrument. But whether he were entirely +free from peculiar attachment—whether there were no actual +preference—remained a little longer doubtful. Towards the end of Jane’s +second song, her voice grew thick. + +“That will do,” said he, when it was finished, thinking aloud—“you have +sung quite enough for one evening—now be quiet.” + +Another song, however, was soon begged for. “One more;—they would not +fatigue Miss Fairfax on any account, and would only ask for one more.” +And Frank Churchill was heard to say, “I think you could manage this +without effort; the first part is so very trifling. The strength of the +song falls on the second.” + +Mr. Knightley grew angry. + +“That fellow,” said he, indignantly, “thinks of nothing but shewing off +his own voice. This must not be.” And touching Miss Bates, who at that +moment passed near—“Miss Bates, are you mad, to let your niece sing +herself hoarse in this manner? Go, and interfere. They have no mercy on +her.” + +Miss Bates, in her real anxiety for Jane, could hardly stay even to be +grateful, before she stept forward and put an end to all farther +singing. Here ceased the concert part of the evening, for Miss +Woodhouse and Miss Fairfax were the only young lady performers; but +soon (within five minutes) the proposal of dancing—originating nobody +exactly knew where—was so effectually promoted by Mr. and Mrs. Cole, +that every thing was rapidly clearing away, to give proper space. Mrs. +Weston, capital in her country-dances, was seated, and beginning an +irresistible waltz; and Frank Churchill, coming up with most becoming +gallantry to Emma, had secured her hand, and led her up to the top. + +While waiting till the other young people could pair themselves off, +Emma found time, in spite of the compliments she was receiving on her +voice and her taste, to look about, and see what became of Mr. +Knightley. This would be a trial. He was no dancer in general. If he +were to be very alert in engaging Jane Fairfax now, it might augur +something. There was no immediate appearance. No; he was talking to +Mrs. Cole—he was looking on unconcerned; Jane was asked by somebody +else, and he was still talking to Mrs. Cole. + +Emma had no longer an alarm for Henry; his interest was yet safe; and +she led off the dance with genuine spirit and enjoyment. Not more than +five couple could be mustered; but the rarity and the suddenness of it +made it very delightful, and she found herself well matched in a +partner. They were a couple worth looking at. + +Two dances, unfortunately, were all that could be allowed. It was +growing late, and Miss Bates became anxious to get home, on her +mother’s account. After some attempts, therefore, to be permitted to +begin again, they were obliged to thank Mrs. Weston, look sorrowful, +and have done. + +“Perhaps it is as well,” said Frank Churchill, as he attended Emma to +her carriage. “I must have asked Miss Fairfax, and her languid dancing +would not have agreed with me, after yours.” + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +Emma did not repent her condescension in going to the Coles. The visit +afforded her many pleasant recollections the next day; and all that she +might be supposed to have lost on the side of dignified seclusion, must +be amply repaid in the splendour of popularity. She must have delighted +the Coles—worthy people, who deserved to be made happy!—And left a name +behind her that would not soon die away. + +Perfect happiness, even in memory, is not common; and there were two +points on which she was not quite easy. She doubted whether she had not +transgressed the duty of woman by woman, in betraying her suspicions of +Jane Fairfax’s feelings to Frank Churchill. It was hardly right; but it +had been so strong an idea, that it would escape her, and his +submission to all that she told, was a compliment to her penetration, +which made it difficult for her to be quite certain that she ought to +have held her tongue. + +The other circumstance of regret related also to Jane Fairfax; and +there she had no doubt. She did unfeignedly and unequivocally regret +the inferiority of her own playing and singing. She did most heartily +grieve over the idleness of her childhood—and sat down and practised +vigorously an hour and a half. + +She was then interrupted by Harriet’s coming in; and if Harriet’s +praise could have satisfied her, she might soon have been comforted. + +“Oh! if I could but play as well as you and Miss Fairfax!” + +“Don’t class us together, Harriet. My playing is no more like her’s, +than a lamp is like sunshine.” + +“Oh! dear—I think you play the best of the two. I think you play quite +as well as she does. I am sure I had much rather hear you. Every body +last night said how well you played.” + +“Those who knew any thing about it, must have felt the difference. The +truth is, Harriet, that my playing is just good enough to be praised, +but Jane Fairfax’s is much beyond it.” + +“Well, I always shall think that you play quite as well as she does, or +that if there is any difference nobody would ever find it out. Mr. Cole +said how much taste you had; and Mr. Frank Churchill talked a great +deal about your taste, and that he valued taste much more than +execution.” + +“Ah! but Jane Fairfax has them both, Harriet.” + +“Are you sure? I saw she had execution, but I did not know she had any +taste. Nobody talked about it. And I hate Italian singing.—There is no +understanding a word of it. Besides, if she does play so very well, you +know, it is no more than she is obliged to do, because she will have to +teach. The Coxes were wondering last night whether she would get into +any great family. How did you think the Coxes looked?” + +“Just as they always do—very vulgar.” + +“They told me something,” said Harriet rather hesitatingly; “but it is +nothing of any consequence.” + +Emma was obliged to ask what they had told her, though fearful of its +producing Mr. Elton. + +“They told me—that Mr. Martin dined with them last Saturday.” + +“Oh!” + +“He came to their father upon some business, and he asked him to stay +to dinner.” + +“Oh!” + +“They talked a great deal about him, especially Anne Cox. I do not know +what she meant, but she asked me if I thought I should go and stay +there again next summer.” + +“She meant to be impertinently curious, just as such an Anne Cox should +be.” + +“She said he was very agreeable the day he dined there. He sat by her +at dinner. Miss Nash thinks either of the Coxes would be very glad to +marry him.” + +“Very likely.—I think they are, without exception, the most vulgar +girls in Highbury.” + +Harriet had business at Ford’s.—Emma thought it most prudent to go with +her. Another accidental meeting with the Martins was possible, and in +her present state, would be dangerous. + +Harriet, tempted by every thing and swayed by half a word, was always +very long at a purchase; and while she was still hanging over muslins +and changing her mind, Emma went to the door for amusement.—Much could +not be hoped from the traffic of even the busiest part of Highbury;—Mr. +Perry walking hastily by, Mr. William Cox letting himself in at the +office-door, Mr. Cole’s carriage-horses returning from exercise, or a +stray letter-boy on an obstinate mule, were the liveliest objects she +could presume to expect; and when her eyes fell only on the butcher +with his tray, a tidy old woman travelling homewards from shop with her +full basket, two curs quarrelling over a dirty bone, and a string of +dawdling children round the baker’s little bow-window eyeing the +gingerbread, she knew she had no reason to complain, and was amused +enough; quite enough still to stand at the door. A mind lively and at +ease, can do with seeing nothing, and can see nothing that does not +answer. + +She looked down the Randalls road. The scene enlarged; two persons +appeared; Mrs. Weston and her son-in-law; they were walking into +Highbury;—to Hartfield of course. They were stopping, however, in the +first place at Mrs. Bates’s; whose house was a little nearer Randalls +than Ford’s; and had all but knocked, when Emma caught their +eye.—Immediately they crossed the road and came forward to her; and the +agreeableness of yesterday’s engagement seemed to give fresh pleasure +to the present meeting. Mrs. Weston informed her that she was going to +call on the Bateses, in order to hear the new instrument. + +“For my companion tells me,” said she, “that I absolutely promised Miss +Bates last night, that I would come this morning. I was not aware of it +myself. I did not know that I had fixed a day, but as he says I did, I +am going now.” + +“And while Mrs. Weston pays her visit, I may be allowed, I hope,” said +Frank Churchill, “to join your party and wait for her at Hartfield—if +you are going home.” + +Mrs. Weston was disappointed. + +“I thought you meant to go with me. They would be very much pleased.” + +“Me! I should be quite in the way. But, perhaps—I may be equally in the +way here. Miss Woodhouse looks as if she did not want me. My aunt +always sends me off when she is shopping. She says I fidget her to +death; and Miss Woodhouse looks as if she could almost say the same. +What am I to do?” + +“I am here on no business of my own,” said Emma; “I am only waiting for +my friend. She will probably have soon done, and then we shall go home. +But you had better go with Mrs. Weston and hear the instrument.” + +“Well—if you advise it.—But (with a smile) if Colonel Campbell should +have employed a careless friend, and if it should prove to have an +indifferent tone—what shall I say? I shall be no support to Mrs. +Weston. She might do very well by herself. A disagreeable truth would +be palatable through her lips, but I am the wretchedest being in the +world at a civil falsehood.” + +“I do not believe any such thing,” replied Emma.—“I am persuaded that +you can be as insincere as your neighbours, when it is necessary; but +there is no reason to suppose the instrument is indifferent. Quite +otherwise indeed, if I understood Miss Fairfax’s opinion last night.” + +“Do come with me,” said Mrs. Weston, “if it be not very disagreeable to +you. It need not detain us long. We will go to Hartfield afterwards. We +will follow them to Hartfield. I really wish you to call with me. It +will be felt so great an attention! and I always thought you meant it.” + +He could say no more; and with the hope of Hartfield to reward him, +returned with Mrs. Weston to Mrs. Bates’s door. Emma watched them in, +and then joined Harriet at the interesting counter,—trying, with all +the force of her own mind, to convince her that if she wanted plain +muslin it was of no use to look at figured; and that a blue ribbon, be +it ever so beautiful, would still never match her yellow pattern. At +last it was all settled, even to the destination of the parcel. + +“Should I send it to Mrs. Goddard’s, ma’am?” asked Mrs. +Ford.—“Yes—no—yes, to Mrs. Goddard’s. Only my pattern gown is at +Hartfield. No, you shall send it to Hartfield, if you please. But then, +Mrs. Goddard will want to see it.—And I could take the pattern gown +home any day. But I shall want the ribbon directly—so it had better go +to Hartfield—at least the ribbon. You could make it into two parcels, +Mrs. Ford, could not you?” + +“It is not worth while, Harriet, to give Mrs. Ford the trouble of two +parcels.” + +“No more it is.” + +“No trouble in the world, ma’am,” said the obliging Mrs. Ford. + +“Oh! but indeed I would much rather have it only in one. Then, if you +please, you shall send it all to Mrs. Goddard’s—I do not know—No, I +think, Miss Woodhouse, I may just as well have it sent to Hartfield, +and take it home with me at night. What do you advise?” + +“That you do not give another half-second to the subject. To Hartfield, +if you please, Mrs. Ford.” + +“Aye, that will be much best,” said Harriet, quite satisfied, “I should +not at all like to have it sent to Mrs. Goddard’s.” + +Voices approached the shop—or rather one voice and two ladies: Mrs. +Weston and Miss Bates met them at the door. + +“My dear Miss Woodhouse,” said the latter, “I am just run across to +entreat the favour of you to come and sit down with us a little while, +and give us your opinion of our new instrument; you and Miss Smith. How +do you do, Miss Smith?—Very well I thank you.—And I begged Mrs. Weston +to come with me, that I might be sure of succeeding.” + +“I hope Mrs. Bates and Miss Fairfax are—” + +“Very well, I am much obliged to you. My mother is delightfully well; +and Jane caught no cold last night. How is Mr. Woodhouse?—I am so glad +to hear such a good account. Mrs. Weston told me you were here.—Oh! +then, said I, I must run across, I am sure Miss Woodhouse will allow me +just to run across and entreat her to come in; my mother will be so +very happy to see her—and now we are such a nice party, she cannot +refuse.—‘Aye, pray do,’ said Mr. Frank Churchill, ‘Miss Woodhouse’s +opinion of the instrument will be worth having.’—But, said I, I shall +be more sure of succeeding if one of you will go with me.—‘Oh,’ said +he, ‘wait half a minute, till I have finished my job;’—For, would you +believe it, Miss Woodhouse, there he is, in the most obliging manner in +the world, fastening in the rivet of my mother’s spectacles.—The rivet +came out, you know, this morning.—So very obliging!—For my mother had +no use of her spectacles—could not put them on. And, by the bye, every +body ought to have two pair of spectacles; they should indeed. Jane +said so. I meant to take them over to John Saunders the first thing I +did, but something or other hindered me all the morning; first one +thing, then another, there is no saying what, you know. At one time +Patty came to say she thought the kitchen chimney wanted sweeping. Oh, +said I, Patty do not come with your bad news to me. Here is the rivet +of your mistress’s spectacles out. Then the baked apples came home, +Mrs. Wallis sent them by her boy; they are extremely civil and obliging +to us, the Wallises, always—I have heard some people say that Mrs. +Wallis can be uncivil and give a very rude answer, but we have never +known any thing but the greatest attention from them. And it cannot be +for the value of our custom now, for what is our consumption of bread, +you know? Only three of us.—besides dear Jane at present—and she really +eats nothing—makes such a shocking breakfast, you would be quite +frightened if you saw it. I dare not let my mother know how little she +eats—so I say one thing and then I say another, and it passes off. But +about the middle of the day she gets hungry, and there is nothing she +likes so well as these baked apples, and they are extremely wholesome, +for I took the opportunity the other day of asking Mr. Perry; I +happened to meet him in the street. Not that I had any doubt before—I +have so often heard Mr. Woodhouse recommend a baked apple. I believe it +is the only way that Mr. Woodhouse thinks the fruit thoroughly +wholesome. We have apple-dumplings, however, very often. Patty makes an +excellent apple-dumpling. Well, Mrs. Weston, you have prevailed, I +hope, and these ladies will oblige us.” + +Emma would be “very happy to wait on Mrs. Bates, &c.,” and they did at +last move out of the shop, with no farther delay from Miss Bates than, + +“How do you do, Mrs. Ford? I beg your pardon. I did not see you before. +I hear you have a charming collection of new ribbons from town. Jane +came back delighted yesterday. Thank ye, the gloves do very well—only a +little too large about the wrist; but Jane is taking them in.” + +“What was I talking of?” said she, beginning again when they were all +in the street. + +Emma wondered on what, of all the medley, she would fix. + +“I declare I cannot recollect what I was talking of.—Oh! my mother’s +spectacles. So very obliging of Mr. Frank Churchill! ‘Oh!’ said he, ‘I +do think I can fasten the rivet; I like a job of this kind +excessively.’—Which you know shewed him to be so very.... Indeed I must +say that, much as I had heard of him before and much as I had expected, +he very far exceeds any thing.... I do congratulate you, Mrs. Weston, +most warmly. He seems every thing the fondest parent could.... ‘Oh!’ +said he, ‘I can fasten the rivet. I like a job of that sort +excessively.’ I never shall forget his manner. And when I brought out +the baked apples from the closet, and hoped our friends would be so +very obliging as to take some, ‘Oh!’ said he directly, ‘there is +nothing in the way of fruit half so good, and these are the +finest-looking home-baked apples I ever saw in my life.’ That, you +know, was so very.... And I am sure, by his manner, it was no +compliment. Indeed they are very delightful apples, and Mrs. Wallis +does them full justice—only we do not have them baked more than twice, +and Mr. Woodhouse made us promise to have them done three times—but +Miss Woodhouse will be so good as not to mention it. The apples +themselves are the very finest sort for baking, beyond a doubt; all +from Donwell—some of Mr. Knightley’s most liberal supply. He sends us a +sack every year; and certainly there never was such a keeping apple +anywhere as one of his trees—I believe there is two of them. My mother +says the orchard was always famous in her younger days. But I was +really quite shocked the other day—for Mr. Knightley called one +morning, and Jane was eating these apples, and we talked about them and +said how much she enjoyed them, and he asked whether we were not got to +the end of our stock. ‘I am sure you must be,’ said he, ‘and I will +send you another supply; for I have a great many more than I can ever +use. William Larkins let me keep a larger quantity than usual this +year. I will send you some more, before they get good for nothing.’ So +I begged he would not—for really as to ours being gone, I could not +absolutely say that we had a great many left—it was but half a dozen +indeed; but they should be all kept for Jane; and I could not at all +bear that he should be sending us more, so liberal as he had been +already; and Jane said the same. And when he was gone, she almost +quarrelled with me—No, I should not say quarrelled, for we never had a +quarrel in our lives; but she was quite distressed that I had owned the +apples were so nearly gone; she wished I had made him believe we had a +great many left. Oh, said I, my dear, I did say as much as I could. +However, the very same evening William Larkins came over with a large +basket of apples, the same sort of apples, a bushel at least, and I was +very much obliged, and went down and spoke to William Larkins and said +every thing, as you may suppose. William Larkins is such an old +acquaintance! I am always glad to see him. But, however, I found +afterwards from Patty, that William said it was all the apples of +_that_ sort his master had; he had brought them all—and now his master +had not one left to bake or boil. William did not seem to mind it +himself, he was so pleased to think his master had sold so many; for +William, you know, thinks more of his master’s profit than any thing; +but Mrs. Hodges, he said, was quite displeased at their being all sent +away. She could not bear that her master should not be able to have +another apple-tart this spring. He told Patty this, but bid her not +mind it, and be sure not to say any thing to us about it, for Mrs. +Hodges _would_ be cross sometimes, and as long as so many sacks were +sold, it did not signify who ate the remainder. And so Patty told me, +and I was excessively shocked indeed! I would not have Mr. Knightley +know any thing about it for the world! He would be so very.... I wanted +to keep it from Jane’s knowledge; but, unluckily, I had mentioned it +before I was aware.” + +Miss Bates had just done as Patty opened the door; and her visitors +walked upstairs without having any regular narration to attend to, +pursued only by the sounds of her desultory good-will. + +“Pray take care, Mrs. Weston, there is a step at the turning. Pray take +care, Miss Woodhouse, ours is rather a dark staircase—rather darker and +narrower than one could wish. Miss Smith, pray take care. Miss +Woodhouse, I am quite concerned, I am sure you hit your foot. Miss +Smith, the step at the turning.” + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +The appearance of the little sitting-room as they entered, was +tranquillity itself; Mrs. Bates, deprived of her usual employment, +slumbering on one side of the fire, Frank Churchill, at a table near +her, most deedily occupied about her spectacles, and Jane Fairfax, +standing with her back to them, intent on her pianoforte. + +Busy as he was, however, the young man was yet able to shew a most +happy countenance on seeing Emma again. + +“This is a pleasure,” said he, in rather a low voice, “coming at least +ten minutes earlier than I had calculated. You find me trying to be +useful; tell me if you think I shall succeed.” + +“What!” said Mrs. Weston, “have not you finished it yet? you would not +earn a very good livelihood as a working silversmith at this rate.” + +“I have not been working uninterruptedly,” he replied, “I have been +assisting Miss Fairfax in trying to make her instrument stand steadily, +it was not quite firm; an unevenness in the floor, I believe. You see +we have been wedging one leg with paper. This was very kind of you to +be persuaded to come. I was almost afraid you would be hurrying home.” + +He contrived that she should be seated by him; and was sufficiently +employed in looking out the best baked apple for her, and trying to +make her help or advise him in his work, till Jane Fairfax was quite +ready to sit down to the pianoforte again. That she was not immediately +ready, Emma did suspect to arise from the state of her nerves; she had +not yet possessed the instrument long enough to touch it without +emotion; she must reason herself into the power of performance; and +Emma could not but pity such feelings, whatever their origin, and could +not but resolve never to expose them to her neighbour again. + +At last Jane began, and though the first bars were feebly given, the +powers of the instrument were gradually done full justice to. Mrs. +Weston had been delighted before, and was delighted again; Emma joined +her in all her praise; and the pianoforte, with every proper +discrimination, was pronounced to be altogether of the highest promise. + +“Whoever Colonel Campbell might employ,” said Frank Churchill, with a +smile at Emma, “the person has not chosen ill. I heard a good deal of +Colonel Campbell’s taste at Weymouth; and the softness of the upper +notes I am sure is exactly what he and _all_ _that_ _party_ would +particularly prize. I dare say, Miss Fairfax, that he either gave his +friend very minute directions, or wrote to Broadwood himself. Do not +you think so?” + +Jane did not look round. She was not obliged to hear. Mrs. Weston had +been speaking to her at the same moment. + +“It is not fair,” said Emma, in a whisper; “mine was a random guess. Do +not distress her.” + +He shook his head with a smile, and looked as if he had very little +doubt and very little mercy. Soon afterwards he began again, + +“How much your friends in Ireland must be enjoying your pleasure on +this occasion, Miss Fairfax. I dare say they often think of you, and +wonder which will be the day, the precise day of the instrument’s +coming to hand. Do you imagine Colonel Campbell knows the business to +be going forward just at this time?—Do you imagine it to be the +consequence of an immediate commission from him, or that he may have +sent only a general direction, an order indefinite as to time, to +depend upon contingencies and conveniences?” + +He paused. She could not but hear; she could not avoid answering, + +“Till I have a letter from Colonel Campbell,” said she, in a voice of +forced calmness, “I can imagine nothing with any confidence. It must be +all conjecture.” + +“Conjecture—aye, sometimes one conjectures right, and sometimes one +conjectures wrong. I wish I could conjecture how soon I shall make this +rivet quite firm. What nonsense one talks, Miss Woodhouse, when hard at +work, if one talks at all;—your real workmen, I suppose, hold their +tongues; but we gentlemen labourers if we get hold of a word—Miss +Fairfax said something about conjecturing. There, it is done. I have +the pleasure, madam, (to Mrs. Bates,) of restoring your spectacles, +healed for the present.” + +He was very warmly thanked both by mother and daughter; to escape a +little from the latter, he went to the pianoforte, and begged Miss +Fairfax, who was still sitting at it, to play something more. + +“If you are very kind,” said he, “it will be one of the waltzes we +danced last night;—let me live them over again. You did not enjoy them +as I did; you appeared tired the whole time. I believe you were glad we +danced no longer; but I would have given worlds—all the worlds one ever +has to give—for another half-hour.” + +She played. + +“What felicity it is to hear a tune again which _has_ made one +happy!—If I mistake not that was danced at Weymouth.” + +She looked up at him for a moment, coloured deeply, and played +something else. He took some music from a chair near the pianoforte, +and turning to Emma, said, + +“Here is something quite new to me. Do you know it?—Cramer.—And here +are a new set of Irish melodies. That, from such a quarter, one might +expect. This was all sent with the instrument. Very thoughtful of +Colonel Campbell, was not it?—He knew Miss Fairfax could have no music +here. I honour that part of the attention particularly; it shews it to +have been so thoroughly from the heart. Nothing hastily done; nothing +incomplete. True affection only could have prompted it.” + +Emma wished he would be less pointed, yet could not help being amused; +and when on glancing her eye towards Jane Fairfax she caught the +remains of a smile, when she saw that with all the deep blush of +consciousness, there had been a smile of secret delight, she had less +scruple in the amusement, and much less compunction with respect to +her.—This amiable, upright, perfect Jane Fairfax was apparently +cherishing very reprehensible feelings. + +He brought all the music to her, and they looked it over together.—Emma +took the opportunity of whispering, + +“You speak too plain. She must understand you.” + +“I hope she does. I would have her understand me. I am not in the least +ashamed of my meaning.” + +“But really, I am half ashamed, and wish I had never taken up the +idea.” + +“I am very glad you did, and that you communicated it to me. I have now +a key to all her odd looks and ways. Leave shame to her. If she does +wrong, she ought to feel it.” + +“She is not entirely without it, I think.” + +“I do not see much sign of it. She is playing _Robin_ _Adair_ at this +moment—_his_ favourite.” + +Shortly afterwards Miss Bates, passing near the window, descried Mr. +Knightley on horse-back not far off. + +“Mr. Knightley I declare!—I must speak to him if possible, just to +thank him. I will not open the window here; it would give you all cold; +but I can go into my mother’s room you know. I dare say he will come in +when he knows who is here. Quite delightful to have you all meet +so!—Our little room so honoured!” + +She was in the adjoining chamber while she still spoke, and opening the +casement there, immediately called Mr. Knightley’s attention, and every +syllable of their conversation was as distinctly heard by the others, +as if it had passed within the same apartment. + +“How d’ ye do?—how d’ye do?—Very well, I thank you. So obliged to you +for the carriage last night. We were just in time; my mother just ready +for us. Pray come in; do come in. You will find some friends here.” + +So began Miss Bates; and Mr. Knightley seemed determined to be heard in +his turn, for most resolutely and commandingly did he say, + +“How is your niece, Miss Bates?—I want to inquire after you all, but +particularly your niece. How is Miss Fairfax?—I hope she caught no cold +last night. How is she to-day? Tell me how Miss Fairfax is.” + +And Miss Bates was obliged to give a direct answer before he would hear +her in any thing else. The listeners were amused; and Mrs. Weston gave +Emma a look of particular meaning. But Emma still shook her head in +steady scepticism. + +“So obliged to you!—so very much obliged to you for the carriage,” +resumed Miss Bates. + +He cut her short with, + +“I am going to Kingston. Can I do any thing for you?” + +“Oh! dear, Kingston—are you?—Mrs. Cole was saying the other day she +wanted something from Kingston.” + +“Mrs. Cole has servants to send. Can I do any thing for _you_?” + +“No, I thank you. But do come in. Who do you think is here?—Miss +Woodhouse and Miss Smith; so kind as to call to hear the new +pianoforte. Do put up your horse at the Crown, and come in.” + +“Well,” said he, in a deliberating manner, “for five minutes, perhaps.” + +“And here is Mrs. Weston and Mr. Frank Churchill too!—Quite delightful; +so many friends!” + +“No, not now, I thank you. I could not stay two minutes. I must get on +to Kingston as fast as I can.” + +“Oh! do come in. They will be so very happy to see you.” + +“No, no; your room is full enough. I will call another day, and hear +the pianoforte.” + +“Well, I am so sorry!—Oh! Mr. Knightley, what a delightful party last +night; how extremely pleasant.—Did you ever see such dancing?—Was not +it delightful?—Miss Woodhouse and Mr. Frank Churchill; I never saw any +thing equal to it.” + +“Oh! very delightful indeed; I can say nothing less, for I suppose Miss +Woodhouse and Mr. Frank Churchill are hearing every thing that passes. +And (raising his voice still more) I do not see why Miss Fairfax should +not be mentioned too. I think Miss Fairfax dances very well; and Mrs. +Weston is the very best country-dance player, without exception, in +England. Now, if your friends have any gratitude, they will say +something pretty loud about you and me in return; but I cannot stay to +hear it.” + +“Oh! Mr. Knightley, one moment more; something of consequence—so +shocked!—Jane and I are both so shocked about the apples!” + +“What is the matter now?” + +“To think of your sending us all your store apples. You said you had a +great many, and now you have not one left. We really are so shocked! +Mrs. Hodges may well be angry. William Larkins mentioned it here. You +should not have done it, indeed you should not. Ah! he is off. He never +can bear to be thanked. But I thought he would have staid now, and it +would have been a pity not to have mentioned.... Well, (returning to +the room,) I have not been able to succeed. Mr. Knightley cannot stop. +He is going to Kingston. He asked me if he could do any thing....” + +“Yes,” said Jane, “we heard his kind offers, we heard every thing.” + +“Oh! yes, my dear, I dare say you might, because you know, the door was +open, and the window was open, and Mr. Knightley spoke loud. You must +have heard every thing to be sure. ‘Can I do any thing for you at +Kingston?’ said he; so I just mentioned.... Oh! Miss Woodhouse, must +you be going?—You seem but just come—so very obliging of you.” + +Emma found it really time to be at home; the visit had already lasted +long; and on examining watches, so much of the morning was perceived to +be gone, that Mrs. Weston and her companion taking leave also, could +allow themselves only to walk with the two young ladies to Hartfield +gates, before they set off for Randalls. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +It may be possible to do without dancing entirely. Instances have been +known of young people passing many, many months successively, without +being at any ball of any description, and no material injury accrue +either to body or mind;—but when a beginning is made—when the +felicities of rapid motion have once been, though slightly, felt—it +must be a very heavy set that does not ask for more. + +Frank Churchill had danced once at Highbury, and longed to dance again; +and the last half-hour of an evening which Mr. Woodhouse was persuaded +to spend with his daughter at Randalls, was passed by the two young +people in schemes on the subject. Frank’s was the first idea; and his +the greatest zeal in pursuing it; for the lady was the best judge of +the difficulties, and the most solicitous for accommodation and +appearance. But still she had inclination enough for shewing people +again how delightfully Mr. Frank Churchill and Miss Woodhouse +danced—for doing that in which she need not blush to compare herself +with Jane Fairfax—and even for simple dancing itself, without any of +the wicked aids of vanity—to assist him first in pacing out the room +they were in to see what it could be made to hold—and then in taking +the dimensions of the other parlour, in the hope of discovering, in +spite of all that Mr. Weston could say of their exactly equal size, +that it was a little the largest. + +His first proposition and request, that the dance begun at Mr. Cole’s +should be finished there—that the same party should be collected, and +the same musician engaged, met with the readiest acquiescence. Mr. +Weston entered into the idea with thorough enjoyment, and Mrs. Weston +most willingly undertook to play as long as they could wish to dance; +and the interesting employment had followed, of reckoning up exactly +who there would be, and portioning out the indispensable division of +space to every couple. + +“You and Miss Smith, and Miss Fairfax, will be three, and the two Miss +Coxes five,” had been repeated many times over. “And there will be the +two Gilberts, young Cox, my father, and myself, besides Mr. Knightley. +Yes, that will be quite enough for pleasure. You and Miss Smith, and +Miss Fairfax, will be three, and the two Miss Coxes five; and for five +couple there will be plenty of room.” + +But soon it came to be on one side, + +“But will there be good room for five couple?—I really do not think +there will.” + +On another, + +“And after all, five couple are not enough to make it worth while to +stand up. Five couple are nothing, when one thinks seriously about it. +It will not do to _invite_ five couple. It can be allowable only as the +thought of the moment.” + +Somebody said that _Miss_ Gilbert was expected at her brother’s, and +must be invited with the rest. Somebody else believed _Mrs_. Gilbert +would have danced the other evening, if she had been asked. A word was +put in for a second young Cox; and at last, Mr. Weston naming one +family of cousins who must be included, and another of very old +acquaintance who could not be left out, it became a certainty that the +five couple would be at least ten, and a very interesting speculation +in what possible manner they could be disposed of. + +The doors of the two rooms were just opposite each other. “Might not +they use both rooms, and dance across the passage?” It seemed the best +scheme; and yet it was not so good but that many of them wanted a +better. Emma said it would be awkward; Mrs. Weston was in distress +about the supper; and Mr. Woodhouse opposed it earnestly, on the score +of health. It made him so very unhappy, indeed, that it could not be +persevered in. + +“Oh! no,” said he; “it would be the extreme of imprudence. I could not +bear it for Emma!—Emma is not strong. She would catch a dreadful cold. +So would poor little Harriet. So you would all. Mrs. Weston, you would +be quite laid up; do not let them talk of such a wild thing. Pray do +not let them talk of it. That young man (speaking lower) is very +thoughtless. Do not tell his father, but that young man is not quite +the thing. He has been opening the doors very often this evening, and +keeping them open very inconsiderately. He does not think of the +draught. I do not mean to set you against him, but indeed he is not +quite the thing!” + +Mrs. Weston was sorry for such a charge. She knew the importance of it, +and said every thing in her power to do it away. Every door was now +closed, the passage plan given up, and the first scheme of dancing only +in the room they were in resorted to again; and with such good-will on +Frank Churchill’s part, that the space which a quarter of an hour +before had been deemed barely sufficient for five couple, was now +endeavoured to be made out quite enough for ten. + +“We were too magnificent,” said he. “We allowed unnecessary room. Ten +couple may stand here very well.” + +Emma demurred. “It would be a crowd—a sad crowd; and what could be +worse than dancing without space to turn in?” + +“Very true,” he gravely replied; “it was very bad.” But still he went +on measuring, and still he ended with, + +“I think there will be very tolerable room for ten couple.” + +“No, no,” said she, “you are quite unreasonable. It would be dreadful +to be standing so close! Nothing can be farther from pleasure than to +be dancing in a crowd—and a crowd in a little room!” + +“There is no denying it,” he replied. “I agree with you exactly. A +crowd in a little room—Miss Woodhouse, you have the art of giving +pictures in a few words. Exquisite, quite exquisite!—Still, however, +having proceeded so far, one is unwilling to give the matter up. It +would be a disappointment to my father—and altogether—I do not know +that—I am rather of opinion that ten couple might stand here very +well.” + +Emma perceived that the nature of his gallantry was a little +self-willed, and that he would rather oppose than lose the pleasure of +dancing with her; but she took the compliment, and forgave the rest. +Had she intended ever to _marry_ him, it might have been worth while to +pause and consider, and try to understand the value of his preference, +and the character of his temper; but for all the purposes of their +acquaintance, he was quite amiable enough. + +Before the middle of the next day, he was at Hartfield; and he entered +the room with such an agreeable smile as certified the continuance of +the scheme. It soon appeared that he came to announce an improvement. + +“Well, Miss Woodhouse,” he almost immediately began, “your inclination +for dancing has not been quite frightened away, I hope, by the terrors +of my father’s little rooms. I bring a new proposal on the subject:—a +thought of my father’s, which waits only your approbation to be acted +upon. May I hope for the honour of your hand for the two first dances +of this little projected ball, to be given, not at Randalls, but at the +Crown Inn?” + +“The Crown!” + +“Yes; if you and Mr. Woodhouse see no objection, and I trust you +cannot, my father hopes his friends will be so kind as to visit him +there. Better accommodations, he can promise them, and not a less +grateful welcome than at Randalls. It is his own idea. Mrs. Weston sees +no objection to it, provided you are satisfied. This is what we all +feel. Oh! you were perfectly right! Ten couple, in either of the +Randalls rooms, would have been insufferable!—Dreadful!—I felt how +right you were the whole time, but was too anxious for securing _any_ +_thing_ to like to yield. Is not it a good exchange?—You consent—I hope +you consent?” + +“It appears to me a plan that nobody can object to, if Mr. and Mrs. +Weston do not. I think it admirable; and, as far as I can answer for +myself, shall be most happy—It seems the only improvement that could +be. Papa, do you not think it an excellent improvement?” + +She was obliged to repeat and explain it, before it was fully +comprehended; and then, being quite new, farther representations were +necessary to make it acceptable. + +“No; he thought it very far from an improvement—a very bad plan—much +worse than the other. A room at an inn was always damp and dangerous; +never properly aired, or fit to be inhabited. If they must dance, they +had better dance at Randalls. He had never been in the room at the +Crown in his life—did not know the people who kept it by sight.—Oh! +no—a very bad plan. They would catch worse colds at the Crown than +anywhere.” + +“I was going to observe, sir,” said Frank Churchill, “that one of the +great recommendations of this change would be the very little danger of +any body’s catching cold—so much less danger at the Crown than at +Randalls! Mr. Perry might have reason to regret the alteration, but +nobody else could.” + +“Sir,” said Mr. Woodhouse, rather warmly, “you are very much mistaken +if you suppose Mr. Perry to be that sort of character. Mr. Perry is +extremely concerned when any of us are ill. But I do not understand how +the room at the Crown can be safer for you than your father’s house.” + +“From the very circumstance of its being larger, sir. We shall have no +occasion to open the windows at all—not once the whole evening; and it +is that dreadful habit of opening the windows, letting in cold air upon +heated bodies, which (as you well know, sir) does the mischief.” + +“Open the windows!—but surely, Mr. Churchill, nobody would think of +opening the windows at Randalls. Nobody could be so imprudent! I never +heard of such a thing. Dancing with open windows!—I am sure, neither +your father nor Mrs. Weston (poor Miss Taylor that was) would suffer +it.” + +“Ah! sir—but a thoughtless young person will sometimes step behind a +window-curtain, and throw up a sash, without its being suspected. I +have often known it done myself.” + +“Have you indeed, sir?—Bless me! I never could have supposed it. But I +live out of the world, and am often astonished at what I hear. However, +this does make a difference; and, perhaps, when we come to talk it +over—but these sort of things require a good deal of consideration. One +cannot resolve upon them in a hurry. If Mr. and Mrs. Weston will be so +obliging as to call here one morning, we may talk it over, and see what +can be done.” + +“But, unfortunately, sir, my time is so limited—” + +“Oh!” interrupted Emma, “there will be plenty of time for talking every +thing over. There is no hurry at all. If it can be contrived to be at +the Crown, papa, it will be very convenient for the horses. They will +be so near their own stable.” + +“So they will, my dear. That is a great thing. Not that James ever +complains; but it is right to spare our horses when we can. If I could +be sure of the rooms being thoroughly aired—but is Mrs. Stokes to be +trusted? I doubt it. I do not know her, even by sight.” + +“I can answer for every thing of that nature, sir, because it will be +under Mrs. Weston’s care. Mrs. Weston undertakes to direct the whole.” + +“There, papa!—Now you must be satisfied—Our own dear Mrs. Weston, who +is carefulness itself. Do not you remember what Mr. Perry said, so many +years ago, when I had the measles? ‘If _Miss_ _Taylor_ undertakes to +wrap Miss Emma up, you need not have any fears, sir.’ How often have I +heard you speak of it as such a compliment to her!” + +“Aye, very true. Mr. Perry did say so. I shall never forget it. Poor +little Emma! You were very bad with the measles; that is, you would +have been very bad, but for Perry’s great attention. He came four times +a day for a week. He said, from the first, it was a very good +sort—which was our great comfort; but the measles are a dreadful +complaint. I hope whenever poor Isabella’s little ones have the +measles, she will send for Perry.” + +“My father and Mrs. Weston are at the Crown at this moment,” said Frank +Churchill, “examining the capabilities of the house. I left them there +and came on to Hartfield, impatient for your opinion, and hoping you +might be persuaded to join them and give your advice on the spot. I was +desired to say so from both. It would be the greatest pleasure to them, +if you could allow me to attend you there. They can do nothing +satisfactorily without you.” + +Emma was most happy to be called to such a council; and her father, +engaging to think it all over while she was gone, the two young people +set off together without delay for the Crown. There were Mr. and Mrs. +Weston; delighted to see her and receive her approbation, very busy and +very happy in their different way; she, in some little distress; and +he, finding every thing perfect. + +“Emma,” said she, “this paper is worse than I expected. Look! in places +you see it is dreadfully dirty; and the wainscot is more yellow and +forlorn than any thing I could have imagined.” + +“My dear, you are too particular,” said her husband. “What does all +that signify? You will see nothing of it by candlelight. It will be as +clean as Randalls by candlelight. We never see any thing of it on our +club-nights.” + +The ladies here probably exchanged looks which meant, “Men never know +when things are dirty or not;” and the gentlemen perhaps thought each +to himself, “Women will have their little nonsenses and needless +cares.” + +One perplexity, however, arose, which the gentlemen did not disdain. It +regarded a supper-room. At the time of the ballroom’s being built, +suppers had not been in question; and a small card-room adjoining, was +the only addition. What was to be done? This card-room would be wanted +as a card-room now; or, if cards were conveniently voted unnecessary by +their four selves, still was it not too small for any comfortable +supper? Another room of much better size might be secured for the +purpose; but it was at the other end of the house, and a long awkward +passage must be gone through to get at it. This made a difficulty. Mrs. +Weston was afraid of draughts for the young people in that passage; and +neither Emma nor the gentlemen could tolerate the prospect of being +miserably crowded at supper. + +Mrs. Weston proposed having no regular supper; merely sandwiches, &c., +set out in the little room; but that was scouted as a wretched +suggestion. A private dance, without sitting down to supper, was +pronounced an infamous fraud upon the rights of men and women; and Mrs. +Weston must not speak of it again. She then took another line of +expediency, and looking into the doubtful room, observed, + +“I do not think it _is_ so very small. We shall not be many, you know.” + +And Mr. Weston at the same time, walking briskly with long steps +through the passage, was calling out, + +“You talk a great deal of the length of this passage, my dear. It is a +mere nothing after all; and not the least draught from the stairs.” + +“I wish,” said Mrs. Weston, “one could know which arrangement our +guests in general would like best. To do what would be most generally +pleasing must be our object—if one could but tell what that would be.” + +“Yes, very true,” cried Frank, “very true. You want your neighbours’ +opinions. I do not wonder at you. If one could ascertain what the chief +of them—the Coles, for instance. They are not far off. Shall I call +upon them? Or Miss Bates? She is still nearer.—And I do not know +whether Miss Bates is not as likely to understand the inclinations of +the rest of the people as any body. I think we do want a larger +council. Suppose I go and invite Miss Bates to join us?” + +“Well—if you please,” said Mrs. Weston rather hesitating, “if you think +she will be of any use.” + +“You will get nothing to the purpose from Miss Bates,” said Emma. “She +will be all delight and gratitude, but she will tell you nothing. She +will not even listen to your questions. I see no advantage in +consulting Miss Bates.” + +“But she is so amusing, so extremely amusing! I am very fond of hearing +Miss Bates talk. And I need not bring the whole family, you know.” + +Here Mr. Weston joined them, and on hearing what was proposed, gave it +his decided approbation. + +“Aye, do, Frank.—Go and fetch Miss Bates, and let us end the matter at +once. She will enjoy the scheme, I am sure; and I do not know a +properer person for shewing us how to do away difficulties. Fetch Miss +Bates. We are growing a little too nice. She is a standing lesson of +how to be happy. But fetch them both. Invite them both.” + +“Both sir! Can the old lady?”... + +“The old lady! No, the young lady, to be sure. I shall think you a +great blockhead, Frank, if you bring the aunt without the niece.” + +“Oh! I beg your pardon, sir. I did not immediately recollect. +Undoubtedly if you wish it, I will endeavour to persuade them both.” +And away he ran. + +Long before he reappeared, attending the short, neat, brisk-moving +aunt, and her elegant niece,—Mrs. Weston, like a sweet-tempered woman +and a good wife, had examined the passage again, and found the evils of +it much less than she had supposed before—indeed very trifling; and +here ended the difficulties of decision. All the rest, in speculation +at least, was perfectly smooth. All the minor arrangements of table and +chair, lights and music, tea and supper, made themselves; or were left +as mere trifles to be settled at any time between Mrs. Weston and Mrs. +Stokes.—Every body invited, was certainly to come; Frank had already +written to Enscombe to propose staying a few days beyond his fortnight, +which could not possibly be refused. And a delightful dance it was to +be. + +Most cordially, when Miss Bates arrived, did she agree that it must. As +a counsellor she was not wanted; but as an approver, (a much safer +character,) she was truly welcome. Her approbation, at once general and +minute, warm and incessant, could not but please; and for another +half-hour they were all walking to and fro, between the different +rooms, some suggesting, some attending, and all in happy enjoyment of +the future. The party did not break up without Emma’s being positively +secured for the two first dances by the hero of the evening, nor +without her overhearing Mr. Weston whisper to his wife, “He has asked +her, my dear. That’s right. I knew he would!” + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +One thing only was wanting to make the prospect of the ball completely +satisfactory to Emma—its being fixed for a day within the granted term +of Frank Churchill’s stay in Surry; for, in spite of Mr. Weston’s +confidence, she could not think it so very impossible that the +Churchills might not allow their nephew to remain a day beyond his +fortnight. But this was not judged feasible. The preparations must take +their time, nothing could be properly ready till the third week were +entered on, and for a few days they must be planning, proceeding and +hoping in uncertainty—at the risk—in her opinion, the great risk, of +its being all in vain. + +Enscombe however was gracious, gracious in fact, if not in word. His +wish of staying longer evidently did not please; but it was not +opposed. All was safe and prosperous; and as the removal of one +solicitude generally makes way for another, Emma, being now certain of +her ball, began to adopt as the next vexation Mr. Knightley’s provoking +indifference about it. Either because he did not dance himself, or +because the plan had been formed without his being consulted, he seemed +resolved that it should not interest him, determined against its +exciting any present curiosity, or affording him any future amusement. +To her voluntary communications Emma could get no more approving reply, +than, + +“Very well. If the Westons think it worth while to be at all this +trouble for a few hours of noisy entertainment, I have nothing to say +against it, but that they shall not chuse pleasures for me.—Oh! yes, I +must be there; I could not refuse; and I will keep as much awake as I +can; but I would rather be at home, looking over William Larkins’s +week’s account; much rather, I confess.—Pleasure in seeing dancing!—not +I, indeed—I never look at it—I do not know who does.—Fine dancing, I +believe, like virtue, must be its own reward. Those who are standing by +are usually thinking of something very different.” + +This Emma felt was aimed at her; and it made her quite angry. It was +not in compliment to Jane Fairfax however that he was so indifferent, +or so indignant; he was not guided by _her_ feelings in reprobating the +ball, for _she_ enjoyed the thought of it to an extraordinary degree. +It made her animated—open hearted—she voluntarily said;— + +“Oh! Miss Woodhouse, I hope nothing may happen to prevent the ball. +What a disappointment it would be! I do look forward to it, I own, with +_very_ great pleasure.” + +It was not to oblige Jane Fairfax therefore that he would have +preferred the society of William Larkins. No!—she was more and more +convinced that Mrs. Weston was quite mistaken in that surmise. There +was a great deal of friendly and of compassionate attachment on his +side—but no love. + +Alas! there was soon no leisure for quarrelling with Mr. Knightley. Two +days of joyful security were immediately followed by the over-throw of +every thing. A letter arrived from Mr. Churchill to urge his nephew’s +instant return. Mrs. Churchill was unwell—far too unwell to do without +him; she had been in a very suffering state (so said her husband) when +writing to her nephew two days before, though from her usual +unwillingness to give pain, and constant habit of never thinking of +herself, she had not mentioned it; but now she was too ill to trifle, +and must entreat him to set off for Enscombe without delay. + +The substance of this letter was forwarded to Emma, in a note from Mrs. +Weston, instantly. As to his going, it was inevitable. He must be gone +within a few hours, though without feeling any real alarm for his aunt, +to lessen his repugnance. He knew her illnesses; they never occurred +but for her own convenience. + +Mrs. Weston added, “that he could only allow himself time to hurry to +Highbury, after breakfast, and take leave of the few friends there whom +he could suppose to feel any interest in him; and that he might be +expected at Hartfield very soon.” + +This wretched note was the finale of Emma’s breakfast. When once it had +been read, there was no doing any thing, but lament and exclaim. The +loss of the ball—the loss of the young man—and all that the young man +might be feeling!—It was too wretched!—Such a delightful evening as it +would have been!—Every body so happy! and she and her partner the +happiest!—“I said it would be so,” was the only consolation. + +Her father’s feelings were quite distinct. He thought principally of +Mrs. Churchill’s illness, and wanted to know how she was treated; and +as for the ball, it was shocking to have dear Emma disappointed; but +they would all be safer at home. + +Emma was ready for her visitor some time before he appeared; but if +this reflected at all upon his impatience, his sorrowful look and total +want of spirits when he did come might redeem him. He felt the going +away almost too much to speak of it. His dejection was most evident. He +sat really lost in thought for the first few minutes; and when rousing +himself, it was only to say, + +“Of all horrid things, leave-taking is the worst.” + +“But you will come again,” said Emma. “This will not be your only visit +to Randalls.” + +“Ah!—(shaking his head)—the uncertainty of when I may be able to +return!—I shall try for it with a zeal!—It will be the object of all my +thoughts and cares!—and if my uncle and aunt go to town this spring—but +I am afraid—they did not stir last spring—I am afraid it is a custom +gone for ever.” + +“Our poor ball must be quite given up.” + +“Ah! that ball!—why did we wait for any thing?—why not seize the +pleasure at once?—How often is happiness destroyed by preparation, +foolish preparation!—You told us it would be so.—Oh! Miss Woodhouse, +why are you always so right?” + +“Indeed, I am very sorry to be right in this instance. I would much +rather have been merry than wise.” + +“If I can come again, we are still to have our ball. My father depends +on it. Do not forget your engagement.” + +Emma looked graciously. + +“Such a fortnight as it has been!” he continued; “every day more +precious and more delightful than the day before!—every day making me +less fit to bear any other place. Happy those, who can remain at +Highbury!” + +“As you do us such ample justice now,” said Emma, laughing, “I will +venture to ask, whether you did not come a little doubtfully at first? +Do not we rather surpass your expectations? I am sure we do. I am sure +you did not much expect to like us. You would not have been so long in +coming, if you had had a pleasant idea of Highbury.” + +He laughed rather consciously; and though denying the sentiment, Emma +was convinced that it had been so. + +“And you must be off this very morning?” + +“Yes; my father is to join me here: we shall walk back together, and I +must be off immediately. I am almost afraid that every moment will +bring him.” + +“Not five minutes to spare even for your friends Miss Fairfax and Miss +Bates? How unlucky! Miss Bates’s powerful, argumentative mind might +have strengthened yours.” + +“Yes—I _have_ called there; passing the door, I thought it better. It +was a right thing to do. I went in for three minutes, and was detained +by Miss Bates’s being absent. She was out; and I felt it impossible not +to wait till she came in. She is a woman that one may, that one _must_ +laugh at; but that one would not wish to slight. It was better to pay +my visit, then”— + +He hesitated, got up, walked to a window. + +“In short,” said he, “perhaps, Miss Woodhouse—I think you can hardly be +quite without suspicion”— + +He looked at her, as if wanting to read her thoughts. She hardly knew +what to say. It seemed like the forerunner of something absolutely +serious, which she did not wish. Forcing herself to speak, therefore, +in the hope of putting it by, she calmly said, + +“You are quite in the right; it was most natural to pay your visit, +then”— + +He was silent. She believed he was looking at her; probably reflecting +on what she had said, and trying to understand the manner. She heard +him sigh. It was natural for him to feel that he had _cause_ to sigh. +He could not believe her to be encouraging him. A few awkward moments +passed, and he sat down again; and in a more determined manner said, + +“It was something to feel that all the rest of my time might be given +to Hartfield. My regard for Hartfield is most warm”— + +He stopt again, rose again, and seemed quite embarrassed.—He was more +in love with her than Emma had supposed; and who can say how it might +have ended, if his father had not made his appearance? Mr. Woodhouse +soon followed; and the necessity of exertion made him composed. + +A very few minutes more, however, completed the present trial. Mr. +Weston, always alert when business was to be done, and as incapable of +procrastinating any evil that was inevitable, as of foreseeing any that +was doubtful, said, “It was time to go;” and the young man, though he +might and did sigh, could not but agree, to take leave. + +“I shall hear about you all,” said he; “that is my chief consolation. I +shall hear of every thing that is going on among you. I have engaged +Mrs. Weston to correspond with me. She has been so kind as to promise +it. Oh! the blessing of a female correspondent, when one is really +interested in the absent!—she will tell me every thing. In her letters +I shall be at dear Highbury again.” + +A very friendly shake of the hand, a very earnest “Good-bye,” closed +the speech, and the door had soon shut out Frank Churchill. Short had +been the notice—short their meeting; he was gone; and Emma felt so +sorry to part, and foresaw so great a loss to their little society from +his absence as to begin to be afraid of being too sorry, and feeling it +too much. + +It was a sad change. They had been meeting almost every day since his +arrival. Certainly his being at Randalls had given great spirit to the +last two weeks—indescribable spirit; the idea, the expectation of +seeing him which every morning had brought, the assurance of his +attentions, his liveliness, his manners! It had been a very happy +fortnight, and forlorn must be the sinking from it into the common +course of Hartfield days. To complete every other recommendation, he +had _almost_ told her that he loved her. What strength, or what +constancy of affection he might be subject to, was another point; but +at present she could not doubt his having a decidedly warm admiration, +a conscious preference of herself; and this persuasion, joined to all +the rest, made her think that she _must_ be a little in love with him, +in spite of every previous determination against it. + +“I certainly must,” said she. “This sensation of listlessness, +weariness, stupidity, this disinclination to sit down and employ +myself, this feeling of every thing’s being dull and insipid about the +house!— I must be in love; I should be the oddest creature in the world +if I were not—for a few weeks at least. Well! evil to some is always +good to others. I shall have many fellow-mourners for the ball, if not +for Frank Churchill; but Mr. Knightley will be happy. He may spend the +evening with his dear William Larkins now if he likes.” + +Mr. Knightley, however, shewed no triumphant happiness. He could not +say that he was sorry on his own account; his very cheerful look would +have contradicted him if he had; but he said, and very steadily, that +he was sorry for the disappointment of the others, and with +considerable kindness added, + +“You, Emma, who have so few opportunities of dancing, you are really +out of luck; you are very much out of luck!” + +It was some days before she saw Jane Fairfax, to judge of her honest +regret in this woeful change; but when they did meet, her composure was +odious. She had been particularly unwell, however, suffering from +headache to a degree, which made her aunt declare, that had the ball +taken place, she did not think Jane could have attended it; and it was +charity to impute some of her unbecoming indifference to the languor of +ill-health. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +Emma continued to entertain no doubt of her being in love. Her ideas +only varied as to the how much. At first, she thought it was a good +deal; and afterwards, but little. She had great pleasure in hearing +Frank Churchill talked of; and, for his sake, greater pleasure than +ever in seeing Mr. and Mrs. Weston; she was very often thinking of him, +and quite impatient for a letter, that she might know how he was, how +were his spirits, how was his aunt, and what was the chance of his +coming to Randalls again this spring. But, on the other hand, she could +not admit herself to be unhappy, nor, after the first morning, to be +less disposed for employment than usual; she was still busy and +cheerful; and, pleasing as he was, she could yet imagine him to have +faults; and farther, though thinking of him so much, and, as she sat +drawing or working, forming a thousand amusing schemes for the progress +and close of their attachment, fancying interesting dialogues, and +inventing elegant letters; the conclusion of every imaginary +declaration on his side was that she _refused_ _him_. Their affection +was always to subside into friendship. Every thing tender and charming +was to mark their parting; but still they were to part. When she became +sensible of this, it struck her that she could not be very much in +love; for in spite of her previous and fixed determination never to +quit her father, never to marry, a strong attachment certainly must +produce more of a struggle than she could foresee in her own feelings. + +“I do not find myself making any use of the word _sacrifice_,” said +she.—“In not one of all my clever replies, my delicate negatives, is +there any allusion to making a sacrifice. I do suspect that he is not +really necessary to my happiness. So much the better. I certainly will +not persuade myself to feel more than I do. I am quite enough in love. +I should be sorry to be more.” + +Upon the whole, she was equally contented with her view of his +feelings. + +“_He_ is undoubtedly very much in love—every thing denotes it—very much +in love indeed!—and when he comes again, if his affection continue, I +must be on my guard not to encourage it.—It would be most inexcusable +to do otherwise, as my own mind is quite made up. Not that I imagine he +can think I have been encouraging him hitherto. No, if he had believed +me at all to share his feelings, he would not have been so wretched. +Could he have thought himself encouraged, his looks and language at +parting would have been different.—Still, however, I must be on my +guard. This is in the supposition of his attachment continuing what it +now is; but I do not know that I expect it will; I do not look upon him +to be quite the sort of man—I do not altogether build upon his +steadiness or constancy.—His feelings are warm, but I can imagine them +rather changeable.—Every consideration of the subject, in short, makes +me thankful that my happiness is not more deeply involved.—I shall do +very well again after a little while—and then, it will be a good thing +over; for they say every body is in love once in their lives, and I +shall have been let off easily.” + +When his letter to Mrs. Weston arrived, Emma had the perusal of it; and +she read it with a degree of pleasure and admiration which made her at +first shake her head over her own sensations, and think she had +undervalued their strength. It was a long, well-written letter, giving +the particulars of his journey and of his feelings, expressing all the +affection, gratitude, and respect which was natural and honourable, and +describing every thing exterior and local that could be supposed +attractive, with spirit and precision. No suspicious flourishes now of +apology or concern; it was the language of real feeling towards Mrs. +Weston; and the transition from Highbury to Enscombe, the contrast +between the places in some of the first blessings of social life was +just enough touched on to shew how keenly it was felt, and how much +more might have been said but for the restraints of propriety.—The +charm of her own name was not wanting. _Miss_ _Woodhouse_ appeared more +than once, and never without a something of pleasing connexion, either +a compliment to her taste, or a remembrance of what she had said; and +in the very last time of its meeting her eye, unadorned as it was by +any such broad wreath of gallantry, she yet could discern the effect of +her influence and acknowledge the greatest compliment perhaps of all +conveyed. Compressed into the very lowest vacant corner were these +words—“I had not a spare moment on Tuesday, as you know, for Miss +Woodhouse’s beautiful little friend. Pray make my excuses and adieus to +her.” This, Emma could not doubt, was all for herself. Harriet was +remembered only from being _her_ friend. His information and prospects +as to Enscombe were neither worse nor better than had been anticipated; +Mrs. Churchill was recovering, and he dared not yet, even in his own +imagination, fix a time for coming to Randalls again. + +Gratifying, however, and stimulative as was the letter in the material +part, its sentiments, she yet found, when it was folded up and returned +to Mrs. Weston, that it had not added any lasting warmth, that she +could still do without the writer, and that he must learn to do without +her. Her intentions were unchanged. Her resolution of refusal only grew +more interesting by the addition of a scheme for his subsequent +consolation and happiness. His recollection of Harriet, and the words +which clothed it, the “beautiful little friend,” suggested to her the +idea of Harriet’s succeeding her in his affections. Was it +impossible?—No.—Harriet undoubtedly was greatly his inferior in +understanding; but he had been very much struck with the loveliness of +her face and the warm simplicity of her manner; and all the +probabilities of circumstance and connexion were in her favour.—For +Harriet, it would be advantageous and delightful indeed. + +“I must not dwell upon it,” said she.—“I must not think of it. I know +the danger of indulging such speculations. But stranger things have +happened; and when we cease to care for each other as we do now, it +will be the means of confirming us in that sort of true disinterested +friendship which I can already look forward to with pleasure.” + +It was well to have a comfort in store on Harriet’s behalf, though it +might be wise to let the fancy touch it seldom; for evil in that +quarter was at hand. As Frank Churchill’s arrival had succeeded Mr. +Elton’s engagement in the conversation of Highbury, as the latest +interest had entirely borne down the first, so now upon Frank +Churchill’s disappearance, Mr. Elton’s concerns were assuming the most +irresistible form.—His wedding-day was named. He would soon be among +them again; Mr. Elton and his bride. There was hardly time to talk over +the first letter from Enscombe before “Mr. Elton and his bride” was in +every body’s mouth, and Frank Churchill was forgotten. Emma grew sick +at the sound. She had had three weeks of happy exemption from Mr. +Elton; and Harriet’s mind, she had been willing to hope, had been +lately gaining strength. With Mr. Weston’s ball in view at least, there +had been a great deal of insensibility to other things; but it was now +too evident that she had not attained such a state of composure as +could stand against the actual approach—new carriage, bell-ringing, and +all. + +Poor Harriet was in a flutter of spirits which required all the +reasonings and soothings and attentions of every kind that Emma could +give. Emma felt that she could not do too much for her, that Harriet +had a right to all her ingenuity and all her patience; but it was heavy +work to be for ever convincing without producing any effect, for ever +agreed to, without being able to make their opinions the same. Harriet +listened submissively, and said “it was very true—it was just as Miss +Woodhouse described—it was not worth while to think about them—and she +would not think about them any longer” but no change of subject could +avail, and the next half-hour saw her as anxious and restless about the +Eltons as before. At last Emma attacked her on another ground. + +“Your allowing yourself to be so occupied and so unhappy about Mr. +Elton’s marrying, Harriet, is the strongest reproach you can make _me_. +You could not give me a greater reproof for the mistake I fell into. It +was all my doing, I know. I have not forgotten it, I assure +you.—Deceived myself, I did very miserably deceive you—and it will be a +painful reflection to me for ever. Do not imagine me in danger of +forgetting it.” + +Harriet felt this too much to utter more than a few words of eager +exclamation. Emma continued, + +“I have not said, exert yourself Harriet for my sake; think less, talk +less of Mr. Elton for my sake; because for your own sake rather, I +would wish it to be done, for the sake of what is more important than +my comfort, a habit of self-command in you, a consideration of what is +your duty, an attention to propriety, an endeavour to avoid the +suspicions of others, to save your health and credit, and restore your +tranquillity. These are the motives which I have been pressing on you. +They are very important—and sorry I am that you cannot feel them +sufficiently to act upon them. My being saved from pain is a very +secondary consideration. I want you to save yourself from greater pain. +Perhaps I may sometimes have felt that Harriet would not forget what +was due—or rather what would be kind by me.” + +This appeal to her affections did more than all the rest. The idea of +wanting gratitude and consideration for Miss Woodhouse, whom she really +loved extremely, made her wretched for a while, and when the violence +of grief was comforted away, still remained powerful enough to prompt +to what was right and support her in it very tolerably. + +“You, who have been the best friend I ever had in my life—Want +gratitude to you!—Nobody is equal to you!—I care for nobody as I do for +you!—Oh! Miss Woodhouse, how ungrateful I have been!” + +Such expressions, assisted as they were by every thing that look and +manner could do, made Emma feel that she had never loved Harriet so +well, nor valued her affection so highly before. + +“There is no charm equal to tenderness of heart,” said she afterwards +to herself. “There is nothing to be compared to it. Warmth and +tenderness of heart, with an affectionate, open manner, will beat all +the clearness of head in the world, for attraction, I am sure it will. +It is tenderness of heart which makes my dear father so generally +beloved—which gives Isabella all her popularity.—I have it not—but I +know how to prize and respect it.—Harriet is my superior in all the +charm and all the felicity it gives. Dear Harriet!—I would not change +you for the clearest-headed, longest-sighted, best-judging female +breathing. Oh! the coldness of a Jane Fairfax!—Harriet is worth a +hundred such—And for a wife—a sensible man’s wife—it is invaluable. I +mention no names; but happy the man who changes Emma for Harriet!” + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +Mrs. Elton was first seen at church: but though devotion might be +interrupted, curiosity could not be satisfied by a bride in a pew, and +it must be left for the visits in form which were then to be paid, to +settle whether she were very pretty indeed, or only rather pretty, or +not pretty at all. + +Emma had feelings, less of curiosity than of pride or propriety, to +make her resolve on not being the last to pay her respects; and she +made a point of Harriet’s going with her, that the worst of the +business might be gone through as soon as possible. + +She could not enter the house again, could not be in the same room to +which she had with such vain artifice retreated three months ago, to +lace up her boot, without _recollecting_. A thousand vexatious thoughts +would recur. Compliments, charades, and horrible blunders; and it was +not to be supposed that poor Harriet should not be recollecting too; +but she behaved very well, and was only rather pale and silent. The +visit was of course short; and there was so much embarrassment and +occupation of mind to shorten it, that Emma would not allow herself +entirely to form an opinion of the lady, and on no account to give one, +beyond the nothing-meaning terms of being “elegantly dressed, and very +pleasing.” + +She did not really like her. She would not be in a hurry to find fault, +but she suspected that there was no elegance;—ease, but not elegance.— +She was almost sure that for a young woman, a stranger, a bride, there +was too much ease. Her person was rather good; her face not unpretty; +but neither feature, nor air, nor voice, nor manner, were elegant. Emma +thought at least it would turn out so. + +As for Mr. Elton, his manners did not appear—but no, she would not +permit a hasty or a witty word from herself about his manners. It was +an awkward ceremony at any time to be receiving wedding visits, and a +man had need be all grace to acquit himself well through it. The woman +was better off; she might have the assistance of fine clothes, and the +privilege of bashfulness, but the man had only his own good sense to +depend on; and when she considered how peculiarly unlucky poor Mr. +Elton was in being in the same room at once with the woman he had just +married, the woman he had wanted to marry, and the woman whom he had +been expected to marry, she must allow him to have the right to look as +little wise, and to be as much affectedly, and as little really easy as +could be. + +“Well, Miss Woodhouse,” said Harriet, when they had quitted the house, +and after waiting in vain for her friend to begin; “Well, Miss +Woodhouse, (with a gentle sigh,) what do you think of her?—Is not she +very charming?” + +There was a little hesitation in Emma’s answer. + +“Oh! yes—very—a very pleasing young woman.” + +“I think her beautiful, quite beautiful.” + +“Very nicely dressed, indeed; a remarkably elegant gown.” + +“I am not at all surprized that he should have fallen in love.” + +“Oh! no—there is nothing to surprize one at all.—A pretty fortune; and +she came in his way.” + +“I dare say,” returned Harriet, sighing again, “I dare say she was very +much attached to him.” + +“Perhaps she might; but it is not every man’s fate to marry the woman +who loves him best. Miss Hawkins perhaps wanted a home, and thought +this the best offer she was likely to have.” + +“Yes,” said Harriet earnestly, “and well she might, nobody could ever +have a better. Well, I wish them happy with all my heart. And now, Miss +Woodhouse, I do not think I shall mind seeing them again. He is just as +superior as ever;—but being married, you know, it is quite a different +thing. No, indeed, Miss Woodhouse, you need not be afraid; I can sit +and admire him now without any great misery. To know that he has not +thrown himself away, is such a comfort!—She does seem a charming young +woman, just what he deserves. Happy creature! He called her ‘Augusta.’ +How delightful!” + +When the visit was returned, Emma made up her mind. She could then see +more and judge better. From Harriet’s happening not to be at Hartfield, +and her father’s being present to engage Mr. Elton, she had a quarter +of an hour of the lady’s conversation to herself, and could composedly +attend to her; and the quarter of an hour quite convinced her that Mrs. +Elton was a vain woman, extremely well satisfied with herself, and +thinking much of her own importance; that she meant to shine and be +very superior, but with manners which had been formed in a bad school, +pert and familiar; that all her notions were drawn from one set of +people, and one style of living; that if not foolish she was ignorant, +and that her society would certainly do Mr. Elton no good. + +Harriet would have been a better match. If not wise or refined herself, +she would have connected him with those who were; but Miss Hawkins, it +might be fairly supposed from her easy conceit, had been the best of +her own set. The rich brother-in-law near Bristol was the pride of the +alliance, and his place and his carriages were the pride of him. + +The very first subject after being seated was Maple Grove, “My brother +Mr. Suckling’s seat;”—a comparison of Hartfield to Maple Grove. The +grounds of Hartfield were small, but neat and pretty; and the house was +modern and well-built. Mrs. Elton seemed most favourably impressed by +the size of the room, the entrance, and all that she could see or +imagine. “Very like Maple Grove indeed!—She was quite struck by the +likeness!—That room was the very shape and size of the morning-room at +Maple Grove; her sister’s favourite room.”—Mr. Elton was appealed +to.—“Was not it astonishingly like?—She could really almost fancy +herself at Maple Grove.” + +“And the staircase—You know, as I came in, I observed how very like the +staircase was; placed exactly in the same part of the house. I really +could not help exclaiming! I assure you, Miss Woodhouse, it is very +delightful to me, to be reminded of a place I am so extremely partial +to as Maple Grove. I have spent so many happy months there! (with a +little sigh of sentiment). A charming place, undoubtedly. Every body +who sees it is struck by its beauty; but to me, it has been quite a +home. Whenever you are transplanted, like me, Miss Woodhouse, you will +understand how very delightful it is to meet with any thing at all like +what one has left behind. I always say this is quite one of the evils +of matrimony.” + +Emma made as slight a reply as she could; but it was fully sufficient +for Mrs. Elton, who only wanted to be talking herself. + +“So extremely like Maple Grove! And it is not merely the house—the +grounds, I assure you, as far as I could observe, are strikingly like. +The laurels at Maple Grove are in the same profusion as here, and stand +very much in the same way—just across the lawn; and I had a glimpse of +a fine large tree, with a bench round it, which put me so exactly in +mind! My brother and sister will be enchanted with this place. People +who have extensive grounds themselves are always pleased with any thing +in the same style.” + +Emma doubted the truth of this sentiment. She had a great idea that +people who had extensive grounds themselves cared very little for the +extensive grounds of any body else; but it was not worth while to +attack an error so double-dyed, and therefore only said in reply, + +“When you have seen more of this country, I am afraid you will think +you have overrated Hartfield. Surry is full of beauties.” + +“Oh! yes, I am quite aware of that. It is the garden of England, you +know. Surry is the garden of England.” + +“Yes; but we must not rest our claims on that distinction. Many +counties, I believe, are called the garden of England, as well as +Surry.” + +“No, I fancy not,” replied Mrs. Elton, with a most satisfied smile. “I +never heard any county but Surry called so.” + +Emma was silenced. + +“My brother and sister have promised us a visit in the spring, or +summer at farthest,” continued Mrs. Elton; “and that will be our time +for exploring. While they are with us, we shall explore a great deal, I +dare say. They will have their barouche-landau, of course, which holds +four perfectly; and therefore, without saying any thing of _our_ +carriage, we should be able to explore the different beauties extremely +well. They would hardly come in their chaise, I think, at that season +of the year. Indeed, when the time draws on, I shall decidedly +recommend their bringing the barouche-landau; it will be so very much +preferable. When people come into a beautiful country of this sort, you +know, Miss Woodhouse, one naturally wishes them to see as much as +possible; and Mr. Suckling is extremely fond of exploring. We explored +to King’s-Weston twice last summer, in that way, most delightfully, +just after their first having the barouche-landau. You have many +parties of that kind here, I suppose, Miss Woodhouse, every summer?” + +“No; not immediately here. We are rather out of distance of the very +striking beauties which attract the sort of parties you speak of; and +we are a very quiet set of people, I believe; more disposed to stay at +home than engage in schemes of pleasure.” + +“Ah! there is nothing like staying at home for real comfort. Nobody can +be more devoted to home than I am. I was quite a proverb for it at +Maple Grove. Many a time has Selina said, when she has been going to +Bristol, ‘I really cannot get this girl to move from the house. I +absolutely must go in by myself, though I hate being stuck up in the +barouche-landau without a companion; but Augusta, I believe, with her +own good-will, would never stir beyond the park paling.’ Many a time +has she said so; and yet I am no advocate for entire seclusion. I +think, on the contrary, when people shut themselves up entirely from +society, it is a very bad thing; and that it is much more advisable to +mix in the world in a proper degree, without living in it either too +much or too little. I perfectly understand your situation, however, +Miss Woodhouse—(looking towards Mr. Woodhouse), Your father’s state of +health must be a great drawback. Why does not he try Bath?—Indeed he +should. Let me recommend Bath to you. I assure you I have no doubt of +its doing Mr. Woodhouse good.” + +“My father tried it more than once, formerly; but without receiving any +benefit; and Mr. Perry, whose name, I dare say, is not unknown to you, +does not conceive it would be at all more likely to be useful now.” + +“Ah! that’s a great pity; for I assure you, Miss Woodhouse, where the +waters do agree, it is quite wonderful the relief they give. In my Bath +life, I have seen such instances of it! And it is so cheerful a place, +that it could not fail of being of use to Mr. Woodhouse’s spirits, +which, I understand, are sometimes much depressed. And as to its +recommendations to _you_, I fancy I need not take much pains to dwell +on them. The advantages of Bath to the young are pretty generally +understood. It would be a charming introduction for you, who have lived +so secluded a life; and I could immediately secure you some of the best +society in the place. A line from me would bring you a little host of +acquaintance; and my particular friend, Mrs. Partridge, the lady I have +always resided with when in Bath, would be most happy to shew you any +attentions, and would be the very person for you to go into public +with.” + +It was as much as Emma could bear, without being impolite. The idea of +her being indebted to Mrs. Elton for what was called an +_introduction_—of her going into public under the auspices of a friend +of Mrs. Elton’s—probably some vulgar, dashing widow, who, with the help +of a boarder, just made a shift to live!—The dignity of Miss Woodhouse, +of Hartfield, was sunk indeed! + +She restrained herself, however, from any of the reproofs she could +have given, and only thanked Mrs. Elton coolly; “but their going to +Bath was quite out of the question; and she was not perfectly convinced +that the place might suit her better than her father.” And then, to +prevent farther outrage and indignation, changed the subject directly. + +“I do not ask whether you are musical, Mrs. Elton. Upon these +occasions, a lady’s character generally precedes her; and Highbury has +long known that you are a superior performer.” + +“Oh! no, indeed; I must protest against any such idea. A superior +performer!—very far from it, I assure you. Consider from how partial a +quarter your information came. I am doatingly fond of +music—passionately fond;—and my friends say I am not entirely devoid of +taste; but as to any thing else, upon my honour my performance is +_mediocre_ to the last degree. You, Miss Woodhouse, I well know, play +delightfully. I assure you it has been the greatest satisfaction, +comfort, and delight to me, to hear what a musical society I am got +into. I absolutely cannot do without music. It is a necessary of life +to me; and having always been used to a very musical society, both at +Maple Grove and in Bath, it would have been a most serious sacrifice. I +honestly said as much to Mr. E. when he was speaking of my future home, +and expressing his fears lest the retirement of it should be +disagreeable; and the inferiority of the house too—knowing what I had +been accustomed to—of course he was not wholly without apprehension. +When he was speaking of it in that way, I honestly said that _the_ +_world_ I could give up—parties, balls, plays—for I had no fear of +retirement. Blessed with so many resources within myself, the world was +not necessary to _me_. I could do very well without it. To those who +had no resources it was a different thing; but my resources made me +quite independent. And as to smaller-sized rooms than I had been used +to, I really could not give it a thought. I hoped I was perfectly equal +to any sacrifice of that description. Certainly I had been accustomed +to every luxury at Maple Grove; but I did assure him that two carriages +were not necessary to my happiness, nor were spacious apartments. +‘But,’ said I, ‘to be quite honest, I do not think I can live without +something of a musical society. I condition for nothing else; but +without music, life would be a blank to me.’” + +“We cannot suppose,” said Emma, smiling, “that Mr. Elton would hesitate +to assure you of there being a _very_ musical society in Highbury; and +I hope you will not find he has outstepped the truth more than may be +pardoned, in consideration of the motive.” + +“No, indeed, I have no doubts at all on that head. I am delighted to +find myself in such a circle. I hope we shall have many sweet little +concerts together. I think, Miss Woodhouse, you and I must establish a +musical club, and have regular weekly meetings at your house, or ours. +Will not it be a good plan? If _we_ exert ourselves, I think we shall +not be long in want of allies. Something of that nature would be +particularly desirable for _me_, as an inducement to keep me in +practice; for married women, you know—there is a sad story against +them, in general. They are but too apt to give up music.” + +“But you, who are so extremely fond of it—there can be no danger, +surely?” + +“I should hope not; but really when I look around among my +acquaintance, I tremble. Selina has entirely given up music—never +touches the instrument—though she played sweetly. And the same may be +said of Mrs. Jeffereys—Clara Partridge, that was—and of the two +Milmans, now Mrs. Bird and Mrs. James Cooper; and of more than I can +enumerate. Upon my word it is enough to put one in a fright. I used to +be quite angry with Selina; but really I begin now to comprehend that a +married woman has many things to call her attention. I believe I was +half an hour this morning shut up with my housekeeper.” + +“But every thing of that kind,” said Emma, “will soon be in so regular +a train—” + +“Well,” said Mrs. Elton, laughing, “we shall see.” + +Emma, finding her so determined upon neglecting her music, had nothing +more to say; and, after a moment’s pause, Mrs. Elton chose another +subject. + +“We have been calling at Randalls,” said she, “and found them both at +home; and very pleasant people they seem to be. I like them extremely. +Mr. Weston seems an excellent creature—quite a first-rate favourite +with me already, I assure you. And _she_ appears so truly good—there is +something so motherly and kind-hearted about her, that it wins upon one +directly. She was your governess, I think?” + +Emma was almost too much astonished to answer; but Mrs. Elton hardly +waited for the affirmative before she went on. + +“Having understood as much, I was rather astonished to find her so very +lady-like! But she is really quite the gentlewoman.” + +“Mrs. Weston’s manners,” said Emma, “were always particularly good. +Their propriety, simplicity, and elegance, would make them the safest +model for any young woman.” + +“And who do you think came in while we were there?” + +Emma was quite at a loss. The tone implied some old acquaintance—and +how could she possibly guess? + +“Knightley!” continued Mrs. Elton; “Knightley himself!—Was not it +lucky?—for, not being within when he called the other day, I had never +seen him before; and of course, as so particular a friend of Mr. E.’s, +I had a great curiosity. ‘My friend Knightley’ had been so often +mentioned, that I was really impatient to see him; and I must do my +caro sposo the justice to say that he need not be ashamed of his +friend. Knightley is quite the gentleman. I like him very much. +Decidedly, I think, a very gentleman-like man.” + +Happily, it was now time to be gone. They were off; and Emma could +breathe. + +“Insufferable woman!” was her immediate exclamation. “Worse than I had +supposed. Absolutely insufferable! Knightley!—I could not have believed +it. Knightley!—never seen him in her life before, and call him +Knightley!—and discover that he is a gentleman! A little upstart, +vulgar being, with her Mr. E., and her _caro_ _sposo_, and her +resources, and all her airs of pert pretension and underbred finery. +Actually to discover that Mr. Knightley is a gentleman! I doubt whether +he will return the compliment, and discover her to be a lady. I could +not have believed it! And to propose that she and I should unite to +form a musical club! One would fancy we were bosom friends! And Mrs. +Weston!—Astonished that the person who had brought me up should be a +gentlewoman! Worse and worse. I never met with her equal. Much beyond +my hopes. Harriet is disgraced by any comparison. Oh! what would Frank +Churchill say to her, if he were here? How angry and how diverted he +would be! Ah! there I am—thinking of him directly. Always the first +person to be thought of! How I catch myself out! Frank Churchill comes +as regularly into my mind!”— + +All this ran so glibly through her thoughts, that by the time her +father had arranged himself, after the bustle of the Eltons’ departure, +and was ready to speak, she was very tolerably capable of attending. + +“Well, my dear,” he deliberately began, “considering we never saw her +before, she seems a very pretty sort of young lady; and I dare say she +was very much pleased with you. She speaks a little too quick. A little +quickness of voice there is which rather hurts the ear. But I believe I +am nice; I do not like strange voices; and nobody speaks like you and +poor Miss Taylor. However, she seems a very obliging, pretty-behaved +young lady, and no doubt will make him a very good wife. Though I think +he had better not have married. I made the best excuses I could for not +having been able to wait on him and Mrs. Elton on this happy occasion; +I said that I hoped I _should_ in the course of the summer. But I ought +to have gone before. Not to wait upon a bride is very remiss. Ah! it +shews what a sad invalid I am! But I do not like the corner into +Vicarage Lane.” + +“I dare say your apologies were accepted, sir. Mr. Elton knows you.” + +“Yes: but a young lady—a bride—I ought to have paid my respects to her +if possible. It was being very deficient.” + +“But, my dear papa, you are no friend to matrimony; and therefore why +should you be so anxious to pay your respects to a _bride_? It ought to +be no recommendation to _you_. It is encouraging people to marry if you +make so much of them.” + +“No, my dear, I never encouraged any body to marry, but I would always +wish to pay every proper attention to a lady—and a bride, especially, +is never to be neglected. More is avowedly due to _her_. A bride, you +know, my dear, is always the first in company, let the others be who +they may.” + +“Well, papa, if this is not encouragement to marry, I do not know what +is. And I should never have expected you to be lending your sanction to +such vanity-baits for poor young ladies.” + +“My dear, you do not understand me. This is a matter of mere common +politeness and good-breeding, and has nothing to do with any +encouragement to people to marry.” + +Emma had done. Her father was growing nervous, and could not understand +_her_. Her mind returned to Mrs. Elton’s offences, and long, very long, +did they occupy her. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +Emma was not required, by any subsequent discovery, to retract her ill +opinion of Mrs. Elton. Her observation had been pretty correct. Such as +Mrs. Elton appeared to her on this second interview, such she appeared +whenever they met again,—self-important, presuming, familiar, ignorant, +and ill-bred. She had a little beauty and a little accomplishment, but +so little judgment that she thought herself coming with superior +knowledge of the world, to enliven and improve a country neighbourhood; +and conceived Miss Hawkins to have held such a place in society as Mrs. +Elton’s consequence only could surpass. + +There was no reason to suppose Mr. Elton thought at all differently +from his wife. He seemed not merely happy with her, but proud. He had +the air of congratulating himself on having brought such a woman to +Highbury, as not even Miss Woodhouse could equal; and the greater part +of her new acquaintance, disposed to commend, or not in the habit of +judging, following the lead of Miss Bates’s good-will, or taking it for +granted that the bride must be as clever and as agreeable as she +professed herself, were very well satisfied; so that Mrs. Elton’s +praise passed from one mouth to another as it ought to do, unimpeded by +Miss Woodhouse, who readily continued her first contribution and talked +with a good grace of her being “very pleasant and very elegantly +dressed.” + +In one respect Mrs. Elton grew even worse than she had appeared at +first. Her feelings altered towards Emma.—Offended, probably, by the +little encouragement which her proposals of intimacy met with, she drew +back in her turn and gradually became much more cold and distant; and +though the effect was agreeable, the ill-will which produced it was +necessarily increasing Emma’s dislike. Her manners, too—and Mr. +Elton’s, were unpleasant towards Harriet. They were sneering and +negligent. Emma hoped it must rapidly work Harriet’s cure; but the +sensations which could prompt such behaviour sunk them both very +much.—It was not to be doubted that poor Harriet’s attachment had been +an offering to conjugal unreserve, and her own share in the story, +under a colouring the least favourable to her and the most soothing to +him, had in all likelihood been given also. She was, of course, the +object of their joint dislike.—When they had nothing else to say, it +must be always easy to begin abusing Miss Woodhouse; and the enmity +which they dared not shew in open disrespect to her, found a broader +vent in contemptuous treatment of Harriet. + +Mrs. Elton took a great fancy to Jane Fairfax; and from the first. Not +merely when a state of warfare with one young lady might be supposed to +recommend the other, but from the very first; and she was not satisfied +with expressing a natural and reasonable admiration—but without +solicitation, or plea, or privilege, she must be wanting to assist and +befriend her.—Before Emma had forfeited her confidence, and about the +third time of their meeting, she heard all Mrs. Elton’s knight-errantry +on the subject.— + +“Jane Fairfax is absolutely charming, Miss Woodhouse.—I quite rave +about Jane Fairfax.—A sweet, interesting creature. So mild and +ladylike—and with such talents!—I assure you I think she has very +extraordinary talents. I do not scruple to say that she plays extremely +well. I know enough of music to speak decidedly on that point. Oh! she +is absolutely charming! You will laugh at my warmth—but, upon my word, +I talk of nothing but Jane Fairfax.—And her situation is so calculated +to affect one!—Miss Woodhouse, we must exert ourselves and endeavour to +do something for her. We must bring her forward. Such talent as hers +must not be suffered to remain unknown.—I dare say you have heard those +charming lines of the poet, + +‘Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, + ‘And waste its fragrance on the desert air.’ + + +We must not allow them to be verified in sweet Jane Fairfax.” + +“I cannot think there is any danger of it,” was Emma’s calm answer—“and +when you are better acquainted with Miss Fairfax’s situation and +understand what her home has been, with Colonel and Mrs. Campbell, I +have no idea that you will suppose her talents can be unknown.” + +“Oh! but dear Miss Woodhouse, she is now in such retirement, such +obscurity, so thrown away.—Whatever advantages she may have enjoyed +with the Campbells are so palpably at an end! And I think she feels it. +I am sure she does. She is very timid and silent. One can see that she +feels the want of encouragement. I like her the better for it. I must +confess it is a recommendation to me. I am a great advocate for +timidity—and I am sure one does not often meet with it.—But in those +who are at all inferior, it is extremely prepossessing. Oh! I assure +you, Jane Fairfax is a very delightful character, and interests me more +than I can express.” + +“You appear to feel a great deal—but I am not aware how you or any of +Miss Fairfax’s acquaintance here, any of those who have known her +longer than yourself, can shew her any other attention than”— + +“My dear Miss Woodhouse, a vast deal may be done by those who dare to +act. You and I need not be afraid. If _we_ set the example, many will +follow it as far as they can; though all have not our situations. _We_ +have carriages to fetch and convey her home, and _we_ live in a style +which could not make the addition of Jane Fairfax, at any time, the +least inconvenient.—I should be extremely displeased if Wright were to +send us up such a dinner, as could make me regret having asked _more_ +than Jane Fairfax to partake of it. I have no idea of that sort of +thing. It is not likely that I _should_, considering what I have been +used to. My greatest danger, perhaps, in housekeeping, may be quite the +other way, in doing too much, and being too careless of expense. Maple +Grove will probably be my model more than it ought to be—for we do not +at all affect to equal my brother, Mr. Suckling, in income.—However, my +resolution is taken as to noticing Jane Fairfax.—I shall certainly have +her very often at my house, shall introduce her wherever I can, shall +have musical parties to draw out her talents, and shall be constantly +on the watch for an eligible situation. My acquaintance is so very +extensive, that I have little doubt of hearing of something to suit her +shortly.—I shall introduce her, of course, very particularly to my +brother and sister when they come to us. I am sure they will like her +extremely; and when she gets a little acquainted with them, her fears +will completely wear off, for there really is nothing in the manners of +either but what is highly conciliating.—I shall have her very often +indeed while they are with me, and I dare say we shall sometimes find a +seat for her in the barouche-landau in some of our exploring parties.” + +“Poor Jane Fairfax!”—thought Emma.—“You have not deserved this. You may +have done wrong with regard to Mr. Dixon, but this is a punishment +beyond what you can have merited!—The kindness and protection of Mrs. +Elton!—‘Jane Fairfax and Jane Fairfax.’ Heavens! Let me not suppose +that she dares go about, Emma Woodhouse-ing me!—But upon my honour, +there seems no limits to the licentiousness of that woman’s tongue!” + +Emma had not to listen to such paradings again—to any so exclusively +addressed to herself—so disgustingly decorated with a “dear Miss +Woodhouse.” The change on Mrs. Elton’s side soon afterwards appeared, +and she was left in peace—neither forced to be the very particular +friend of Mrs. Elton, nor, under Mrs. Elton’s guidance, the very active +patroness of Jane Fairfax, and only sharing with others in a general +way, in knowing what was felt, what was meditated, what was done. + +She looked on with some amusement.—Miss Bates’s gratitude for Mrs. +Elton’s attentions to Jane was in the first style of guileless +simplicity and warmth. She was quite one of her worthies—the most +amiable, affable, delightful woman—just as accomplished and +condescending as Mrs. Elton meant to be considered. Emma’s only +surprize was that Jane Fairfax should accept those attentions and +tolerate Mrs. Elton as she seemed to do. She heard of her walking with +the Eltons, sitting with the Eltons, spending a day with the Eltons! +This was astonishing!—She could not have believed it possible that the +taste or the pride of Miss Fairfax could endure such society and +friendship as the Vicarage had to offer. + +“She is a riddle, quite a riddle!” said she.—“To chuse to remain here +month after month, under privations of every sort! And now to chuse the +mortification of Mrs. Elton’s notice and the penury of her +conversation, rather than return to the superior companions who have +always loved her with such real, generous affection.” + +Jane had come to Highbury professedly for three months; the Campbells +were gone to Ireland for three months; but now the Campbells had +promised their daughter to stay at least till Midsummer, and fresh +invitations had arrived for her to join them there. According to Miss +Bates—it all came from her—Mrs. Dixon had written most pressingly. +Would Jane but go, means were to be found, servants sent, friends +contrived—no travelling difficulty allowed to exist; but still she had +declined it! + +“She must have some motive, more powerful than appears, for refusing +this invitation,” was Emma’s conclusion. “She must be under some sort +of penance, inflicted either by the Campbells or herself. There is +great fear, great caution, great resolution somewhere.—She is _not_ to +be with the _Dixons_. The decree is issued by somebody. But why must +she consent to be with the Eltons?—Here is quite a separate puzzle.” + +Upon her speaking her wonder aloud on that part of the subject, before +the few who knew her opinion of Mrs. Elton, Mrs. Weston ventured this +apology for Jane. + +“We cannot suppose that she has any great enjoyment at the Vicarage, my +dear Emma—but it is better than being always at home. Her aunt is a +good creature, but, as a constant companion, must be very tiresome. We +must consider what Miss Fairfax quits, before we condemn her taste for +what she goes to.” + +“You are right, Mrs. Weston,” said Mr. Knightley warmly, “Miss Fairfax +is as capable as any of us of forming a just opinion of Mrs. Elton. +Could she have chosen with whom to associate, she would not have chosen +her. But (with a reproachful smile at Emma) she receives attentions +from Mrs. Elton, which nobody else pays her.” + +Emma felt that Mrs. Weston was giving her a momentary glance; and she +was herself struck by his warmth. With a faint blush, she presently +replied, + +“Such attentions as Mrs. Elton’s, I should have imagined, would rather +disgust than gratify Miss Fairfax. Mrs. Elton’s invitations I should +have imagined any thing but inviting.” + +“I should not wonder,” said Mrs. Weston, “if Miss Fairfax were to have +been drawn on beyond her own inclination, by her aunt’s eagerness in +accepting Mrs. Elton’s civilities for her. Poor Miss Bates may very +likely have committed her niece and hurried her into a greater +appearance of intimacy than her own good sense would have dictated, in +spite of the very natural wish of a little change.” + +Both felt rather anxious to hear him speak again; and after a few +minutes silence, he said, + +“Another thing must be taken into consideration too—Mrs. Elton does not +talk _to_ Miss Fairfax as she speaks _of_ her. We all know the +difference between the pronouns he or she and thou, the plainest spoken +amongst us; we all feel the influence of a something beyond common +civility in our personal intercourse with each other—a something more +early implanted. We cannot give any body the disagreeable hints that we +may have been very full of the hour before. We feel things differently. +And besides the operation of this, as a general principle, you may be +sure that Miss Fairfax awes Mrs. Elton by her superiority both of mind +and manner; and that, face to face, Mrs. Elton treats her with all the +respect which she has a claim to. Such a woman as Jane Fairfax probably +never fell in Mrs. Elton’s way before—and no degree of vanity can +prevent her acknowledging her own comparative littleness in action, if +not in consciousness.” + +“I know how highly you think of Jane Fairfax,” said Emma. Little Henry +was in her thoughts, and a mixture of alarm and delicacy made her +irresolute what else to say. + +“Yes,” he replied, “any body may know how highly I think of her.” + +“And yet,” said Emma, beginning hastily and with an arch look, but soon +stopping—it was better, however, to know the worst at once—she hurried +on—“And yet, perhaps, you may hardly be aware yourself how highly it +is. The extent of your admiration may take you by surprize some day or +other.” + +Mr. Knightley was hard at work upon the lower buttons of his thick +leather gaiters, and either the exertion of getting them together, or +some other cause, brought the colour into his face, as he answered, + +“Oh! are you there?—But you are miserably behindhand. Mr. Cole gave me +a hint of it six weeks ago.” + +He stopped.—Emma felt her foot pressed by Mrs. Weston, and did not +herself know what to think. In a moment he went on— + +“That will never be, however, I can assure you. Miss Fairfax, I dare +say, would not have me if I were to ask her—and I am very sure I shall +never ask her.” + +Emma returned her friend’s pressure with interest; and was pleased +enough to exclaim, + +“You are not vain, Mr. Knightley. I will say that for you.” + +He seemed hardly to hear her; he was thoughtful—and in a manner which +shewed him not pleased, soon afterwards said, + +“So you have been settling that I should marry Jane Fairfax?” + +“No indeed I have not. You have scolded me too much for match-making, +for me to presume to take such a liberty with you. What I said just +now, meant nothing. One says those sort of things, of course, without +any idea of a serious meaning. Oh! no, upon my word I have not the +smallest wish for your marrying Jane Fairfax or Jane any body. You +would not come in and sit with us in this comfortable way, if you were +married.” + +Mr. Knightley was thoughtful again. The result of his reverie was, “No, +Emma, I do not think the extent of my admiration for her will ever take +me by surprize.—I never had a thought of her in that way, I assure +you.” And soon afterwards, “Jane Fairfax is a very charming young +woman—but not even Jane Fairfax is perfect. She has a fault. She has +not the open temper which a man would wish for in a wife.” + +Emma could not but rejoice to hear that she had a fault. “Well,” said +she, “and you soon silenced Mr. Cole, I suppose?” + +“Yes, very soon. He gave me a quiet hint; I told him he was mistaken; +he asked my pardon and said no more. Cole does not want to be wiser or +wittier than his neighbours.” + +“In that respect how unlike dear Mrs. Elton, who wants to be wiser and +wittier than all the world! I wonder how she speaks of the Coles—what +she calls them! How can she find any appellation for them, deep enough +in familiar vulgarity? She calls you, Knightley—what can she do for Mr. +Cole? And so I am not to be surprized that Jane Fairfax accepts her +civilities and consents to be with her. Mrs. Weston, your argument +weighs most with me. I can much more readily enter into the temptation +of getting away from Miss Bates, than I can believe in the triumph of +Miss Fairfax’s mind over Mrs. Elton. I have no faith in Mrs. Elton’s +acknowledging herself the inferior in thought, word, or deed; or in her +being under any restraint beyond her own scanty rule of good-breeding. +I cannot imagine that she will not be continually insulting her visitor +with praise, encouragement, and offers of service; that she will not be +continually detailing her magnificent intentions, from the procuring +her a permanent situation to the including her in those delightful +exploring parties which are to take place in the barouche-landau.” + +“Jane Fairfax has feeling,” said Mr. Knightley—“I do not accuse her of +want of feeling. Her sensibilities, I suspect, are strong—and her +temper excellent in its power of forbearance, patience, self-control; +but it wants openness. She is reserved, more reserved, I think, than +she used to be—And I love an open temper. No—till Cole alluded to my +supposed attachment, it had never entered my head. I saw Jane Fairfax +and conversed with her, with admiration and pleasure always—but with no +thought beyond.” + +“Well, Mrs. Weston,” said Emma triumphantly when he left them, “what do +you say now to Mr. Knightley’s marrying Jane Fairfax?” + +“Why, really, dear Emma, I say that he is so very much occupied by the +idea of _not_ being in love with her, that I should not wonder if it +were to end in his being so at last. Do not beat me.” + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +Every body in and about Highbury who had ever visited Mr. Elton, was +disposed to pay him attention on his marriage. Dinner-parties and +evening-parties were made for him and his lady; and invitations flowed +in so fast that she had soon the pleasure of apprehending they were +never to have a disengaged day. + +“I see how it is,” said she. “I see what a life I am to lead among you. +Upon my word we shall be absolutely dissipated. We really seem quite +the fashion. If this is living in the country, it is nothing very +formidable. From Monday next to Saturday, I assure you we have not a +disengaged day!—A woman with fewer resources than I have, need not have +been at a loss.” + +No invitation came amiss to her. Her Bath habits made evening-parties +perfectly natural to her, and Maple Grove had given her a taste for +dinners. She was a little shocked at the want of two drawing rooms, at +the poor attempt at rout-cakes, and there being no ice in the Highbury +card-parties. Mrs. Bates, Mrs. Perry, Mrs. Goddard and others, were a +good deal behind-hand in knowledge of the world, but she would soon +shew them how every thing ought to be arranged. In the course of the +spring she must return their civilities by one very superior party—in +which her card-tables should be set out with their separate candles and +unbroken packs in the true style—and more waiters engaged for the +evening than their own establishment could furnish, to carry round the +refreshments at exactly the proper hour, and in the proper order. + +Emma, in the meanwhile, could not be satisfied without a dinner at +Hartfield for the Eltons. They must not do less than others, or she +should be exposed to odious suspicions, and imagined capable of pitiful +resentment. A dinner there must be. After Emma had talked about it for +ten minutes, Mr. Woodhouse felt no unwillingness, and only made the +usual stipulation of not sitting at the bottom of the table himself, +with the usual regular difficulty of deciding who should do it for him. + +The persons to be invited, required little thought. Besides the Eltons, +it must be the Westons and Mr. Knightley; so far it was all of +course—and it was hardly less inevitable that poor little Harriet must +be asked to make the eighth:—but this invitation was not given with +equal satisfaction, and on many accounts Emma was particularly pleased +by Harriet’s begging to be allowed to decline it. “She would rather not +be in his company more than she could help. She was not yet quite able +to see him and his charming happy wife together, without feeling +uncomfortable. If Miss Woodhouse would not be displeased, she would +rather stay at home.” It was precisely what Emma would have wished, had +she deemed it possible enough for wishing. She was delighted with the +fortitude of her little friend—for fortitude she knew it was in her to +give up being in company and stay at home; and she could now invite the +very person whom she really wanted to make the eighth, Jane Fairfax.— +Since her last conversation with Mrs. Weston and Mr. Knightley, she was +more conscience-stricken about Jane Fairfax than she had often +been.—Mr. Knightley’s words dwelt with her. He had said that Jane +Fairfax received attentions from Mrs. Elton which nobody else paid her. + +“This is very true,” said she, “at least as far as relates to me, which +was all that was meant—and it is very shameful.—Of the same age—and +always knowing her—I ought to have been more her friend.—She will never +like me now. I have neglected her too long. But I will shew her greater +attention than I have done.” + +Every invitation was successful. They were all disengaged and all +happy.—The preparatory interest of this dinner, however, was not yet +over. A circumstance rather unlucky occurred. The two eldest little +Knightleys were engaged to pay their grandpapa and aunt a visit of some +weeks in the spring, and their papa now proposed bringing them, and +staying one whole day at Hartfield—which one day would be the very day +of this party.—His professional engagements did not allow of his being +put off, but both father and daughter were disturbed by its happening +so. Mr. Woodhouse considered eight persons at dinner together as the +utmost that his nerves could bear—and here would be a ninth—and Emma +apprehended that it would be a ninth very much out of humour at not +being able to come even to Hartfield for forty-eight hours without +falling in with a dinner-party. + +She comforted her father better than she could comfort herself, by +representing that though he certainly would make them nine, yet he +always said so little, that the increase of noise would be very +immaterial. She thought it in reality a sad exchange for herself, to +have him with his grave looks and reluctant conversation opposed to her +instead of his brother. + +The event was more favourable to Mr. Woodhouse than to Emma. John +Knightley came; but Mr. Weston was unexpectedly summoned to town and +must be absent on the very day. He might be able to join them in the +evening, but certainly not to dinner. Mr. Woodhouse was quite at ease; +and the seeing him so, with the arrival of the little boys and the +philosophic composure of her brother on hearing his fate, removed the +chief of even Emma’s vexation. + +The day came, the party were punctually assembled, and Mr. John +Knightley seemed early to devote himself to the business of being +agreeable. Instead of drawing his brother off to a window while they +waited for dinner, he was talking to Miss Fairfax. Mrs. Elton, as +elegant as lace and pearls could make her, he looked at in +silence—wanting only to observe enough for Isabella’s information—but +Miss Fairfax was an old acquaintance and a quiet girl, and he could +talk to her. He had met her before breakfast as he was returning from a +walk with his little boys, when it had been just beginning to rain. It +was natural to have some civil hopes on the subject, and he said, + +“I hope you did not venture far, Miss Fairfax, this morning, or I am +sure you must have been wet.—We scarcely got home in time. I hope you +turned directly.” + +“I went only to the post-office,” said she, “and reached home before +the rain was much. It is my daily errand. I always fetch the letters +when I am here. It saves trouble, and is a something to get me out. A +walk before breakfast does me good.” + +“Not a walk in the rain, I should imagine.” + +“No, but it did not absolutely rain when I set out.” + +Mr. John Knightley smiled, and replied, + +“That is to say, you chose to have your walk, for you were not six +yards from your own door when I had the pleasure of meeting you; and +Henry and John had seen more drops than they could count long before. +The post-office has a great charm at one period of our lives. When you +have lived to my age, you will begin to think letters are never worth +going through the rain for.” + +There was a little blush, and then this answer, + +“I must not hope to be ever situated as you are, in the midst of every +dearest connexion, and therefore I cannot expect that simply growing +older should make me indifferent about letters.” + +“Indifferent! Oh! no—I never conceived you could become indifferent. +Letters are no matter of indifference; they are generally a very +positive curse.” + +“You are speaking of letters of business; mine are letters of +friendship.” + +“I have often thought them the worst of the two,” replied he coolly. +“Business, you know, may bring money, but friendship hardly ever does.” + +“Ah! you are not serious now. I know Mr. John Knightley too well—I am +very sure he understands the value of friendship as well as any body. I +can easily believe that letters are very little to you, much less than +to me, but it is not your being ten years older than myself which makes +the difference, it is not age, but situation. You have every body +dearest to you always at hand, I, probably, never shall again; and +therefore till I have outlived all my affections, a post-office, I +think, must always have power to draw me out, in worse weather than +to-day.” + +“When I talked of your being altered by time, by the progress of +years,” said John Knightley, “I meant to imply the change of situation +which time usually brings. I consider one as including the other. Time +will generally lessen the interest of every attachment not within the +daily circle—but that is not the change I had in view for you. As an +old friend, you will allow me to hope, Miss Fairfax, that ten years +hence you may have as many concentrated objects as I have.” + +It was kindly said, and very far from giving offence. A pleasant “thank +you” seemed meant to laugh it off, but a blush, a quivering lip, a tear +in the eye, shewed that it was felt beyond a laugh. Her attention was +now claimed by Mr. Woodhouse, who being, according to his custom on +such occasions, making the circle of his guests, and paying his +particular compliments to the ladies, was ending with her—and with all +his mildest urbanity, said, + +“I am very sorry to hear, Miss Fairfax, of your being out this morning +in the rain. Young ladies should take care of themselves.—Young ladies +are delicate plants. They should take care of their health and their +complexion. My dear, did you change your stockings?” + +“Yes, sir, I did indeed; and I am very much obliged by your kind +solicitude about me.” + +“My dear Miss Fairfax, young ladies are very sure to be cared for.—I +hope your good grand-mama and aunt are well. They are some of my very +old friends. I wish my health allowed me to be a better neighbour. You +do us a great deal of honour to-day, I am sure. My daughter and I are +both highly sensible of your goodness, and have the greatest +satisfaction in seeing you at Hartfield.” + +The kind-hearted, polite old man might then sit down and feel that he +had done his duty, and made every fair lady welcome and easy. + +By this time, the walk in the rain had reached Mrs. Elton, and her +remonstrances now opened upon Jane. + +“My dear Jane, what is this I hear?—Going to the post-office in the +rain!—This must not be, I assure you.—You sad girl, how could you do +such a thing?—It is a sign I was not there to take care of you.” + +Jane very patiently assured her that she had not caught any cold. + +“Oh! do not tell _me_. You really are a very sad girl, and do not know +how to take care of yourself.—To the post-office indeed! Mrs. Weston, +did you ever hear the like? You and I must positively exert our +authority.” + +“My advice,” said Mrs. Weston kindly and persuasively, “I certainly do +feel tempted to give. Miss Fairfax, you must not run such risks.—Liable +as you have been to severe colds, indeed you ought to be particularly +careful, especially at this time of year. The spring I always think +requires more than common care. Better wait an hour or two, or even +half a day for your letters, than run the risk of bringing on your +cough again. Now do not you feel that you had? Yes, I am sure you are +much too reasonable. You look as if you would not do such a thing +again.” + +“Oh! she _shall_ _not_ do such a thing again,” eagerly rejoined Mrs. +Elton. “We will not allow her to do such a thing again:”—and nodding +significantly—“there must be some arrangement made, there must indeed. +I shall speak to Mr. E. The man who fetches our letters every morning +(one of our men, I forget his name) shall inquire for yours too and +bring them to you. That will obviate all difficulties you know; and +from _us_ I really think, my dear Jane, you can have no scruple to +accept such an accommodation.” + +“You are extremely kind,” said Jane; “but I cannot give up my early +walk. I am advised to be out of doors as much as I can, I must walk +somewhere, and the post-office is an object; and upon my word, I have +scarcely ever had a bad morning before.” + +“My dear Jane, say no more about it. The thing is determined, that is +(laughing affectedly) as far as I can presume to determine any thing +without the concurrence of my lord and master. You know, Mrs. Weston, +you and I must be cautious how we express ourselves. But I do flatter +myself, my dear Jane, that my influence is not entirely worn out. If I +meet with no insuperable difficulties therefore, consider that point as +settled.” + +“Excuse me,” said Jane earnestly, “I cannot by any means consent to +such an arrangement, so needlessly troublesome to your servant. If the +errand were not a pleasure to me, it could be done, as it always is +when I am not here, by my grandmama’s.” + +“Oh! my dear; but so much as Patty has to do!—And it is a kindness to +employ our men.” + +Jane looked as if she did not mean to be conquered; but instead of +answering, she began speaking again to Mr. John Knightley. + +“The post-office is a wonderful establishment!” said she.—“The +regularity and despatch of it! If one thinks of all that it has to do, +and all that it does so well, it is really astonishing!” + +“It is certainly very well regulated.” + +“So seldom that any negligence or blunder appears! So seldom that a +letter, among the thousands that are constantly passing about the +kingdom, is even carried wrong—and not one in a million, I suppose, +actually lost! And when one considers the variety of hands, and of bad +hands too, that are to be deciphered, it increases the wonder.” + +“The clerks grow expert from habit.—They must begin with some quickness +of sight and hand, and exercise improves them. If you want any farther +explanation,” continued he, smiling, “they are paid for it. That is the +key to a great deal of capacity. The public pays and must be served +well.” + +The varieties of handwriting were farther talked of, and the usual +observations made. + +“I have heard it asserted,” said John Knightley, “that the same sort of +handwriting often prevails in a family; and where the same master +teaches, it is natural enough. But for that reason, I should imagine +the likeness must be chiefly confined to the females, for boys have +very little teaching after an early age, and scramble into any hand +they can get. Isabella and Emma, I think, do write very much alike. I +have not always known their writing apart.” + +“Yes,” said his brother hesitatingly, “there is a likeness. I know what +you mean—but Emma’s hand is the strongest.” + +“Isabella and Emma both write beautifully,” said Mr. Woodhouse; “and +always did. And so does poor Mrs. Weston”—with half a sigh and half a +smile at her. + +“I never saw any gentleman’s handwriting”—Emma began, looking also at +Mrs. Weston; but stopped, on perceiving that Mrs. Weston was attending +to some one else—and the pause gave her time to reflect, “Now, how am I +going to introduce him?—Am I unequal to speaking his name at once +before all these people? Is it necessary for me to use any roundabout +phrase?—Your Yorkshire friend—your correspondent in Yorkshire;—that +would be the way, I suppose, if I were very bad.—No, I can pronounce +his name without the smallest distress. I certainly get better and +better.—Now for it.” + +Mrs. Weston was disengaged and Emma began again—“Mr. Frank Churchill +writes one of the best gentleman’s hands I ever saw.” + +“I do not admire it,” said Mr. Knightley. “It is too small—wants +strength. It is like a woman’s writing.” + +This was not submitted to by either lady. They vindicated him against +the base aspersion. “No, it by no means wanted strength—it was not a +large hand, but very clear and certainly strong. Had not Mrs. Weston +any letter about her to produce?” No, she had heard from him very +lately, but having answered the letter, had put it away. + +“If we were in the other room,” said Emma, “if I had my writing-desk, I +am sure I could produce a specimen. I have a note of his.—Do not you +remember, Mrs. Weston, employing him to write for you one day?” + +“He chose to say he was employed”— + +“Well, well, I have that note; and can shew it after dinner to convince +Mr. Knightley.” + +“Oh! when a gallant young man, like Mr. Frank Churchill,” said Mr. +Knightley dryly, “writes to a fair lady like Miss Woodhouse, he will, +of course, put forth his best.” + +Dinner was on table.—Mrs. Elton, before she could be spoken to, was +ready; and before Mr. Woodhouse had reached her with his request to be +allowed to hand her into the dining-parlour, was saying— + +“Must I go first? I really am ashamed of always leading the way.” + +Jane’s solicitude about fetching her own letters had not escaped Emma. +She had heard and seen it all; and felt some curiosity to know whether +the wet walk of this morning had produced any. She suspected that it +_had_; that it would not have been so resolutely encountered but in +full expectation of hearing from some one very dear, and that it had +not been in vain. She thought there was an air of greater happiness +than usual—a glow both of complexion and spirits. + +She could have made an inquiry or two, as to the expedition and the +expense of the Irish mails;—it was at her tongue’s end—but she +abstained. She was quite determined not to utter a word that should +hurt Jane Fairfax’s feelings; and they followed the other ladies out of +the room, arm in arm, with an appearance of good-will highly becoming +to the beauty and grace of each. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +When the ladies returned to the drawing-room after dinner, Emma found +it hardly possible to prevent their making two distinct parties;—with +so much perseverance in judging and behaving ill did Mrs. Elton engross +Jane Fairfax and slight herself. She and Mrs. Weston were obliged to be +almost always either talking together or silent together. Mrs. Elton +left them no choice. If Jane repressed her for a little time, she soon +began again; and though much that passed between them was in a +half-whisper, especially on Mrs. Elton’s side, there was no avoiding a +knowledge of their principal subjects: The post-office—catching +cold—fetching letters—and friendship, were long under discussion; and +to them succeeded one, which must be at least equally unpleasant to +Jane—inquiries whether she had yet heard of any situation likely to +suit her, and professions of Mrs. Elton’s meditated activity. + +“Here is April come!” said she, “I get quite anxious about you. June +will soon be here.” + +“But I have never fixed on June or any other month—merely looked +forward to the summer in general.” + +“But have you really heard of nothing?” + +“I have not even made any inquiry; I do not wish to make any yet.” + +“Oh! my dear, we cannot begin too early; you are not aware of the +difficulty of procuring exactly the desirable thing.” + +“I not aware!” said Jane, shaking her head; “dear Mrs. Elton, who can +have thought of it as I have done?” + +“But you have not seen so much of the world as I have. You do not know +how many candidates there always are for the _first_ situations. I saw +a vast deal of that in the neighbourhood round Maple Grove. A cousin of +Mr. Suckling, Mrs. Bragge, had such an infinity of applications; every +body was anxious to be in her family, for she moves in the first +circle. Wax-candles in the schoolroom! You may imagine how desirable! +Of all houses in the kingdom Mrs. Bragge’s is the one I would most wish +to see you in.” + +“Colonel and Mrs. Campbell are to be in town again by midsummer,” said +Jane. “I must spend some time with them; I am sure they will want +it;—afterwards I may probably be glad to dispose of myself. But I would +not wish you to take the trouble of making any inquiries at present.” + +“Trouble! aye, I know your scruples. You are afraid of giving me +trouble; but I assure you, my dear Jane, the Campbells can hardly be +more interested about you than I am. I shall write to Mrs. Partridge in +a day or two, and shall give her a strict charge to be on the look-out +for any thing eligible.” + +“Thank you, but I would rather you did not mention the subject to her; +till the time draws nearer, I do not wish to be giving any body +trouble.” + +“But, my dear child, the time is drawing near; here is April, and June, +or say even July, is very near, with such business to accomplish before +us. Your inexperience really amuses me! A situation such as you +deserve, and your friends would require for you, is no everyday +occurrence, is not obtained at a moment’s notice; indeed, indeed, we +must begin inquiring directly.” + +“Excuse me, ma’am, but this is by no means my intention; I make no +inquiry myself, and should be sorry to have any made by my friends. +When I am quite determined as to the time, I am not at all afraid of +being long unemployed. There are places in town, offices, where inquiry +would soon produce something—Offices for the sale—not quite of human +flesh—but of human intellect.” + +“Oh! my dear, human flesh! You quite shock me; if you mean a fling at +the slave-trade, I assure you Mr. Suckling was always rather a friend +to the abolition.” + +“I did not mean, I was not thinking of the slave-trade,” replied Jane; +“governess-trade, I assure you, was all that I had in view; widely +different certainly as to the guilt of those who carry it on; but as to +the greater misery of the victims, I do not know where it lies. But I +only mean to say that there are advertising offices, and that by +applying to them I should have no doubt of very soon meeting with +something that would do.” + +“Something that would do!” repeated Mrs. Elton. “Aye, _that_ may suit +your humble ideas of yourself;—I know what a modest creature you are; +but it will not satisfy your friends to have you taking up with any +thing that may offer, any inferior, commonplace situation, in a family +not moving in a certain circle, or able to command the elegancies of +life.” + +“You are very obliging; but as to all that, I am very indifferent; it +would be no object to me to be with the rich; my mortifications, I +think, would only be the greater; I should suffer more from comparison. +A gentleman’s family is all that I should condition for.” + +“I know you, I know you; you would take up with any thing; but I shall +be a little more nice, and I am sure the good Campbells will be quite +on my side; with your superior talents, you have a right to move in the +first circle. Your musical knowledge alone would entitle you to name +your own terms, have as many rooms as you like, and mix in the family +as much as you chose;—that is—I do not know—if you knew the harp, you +might do all that, I am very sure; but you sing as well as play;—yes, I +really believe you might, even without the harp, stipulate for what you +chose;—and you must and shall be delightfully, honourably and +comfortably settled before the Campbells or I have any rest.” + +“You may well class the delight, the honour, and the comfort of such a +situation together,” said Jane, “they are pretty sure to be equal; +however, I am very serious in not wishing any thing to be attempted at +present for me. I am exceedingly obliged to you, Mrs. Elton, I am +obliged to any body who feels for me, but I am quite serious in wishing +nothing to be done till the summer. For two or three months longer I +shall remain where I am, and as I am.” + +“And I am quite serious too, I assure you,” replied Mrs. Elton gaily, +“in resolving to be always on the watch, and employing my friends to +watch also, that nothing really unexceptionable may pass us.” + +In this style she ran on; never thoroughly stopped by any thing till +Mr. Woodhouse came into the room; her vanity had then a change of +object, and Emma heard her saying in the same half-whisper to Jane, + +“Here comes this dear old beau of mine, I protest!—Only think of his +gallantry in coming away before the other men!—what a dear creature he +is;—I assure you I like him excessively. I admire all that quaint, +old-fashioned politeness; it is much more to my taste than modern ease; +modern ease often disgusts me. But this good old Mr. Woodhouse, I wish +you had heard his gallant speeches to me at dinner. Oh! I assure you I +began to think my caro sposo would be absolutely jealous. I fancy I am +rather a favourite; he took notice of my gown. How do you like +it?—Selina’s choice—handsome, I think, but I do not know whether it is +not over-trimmed; I have the greatest dislike to the idea of being +over-trimmed—quite a horror of finery. I must put on a few ornaments +now, because it is expected of me. A bride, you know, must appear like +a bride, but my natural taste is all for simplicity; a simple style of +dress is so infinitely preferable to finery. But I am quite in the +minority, I believe; few people seem to value simplicity of dress,—show +and finery are every thing. I have some notion of putting such a +trimming as this to my white and silver poplin. Do you think it will +look well?” + +The whole party were but just reassembled in the drawing-room when Mr. +Weston made his appearance among them. He had returned to a late +dinner, and walked to Hartfield as soon as it was over. He had been too +much expected by the best judges, for surprize—but there was great joy. +Mr. Woodhouse was almost as glad to see him now, as he would have been +sorry to see him before. John Knightley only was in mute +astonishment.—That a man who might have spent his evening quietly at +home after a day of business in London, should set off again, and walk +half a mile to another man’s house, for the sake of being in mixed +company till bed-time, of finishing his day in the efforts of civility +and the noise of numbers, was a circumstance to strike him deeply. A +man who had been in motion since eight o’clock in the morning, and +might now have been still, who had been long talking, and might have +been silent, who had been in more than one crowd, and might have been +alone!—Such a man, to quit the tranquillity and independence of his own +fireside, and on the evening of a cold sleety April day rush out again +into the world!—Could he by a touch of his finger have instantly taken +back his wife, there would have been a motive; but his coming would +probably prolong rather than break up the party. John Knightley looked +at him with amazement, then shrugged his shoulders, and said, “I could +not have believed it even of _him_.” + +Mr. Weston meanwhile, perfectly unsuspicious of the indignation he was +exciting, happy and cheerful as usual, and with all the right of being +principal talker, which a day spent anywhere from home confers, was +making himself agreeable among the rest; and having satisfied the +inquiries of his wife as to his dinner, convincing her that none of all +her careful directions to the servants had been forgotten, and spread +abroad what public news he had heard, was proceeding to a family +communication, which, though principally addressed to Mrs. Weston, he +had not the smallest doubt of being highly interesting to every body in +the room. He gave her a letter, it was from Frank, and to herself; he +had met with it in his way, and had taken the liberty of opening it. + +“Read it, read it,” said he, “it will give you pleasure; only a few +lines—will not take you long; read it to Emma.” + +The two ladies looked over it together; and he sat smiling and talking +to them the whole time, in a voice a little subdued, but very audible +to every body. + +“Well, he is coming, you see; good news, I think. Well, what do you say +to it?—I always told you he would be here again soon, did not I?—Anne, +my dear, did not I always tell you so, and you would not believe me?—In +town next week, you see—at the latest, I dare say; for _she_ is as +impatient as the black gentleman when any thing is to be done; most +likely they will be there to-morrow or Saturday. As to her illness, all +nothing of course. But it is an excellent thing to have Frank among us +again, so near as town. They will stay a good while when they do come, +and he will be half his time with us. This is precisely what I wanted. +Well, pretty good news, is not it? Have you finished it? Has Emma read +it all? Put it up, put it up; we will have a good talk about it some +other time, but it will not do now. I shall only just mention the +circumstance to the others in a common way.” + +Mrs. Weston was most comfortably pleased on the occasion. Her looks and +words had nothing to restrain them. She was happy, she knew she was +happy, and knew she ought to be happy. Her congratulations were warm +and open; but Emma could not speak so fluently. _She_ was a little +occupied in weighing her own feelings, and trying to understand the +degree of her agitation, which she rather thought was considerable. + +Mr. Weston, however, too eager to be very observant, too communicative +to want others to talk, was very well satisfied with what she did say, +and soon moved away to make the rest of his friends happy by a partial +communication of what the whole room must have overheard already. + +It was well that he took every body’s joy for granted, or he might not +have thought either Mr. Woodhouse or Mr. Knightley particularly +delighted. They were the first entitled, after Mrs. Weston and Emma, to +be made happy;—from them he would have proceeded to Miss Fairfax, but +she was so deep in conversation with John Knightley, that it would have +been too positive an interruption; and finding himself close to Mrs. +Elton, and her attention disengaged, he necessarily began on the +subject with her. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +“I hope I shall soon have the pleasure of introducing my son to you,” +said Mr. Weston. + +Mrs. Elton, very willing to suppose a particular compliment intended +her by such a hope, smiled most graciously. + +“You have heard of a certain Frank Churchill, I presume,” he +continued—“and know him to be my son, though he does not bear my name.” + +“Oh! yes, and I shall be very happy in his acquaintance. I am sure Mr. +Elton will lose no time in calling on him; and we shall both have great +pleasure in seeing him at the Vicarage.” + +“You are very obliging.—Frank will be extremely happy, I am sure.— He +is to be in town next week, if not sooner. We have notice of it in a +letter to-day. I met the letters in my way this morning, and seeing my +son’s hand, presumed to open it—though it was not directed to me—it was +to Mrs. Weston. She is his principal correspondent, I assure you. I +hardly ever get a letter.” + +“And so you absolutely opened what was directed to her! Oh! Mr. +Weston—(laughing affectedly) I must protest against that.—A most +dangerous precedent indeed!—I beg you will not let your neighbours +follow your example.—Upon my word, if this is what I am to expect, we +married women must begin to exert ourselves!—Oh! Mr. Weston, I could +not have believed it of you!” + +“Aye, we men are sad fellows. You must take care of yourself, Mrs. +Elton.—This letter tells us—it is a short letter—written in a hurry, +merely to give us notice—it tells us that they are all coming up to +town directly, on Mrs. Churchill’s account—she has not been well the +whole winter, and thinks Enscombe too cold for her—so they are all to +move southward without loss of time.” + +“Indeed!—from Yorkshire, I think. Enscombe is in Yorkshire?” + +“Yes, they are about one hundred and ninety miles from London, a +considerable journey.” + +“Yes, upon my word, very considerable. Sixty-five miles farther than +from Maple Grove to London. But what is distance, Mr. Weston, to people +of large fortune?—You would be amazed to hear how my brother, Mr. +Suckling, sometimes flies about. You will hardly believe me—but twice +in one week he and Mr. Bragge went to London and back again with four +horses.” + +“The evil of the distance from Enscombe,” said Mr. Weston, “is, that +Mrs. Churchill, _as_ _we_ _understand_, has not been able to leave the +sofa for a week together. In Frank’s last letter she complained, he +said, of being too weak to get into her conservatory without having +both his arm and his uncle’s! This, you know, speaks a great degree of +weakness—but now she is so impatient to be in town, that she means to +sleep only two nights on the road.—So Frank writes word. Certainly, +delicate ladies have very extraordinary constitutions, Mrs. Elton. You +must grant me that.” + +“No, indeed, I shall grant you nothing. I always take the part of my +own sex. I do indeed. I give you notice—You will find me a formidable +antagonist on that point. I always stand up for women—and I assure you, +if you knew how Selina feels with respect to sleeping at an inn, you +would not wonder at Mrs. Churchill’s making incredible exertions to +avoid it. Selina says it is quite horror to her—and I believe I have +caught a little of her nicety. She always travels with her own sheets; +an excellent precaution. Does Mrs. Churchill do the same?” + +“Depend upon it, Mrs. Churchill does every thing that any other fine +lady ever did. Mrs. Churchill will not be second to any lady in the +land for”— + +Mrs. Elton eagerly interposed with, + +“Oh! Mr. Weston, do not mistake me. Selina is no fine lady, I assure +you. Do not run away with such an idea.” + +“Is not she? Then she is no rule for Mrs. Churchill, who is as thorough +a fine lady as any body ever beheld.” + +Mrs. Elton began to think she had been wrong in disclaiming so warmly. +It was by no means her object to have it believed that her sister was +_not_ a fine lady; perhaps there was want of spirit in the pretence of +it;—and she was considering in what way she had best retract, when Mr. +Weston went on. + +“Mrs. Churchill is not much in my good graces, as you may suspect—but +this is quite between ourselves. She is very fond of Frank, and +therefore I would not speak ill of her. Besides, she is out of health +now; but _that_ indeed, by her own account, she has always been. I +would not say so to every body, Mrs. Elton, but I have not much faith +in Mrs. Churchill’s illness.” + +“If she is really ill, why not go to Bath, Mr. Weston?—To Bath, or to +Clifton?” “She has taken it into her head that Enscombe is too cold for +her. The fact is, I suppose, that she is tired of Enscombe. She has now +been a longer time stationary there, than she ever was before, and she +begins to want change. It is a retired place. A fine place, but very +retired.” + +“Aye—like Maple Grove, I dare say. Nothing can stand more retired from +the road than Maple Grove. Such an immense plantation all round it! You +seem shut out from every thing—in the most complete retirement.—And +Mrs. Churchill probably has not health or spirits like Selina to enjoy +that sort of seclusion. Or, perhaps she may not have resources enough +in herself to be qualified for a country life. I always say a woman +cannot have too many resources—and I feel very thankful that I have so +many myself as to be quite independent of society.” + +“Frank was here in February for a fortnight.” + +“So I remember to have heard. He will find an _addition_ to the society +of Highbury when he comes again; that is, if I may presume to call +myself an addition. But perhaps he may never have heard of there being +such a creature in the world.” + +This was too loud a call for a compliment to be passed by, and Mr. +Weston, with a very good grace, immediately exclaimed, + +“My dear madam! Nobody but yourself could imagine such a thing +possible. Not heard of you!—I believe Mrs. Weston’s letters lately have +been full of very little else than Mrs. Elton.” + +He had done his duty and could return to his son. + +“When Frank left us,” continued he, “it was quite uncertain when we +might see him again, which makes this day’s news doubly welcome. It has +been completely unexpected. That is, _I_ always had a strong persuasion +he would be here again soon, I was sure something favourable would turn +up—but nobody believed me. He and Mrs. Weston were both dreadfully +desponding. ‘How could he contrive to come? And how could it be +supposed that his uncle and aunt would spare him again?’ and so forth—I +always felt that something would happen in our favour; and so it has, +you see. I have observed, Mrs. Elton, in the course of my life, that if +things are going untowardly one month, they are sure to mend the next.” + +“Very true, Mr. Weston, perfectly true. It is just what I used to say +to a certain gentleman in company in the days of courtship, when, +because things did not go quite right, did not proceed with all the +rapidity which suited his feelings, he was apt to be in despair, and +exclaim that he was sure at this rate it would be _May_ before Hymen’s +saffron robe would be put on for us. Oh! the pains I have been at to +dispel those gloomy ideas and give him cheerfuller views! The +carriage—we had disappointments about the carriage;—one morning, I +remember, he came to me quite in despair.” + +She was stopped by a slight fit of coughing, and Mr. Weston instantly +seized the opportunity of going on. + +“You were mentioning May. May is the very month which Mrs. Churchill is +ordered, or has ordered herself, to spend in some warmer place than +Enscombe—in short, to spend in London; so that we have the agreeable +prospect of frequent visits from Frank the whole spring—precisely the +season of the year which one should have chosen for it: days almost at +the longest; weather genial and pleasant, always inviting one out, and +never too hot for exercise. When he was here before, we made the best +of it; but there was a good deal of wet, damp, cheerless weather; there +always is in February, you know, and we could not do half that we +intended. Now will be the time. This will be complete enjoyment; and I +do not know, Mrs. Elton, whether the uncertainty of our meetings, the +sort of constant expectation there will be of his coming in to-day or +to-morrow, and at any hour, may not be more friendly to happiness than +having him actually in the house. I think it is so. I think it is the +state of mind which gives most spirit and delight. I hope you will be +pleased with my son; but you must not expect a prodigy. He is generally +thought a fine young man, but do not expect a prodigy. Mrs. Weston’s +partiality for him is very great, and, as you may suppose, most +gratifying to me. She thinks nobody equal to him.” + +“And I assure you, Mr. Weston, I have very little doubt that my opinion +will be decidedly in his favour. I have heard so much in praise of Mr. +Frank Churchill.—At the same time it is fair to observe, that I am one +of those who always judge for themselves, and are by no means +implicitly guided by others. I give you notice that as I find your son, +so I shall judge of him.—I am no flatterer.” + +Mr. Weston was musing. + +“I hope,” said he presently, “I have not been severe upon poor Mrs. +Churchill. If she is ill I should be sorry to do her injustice; but +there are some traits in her character which make it difficult for me +to speak of her with the forbearance I could wish. You cannot be +ignorant, Mrs. Elton, of my connexion with the family, nor of the +treatment I have met with; and, between ourselves, the whole blame of +it is to be laid to her. She was the instigator. Frank’s mother would +never have been slighted as she was but for her. Mr. Churchill has +pride; but his pride is nothing to his wife’s: his is a quiet, +indolent, gentlemanlike sort of pride that would harm nobody, and only +make himself a little helpless and tiresome; but her pride is arrogance +and insolence! And what inclines one less to bear, she has no fair +pretence of family or blood. She was nobody when he married her, barely +the daughter of a gentleman; but ever since her being turned into a +Churchill she has out-Churchill’d them all in high and mighty claims: +but in herself, I assure you, she is an upstart.” + +“Only think! well, that must be infinitely provoking! I have quite a +horror of upstarts. Maple Grove has given me a thorough disgust to +people of that sort; for there is a family in that neighbourhood who +are such an annoyance to my brother and sister from the airs they give +themselves! Your description of Mrs. Churchill made me think of them +directly. People of the name of Tupman, very lately settled there, and +encumbered with many low connexions, but giving themselves immense +airs, and expecting to be on a footing with the old established +families. A year and a half is the very utmost that they can have lived +at West Hall; and how they got their fortune nobody knows. They came +from Birmingham, which is not a place to promise much, you know, Mr. +Weston. One has not great hopes from Birmingham. I always say there is +something direful in the sound: but nothing more is positively known of +the Tupmans, though a good many things I assure you are suspected; and +yet by their manners they evidently think themselves equal even to my +brother, Mr. Suckling, who happens to be one of their nearest +neighbours. It is infinitely too bad. Mr. Suckling, who has been eleven +years a resident at Maple Grove, and whose father had it before him—I +believe, at least—I am almost sure that old Mr. Suckling had completed +the purchase before his death.” + +They were interrupted. Tea was carrying round, and Mr. Weston, having +said all that he wanted, soon took the opportunity of walking away. + +After tea, Mr. and Mrs. Weston, and Mr. Elton sat down with Mr. +Woodhouse to cards. The remaining five were left to their own powers, +and Emma doubted their getting on very well; for Mr. Knightley seemed +little disposed for conversation; Mrs. Elton was wanting notice, which +nobody had inclination to pay, and she was herself in a worry of +spirits which would have made her prefer being silent. + +Mr. John Knightley proved more talkative than his brother. He was to +leave them early the next day; and he soon began with— + +“Well, Emma, I do not believe I have any thing more to say about the +boys; but you have your sister’s letter, and every thing is down at +full length there we may be sure. My charge would be much more concise +than her’s, and probably not much in the same spirit; all that I have +to recommend being comprised in, do not spoil them, and do not physic +them.” + +“I rather hope to satisfy you both,” said Emma, “for I shall do all in +my power to make them happy, which will be enough for Isabella; and +happiness must preclude false indulgence and physic.” + +“And if you find them troublesome, you must send them home again.” + +“That is very likely. You think so, do not you?” + +“I hope I am aware that they may be too noisy for your father—or even +may be some encumbrance to you, if your visiting engagements continue +to increase as much as they have done lately.” + +“Increase!” + +“Certainly; you must be sensible that the last half-year has made a +great difference in your way of life.” + +“Difference! No indeed I am not.” + +“There can be no doubt of your being much more engaged with company +than you used to be. Witness this very time. Here am I come down for +only one day, and you are engaged with a dinner-party!—When did it +happen before, or any thing like it? Your neighbourhood is increasing, +and you mix more with it. A little while ago, every letter to Isabella +brought an account of fresh gaieties; dinners at Mr. Cole’s, or balls +at the Crown. The difference which Randalls, Randalls alone makes in +your goings-on, is very great.” + +“Yes,” said his brother quickly, “it is Randalls that does it all.” + +“Very well—and as Randalls, I suppose, is not likely to have less +influence than heretofore, it strikes me as a possible thing, Emma, +that Henry and John may be sometimes in the way. And if they are, I +only beg you to send them home.” + +“No,” cried Mr. Knightley, “that need not be the consequence. Let them +be sent to Donwell. I shall certainly be at leisure.” + +“Upon my word,” exclaimed Emma, “you amuse me! I should like to know +how many of all my numerous engagements take place without your being +of the party; and why I am to be supposed in danger of wanting leisure +to attend to the little boys. These amazing engagements of mine—what +have they been? Dining once with the Coles—and having a ball talked of, +which never took place. I can understand you—(nodding at Mr. John +Knightley)—your good fortune in meeting with so many of your friends at +once here, delights you too much to pass unnoticed. But you, (turning +to Mr. Knightley,) who know how very, very seldom I am ever two hours +from Hartfield, why you should foresee such a series of dissipation for +me, I cannot imagine. And as to my dear little boys, I must say, that +if Aunt Emma has not time for them, I do not think they would fare much +better with Uncle Knightley, who is absent from home about five hours +where she is absent one—and who, when he is at home, is either reading +to himself or settling his accounts.” + +Mr. Knightley seemed to be trying not to smile; and succeeded without +difficulty, upon Mrs. Elton’s beginning to talk to him. + + + + +VOLUME III + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +A very little quiet reflection was enough to satisfy Emma as to the +nature of her agitation on hearing this news of Frank Churchill. She +was soon convinced that it was not for herself she was feeling at all +apprehensive or embarrassed; it was for him. Her own attachment had +really subsided into a mere nothing; it was not worth thinking of;—but +if he, who had undoubtedly been always so much the most in love of the +two, were to be returning with the same warmth of sentiment which he +had taken away, it would be very distressing. If a separation of two +months should not have cooled him, there were dangers and evils before +her:—caution for him and for herself would be necessary. She did not +mean to have her own affections entangled again, and it would be +incumbent on her to avoid any encouragement of his. + +She wished she might be able to keep him from an absolute declaration. +That would be so very painful a conclusion of their present +acquaintance! and yet, she could not help rather anticipating something +decisive. She felt as if the spring would not pass without bringing a +crisis, an event, a something to alter her present composed and +tranquil state. + +It was not very long, though rather longer than Mr. Weston had +foreseen, before she had the power of forming some opinion of Frank +Churchill’s feelings. The Enscombe family were not in town quite so +soon as had been imagined, but he was at Highbury very soon afterwards. +He rode down for a couple of hours; he could not yet do more; but as he +came from Randalls immediately to Hartfield, she could then exercise +all her quick observation, and speedily determine how he was +influenced, and how she must act. They met with the utmost +friendliness. There could be no doubt of his great pleasure in seeing +her. But she had an almost instant doubt of his caring for her as he +had done, of his feeling the same tenderness in the same degree. She +watched him well. It was a clear thing he was less in love than he had +been. Absence, with the conviction probably of her indifference, had +produced this very natural and very desirable effect. + +He was in high spirits; as ready to talk and laugh as ever, and seemed +delighted to speak of his former visit, and recur to old stories: and +he was not without agitation. It was not in his calmness that she read +his comparative indifference. He was not calm; his spirits were +evidently fluttered; there was restlessness about him. Lively as he +was, it seemed a liveliness that did not satisfy himself; but what +decided her belief on the subject, was his staying only a quarter of an +hour, and hurrying away to make other calls in Highbury. “He had seen a +group of old acquaintance in the street as he passed—he had not +stopped, he would not stop for more than a word—but he had the vanity +to think they would be disappointed if he did not call, and much as he +wished to stay longer at Hartfield, he must hurry off.” She had no +doubt as to his being less in love—but neither his agitated spirits, +nor his hurrying away, seemed like a perfect cure; and she was rather +inclined to think it implied a dread of her returning power, and a +discreet resolution of not trusting himself with her long. + +This was the only visit from Frank Churchill in the course of ten days. +He was often hoping, intending to come—but was always prevented. His +aunt could not bear to have him leave her. Such was his own account at +Randall’s. If he were quite sincere, if he really tried to come, it was +to be inferred that Mrs. Churchill’s removal to London had been of no +service to the wilful or nervous part of her disorder. That she was +really ill was very certain; he had declared himself convinced of it, +at Randalls. Though much might be fancy, he could not doubt, when he +looked back, that she was in a weaker state of health than she had been +half a year ago. He did not believe it to proceed from any thing that +care and medicine might not remove, or at least that she might not have +many years of existence before her; but he could not be prevailed on, +by all his father’s doubts, to say that her complaints were merely +imaginary, or that she was as strong as ever. + +It soon appeared that London was not the place for her. She could not +endure its noise. Her nerves were under continual irritation and +suffering; and by the ten days’ end, her nephew’s letter to Randalls +communicated a change of plan. They were going to remove immediately to +Richmond. Mrs. Churchill had been recommended to the medical skill of +an eminent person there, and had otherwise a fancy for the place. A +ready-furnished house in a favourite spot was engaged, and much benefit +expected from the change. + +Emma heard that Frank wrote in the highest spirits of this arrangement, +and seemed most fully to appreciate the blessing of having two months +before him of such near neighbourhood to many dear friends—for the +house was taken for May and June. She was told that now he wrote with +the greatest confidence of being often with them, almost as often as he +could even wish. + +Emma saw how Mr. Weston understood these joyous prospects. He was +considering her as the source of all the happiness they offered. She +hoped it was not so. Two months must bring it to the proof. + +Mr. Weston’s own happiness was indisputable. He was quite delighted. It +was the very circumstance he could have wished for. Now, it would be +really having Frank in their neighbourhood. What were nine miles to a +young man?—An hour’s ride. He would be always coming over. The +difference in that respect of Richmond and London was enough to make +the whole difference of seeing him always and seeing him never. Sixteen +miles—nay, eighteen—it must be full eighteen to Manchester-street—was a +serious obstacle. Were he ever able to get away, the day would be spent +in coming and returning. There was no comfort in having him in London; +he might as well be at Enscombe; but Richmond was the very distance for +easy intercourse. Better than nearer! + +One good thing was immediately brought to a certainty by this +removal,—the ball at the Crown. It had not been forgotten before, but +it had been soon acknowledged vain to attempt to fix a day. Now, +however, it was absolutely to be; every preparation was resumed, and +very soon after the Churchills had removed to Richmond, a few lines +from Frank, to say that his aunt felt already much better for the +change, and that he had no doubt of being able to join them for +twenty-four hours at any given time, induced them to name as early a +day as possible. + +Mr. Weston’s ball was to be a real thing. A very few to-morrows stood +between the young people of Highbury and happiness. + +Mr. Woodhouse was resigned. The time of year lightened the evil to him. +May was better for every thing than February. Mrs. Bates was engaged to +spend the evening at Hartfield, James had due notice, and he sanguinely +hoped that neither dear little Henry nor dear little John would have +any thing the matter with them, while dear Emma were gone. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +No misfortune occurred, again to prevent the ball. The day approached, +the day arrived; and after a morning of some anxious watching, Frank +Churchill, in all the certainty of his own self, reached Randalls +before dinner, and every thing was safe. + +No second meeting had there yet been between him and Emma. The room at +the Crown was to witness it;—but it would be better than a common +meeting in a crowd. Mr. Weston had been so very earnest in his +entreaties for her arriving there as soon as possible after themselves, +for the purpose of taking her opinion as to the propriety and comfort +of the rooms before any other persons came, that she could not refuse +him, and must therefore spend some quiet interval in the young man’s +company. She was to convey Harriet, and they drove to the Crown in good +time, the Randalls party just sufficiently before them. + +Frank Churchill seemed to have been on the watch; and though he did not +say much, his eyes declared that he meant to have a delightful evening. +They all walked about together, to see that every thing was as it +should be; and within a few minutes were joined by the contents of +another carriage, which Emma could not hear the sound of at first, +without great surprize. “So unreasonably early!” she was going to +exclaim; but she presently found that it was a family of old friends, +who were coming, like herself, by particular desire, to help Mr. +Weston’s judgment; and they were so very closely followed by another +carriage of cousins, who had been entreated to come early with the same +distinguishing earnestness, on the same errand, that it seemed as if +half the company might soon be collected together for the purpose of +preparatory inspection. + +Emma perceived that her taste was not the only taste on which Mr. +Weston depended, and felt, that to be the favourite and intimate of a +man who had so many intimates and confidantes, was not the very first +distinction in the scale of vanity. She liked his open manners, but a +little less of open-heartedness would have made him a higher +character.—General benevolence, but not general friendship, made a man +what he ought to be.—She could fancy such a man. The whole party walked +about, and looked, and praised again; and then, having nothing else to +do, formed a sort of half-circle round the fire, to observe in their +various modes, till other subjects were started, that, though _May_, a +fire in the evening was still very pleasant. + +Emma found that it was not Mr. Weston’s fault that the number of privy +councillors was not yet larger. They had stopped at Mrs. Bates’s door +to offer the use of their carriage, but the aunt and niece were to be +brought by the Eltons. + +Frank was standing by her, but not steadily; there was a restlessness, +which shewed a mind not at ease. He was looking about, he was going to +the door, he was watching for the sound of other carriages,—impatient +to begin, or afraid of being always near her. + +Mrs. Elton was spoken of. “I think she must be here soon,” said he. “I +have a great curiosity to see Mrs. Elton, I have heard so much of her. +It cannot be long, I think, before she comes.” + +A carriage was heard. He was on the move immediately; but coming back, +said, + +“I am forgetting that I am not acquainted with her. I have never seen +either Mr. or Mrs. Elton. I have no business to put myself forward.” + +Mr. and Mrs. Elton appeared; and all the smiles and the proprieties +passed. + +“But Miss Bates and Miss Fairfax!” said Mr. Weston, looking about. “We +thought you were to bring them.” + +The mistake had been slight. The carriage was sent for them now. Emma +longed to know what Frank’s first opinion of Mrs. Elton might be; how +he was affected by the studied elegance of her dress, and her smiles of +graciousness. He was immediately qualifying himself to form an opinion, +by giving her very proper attention, after the introduction had passed. + +In a few minutes the carriage returned.—Somebody talked of rain.—“I +will see that there are umbrellas, sir,” said Frank to his father: +“Miss Bates must not be forgotten:” and away he went. Mr. Weston was +following; but Mrs. Elton detained him, to gratify him by her opinion +of his son; and so briskly did she begin, that the young man himself, +though by no means moving slowly, could hardly be out of hearing. + +“A very fine young man indeed, Mr. Weston. You know I candidly told you +I should form my own opinion; and I am happy to say that I am extremely +pleased with him.—You may believe me. I never compliment. I think him a +very handsome young man, and his manners are precisely what I like and +approve—so truly the gentleman, without the least conceit or puppyism. +You must know I have a vast dislike to puppies—quite a horror of them. +They were never tolerated at Maple Grove. Neither Mr. Suckling nor me +had ever any patience with them; and we used sometimes to say very +cutting things! Selina, who is mild almost to a fault, bore with them +much better.” + +While she talked of his son, Mr. Weston’s attention was chained; but +when she got to Maple Grove, he could recollect that there were ladies +just arriving to be attended to, and with happy smiles must hurry away. + +Mrs. Elton turned to Mrs. Weston. “I have no doubt of its being our +carriage with Miss Bates and Jane. Our coachman and horses are so +extremely expeditious!—I believe we drive faster than any body.—What a +pleasure it is to send one’s carriage for a friend!—I understand you +were so kind as to offer, but another time it will be quite +unnecessary. You may be very sure I shall always take care of _them_.” + +Miss Bates and Miss Fairfax, escorted by the two gentlemen, walked into +the room; and Mrs. Elton seemed to think it as much her duty as Mrs. +Weston’s to receive them. Her gestures and movements might be +understood by any one who looked on like Emma; but her words, every +body’s words, were soon lost under the incessant flow of Miss Bates, +who came in talking, and had not finished her speech under many minutes +after her being admitted into the circle at the fire. As the door +opened she was heard, + +“So very obliging of you!—No rain at all. Nothing to signify. I do not +care for myself. Quite thick shoes. And Jane declares—Well!—(as soon as +she was within the door) Well! This is brilliant indeed!—This is +admirable!—Excellently contrived, upon my word. Nothing wanting. Could +not have imagined it.—So well lighted up!—Jane, Jane, look!—did you +ever see any thing? Oh! Mr. Weston, you must really have had Aladdin’s +lamp. Good Mrs. Stokes would not know her own room again. I saw her as +I came in; she was standing in the entrance. ‘Oh! Mrs. Stokes,’ said +I—but I had not time for more.” She was now met by Mrs. Weston.—“Very +well, I thank you, ma’am. I hope you are quite well. Very happy to hear +it. So afraid you might have a headache!—seeing you pass by so often, +and knowing how much trouble you must have. Delighted to hear it +indeed. Ah! dear Mrs. Elton, so obliged to you for the +carriage!—excellent time. Jane and I quite ready. Did not keep the +horses a moment. Most comfortable carriage.—Oh! and I am sure our +thanks are due to you, Mrs. Weston, on that score. Mrs. Elton had most +kindly sent Jane a note, or we should have been.—But two such offers in +one day!—Never were such neighbours. I said to my mother, ‘Upon my +word, ma’am—.’ Thank you, my mother is remarkably well. Gone to Mr. +Woodhouse’s. I made her take her shawl—for the evenings are not +warm—her large new shawl— Mrs. Dixon’s wedding-present.—So kind of her +to think of my mother! Bought at Weymouth, you know—Mr. Dixon’s choice. +There were three others, Jane says, which they hesitated about some +time. Colonel Campbell rather preferred an olive. My dear Jane, are you +sure you did not wet your feet?—It was but a drop or two, but I am so +afraid:—but Mr. Frank Churchill was so extremely—and there was a mat to +step upon—I shall never forget his extreme politeness.—Oh! Mr. Frank +Churchill, I must tell you my mother’s spectacles have never been in +fault since; the rivet never came out again. My mother often talks of +your good-nature. Does not she, Jane?—Do not we often talk of Mr. Frank +Churchill?—Ah! here’s Miss Woodhouse.—Dear Miss Woodhouse, how do you +do?—Very well I thank you, quite well. This is meeting quite in +fairy-land!—Such a transformation!—Must not compliment, I know (eyeing +Emma most complacently)—that would be rude—but upon my word, Miss +Woodhouse, you do look—how do you like Jane’s hair?—You are a +judge.—She did it all herself. Quite wonderful how she does her +hair!—No hairdresser from London I think could.—Ah! Dr. Hughes I +declare—and Mrs. Hughes. Must go and speak to Dr. and Mrs. Hughes for a +moment.—How do you do? How do you do?—Very well, I thank you. This is +delightful, is not it?—Where’s dear Mr. Richard?—Oh! there he is. Don’t +disturb him. Much better employed talking to the young ladies. How do +you do, Mr. Richard?—I saw you the other day as you rode through the +town—Mrs. Otway, I protest!—and good Mr. Otway, and Miss Otway and Miss +Caroline.—Such a host of friends!—and Mr. George and Mr. Arthur!—How do +you do? How do you all do?—Quite well, I am much obliged to you. Never +better.—Don’t I hear another carriage?—Who can this be?—very likely the +worthy Coles.—Upon my word, this is charming to be standing about among +such friends! And such a noble fire!—I am quite roasted. No coffee, I +thank you, for me—never take coffee.—A little tea if you please, sir, +by and bye,—no hurry—Oh! here it comes. Every thing so good!” + +Frank Churchill returned to his station by Emma; and as soon as Miss +Bates was quiet, she found herself necessarily overhearing the +discourse of Mrs. Elton and Miss Fairfax, who were standing a little +way behind her.—He was thoughtful. Whether he were overhearing too, she +could not determine. After a good many compliments to Jane on her dress +and look, compliments very quietly and properly taken, Mrs. Elton was +evidently wanting to be complimented herself—and it was, “How do you +like my gown?—How do you like my trimming?—How has Wright done my +hair?”—with many other relative questions, all answered with patient +politeness. Mrs. Elton then said, “Nobody can think less of dress in +general than I do—but upon such an occasion as this, when every body’s +eyes are so much upon me, and in compliment to the Westons—who I have +no doubt are giving this ball chiefly to do me honour—I would not wish +to be inferior to others. And I see very few pearls in the room except +mine.—So Frank Churchill is a capital dancer, I understand.—We shall +see if our styles suit.—A fine young man certainly is Frank Churchill. +I like him very well.” + +At this moment Frank began talking so vigorously, that Emma could not +but imagine he had overheard his own praises, and did not want to hear +more;—and the voices of the ladies were drowned for a while, till +another suspension brought Mrs. Elton’s tones again distinctly +forward.—Mr. Elton had just joined them, and his wife was exclaiming, + +“Oh! you have found us out at last, have you, in our seclusion?—I was +this moment telling Jane, I thought you would begin to be impatient for +tidings of us.” + +“Jane!”—repeated Frank Churchill, with a look of surprize and +displeasure.—“That is easy—but Miss Fairfax does not disapprove it, I +suppose.” + +“How do you like Mrs. Elton?” said Emma in a whisper. + +“Not at all.” + +“You are ungrateful.” + +“Ungrateful!—What do you mean?” Then changing from a frown to a +smile—“No, do not tell me—I do not want to know what you mean.—Where is +my father?—When are we to begin dancing?” + +Emma could hardly understand him; he seemed in an odd humour. He walked +off to find his father, but was quickly back again with both Mr. and +Mrs. Weston. He had met with them in a little perplexity, which must be +laid before Emma. It had just occurred to Mrs. Weston that Mrs. Elton +must be asked to begin the ball; that she would expect it; which +interfered with all their wishes of giving Emma that distinction.—Emma +heard the sad truth with fortitude. + +“And what are we to do for a proper partner for her?” said Mr. Weston. +“She will think Frank ought to ask her.” + +Frank turned instantly to Emma, to claim her former promise; and +boasted himself an engaged man, which his father looked his most +perfect approbation of—and it then appeared that Mrs. Weston was +wanting _him_ to dance with Mrs. Elton himself, and that their business +was to help to persuade him into it, which was done pretty soon.—Mr. +Weston and Mrs. Elton led the way, Mr. Frank Churchill and Miss +Woodhouse followed. Emma must submit to stand second to Mrs. Elton, +though she had always considered the ball as peculiarly for her. It was +almost enough to make her think of marrying. Mrs. Elton had undoubtedly +the advantage, at this time, in vanity completely gratified; for though +she had intended to begin with Frank Churchill, she could not lose by +the change. Mr. Weston might be his son’s superior.—In spite of this +little rub, however, Emma was smiling with enjoyment, delighted to see +the respectable length of the set as it was forming, and to feel that +she had so many hours of unusual festivity before her.—She was more +disturbed by Mr. Knightley’s not dancing than by any thing else.—There +he was, among the standers-by, where he ought not to be; he ought to be +dancing,—not classing himself with the husbands, and fathers, and +whist-players, who were pretending to feel an interest in the dance +till their rubbers were made up,—so young as he looked!—He could not +have appeared to greater advantage perhaps anywhere, than where he had +placed himself. His tall, firm, upright figure, among the bulky forms +and stooping shoulders of the elderly men, was such as Emma felt must +draw every body’s eyes; and, excepting her own partner, there was not +one among the whole row of young men who could be compared with him.—He +moved a few steps nearer, and those few steps were enough to prove in +how gentlemanlike a manner, with what natural grace, he must have +danced, would he but take the trouble.—Whenever she caught his eye, she +forced him to smile; but in general he was looking grave. She wished he +could love a ballroom better, and could like Frank Churchill better.—He +seemed often observing her. She must not flatter herself that he +thought of her dancing, but if he were criticising her behaviour, she +did not feel afraid. There was nothing like flirtation between her and +her partner. They seemed more like cheerful, easy friends, than lovers. +That Frank Churchill thought less of her than he had done, was +indubitable. + +The ball proceeded pleasantly. The anxious cares, the incessant +attentions of Mrs. Weston, were not thrown away. Every body seemed +happy; and the praise of being a delightful ball, which is seldom +bestowed till after a ball has ceased to be, was repeatedly given in +the very beginning of the existence of this. Of very important, very +recordable events, it was not more productive than such meetings +usually are. There was one, however, which Emma thought something +of.—The two last dances before supper were begun, and Harriet had no +partner;—the only young lady sitting down;—and so equal had been +hitherto the number of dancers, that how there could be any one +disengaged was the wonder!—But Emma’s wonder lessened soon afterwards, +on seeing Mr. Elton sauntering about. He would not ask Harriet to dance +if it were possible to be avoided: she was sure he would not—and she +was expecting him every moment to escape into the card-room. + +Escape, however, was not his plan. He came to the part of the room +where the sitters-by were collected, spoke to some, and walked about in +front of them, as if to shew his liberty, and his resolution of +maintaining it. He did not omit being sometimes directly before Miss +Smith, or speaking to those who were close to her.—Emma saw it. She was +not yet dancing; she was working her way up from the bottom, and had +therefore leisure to look around, and by only turning her head a little +she saw it all. When she was half-way up the set, the whole group were +exactly behind her, and she would no longer allow her eyes to watch; +but Mr. Elton was so near, that she heard every syllable of a dialogue +which just then took place between him and Mrs. Weston; and she +perceived that his wife, who was standing immediately above her, was +not only listening also, but even encouraging him by significant +glances.—The kind-hearted, gentle Mrs. Weston had left her seat to join +him and say, “Do not you dance, Mr. Elton?” to which his prompt reply +was, “Most readily, Mrs. Weston, if you will dance with me.” + +“Me!—oh! no—I would get you a better partner than myself. I am no +dancer.” + +“If Mrs. Gilbert wishes to dance,” said he, “I shall have great +pleasure, I am sure—for, though beginning to feel myself rather an old +married man, and that my dancing days are over, it would give me very +great pleasure at any time to stand up with an old friend like Mrs. +Gilbert.” + +“Mrs. Gilbert does not mean to dance, but there is a young lady +disengaged whom I should be very glad to see dancing—Miss Smith.” “Miss +Smith!—oh!—I had not observed.—You are extremely obliging—and if I were +not an old married man.—But my dancing days are over, Mrs. Weston. You +will excuse me. Any thing else I should be most happy to do, at your +command—but my dancing days are over.” + +Mrs. Weston said no more; and Emma could imagine with what surprize and +mortification she must be returning to her seat. This was Mr. Elton! +the amiable, obliging, gentle Mr. Elton.—She looked round for a moment; +he had joined Mr. Knightley at a little distance, and was arranging +himself for settled conversation, while smiles of high glee passed +between him and his wife. + +She would not look again. Her heart was in a glow, and she feared her +face might be as hot. + +In another moment a happier sight caught her;—Mr. Knightley leading +Harriet to the set!—Never had she been more surprized, seldom more +delighted, than at that instant. She was all pleasure and gratitude, +both for Harriet and herself, and longed to be thanking him; and though +too distant for speech, her countenance said much, as soon as she could +catch his eye again. + +His dancing proved to be just what she had believed it, extremely good; +and Harriet would have seemed almost too lucky, if it had not been for +the cruel state of things before, and for the very complete enjoyment +and very high sense of the distinction which her happy features +announced. It was not thrown away on her, she bounded higher than ever, +flew farther down the middle, and was in a continual course of smiles. + +Mr. Elton had retreated into the card-room, looking (Emma trusted) very +foolish. She did not think he was quite so hardened as his wife, though +growing very like her;—_she_ spoke some of her feelings, by observing +audibly to her partner, + +“Knightley has taken pity on poor little Miss Smith!—Very good-natured, +I declare.” + +Supper was announced. The move began; and Miss Bates might be heard +from that moment, without interruption, till her being seated at table +and taking up her spoon. + +“Jane, Jane, my dear Jane, where are you?—Here is your tippet. Mrs. +Weston begs you to put on your tippet. She says she is afraid there +will be draughts in the passage, though every thing has been done—One +door nailed up—Quantities of matting—My dear Jane, indeed you must. Mr. +Churchill, oh! you are too obliging! How well you put it on!—so +gratified! Excellent dancing indeed!—Yes, my dear, I ran home, as I +said I should, to help grandmama to bed, and got back again, and nobody +missed me.—I set off without saying a word, just as I told you. +Grandmama was quite well, had a charming evening with Mr. Woodhouse, a +vast deal of chat, and backgammon.—Tea was made downstairs, biscuits +and baked apples and wine before she came away: amazing luck in some of +her throws: and she inquired a great deal about you, how you were +amused, and who were your partners. ‘Oh!’ said I, ‘I shall not +forestall Jane; I left her dancing with Mr. George Otway; she will love +to tell you all about it herself to-morrow: her first partner was Mr. +Elton, I do not know who will ask her next, perhaps Mr. William Cox.’ +My dear sir, you are too obliging.—Is there nobody you would not +rather?—I am not helpless. Sir, you are most kind. Upon my word, Jane +on one arm, and me on the other!—Stop, stop, let us stand a little +back, Mrs. Elton is going; dear Mrs. Elton, how elegant she +looks!—Beautiful lace!—Now we all follow in her train. Quite the queen +of the evening!—Well, here we are at the passage. Two steps, Jane, take +care of the two steps. Oh! no, there is but one. Well, I was persuaded +there were two. How very odd! I was convinced there were two, and there +is but one. I never saw any thing equal to the comfort and +style—Candles everywhere.—I was telling you of your grandmama, +Jane,—There was a little disappointment.—The baked apples and biscuits, +excellent in their way, you know; but there was a delicate fricassee of +sweetbread and some asparagus brought in at first, and good Mr. +Woodhouse, not thinking the asparagus quite boiled enough, sent it all +out again. Now there is nothing grandmama loves better than sweetbread +and asparagus—so she was rather disappointed, but we agreed we would +not speak of it to any body, for fear of its getting round to dear Miss +Woodhouse, who would be so very much concerned!—Well, this is +brilliant! I am all amazement! could not have supposed any thing!—Such +elegance and profusion!—I have seen nothing like it since—Well, where +shall we sit? where shall we sit? Anywhere, so that Jane is not in a +draught. Where _I_ sit is of no consequence. Oh! do you recommend this +side?—Well, I am sure, Mr. Churchill—only it seems too good—but just as +you please. What you direct in this house cannot be wrong. Dear Jane, +how shall we ever recollect half the dishes for grandmama? Soup too! +Bless me! I should not be helped so soon, but it smells most excellent, +and I cannot help beginning.” + +Emma had no opportunity of speaking to Mr. Knightley till after supper; +but, when they were all in the ballroom again, her eyes invited him +irresistibly to come to her and be thanked. He was warm in his +reprobation of Mr. Elton’s conduct; it had been unpardonable rudeness; +and Mrs. Elton’s looks also received the due share of censure. + +“They aimed at wounding more than Harriet,” said he. “Emma, why is it +that they are your enemies?” + +He looked with smiling penetration; and, on receiving no answer, added, +“_She_ ought not to be angry with you, I suspect, whatever he may +be.—To that surmise, you say nothing, of course; but confess, Emma, +that you did want him to marry Harriet.” + +“I did,” replied Emma, “and they cannot forgive me.” + +He shook his head; but there was a smile of indulgence with it, and he +only said, + +“I shall not scold you. I leave you to your own reflections.” + +“Can you trust me with such flatterers?—Does my vain spirit ever tell +me I am wrong?” + +“Not your vain spirit, but your serious spirit.—If one leads you wrong, +I am sure the other tells you of it.” + +“I do own myself to have been completely mistaken in Mr. Elton. There +is a littleness about him which you discovered, and which I did not: +and I was fully convinced of his being in love with Harriet. It was +through a series of strange blunders!” + +“And, in return for your acknowledging so much, I will do you the +justice to say, that you would have chosen for him better than he has +chosen for himself.—Harriet Smith has some first-rate qualities, which +Mrs. Elton is totally without. An unpretending, single-minded, artless +girl—infinitely to be preferred by any man of sense and taste to such a +woman as Mrs. Elton. I found Harriet more conversable than I expected.” + +Emma was extremely gratified.—They were interrupted by the bustle of +Mr. Weston calling on every body to begin dancing again. + +“Come Miss Woodhouse, Miss Otway, Miss Fairfax, what are you all +doing?—Come Emma, set your companions the example. Every body is lazy! +Every body is asleep!” + +“I am ready,” said Emma, “whenever I am wanted.” + +“Whom are you going to dance with?” asked Mr. Knightley. + +She hesitated a moment, and then replied, “With you, if you will ask +me.” + +“Will you?” said he, offering his hand. + +“Indeed I will. You have shewn that you can dance, and you know we are +not really so much brother and sister as to make it at all improper.” + +“Brother and sister! no, indeed.” + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +This little explanation with Mr. Knightley gave Emma considerable +pleasure. It was one of the agreeable recollections of the ball, which +she walked about the lawn the next morning to enjoy.—She was extremely +glad that they had come to so good an understanding respecting the +Eltons, and that their opinions of both husband and wife were so much +alike; and his praise of Harriet, his concession in her favour, was +peculiarly gratifying. The impertinence of the Eltons, which for a few +minutes had threatened to ruin the rest of her evening, had been the +occasion of some of its highest satisfactions; and she looked forward +to another happy result—the cure of Harriet’s infatuation.—From +Harriet’s manner of speaking of the circumstance before they quitted +the ballroom, she had strong hopes. It seemed as if her eyes were +suddenly opened, and she were enabled to see that Mr. Elton was not the +superior creature she had believed him. The fever was over, and Emma +could harbour little fear of the pulse being quickened again by +injurious courtesy. She depended on the evil feelings of the Eltons for +supplying all the discipline of pointed neglect that could be farther +requisite.—Harriet rational, Frank Churchill not too much in love, and +Mr. Knightley not wanting to quarrel with her, how very happy a summer +must be before her! + +She was not to see Frank Churchill this morning. He had told her that +he could not allow himself the pleasure of stopping at Hartfield, as he +was to be at home by the middle of the day. She did not regret it. + +Having arranged all these matters, looked them through, and put them +all to rights, she was just turning to the house with spirits freshened +up for the demands of the two little boys, as well as of their +grandpapa, when the great iron sweep-gate opened, and two persons +entered whom she had never less expected to see together—Frank +Churchill, with Harriet leaning on his arm—actually Harriet!—A moment +sufficed to convince her that something extraordinary had happened. +Harriet looked white and frightened, and he was trying to cheer +her.—The iron gates and the front-door were not twenty yards +asunder;—they were all three soon in the hall, and Harriet immediately +sinking into a chair fainted away. + +A young lady who faints, must be recovered; questions must be answered, +and surprizes be explained. Such events are very interesting, but the +suspense of them cannot last long. A few minutes made Emma acquainted +with the whole. + +Miss Smith, and Miss Bickerton, another parlour boarder at Mrs. +Goddard’s, who had been also at the ball, had walked out together, and +taken a road, the Richmond road, which, though apparently public enough +for safety, had led them into alarm.—About half a mile beyond Highbury, +making a sudden turn, and deeply shaded by elms on each side, it became +for a considerable stretch very retired; and when the young ladies had +advanced some way into it, they had suddenly perceived at a small +distance before them, on a broader patch of greensward by the side, a +party of gipsies. A child on the watch, came towards them to beg; and +Miss Bickerton, excessively frightened, gave a great scream, and +calling on Harriet to follow her, ran up a steep bank, cleared a slight +hedge at the top, and made the best of her way by a short cut back to +Highbury. But poor Harriet could not follow. She had suffered very much +from cramp after dancing, and her first attempt to mount the bank +brought on such a return of it as made her absolutely powerless—and in +this state, and exceedingly terrified, she had been obliged to remain. + +How the trampers might have behaved, had the young ladies been more +courageous, must be doubtful; but such an invitation for attack could +not be resisted; and Harriet was soon assailed by half a dozen +children, headed by a stout woman and a great boy, all clamorous, and +impertinent in look, though not absolutely in word.—More and more +frightened, she immediately promised them money, and taking out her +purse, gave them a shilling, and begged them not to want more, or to +use her ill.—She was then able to walk, though but slowly, and was +moving away—but her terror and her purse were too tempting, and she was +followed, or rather surrounded, by the whole gang, demanding more. + +In this state Frank Churchill had found her, she trembling and +conditioning, they loud and insolent. By a most fortunate chance his +leaving Highbury had been delayed so as to bring him to her assistance +at this critical moment. The pleasantness of the morning had induced +him to walk forward, and leave his horses to meet him by another road, +a mile or two beyond Highbury—and happening to have borrowed a pair of +scissors the night before of Miss Bates, and to have forgotten to +restore them, he had been obliged to stop at her door, and go in for a +few minutes: he was therefore later than he had intended; and being on +foot, was unseen by the whole party till almost close to them. The +terror which the woman and boy had been creating in Harriet was then +their own portion. He had left them completely frightened; and Harriet +eagerly clinging to him, and hardly able to speak, had just strength +enough to reach Hartfield, before her spirits were quite overcome. It +was his idea to bring her to Hartfield: he had thought of no other +place. + +This was the amount of the whole story,—of his communication and of +Harriet’s as soon as she had recovered her senses and speech.—He dared +not stay longer than to see her well; these several delays left him not +another minute to lose; and Emma engaging to give assurance of her +safety to Mrs. Goddard, and notice of there being such a set of people +in the neighbourhood to Mr. Knightley, he set off, with all the +grateful blessings that she could utter for her friend and herself. + +Such an adventure as this,—a fine young man and a lovely young woman +thrown together in such a way, could hardly fail of suggesting certain +ideas to the coldest heart and the steadiest brain. So Emma thought, at +least. Could a linguist, could a grammarian, could even a mathematician +have seen what she did, have witnessed their appearance together, and +heard their history of it, without feeling that circumstances had been +at work to make them peculiarly interesting to each other?—How much +more must an imaginist, like herself, be on fire with speculation and +foresight!—especially with such a groundwork of anticipation as her +mind had already made. + +It was a very extraordinary thing! Nothing of the sort had ever +occurred before to any young ladies in the place, within her memory; no +rencontre, no alarm of the kind;—and now it had happened to the very +person, and at the very hour, when the other very person was chancing +to pass by to rescue her!—It certainly was very extraordinary!—And +knowing, as she did, the favourable state of mind of each at this +period, it struck her the more. He was wishing to get the better of his +attachment to herself, she just recovering from her mania for Mr. +Elton. It seemed as if every thing united to promise the most +interesting consequences. It was not possible that the occurrence +should not be strongly recommending each to the other. + +In the few minutes’ conversation which she had yet had with him, while +Harriet had been partially insensible, he had spoken of her terror, her +naïveté, her fervour as she seized and clung to his arm, with a +sensibility amused and delighted; and just at last, after Harriet’s own +account had been given, he had expressed his indignation at the +abominable folly of Miss Bickerton in the warmest terms. Every thing +was to take its natural course, however, neither impelled nor assisted. +She would not stir a step, nor drop a hint. No, she had had enough of +interference. There could be no harm in a scheme, a mere passive +scheme. It was no more than a wish. Beyond it she would on no account +proceed. + +Emma’s first resolution was to keep her father from the knowledge of +what had passed,—aware of the anxiety and alarm it would occasion: but +she soon felt that concealment must be impossible. Within half an hour +it was known all over Highbury. It was the very event to engage those +who talk most, the young and the low; and all the youth and servants in +the place were soon in the happiness of frightful news. The last +night’s ball seemed lost in the gipsies. Poor Mr. Woodhouse trembled as +he sat, and, as Emma had foreseen, would scarcely be satisfied without +their promising never to go beyond the shrubbery again. It was some +comfort to him that many inquiries after himself and Miss Woodhouse +(for his neighbours knew that he loved to be inquired after), as well +as Miss Smith, were coming in during the rest of the day; and he had +the pleasure of returning for answer, that they were all very +indifferent—which, though not exactly true, for she was perfectly well, +and Harriet not much otherwise, Emma would not interfere with. She had +an unhappy state of health in general for the child of such a man, for +she hardly knew what indisposition was; and if he did not invent +illnesses for her, she could make no figure in a message. + +The gipsies did not wait for the operations of justice; they took +themselves off in a hurry. The young ladies of Highbury might have +walked again in safety before their panic began, and the whole history +dwindled soon into a matter of little importance but to Emma and her +nephews:—in her imagination it maintained its ground, and Henry and +John were still asking every day for the story of Harriet and the +gipsies, and still tenaciously setting her right if she varied in the +slightest particular from the original recital. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +A very few days had passed after this adventure, when Harriet came one +morning to Emma with a small parcel in her hand, and after sitting down +and hesitating, thus began: + +“Miss Woodhouse—if you are at leisure—I have something that I should +like to tell you—a sort of confession to make—and then, you know, it +will be over.” + +Emma was a good deal surprized; but begged her to speak. There was a +seriousness in Harriet’s manner which prepared her, quite as much as +her words, for something more than ordinary. + +“It is my duty, and I am sure it is my wish,” she continued, “to have +no reserves with you on this subject. As I am happily quite an altered +creature in _one_ _respect_, it is very fit that you should have the +satisfaction of knowing it. I do not want to say more than is +necessary—I am too much ashamed of having given way as I have done, and +I dare say you understand me.” + +“Yes,” said Emma, “I hope I do.” + +“How I could so long a time be fancying myself!...” cried Harriet, +warmly. “It seems like madness! I can see nothing at all extraordinary +in him now.—I do not care whether I meet him or not—except that of the +two I had rather not see him—and indeed I would go any distance round +to avoid him—but I do not envy his wife in the least; I neither admire +her nor envy her, as I have done: she is very charming, I dare say, and +all that, but I think her very ill-tempered and disagreeable—I shall +never forget her look the other night!—However, I assure you, Miss +Woodhouse, I wish her no evil.—No, let them be ever so happy together, +it will not give me another moment’s pang: and to convince you that I +have been speaking truth, I am now going to destroy—what I ought to +have destroyed long ago—what I ought never to have kept—I know that +very well (blushing as she spoke).—However, now I will destroy it +all—and it is my particular wish to do it in your presence, that you +may see how rational I am grown. Cannot you guess what this parcel +holds?” said she, with a conscious look. + +“Not the least in the world.—Did he ever give you any thing?” + +“No—I cannot call them gifts; but they are things that I have valued +very much.” + +She held the parcel towards her, and Emma read the words _Most_ +_precious_ _treasures_ on the top. Her curiosity was greatly excited. +Harriet unfolded the parcel, and she looked on with impatience. Within +abundance of silver paper was a pretty little Tunbridge-ware box, which +Harriet opened: it was well lined with the softest cotton; but, +excepting the cotton, Emma saw only a small piece of court-plaister. + +“Now,” said Harriet, “you _must_ recollect.” + +“No, indeed I do not.” + +“Dear me! I should not have thought it possible you could forget what +passed in this very room about court-plaister, one of the very last +times we ever met in it!—It was but a very few days before I had my +sore throat—just before Mr. and Mrs. John Knightley came—I think the +very evening.—Do not you remember his cutting his finger with your new +penknife, and your recommending court-plaister?—But, as you had none +about you, and knew I had, you desired me to supply him; and so I took +mine out and cut him a piece; but it was a great deal too large, and he +cut it smaller, and kept playing some time with what was left, before +he gave it back to me. And so then, in my nonsense, I could not help +making a treasure of it—so I put it by never to be used, and looked at +it now and then as a great treat.” + +“My dearest Harriet!” cried Emma, putting her hand before her face, and +jumping up, “you make me more ashamed of myself than I can bear. +Remember it? Aye, I remember it all now; all, except your saving this +relic—I knew nothing of that till this moment—but the cutting the +finger, and my recommending court-plaister, and saying I had none about +me!—Oh! my sins, my sins!—And I had plenty all the while in my +pocket!—One of my senseless tricks!—I deserve to be under a continual +blush all the rest of my life.—Well—(sitting down again)—go on—what +else?” + +“And had you really some at hand yourself? I am sure I never suspected +it, you did it so naturally.” + +“And so you actually put this piece of court-plaister by for his sake!” +said Emma, recovering from her state of shame and feeling divided +between wonder and amusement. And secretly she added to herself, “Lord +bless me! when should I ever have thought of putting by in cotton a +piece of court-plaister that Frank Churchill had been pulling about! I +never was equal to this.” + +“Here,” resumed Harriet, turning to her box again, “here is something +still more valuable, I mean that _has_ _been_ more valuable, because +this is what did really once belong to him, which the court-plaister +never did.” + +Emma was quite eager to see this superior treasure. It was the end of +an old pencil,—the part without any lead. + +“This was really his,” said Harriet.—“Do not you remember one +morning?—no, I dare say you do not. But one morning—I forget exactly +the day—but perhaps it was the Tuesday or Wednesday before _that_ +_evening_, he wanted to make a memorandum in his pocket-book; it was +about spruce-beer. Mr. Knightley had been telling him something about +brewing spruce-beer, and he wanted to put it down; but when he took out +his pencil, there was so little lead that he soon cut it all away, and +it would not do, so you lent him another, and this was left upon the +table as good for nothing. But I kept my eye on it; and, as soon as I +dared, caught it up, and never parted with it again from that moment.” + +“I do remember it,” cried Emma; “I perfectly remember it.—Talking about +spruce-beer.—Oh! yes—Mr. Knightley and I both saying we liked it, and +Mr. Elton’s seeming resolved to learn to like it too. I perfectly +remember it.—Stop; Mr. Knightley was standing just here, was not he? I +have an idea he was standing just here.” + +“Ah! I do not know. I cannot recollect.—It is very odd, but I cannot +recollect.—Mr. Elton was sitting here, I remember, much about where I +am now.”— + +“Well, go on.” + +“Oh! that’s all. I have nothing more to shew you, or to say—except that +I am now going to throw them both behind the fire, and I wish you to +see me do it.” + +“My poor dear Harriet! and have you actually found happiness in +treasuring up these things?” + +“Yes, simpleton as I was!—but I am quite ashamed of it now, and wish I +could forget as easily as I can burn them. It was very wrong of me, you +know, to keep any remembrances, after he was married. I knew it was—but +had not resolution enough to part with them.” + +“But, Harriet, is it necessary to burn the court-plaister?—I have not a +word to say for the bit of old pencil, but the court-plaister might be +useful.” + +“I shall be happier to burn it,” replied Harriet. “It has a +disagreeable look to me. I must get rid of every thing.—There it goes, +and there is an end, thank Heaven! of Mr. Elton.” + +“And when,” thought Emma, “will there be a beginning of Mr. Churchill?” + +She had soon afterwards reason to believe that the beginning was +already made, and could not but hope that the gipsy, though she had +_told_ no fortune, might be proved to have made Harriet’s.—About a +fortnight after the alarm, they came to a sufficient explanation, and +quite undesignedly. Emma was not thinking of it at the moment, which +made the information she received more valuable. She merely said, in +the course of some trivial chat, “Well, Harriet, whenever you marry I +would advise you to do so and so”—and thought no more of it, till after +a minute’s silence she heard Harriet say in a very serious tone, “I +shall never marry.” + +Emma then looked up, and immediately saw how it was; and after a +moment’s debate, as to whether it should pass unnoticed or not, +replied, + +“Never marry!—This is a new resolution.” + +“It is one that I shall never change, however.” + +After another short hesitation, “I hope it does not proceed from—I hope +it is not in compliment to Mr. Elton?” + +“Mr. Elton indeed!” cried Harriet indignantly.—“Oh! no”—and Emma could +just catch the words, “so superior to Mr. Elton!” + +She then took a longer time for consideration. Should she proceed no +farther?—should she let it pass, and seem to suspect nothing?—Perhaps +Harriet might think her cold or angry if she did; or perhaps if she +were totally silent, it might only drive Harriet into asking her to +hear too much; and against any thing like such an unreserve as had +been, such an open and frequent discussion of hopes and chances, she +was perfectly resolved.—She believed it would be wiser for her to say +and know at once, all that she meant to say and know. Plain dealing was +always best. She had previously determined how far she would proceed, +on any application of the sort; and it would be safer for both, to have +the judicious law of her own brain laid down with speed.—She was +decided, and thus spoke— + +“Harriet, I will not affect to be in doubt of your meaning. Your +resolution, or rather your expectation of never marrying, results from +an idea that the person whom you might prefer, would be too greatly +your superior in situation to think of you. Is not it so?” + +“Oh! Miss Woodhouse, believe me I have not the presumption to suppose— +Indeed I am not so mad.—But it is a pleasure to me to admire him at a +distance—and to think of his infinite superiority to all the rest of +the world, with the gratitude, wonder, and veneration, which are so +proper, in me especially.” + +“I am not at all surprized at you, Harriet. The service he rendered you +was enough to warm your heart.” + +“Service! oh! it was such an inexpressible obligation!—The very +recollection of it, and all that I felt at the time—when I saw him +coming—his noble look—and my wretchedness before. Such a change! In one +moment such a change! From perfect misery to perfect happiness!” + +“It is very natural. It is natural, and it is honourable.—Yes, +honourable, I think, to chuse so well and so gratefully.—But that it +will be a fortunate preference is more than I can promise. I do not +advise you to give way to it, Harriet. I do not by any means engage for +its being returned. Consider what you are about. Perhaps it will be +wisest in you to check your feelings while you can: at any rate do not +let them carry you far, unless you are persuaded of his liking you. Be +observant of him. Let his behaviour be the guide of your sensations. I +give you this caution now, because I shall never speak to you again on +the subject. I am determined against all interference. Henceforward I +know nothing of the matter. Let no name ever pass our lips. We were +very wrong before; we will be cautious now.—He is your superior, no +doubt, and there do seem objections and obstacles of a very serious +nature; but yet, Harriet, more wonderful things have taken place, there +have been matches of greater disparity. But take care of yourself. I +would not have you too sanguine; though, however it may end, be assured +your raising your thoughts to _him_, is a mark of good taste which I +shall always know how to value.” + +Harriet kissed her hand in silent and submissive gratitude. Emma was +very decided in thinking such an attachment no bad thing for her +friend. Its tendency would be to raise and refine her mind—and it must +be saving her from the danger of degradation. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +In this state of schemes, and hopes, and connivance, June opened upon +Hartfield. To Highbury in general it brought no material change. The +Eltons were still talking of a visit from the Sucklings, and of the use +to be made of their barouche-landau; and Jane Fairfax was still at her +grandmother’s; and as the return of the Campbells from Ireland was +again delayed, and August, instead of Midsummer, fixed for it, she was +likely to remain there full two months longer, provided at least she +were able to defeat Mrs. Elton’s activity in her service, and save +herself from being hurried into a delightful situation against her +will. + +Mr. Knightley, who, for some reason best known to himself, had +certainly taken an early dislike to Frank Churchill, was only growing +to dislike him more. He began to suspect him of some double dealing in +his pursuit of Emma. That Emma was his object appeared indisputable. +Every thing declared it; his own attentions, his father’s hints, his +mother-in-law’s guarded silence; it was all in unison; words, conduct, +discretion, and indiscretion, told the same story. But while so many +were devoting him to Emma, and Emma herself making him over to Harriet, +Mr. Knightley began to suspect him of some inclination to trifle with +Jane Fairfax. He could not understand it; but there were symptoms of +intelligence between them—he thought so at least—symptoms of admiration +on his side, which, having once observed, he could not persuade himself +to think entirely void of meaning, however he might wish to escape any +of Emma’s errors of imagination. _She_ was not present when the +suspicion first arose. He was dining with the Randalls family, and +Jane, at the Eltons’; and he had seen a look, more than a single look, +at Miss Fairfax, which, from the admirer of Miss Woodhouse, seemed +somewhat out of place. When he was again in their company, he could not +help remembering what he had seen; nor could he avoid observations +which, unless it were like Cowper and his fire at twilight, + +“Myself creating what I saw,” + + +brought him yet stronger suspicion of there being a something of +private liking, of private understanding even, between Frank Churchill +and Jane. + +He had walked up one day after dinner, as he very often did, to spend +his evening at Hartfield. Emma and Harriet were going to walk; he +joined them; and, on returning, they fell in with a larger party, who, +like themselves, judged it wisest to take their exercise early, as the +weather threatened rain; Mr. and Mrs. Weston and their son, Miss Bates +and her niece, who had accidentally met. They all united; and, on +reaching Hartfield gates, Emma, who knew it was exactly the sort of +visiting that would be welcome to her father, pressed them all to go in +and drink tea with him. The Randalls party agreed to it immediately; +and after a pretty long speech from Miss Bates, which few persons +listened to, she also found it possible to accept dear Miss Woodhouse’s +most obliging invitation. + +As they were turning into the grounds, Mr. Perry passed by on +horseback. The gentlemen spoke of his horse. + +“By the bye,” said Frank Churchill to Mrs. Weston presently, “what +became of Mr. Perry’s plan of setting up his carriage?” + +Mrs. Weston looked surprized, and said, “I did not know that he ever +had any such plan.” + +“Nay, I had it from you. You wrote me word of it three months ago.” + +“Me! impossible!” + +“Indeed you did. I remember it perfectly. You mentioned it as what was +certainly to be very soon. Mrs. Perry had told somebody, and was +extremely happy about it. It was owing to _her_ persuasion, as she +thought his being out in bad weather did him a great deal of harm. You +must remember it now?” + +“Upon my word I never heard of it till this moment.” + +“Never! really, never!—Bless me! how could it be?—Then I must have +dreamt it—but I was completely persuaded—Miss Smith, you walk as if you +were tired. You will not be sorry to find yourself at home.” + +“What is this?—What is this?” cried Mr. Weston, “about Perry and a +carriage? Is Perry going to set up his carriage, Frank? I am glad he +can afford it. You had it from himself, had you?” + +“No, sir,” replied his son, laughing, “I seem to have had it from +nobody.—Very odd!—I really was persuaded of Mrs. Weston’s having +mentioned it in one of her letters to Enscombe, many weeks ago, with +all these particulars—but as she declares she never heard a syllable of +it before, of course it must have been a dream. I am a great dreamer. I +dream of every body at Highbury when I am away—and when I have gone +through my particular friends, then I begin dreaming of Mr. and Mrs. +Perry.” + +“It is odd though,” observed his father, “that you should have had such +a regular connected dream about people whom it was not very likely you +should be thinking of at Enscombe. Perry’s setting up his carriage! and +his wife’s persuading him to it, out of care for his health—just what +will happen, I have no doubt, some time or other; only a little +premature. What an air of probability sometimes runs through a dream! +And at others, what a heap of absurdities it is! Well, Frank, your +dream certainly shews that Highbury is in your thoughts when you are +absent. Emma, you are a great dreamer, I think?” + +Emma was out of hearing. She had hurried on before her guests to +prepare her father for their appearance, and was beyond the reach of +Mr. Weston’s hint. + +“Why, to own the truth,” cried Miss Bates, who had been trying in vain +to be heard the last two minutes, “if I must speak on this subject, +there is no denying that Mr. Frank Churchill might have—I do not mean +to say that he did not dream it—I am sure I have sometimes the oddest +dreams in the world—but if I am questioned about it, I must acknowledge +that there was such an idea last spring; for Mrs. Perry herself +mentioned it to my mother, and the Coles knew of it as well as +ourselves—but it was quite a secret, known to nobody else, and only +thought of about three days. Mrs. Perry was very anxious that he should +have a carriage, and came to my mother in great spirits one morning +because she thought she had prevailed. Jane, don’t you remember +grandmama’s telling us of it when we got home? I forget where we had +been walking to—very likely to Randalls; yes, I think it was to +Randalls. Mrs. Perry was always particularly fond of my mother—indeed I +do not know who is not—and she had mentioned it to her in confidence; +she had no objection to her telling us, of course, but it was not to go +beyond: and, from that day to this, I never mentioned it to a soul that +I know of. At the same time, I will not positively answer for my having +never dropt a hint, because I know I do sometimes pop out a thing +before I am aware. I am a talker, you know; I am rather a talker; and +now and then I have let a thing escape me which I should not. I am not +like Jane; I wish I were. I will answer for it _she_ never betrayed the +least thing in the world. Where is she?—Oh! just behind. Perfectly +remember Mrs. Perry’s coming.—Extraordinary dream, indeed!” + +They were entering the hall. Mr. Knightley’s eyes had preceded Miss +Bates’s in a glance at Jane. From Frank Churchill’s face, where he +thought he saw confusion suppressed or laughed away, he had +involuntarily turned to hers; but she was indeed behind, and too busy +with her shawl. Mr. Weston had walked in. The two other gentlemen +waited at the door to let her pass. Mr. Knightley suspected in Frank +Churchill the determination of catching her eye—he seemed watching her +intently—in vain, however, if it were so—Jane passed between them into +the hall, and looked at neither. + +There was no time for farther remark or explanation. The dream must be +borne with, and Mr. Knightley must take his seat with the rest round +the large modern circular table which Emma had introduced at Hartfield, +and which none but Emma could have had power to place there and +persuade her father to use, instead of the small-sized Pembroke, on +which two of his daily meals had, for forty years been crowded. Tea +passed pleasantly, and nobody seemed in a hurry to move. + +“Miss Woodhouse,” said Frank Churchill, after examining a table behind +him, which he could reach as he sat, “have your nephews taken away +their alphabets—their box of letters? It used to stand here. Where is +it? This is a sort of dull-looking evening, that ought to be treated +rather as winter than summer. We had great amusement with those letters +one morning. I want to puzzle you again.” + +Emma was pleased with the thought; and producing the box, the table was +quickly scattered over with alphabets, which no one seemed so much +disposed to employ as their two selves. They were rapidly forming words +for each other, or for any body else who would be puzzled. The +quietness of the game made it particularly eligible for Mr. Woodhouse, +who had often been distressed by the more animated sort, which Mr. +Weston had occasionally introduced, and who now sat happily occupied in +lamenting, with tender melancholy, over the departure of the “poor +little boys,” or in fondly pointing out, as he took up any stray letter +near him, how beautifully Emma had written it. + +Frank Churchill placed a word before Miss Fairfax. She gave a slight +glance round the table, and applied herself to it. Frank was next to +Emma, Jane opposite to them—and Mr. Knightley so placed as to see them +all; and it was his object to see as much as he could, with as little +apparent observation. The word was discovered, and with a faint smile +pushed away. If meant to be immediately mixed with the others, and +buried from sight, she should have looked on the table instead of +looking just across, for it was not mixed; and Harriet, eager after +every fresh word, and finding out none, directly took it up, and fell +to work. She was sitting by Mr. Knightley, and turned to him for help. +The word was _blunder_; and as Harriet exultingly proclaimed it, there +was a blush on Jane’s cheek which gave it a meaning not otherwise +ostensible. Mr. Knightley connected it with the dream; but how it could +all be, was beyond his comprehension. How the delicacy, the discretion +of his favourite could have been so lain asleep! He feared there must +be some decided involvement. Disingenuousness and double dealing seemed +to meet him at every turn. These letters were but the vehicle for +gallantry and trick. It was a child’s play, chosen to conceal a deeper +game on Frank Churchill’s part. + +With great indignation did he continue to observe him; with great alarm +and distrust, to observe also his two blinded companions. He saw a +short word prepared for Emma, and given to her with a look sly and +demure. He saw that Emma had soon made it out, and found it highly +entertaining, though it was something which she judged it proper to +appear to censure; for she said, “Nonsense! for shame!” He heard Frank +Churchill next say, with a glance towards Jane, “I will give it to +her—shall I?”—and as clearly heard Emma opposing it with eager laughing +warmth. “No, no, you must not; you shall not, indeed.” + +It was done however. This gallant young man, who seemed to love without +feeling, and to recommend himself without complaisance, directly handed +over the word to Miss Fairfax, and with a particular degree of sedate +civility entreated her to study it. Mr. Knightley’s excessive curiosity +to know what this word might be, made him seize every possible moment +for darting his eye towards it, and it was not long before he saw it to +be _Dixon_. Jane Fairfax’s perception seemed to accompany his; her +comprehension was certainly more equal to the covert meaning, the +superior intelligence, of those five letters so arranged. She was +evidently displeased; looked up, and seeing herself watched, blushed +more deeply than he had ever perceived her, and saying only, “I did not +know that proper names were allowed,” pushed away the letters with even +an angry spirit, and looked resolved to be engaged by no other word +that could be offered. Her face was averted from those who had made the +attack, and turned towards her aunt. + +“Aye, very true, my dear,” cried the latter, though Jane had not spoken +a word—“I was just going to say the same thing. It is time for us to be +going indeed. The evening is closing in, and grandmama will be looking +for us. My dear sir, you are too obliging. We really must wish you good +night.” + +Jane’s alertness in moving, proved her as ready as her aunt had +preconceived. She was immediately up, and wanting to quit the table; +but so many were also moving, that she could not get away; and Mr. +Knightley thought he saw another collection of letters anxiously pushed +towards her, and resolutely swept away by her unexamined. She was +afterwards looking for her shawl—Frank Churchill was looking also—it +was growing dusk, and the room was in confusion; and how they parted, +Mr. Knightley could not tell. + +He remained at Hartfield after all the rest, his thoughts full of what +he had seen; so full, that when the candles came to assist his +observations, he must—yes, he certainly must, as a friend—an anxious +friend—give Emma some hint, ask her some question. He could not see her +in a situation of such danger, without trying to preserve her. It was +his duty. + +“Pray, Emma,” said he, “may I ask in what lay the great amusement, the +poignant sting of the last word given to you and Miss Fairfax? I saw +the word, and am curious to know how it could be so very entertaining +to the one, and so very distressing to the other.” + +Emma was extremely confused. She could not endure to give him the true +explanation; for though her suspicions were by no means removed, she +was really ashamed of having ever imparted them. + +“Oh!” she cried in evident embarrassment, “it all meant nothing; a mere +joke among ourselves.” + +“The joke,” he replied gravely, “seemed confined to you and Mr. +Churchill.” + +He had hoped she would speak again, but she did not. She would rather +busy herself about any thing than speak. He sat a little while in +doubt. A variety of evils crossed his mind. Interference—fruitless +interference. Emma’s confusion, and the acknowledged intimacy, seemed +to declare her affection engaged. Yet he would speak. He owed it to +her, to risk any thing that might be involved in an unwelcome +interference, rather than her welfare; to encounter any thing, rather +than the remembrance of neglect in such a cause. + +“My dear Emma,” said he at last, with earnest kindness, “do you think +you perfectly understand the degree of acquaintance between the +gentleman and lady we have been speaking of?” + +“Between Mr. Frank Churchill and Miss Fairfax? Oh! yes, perfectly.—Why +do you make a doubt of it?” + +“Have you never at any time had reason to think that he admired her, or +that she admired him?” + +“Never, never!” she cried with a most open eagerness—“Never, for the +twentieth part of a moment, did such an idea occur to me. And how could +it possibly come into your head?” + +“I have lately imagined that I saw symptoms of attachment between +them—certain expressive looks, which I did not believe meant to be +public.” + +“Oh! you amuse me excessively. I am delighted to find that you can +vouchsafe to let your imagination wander—but it will not do—very sorry +to check you in your first essay—but indeed it will not do. There is no +admiration between them, I do assure you; and the appearances which +have caught you, have arisen from some peculiar circumstances—feelings +rather of a totally different nature—it is impossible exactly to +explain:—there is a good deal of nonsense in it—but the part which is +capable of being communicated, which is sense, is, that they are as far +from any attachment or admiration for one another, as any two beings in +the world can be. That is, I _presume_ it to be so on her side, and I +can _answer_ for its being so on his. I will answer for the gentleman’s +indifference.” + +She spoke with a confidence which staggered, with a satisfaction which +silenced, Mr. Knightley. She was in gay spirits, and would have +prolonged the conversation, wanting to hear the particulars of his +suspicions, every look described, and all the wheres and hows of a +circumstance which highly entertained her: but his gaiety did not meet +hers. He found he could not be useful, and his feelings were too much +irritated for talking. That he might not be irritated into an absolute +fever, by the fire which Mr. Woodhouse’s tender habits required almost +every evening throughout the year, he soon afterwards took a hasty +leave, and walked home to the coolness and solitude of Donwell Abbey. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +After being long fed with hopes of a speedy visit from Mr. and Mrs. +Suckling, the Highbury world were obliged to endure the mortification +of hearing that they could not possibly come till the autumn. No such +importation of novelties could enrich their intellectual stores at +present. In the daily interchange of news, they must be again +restricted to the other topics with which for a while the Sucklings’ +coming had been united, such as the last accounts of Mrs. Churchill, +whose health seemed every day to supply a different report, and the +situation of Mrs. Weston, whose happiness it was to be hoped might +eventually be as much increased by the arrival of a child, as that of +all her neighbours was by the approach of it. + +Mrs. Elton was very much disappointed. It was the delay of a great deal +of pleasure and parade. Her introductions and recommendations must all +wait, and every projected party be still only talked of. So she thought +at first;—but a little consideration convinced her that every thing +need not be put off. Why should not they explore to Box Hill though the +Sucklings did not come? They could go there again with them in the +autumn. It was settled that they should go to Box Hill. That there was +to be such a party had been long generally known: it had even given the +idea of another. Emma had never been to Box Hill; she wished to see +what every body found so well worth seeing, and she and Mr. Weston had +agreed to chuse some fine morning and drive thither. Two or three more +of the chosen only were to be admitted to join them, and it was to be +done in a quiet, unpretending, elegant way, infinitely superior to the +bustle and preparation, the regular eating and drinking, and picnic +parade of the Eltons and the Sucklings. + +This was so very well understood between them, that Emma could not but +feel some surprise, and a little displeasure, on hearing from Mr. +Weston that he had been proposing to Mrs. Elton, as her brother and +sister had failed her, that the two parties should unite, and go +together; and that as Mrs. Elton had very readily acceded to it, so it +was to be, if she had no objection. Now, as her objection was nothing +but her very great dislike of Mrs. Elton, of which Mr. Weston must +already be perfectly aware, it was not worth bringing forward again:—it +could not be done without a reproof to him, which would be giving pain +to his wife; and she found herself therefore obliged to consent to an +arrangement which she would have done a great deal to avoid; an +arrangement which would probably expose her even to the degradation of +being said to be of Mrs. Elton’s party! Every feeling was offended; and +the forbearance of her outward submission left a heavy arrear due of +secret severity in her reflections on the unmanageable goodwill of Mr. +Weston’s temper. + +“I am glad you approve of what I have done,” said he very comfortably. +“But I thought you would. Such schemes as these are nothing without +numbers. One cannot have too large a party. A large party secures its +own amusement. And she is a good-natured woman after all. One could not +leave her out.” + +Emma denied none of it aloud, and agreed to none of it in private. + +It was now the middle of June, and the weather fine; and Mrs. Elton was +growing impatient to name the day, and settle with Mr. Weston as to +pigeon-pies and cold lamb, when a lame carriage-horse threw every thing +into sad uncertainty. It might be weeks, it might be only a few days, +before the horse were useable; but no preparations could be ventured +on, and it was all melancholy stagnation. Mrs. Elton’s resources were +inadequate to such an attack. + +“Is not this most vexatious, Knightley?” she cried.—“And such weather +for exploring!—These delays and disappointments are quite odious. What +are we to do?—The year will wear away at this rate, and nothing done. +Before this time last year I assure you we had had a delightful +exploring party from Maple Grove to Kings Weston.” + +“You had better explore to Donwell,” replied Mr. Knightley. “That may +be done without horses. Come, and eat my strawberries. They are +ripening fast.” + +If Mr. Knightley did not begin seriously, he was obliged to proceed so, +for his proposal was caught at with delight; and the “Oh! I should like +it of all things,” was not plainer in words than manner. Donwell was +famous for its strawberry-beds, which seemed a plea for the invitation: +but no plea was necessary; cabbage-beds would have been enough to tempt +the lady, who only wanted to be going somewhere. She promised him again +and again to come—much oftener than he doubted—and was extremely +gratified by such a proof of intimacy, such a distinguishing compliment +as she chose to consider it. + +“You may depend upon me,” said she. “I certainly will come. Name your +day, and I will come. You will allow me to bring Jane Fairfax?” + +“I cannot name a day,” said he, “till I have spoken to some others whom +I would wish to meet you.” + +“Oh! leave all that to me. Only give me a carte-blanche.—I am Lady +Patroness, you know. It is my party. I will bring friends with me.” + +“I hope you will bring Elton,” said he: “but I will not trouble you to +give any other invitations.” + +“Oh! now you are looking very sly. But consider—you need not be afraid +of delegating power to _me_. I am no young lady on her preferment. +Married women, you know, may be safely authorised. It is my party. +Leave it all to me. I will invite your guests.” + +“No,”—he calmly replied,—“there is but one married woman in the world +whom I can ever allow to invite what guests she pleases to Donwell, and +that one is—” + +“—Mrs. Weston, I suppose,” interrupted Mrs. Elton, rather mortified. + +“No—Mrs. Knightley;—and till she is in being, I will manage such +matters myself.” + +“Ah! you are an odd creature!” she cried, satisfied to have no one +preferred to herself.—“You are a humourist, and may say what you like. +Quite a humourist. Well, I shall bring Jane with me—Jane and her +aunt.—The rest I leave to you. I have no objections at all to meeting +the Hartfield family. Don’t scruple. I know you are attached to them.” + +“You certainly will meet them if I can prevail; and I shall call on +Miss Bates in my way home.” + +“That’s quite unnecessary; I see Jane every day:—but as you like. It is +to be a morning scheme, you know, Knightley; quite a simple thing. I +shall wear a large bonnet, and bring one of my little baskets hanging +on my arm. Here,—probably this basket with pink ribbon. Nothing can be +more simple, you see. And Jane will have such another. There is to be +no form or parade—a sort of gipsy party. We are to walk about your +gardens, and gather the strawberries ourselves, and sit under +trees;—and whatever else you may like to provide, it is to be all out +of doors—a table spread in the shade, you know. Every thing as natural +and simple as possible. Is not that your idea?” + +“Not quite. My idea of the simple and the natural will be to have the +table spread in the dining-room. The nature and the simplicity of +gentlemen and ladies, with their servants and furniture, I think is +best observed by meals within doors. When you are tired of eating +strawberries in the garden, there shall be cold meat in the house.” + +“Well—as you please; only don’t have a great set out. And, by the bye, +can I or my housekeeper be of any use to you with our opinion?—Pray be +sincere, Knightley. If you wish me to talk to Mrs. Hodges, or to +inspect anything—” + +“I have not the least wish for it, I thank you.” + +“Well—but if any difficulties should arise, my housekeeper is extremely +clever.” + +“I will answer for it, that mine thinks herself full as clever, and +would spurn any body’s assistance.” + +“I wish we had a donkey. The thing would be for us all to come on +donkeys, Jane, Miss Bates, and me—and my caro sposo walking by. I +really must talk to him about purchasing a donkey. In a country life I +conceive it to be a sort of necessary; for, let a woman have ever so +many resources, it is not possible for her to be always shut up at +home;—and very long walks, you know—in summer there is dust, and in +winter there is dirt.” + +“You will not find either, between Donwell and Highbury. Donwell Lane +is never dusty, and now it is perfectly dry. Come on a donkey, however, +if you prefer it. You can borrow Mrs. Cole’s. I would wish every thing +to be as much to your taste as possible.” + +“That I am sure you would. Indeed I do you justice, my good friend. +Under that peculiar sort of dry, blunt manner, I know you have the +warmest heart. As I tell Mr. E., you are a thorough humourist.—Yes, +believe me, Knightley, I am fully sensible of your attention to me in +the whole of this scheme. You have hit upon the very thing to please +me.” + +Mr. Knightley had another reason for avoiding a table in the shade. He +wished to persuade Mr. Woodhouse, as well as Emma, to join the party; +and he knew that to have any of them sitting down out of doors to eat +would inevitably make him ill. Mr. Woodhouse must not, under the +specious pretence of a morning drive, and an hour or two spent at +Donwell, be tempted away to his misery. + +He was invited on good faith. No lurking horrors were to upbraid him +for his easy credulity. He did consent. He had not been at Donwell for +two years. “Some very fine morning, he, and Emma, and Harriet, could go +very well; and he could sit still with Mrs. Weston, while the dear +girls walked about the gardens. He did not suppose they could be damp +now, in the middle of the day. He should like to see the old house +again exceedingly, and should be very happy to meet Mr. and Mrs. Elton, +and any other of his neighbours.—He could not see any objection at all +to his, and Emma’s, and Harriet’s going there some very fine morning. +He thought it very well done of Mr. Knightley to invite them—very kind +and sensible—much cleverer than dining out.—He was not fond of dining +out.” + +Mr. Knightley was fortunate in every body’s most ready concurrence. The +invitation was everywhere so well received, that it seemed as if, like +Mrs. Elton, they were all taking the scheme as a particular compliment +to themselves.—Emma and Harriet professed very high expectations of +pleasure from it; and Mr. Weston, unasked, promised to get Frank over +to join them, if possible; a proof of approbation and gratitude which +could have been dispensed with.—Mr. Knightley was then obliged to say +that he should be glad to see him; and Mr. Weston engaged to lose no +time in writing, and spare no arguments to induce him to come. + +In the meanwhile the lame horse recovered so fast, that the party to +Box Hill was again under happy consideration; and at last Donwell was +settled for one day, and Box Hill for the next,—the weather appearing +exactly right. + +Under a bright mid-day sun, at almost Midsummer, Mr. Woodhouse was +safely conveyed in his carriage, with one window down, to partake of +this al-fresco party; and in one of the most comfortable rooms in the +Abbey, especially prepared for him by a fire all the morning, he was +happily placed, quite at his ease, ready to talk with pleasure of what +had been achieved, and advise every body to come and sit down, and not +to heat themselves.—Mrs. Weston, who seemed to have walked there on +purpose to be tired, and sit all the time with him, remained, when all +the others were invited or persuaded out, his patient listener and +sympathiser. + +It was so long since Emma had been at the Abbey, that as soon as she +was satisfied of her father’s comfort, she was glad to leave him, and +look around her; eager to refresh and correct her memory with more +particular observation, more exact understanding of a house and grounds +which must ever be so interesting to her and all her family. + +She felt all the honest pride and complacency which her alliance with +the present and future proprietor could fairly warrant, as she viewed +the respectable size and style of the building, its suitable, becoming, +characteristic situation, low and sheltered—its ample gardens +stretching down to meadows washed by a stream, of which the Abbey, with +all the old neglect of prospect, had scarcely a sight—and its abundance +of timber in rows and avenues, which neither fashion nor extravagance +had rooted up.—The house was larger than Hartfield, and totally unlike +it, covering a good deal of ground, rambling and irregular, with many +comfortable, and one or two handsome rooms.—It was just what it ought +to be, and it looked what it was—and Emma felt an increasing respect +for it, as the residence of a family of such true gentility, untainted +in blood and understanding.—Some faults of temper John Knightley had; +but Isabella had connected herself unexceptionably. She had given them +neither men, nor names, nor places, that could raise a blush. These +were pleasant feelings, and she walked about and indulged them till it +was necessary to do as the others did, and collect round the +strawberry-beds.—The whole party were assembled, excepting Frank +Churchill, who was expected every moment from Richmond; and Mrs. Elton, +in all her apparatus of happiness, her large bonnet and her basket, was +very ready to lead the way in gathering, accepting, or +talking—strawberries, and only strawberries, could now be thought or +spoken of.—“The best fruit in England—every body’s favourite—always +wholesome.—These the finest beds and finest sorts.—Delightful to gather +for one’s self—the only way of really enjoying them.—Morning decidedly +the best time—never tired—every sort good—hautboy infinitely +superior—no comparison—the others hardly eatable—hautboys very +scarce—Chili preferred—white wood finest flavour of all—price of +strawberries in London—abundance about Bristol—Maple +Grove—cultivation—beds when to be renewed—gardeners thinking exactly +different—no general rule—gardeners never to be put out of their +way—delicious fruit—only too rich to be eaten much of—inferior to +cherries—currants more refreshing—only objection to gathering +strawberries the stooping—glaring sun—tired to death—could bear it no +longer—must go and sit in the shade.” + +Such, for half an hour, was the conversation—interrupted only once by +Mrs. Weston, who came out, in her solicitude after her son-in-law, to +inquire if he were come—and she was a little uneasy.—She had some fears +of his horse. + +Seats tolerably in the shade were found; and now Emma was obliged to +overhear what Mrs. Elton and Jane Fairfax were talking of.—A situation, +a most desirable situation, was in question. Mrs. Elton had received +notice of it that morning, and was in raptures. It was not with Mrs. +Suckling, it was not with Mrs. Bragge, but in felicity and splendour it +fell short only of them: it was with a cousin of Mrs. Bragge, an +acquaintance of Mrs. Suckling, a lady known at Maple Grove. Delightful, +charming, superior, first circles, spheres, lines, ranks, every +thing—and Mrs. Elton was wild to have the offer closed with +immediately.—On her side, all was warmth, energy, and triumph—and she +positively refused to take her friend’s negative, though Miss Fairfax +continued to assure her that she would not at present engage in any +thing, repeating the same motives which she had been heard to urge +before.—Still Mrs. Elton insisted on being authorised to write an +acquiescence by the morrow’s post.—How Jane could bear it at all, was +astonishing to Emma.—She did look vexed, she did speak pointedly—and at +last, with a decision of action unusual to her, proposed a +removal.—“Should not they walk? Would not Mr. Knightley shew them the +gardens—all the gardens?—She wished to see the whole extent.”—The +pertinacity of her friend seemed more than she could bear. + +It was hot; and after walking some time over the gardens in a +scattered, dispersed way, scarcely any three together, they insensibly +followed one another to the delicious shade of a broad short avenue of +limes, which stretching beyond the garden at an equal distance from the +river, seemed the finish of the pleasure grounds.—It led to nothing; +nothing but a view at the end over a low stone wall with high pillars, +which seemed intended, in their erection, to give the appearance of an +approach to the house, which never had been there. Disputable, however, +as might be the taste of such a termination, it was in itself a +charming walk, and the view which closed it extremely pretty.—The +considerable slope, at nearly the foot of which the Abbey stood, +gradually acquired a steeper form beyond its grounds; and at half a +mile distant was a bank of considerable abruptness and grandeur, well +clothed with wood;—and at the bottom of this bank, favourably placed +and sheltered, rose the Abbey Mill Farm, with meadows in front, and the +river making a close and handsome curve around it. + +It was a sweet view—sweet to the eye and the mind. English verdure, +English culture, English comfort, seen under a sun bright, without +being oppressive. + +In this walk Emma and Mr. Weston found all the others assembled; and +towards this view she immediately perceived Mr. Knightley and Harriet +distinct from the rest, quietly leading the way. Mr. Knightley and +Harriet!—It was an odd tête-à-tête; but she was glad to see it.—There +had been a time when he would have scorned her as a companion, and +turned from her with little ceremony. Now they seemed in pleasant +conversation. There had been a time also when Emma would have been +sorry to see Harriet in a spot so favourable for the Abbey Mill Farm; +but now she feared it not. It might be safely viewed with all its +appendages of prosperity and beauty, its rich pastures, spreading +flocks, orchard in blossom, and light column of smoke ascending.—She +joined them at the wall, and found them more engaged in talking than in +looking around. He was giving Harriet information as to modes of +agriculture, etc. and Emma received a smile which seemed to say, “These +are my own concerns. I have a right to talk on such subjects, without +being suspected of introducing Robert Martin.”—She did not suspect him. +It was too old a story.—Robert Martin had probably ceased to think of +Harriet.—They took a few turns together along the walk.—The shade was +most refreshing, and Emma found it the pleasantest part of the day. + +The next remove was to the house; they must all go in and eat;—and they +were all seated and busy, and still Frank Churchill did not come. Mrs. +Weston looked, and looked in vain. His father would not own himself +uneasy, and laughed at her fears; but she could not be cured of wishing +that he would part with his black mare. He had expressed himself as to +coming, with more than common certainty. “His aunt was so much better, +that he had not a doubt of getting over to them.”—Mrs. Churchill’s +state, however, as many were ready to remind her, was liable to such +sudden variation as might disappoint her nephew in the most reasonable +dependence—and Mrs. Weston was at last persuaded to believe, or to say, +that it must be by some attack of Mrs. Churchill that he was prevented +coming.—Emma looked at Harriet while the point was under consideration; +she behaved very well, and betrayed no emotion. + +The cold repast was over, and the party were to go out once more to see +what had not yet been seen, the old Abbey fish-ponds; perhaps get as +far as the clover, which was to be begun cutting on the morrow, or, at +any rate, have the pleasure of being hot, and growing cool again.—Mr. +Woodhouse, who had already taken his little round in the highest part +of the gardens, where no damps from the river were imagined even by +him, stirred no more; and his daughter resolved to remain with him, +that Mrs. Weston might be persuaded away by her husband to the exercise +and variety which her spirits seemed to need. + +Mr. Knightley had done all in his power for Mr. Woodhouse’s +entertainment. Books of engravings, drawers of medals, cameos, corals, +shells, and every other family collection within his cabinets, had been +prepared for his old friend, to while away the morning; and the +kindness had perfectly answered. Mr. Woodhouse had been exceedingly +well amused. Mrs. Weston had been shewing them all to him, and now he +would shew them all to Emma;—fortunate in having no other resemblance +to a child, than in a total want of taste for what he saw, for he was +slow, constant, and methodical.—Before this second looking over was +begun, however, Emma walked into the hall for the sake of a few +moments’ free observation of the entrance and ground-plot of the +house—and was hardly there, when Jane Fairfax appeared, coming quickly +in from the garden, and with a look of escape.—Little expecting to meet +Miss Woodhouse so soon, there was a start at first; but Miss Woodhouse +was the very person she was in quest of. + +“Will you be so kind,” said she, “when I am missed, as to say that I am +gone home?—I am going this moment.—My aunt is not aware how late it is, +nor how long we have been absent—but I am sure we shall be wanted, and +I am determined to go directly.—I have said nothing about it to any +body. It would only be giving trouble and distress. Some are gone to +the ponds, and some to the lime walk. Till they all come in I shall not +be missed; and when they do, will you have the goodness to say that I +am gone?” + +“Certainly, if you wish it;—but you are not going to walk to Highbury +alone?” + +“Yes—what should hurt me?—I walk fast. I shall be at home in twenty +minutes.” + +“But it is too far, indeed it is, to be walking quite alone. Let my +father’s servant go with you.—Let me order the carriage. It can be +round in five minutes.” + +“Thank you, thank you—but on no account.—I would rather walk.—And for +_me_ to be afraid of walking alone!—I, who may so soon have to guard +others!” + +She spoke with great agitation; and Emma very feelingly replied, “That +can be no reason for your being exposed to danger now. I must order the +carriage. The heat even would be danger.—You are fatigued already.” + +“I am,”—she answered—“I am fatigued; but it is not the sort of +fatigue—quick walking will refresh me.—Miss Woodhouse, we all know at +times what it is to be wearied in spirits. Mine, I confess, are +exhausted. The greatest kindness you can shew me, will be to let me +have my own way, and only say that I am gone when it is necessary.” + +Emma had not another word to oppose. She saw it all; and entering into +her feelings, promoted her quitting the house immediately, and watched +her safely off with the zeal of a friend. Her parting look was +grateful—and her parting words, “Oh! Miss Woodhouse, the comfort of +being sometimes alone!”—seemed to burst from an overcharged heart, and +to describe somewhat of the continual endurance to be practised by her, +even towards some of those who loved her best. + +“Such a home, indeed! such an aunt!” said Emma, as she turned back into +the hall again. “I do pity you. And the more sensibility you betray of +their just horrors, the more I shall like you.” + +Jane had not been gone a quarter of an hour, and they had only +accomplished some views of St. Mark’s Place, Venice, when Frank +Churchill entered the room. Emma had not been thinking of him, she had +forgotten to think of him—but she was very glad to see him. Mrs. Weston +would be at ease. The black mare was blameless; _they_ were right who +had named Mrs. Churchill as the cause. He had been detained by a +temporary increase of illness in her; a nervous seizure, which had +lasted some hours—and he had quite given up every thought of coming, +till very late;—and had he known how hot a ride he should have, and how +late, with all his hurry, he must be, he believed he should not have +come at all. The heat was excessive; he had never suffered any thing +like it—almost wished he had staid at home—nothing killed him like +heat—he could bear any degree of cold, etc., but heat was +intolerable—and he sat down, at the greatest possible distance from the +slight remains of Mr. Woodhouse’s fire, looking very deplorable. + +“You will soon be cooler, if you sit still,” said Emma. + +“As soon as I am cooler I shall go back again. I could very ill be +spared—but such a point had been made of my coming! You will all be +going soon I suppose; the whole party breaking up. I met _one_ as I +came—Madness in such weather!—absolute madness!” + +Emma listened, and looked, and soon perceived that Frank Churchill’s +state might be best defined by the expressive phrase of being out of +humour. Some people were always cross when they were hot. Such might be +his constitution; and as she knew that eating and drinking were often +the cure of such incidental complaints, she recommended his taking some +refreshment; he would find abundance of every thing in the +dining-room—and she humanely pointed out the door. + +“No—he should not eat. He was not hungry; it would only make him +hotter.” In two minutes, however, he relented in his own favour; and +muttering something about spruce-beer, walked off. Emma returned all +her attention to her father, saying in secret— + +“I am glad I have done being in love with him. I should not like a man +who is so soon discomposed by a hot morning. Harriet’s sweet easy +temper will not mind it.” + +He was gone long enough to have had a very comfortable meal, and came +back all the better—grown quite cool—and, with good manners, like +himself—able to draw a chair close to them, take an interest in their +employment; and regret, in a reasonable way, that he should be so late. +He was not in his best spirits, but seemed trying to improve them; and, +at last, made himself talk nonsense very agreeably. They were looking +over views in Swisserland. + +“As soon as my aunt gets well, I shall go abroad,” said he. “I shall +never be easy till I have seen some of these places. You will have my +sketches, some time or other, to look at—or my tour to read—or my poem. +I shall do something to expose myself.” + +“That may be—but not by sketches in Swisserland. You will never go to +Swisserland. Your uncle and aunt will never allow you to leave +England.” + +“They may be induced to go too. A warm climate may be prescribed for +her. I have more than half an expectation of our all going abroad. I +assure you I have. I feel a strong persuasion, this morning, that I +shall soon be abroad. I ought to travel. I am tired of doing nothing. I +want a change. I am serious, Miss Woodhouse, whatever your penetrating +eyes may fancy—I am sick of England—and would leave it to-morrow, if I +could.” + +“You are sick of prosperity and indulgence. Cannot you invent a few +hardships for yourself, and be contented to stay?” + +“_I_ sick of prosperity and indulgence! You are quite mistaken. I do +not look upon myself as either prosperous or indulged. I am thwarted in +every thing material. I do not consider myself at all a fortunate +person.” + +“You are not quite so miserable, though, as when you first came. Go and +eat and drink a little more, and you will do very well. Another slice +of cold meat, another draught of Madeira and water, will make you +nearly on a par with the rest of us.” + +“No—I shall not stir. I shall sit by you. You are my best cure.” + +“We are going to Box Hill to-morrow;—you will join us. It is not +Swisserland, but it will be something for a young man so much in want +of a change. You will stay, and go with us?” + +“No, certainly not; I shall go home in the cool of the evening.” + +“But you may come again in the cool of to-morrow morning.” + +“No—It will not be worth while. If I come, I shall be cross.” + +“Then pray stay at Richmond.” + +“But if I do, I shall be crosser still. I can never bear to think of +you all there without me.” + +“These are difficulties which you must settle for yourself. Chuse your +own degree of crossness. I shall press you no more.” + +The rest of the party were now returning, and all were soon collected. +With some there was great joy at the sight of Frank Churchill; others +took it very composedly; but there was a very general distress and +disturbance on Miss Fairfax’s disappearance being explained. That it +was time for every body to go, concluded the subject; and with a short +final arrangement for the next day’s scheme, they parted. Frank +Churchill’s little inclination to exclude himself increased so much, +that his last words to Emma were, + +“Well;—if _you_ wish me to stay and join the party, I will.” + +She smiled her acceptance; and nothing less than a summons from +Richmond was to take him back before the following evening. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +They had a very fine day for Box Hill; and all the other outward +circumstances of arrangement, accommodation, and punctuality, were in +favour of a pleasant party. Mr. Weston directed the whole, officiating +safely between Hartfield and the Vicarage, and every body was in good +time. Emma and Harriet went together; Miss Bates and her niece, with +the Eltons; the gentlemen on horseback. Mrs. Weston remained with Mr. +Woodhouse. Nothing was wanting but to be happy when they got there. +Seven miles were travelled in expectation of enjoyment, and every body +had a burst of admiration on first arriving; but in the general amount +of the day there was deficiency. There was a languor, a want of +spirits, a want of union, which could not be got over. They separated +too much into parties. The Eltons walked together; Mr. Knightley took +charge of Miss Bates and Jane; and Emma and Harriet belonged to Frank +Churchill. And Mr. Weston tried, in vain, to make them harmonise +better. It seemed at first an accidental division, but it never +materially varied. Mr. and Mrs. Elton, indeed, shewed no unwillingness +to mix, and be as agreeable as they could; but during the two whole +hours that were spent on the hill, there seemed a principle of +separation, between the other parties, too strong for any fine +prospects, or any cold collation, or any cheerful Mr. Weston, to +remove. + +At first it was downright dulness to Emma. She had never seen Frank +Churchill so silent and stupid. He said nothing worth hearing—looked +without seeing—admired without intelligence—listened without knowing +what she said. While he was so dull, it was no wonder that Harriet +should be dull likewise; and they were both insufferable. + +When they all sat down it was better; to her taste a great deal better, +for Frank Churchill grew talkative and gay, making her his first +object. Every distinguishing attention that could be paid, was paid to +her. To amuse her, and be agreeable in her eyes, seemed all that he +cared for—and Emma, glad to be enlivened, not sorry to be flattered, +was gay and easy too, and gave him all the friendly encouragement, the +admission to be gallant, which she had ever given in the first and most +animating period of their acquaintance; but which now, in her own +estimation, meant nothing, though in the judgment of most people +looking on it must have had such an appearance as no English word but +flirtation could very well describe. “Mr. Frank Churchill and Miss +Woodhouse flirted together excessively.” They were laying themselves +open to that very phrase—and to having it sent off in a letter to Maple +Grove by one lady, to Ireland by another. Not that Emma was gay and +thoughtless from any real felicity; it was rather because she felt less +happy than she had expected. She laughed because she was disappointed; +and though she liked him for his attentions, and thought them all, +whether in friendship, admiration, or playfulness, extremely judicious, +they were not winning back her heart. She still intended him for her +friend. + +“How much I am obliged to you,” said he, “for telling me to come +to-day!—If it had not been for you, I should certainly have lost all +the happiness of this party. I had quite determined to go away again.” + +“Yes, you were very cross; and I do not know what about, except that +you were too late for the best strawberries. I was a kinder friend than +you deserved. But you were humble. You begged hard to be commanded to +come.” + +“Don’t say I was cross. I was fatigued. The heat overcame me.” + +“It is hotter to-day.” + +“Not to my feelings. I am perfectly comfortable to-day.” + +“You are comfortable because you are under command.” + +“Your command?—Yes.” + +“Perhaps I intended you to say so, but I meant self-command. You had, +somehow or other, broken bounds yesterday, and run away from your own +management; but to-day you are got back again—and as I cannot be always +with you, it is best to believe your temper under your own command +rather than mine.” + +“It comes to the same thing. I can have no self-command without a +motive. You order me, whether you speak or not. And you can be always +with me. You are always with me.” + +“Dating from three o’clock yesterday. My perpetual influence could not +begin earlier, or you would not have been so much out of humour +before.” + +“Three o’clock yesterday! That is your date. I thought I had seen you +first in February.” + +“Your gallantry is really unanswerable. But (lowering her voice)—nobody +speaks except ourselves, and it is rather too much to be talking +nonsense for the entertainment of seven silent people.” + +“I say nothing of which I am ashamed,” replied he, with lively +impudence. “I saw you first in February. Let every body on the Hill +hear me if they can. Let my accents swell to Mickleham on one side, and +Dorking on the other. I saw you first in February.” And then +whispering—“Our companions are excessively stupid. What shall we do to +rouse them? Any nonsense will serve. They _shall_ talk. Ladies and +gentlemen, I am ordered by Miss Woodhouse (who, wherever she is, +presides) to say, that she desires to know what you are all thinking +of?” + +Some laughed, and answered good-humouredly. Miss Bates said a great +deal; Mrs. Elton swelled at the idea of Miss Woodhouse’s presiding; Mr. +Knightley’s answer was the most distinct. + +“Is Miss Woodhouse sure that she would like to hear what we are all +thinking of?” + +“Oh! no, no”—cried Emma, laughing as carelessly as she could—“Upon no +account in the world. It is the very last thing I would stand the brunt +of just now. Let me hear any thing rather than what you are all +thinking of. I will not say quite all. There are one or two, perhaps, +(glancing at Mr. Weston and Harriet,) whose thoughts I might not be +afraid of knowing.” + +“It is a sort of thing,” cried Mrs. Elton emphatically, “which _I_ +should not have thought myself privileged to inquire into. Though, +perhaps, as the _Chaperon_ of the party—_I_ never was in any +circle—exploring parties—young ladies—married women—” + +Her mutterings were chiefly to her husband; and he murmured, in reply, + +“Very true, my love, very true. Exactly so, indeed—quite unheard of—but +some ladies say any thing. Better pass it off as a joke. Every body +knows what is due to _you_.” + +“It will not do,” whispered Frank to Emma; “they are most of them +affronted. I will attack them with more address. Ladies and gentlemen—I +am ordered by Miss Woodhouse to say, that she waives her right of +knowing exactly what you may all be thinking of, and only requires +something very entertaining from each of you, in a general way. Here +are seven of you, besides myself, (who, she is pleased to say, am very +entertaining already,) and she only demands from each of you either one +thing very clever, be it prose or verse, original or repeated—or two +things moderately clever—or three things very dull indeed, and she +engages to laugh heartily at them all.” + +“Oh! very well,” exclaimed Miss Bates, “then I need not be uneasy. +‘Three things very dull indeed.’ That will just do for me, you know. I +shall be sure to say three dull things as soon as ever I open my mouth, +shan’t I? (looking round with the most good-humoured dependence on +every body’s assent)—Do not you all think I shall?” + +Emma could not resist. + +“Ah! ma’am, but there may be a difficulty. Pardon me—but you will be +limited as to number—only three at once.” + +Miss Bates, deceived by the mock ceremony of her manner, did not +immediately catch her meaning; but, when it burst on her, it could not +anger, though a slight blush shewed that it could pain her. + +“Ah!—well—to be sure. Yes, I see what she means, (turning to Mr. +Knightley,) and I will try to hold my tongue. I must make myself very +disagreeable, or she would not have said such a thing to an old +friend.” + +“I like your plan,” cried Mr. Weston. “Agreed, agreed. I will do my +best. I am making a conundrum. How will a conundrum reckon?” + +“Low, I am afraid, sir, very low,” answered his son;—“but we shall be +indulgent—especially to any one who leads the way.” + +“No, no,” said Emma, “it will not reckon low. A conundrum of Mr. +Weston’s shall clear him and his next neighbour. Come, sir, pray let me +hear it.” + +“I doubt its being very clever myself,” said Mr. Weston. “It is too +much a matter of fact, but here it is.—What two letters of the alphabet +are there, that express perfection?” + +“What two letters!—express perfection! I am sure I do not know.” + +“Ah! you will never guess. You, (to Emma), I am certain, will never +guess.—I will tell you.—M. and A.—Em-ma.—Do you understand?” + +Understanding and gratification came together. It might be a very +indifferent piece of wit, but Emma found a great deal to laugh at and +enjoy in it—and so did Frank and Harriet.—It did not seem to touch the +rest of the party equally; some looked very stupid about it, and Mr. +Knightley gravely said, + +“This explains the sort of clever thing that is wanted, and Mr. Weston +has done very well for himself; but he must have knocked up every body +else. _Perfection_ should not have come quite so soon.” + +“Oh! for myself, I protest I must be excused,” said Mrs. Elton; “_I_ +really cannot attempt—I am not at all fond of the sort of thing. I had +an acrostic once sent to me upon my own name, which I was not at all +pleased with. I knew who it came from. An abominable puppy!—You know +who I mean (nodding to her husband). These kind of things are very well +at Christmas, when one is sitting round the fire; but quite out of +place, in my opinion, when one is exploring about the country in +summer. Miss Woodhouse must excuse me. I am not one of those who have +witty things at every body’s service. I do not pretend to be a wit. I +have a great deal of vivacity in my own way, but I really must be +allowed to judge when to speak and when to hold my tongue. Pass us, if +you please, Mr. Churchill. Pass Mr. E., Knightley, Jane, and myself. We +have nothing clever to say—not one of us. + +“Yes, yes, pray pass _me_,” added her husband, with a sort of sneering +consciousness; “_I_ have nothing to say that can entertain Miss +Woodhouse, or any other young lady. An old married man—quite good for +nothing. Shall we walk, Augusta?” + +“With all my heart. I am really tired of exploring so long on one spot. +Come, Jane, take my other arm.” + +Jane declined it, however, and the husband and wife walked off. “Happy +couple!” said Frank Churchill, as soon as they were out of +hearing:—“How well they suit one another!—Very lucky—marrying as they +did, upon an acquaintance formed only in a public place!—They only knew +each other, I think, a few weeks in Bath! Peculiarly lucky!—for as to +any real knowledge of a person’s disposition that Bath, or any public +place, can give—it is all nothing; there can be no knowledge. It is +only by seeing women in their own homes, among their own set, just as +they always are, that you can form any just judgment. Short of that, it +is all guess and luck—and will generally be ill-luck. How many a man +has committed himself on a short acquaintance, and rued it all the rest +of his life!” + +Miss Fairfax, who had seldom spoken before, except among her own +confederates, spoke now. + +“Such things do occur, undoubtedly.”—She was stopped by a cough. Frank +Churchill turned towards her to listen. + +“You were speaking,” said he, gravely. She recovered her voice. + +“I was only going to observe, that though such unfortunate +circumstances do sometimes occur both to men and women, I cannot +imagine them to be very frequent. A hasty and imprudent attachment may +arise—but there is generally time to recover from it afterwards. I +would be understood to mean, that it can be only weak, irresolute +characters, (whose happiness must be always at the mercy of chance,) +who will suffer an unfortunate acquaintance to be an inconvenience, an +oppression for ever.” + +He made no answer; merely looked, and bowed in submission; and soon +afterwards said, in a lively tone, + +“Well, I have so little confidence in my own judgment, that whenever I +marry, I hope some body will chuse my wife for me. Will you? (turning +to Emma.) Will you chuse a wife for me?—I am sure I should like any +body fixed on by you. You provide for the family, you know, (with a +smile at his father). Find some body for me. I am in no hurry. Adopt +her, educate her.” + +“And make her like myself.” + +“By all means, if you can.” + +“Very well. I undertake the commission. You shall have a charming +wife.” + +“She must be very lively, and have hazle eyes. I care for nothing else. +I shall go abroad for a couple of years—and when I return, I shall come +to you for my wife. Remember.” + +Emma was in no danger of forgetting. It was a commission to touch every +favourite feeling. Would not Harriet be the very creature described? +Hazle eyes excepted, two years more might make her all that he wished. +He might even have Harriet in his thoughts at the moment; who could +say? Referring the education to her seemed to imply it. + +“Now, ma’am,” said Jane to her aunt, “shall we join Mrs. Elton?” + +“If you please, my dear. With all my heart. I am quite ready. I was +ready to have gone with her, but this will do just as well. We shall +soon overtake her. There she is—no, that’s somebody else. That’s one of +the ladies in the Irish car party, not at all like her.—Well, I +declare—” + +They walked off, followed in half a minute by Mr. Knightley. Mr. +Weston, his son, Emma, and Harriet, only remained; and the young man’s +spirits now rose to a pitch almost unpleasant. Even Emma grew tired at +last of flattery and merriment, and wished herself rather walking +quietly about with any of the others, or sitting almost alone, and +quite unattended to, in tranquil observation of the beautiful views +beneath her. The appearance of the servants looking out for them to +give notice of the carriages was a joyful sight; and even the bustle of +collecting and preparing to depart, and the solicitude of Mrs. Elton to +have _her_ carriage first, were gladly endured, in the prospect of the +quiet drive home which was to close the very questionable enjoyments of +this day of pleasure. Such another scheme, composed of so many +ill-assorted people, she hoped never to be betrayed into again. + +While waiting for the carriage, she found Mr. Knightley by her side. He +looked around, as if to see that no one were near, and then said, + +“Emma, I must once more speak to you as I have been used to do: a +privilege rather endured than allowed, perhaps, but I must still use +it. I cannot see you acting wrong, without a remonstrance. How could +you be so unfeeling to Miss Bates? How could you be so insolent in your +wit to a woman of her character, age, and situation?—Emma, I had not +thought it possible.” + +Emma recollected, blushed, was sorry, but tried to laugh it off. + +“Nay, how could I help saying what I did?—Nobody could have helped it. +It was not so very bad. I dare say she did not understand me.” + +“I assure you she did. She felt your full meaning. She has talked of it +since. I wish you could have heard how she talked of it—with what +candour and generosity. I wish you could have heard her honouring your +forbearance, in being able to pay her such attentions, as she was for +ever receiving from yourself and your father, when her society must be +so irksome.” + +“Oh!” cried Emma, “I know there is not a better creature in the world: +but you must allow, that what is good and what is ridiculous are most +unfortunately blended in her.” + +“They are blended,” said he, “I acknowledge; and, were she prosperous, +I could allow much for the occasional prevalence of the ridiculous over +the good. Were she a woman of fortune, I would leave every harmless +absurdity to take its chance, I would not quarrel with you for any +liberties of manner. Were she your equal in situation—but, Emma, +consider how far this is from being the case. She is poor; she has sunk +from the comforts she was born to; and, if she live to old age, must +probably sink more. Her situation should secure your compassion. It was +badly done, indeed! You, whom she had known from an infant, whom she +had seen grow up from a period when her notice was an honour, to have +you now, in thoughtless spirits, and the pride of the moment, laugh at +her, humble her—and before her niece, too—and before others, many of +whom (certainly _some_,) would be entirely guided by _your_ treatment +of her.—This is not pleasant to you, Emma—and it is very far from +pleasant to me; but I must, I will,—I will tell you truths while I can; +satisfied with proving myself your friend by very faithful counsel, and +trusting that you will some time or other do me greater justice than +you can do now.” + +While they talked, they were advancing towards the carriage; it was +ready; and, before she could speak again, he had handed her in. He had +misinterpreted the feelings which had kept her face averted, and her +tongue motionless. They were combined only of anger against herself, +mortification, and deep concern. She had not been able to speak; and, +on entering the carriage, sunk back for a moment overcome—then +reproaching herself for having taken no leave, making no +acknowledgment, parting in apparent sullenness, she looked out with +voice and hand eager to shew a difference; but it was just too late. He +had turned away, and the horses were in motion. She continued to look +back, but in vain; and soon, with what appeared unusual speed, they +were half way down the hill, and every thing left far behind. She was +vexed beyond what could have been expressed—almost beyond what she +could conceal. Never had she felt so agitated, mortified, grieved, at +any circumstance in her life. She was most forcibly struck. The truth +of this representation there was no denying. She felt it at her heart. +How could she have been so brutal, so cruel to Miss Bates! How could +she have exposed herself to such ill opinion in any one she valued! And +how suffer him to leave her without saying one word of gratitude, of +concurrence, of common kindness! + +Time did not compose her. As she reflected more, she seemed but to feel +it more. She never had been so depressed. Happily it was not necessary +to speak. There was only Harriet, who seemed not in spirits herself, +fagged, and very willing to be silent; and Emma felt the tears running +down her cheeks almost all the way home, without being at any trouble +to check them, extraordinary as they were. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +The wretchedness of a scheme to Box Hill was in Emma’s thoughts all the +evening. How it might be considered by the rest of the party, she could +not tell. They, in their different homes, and their different ways, +might be looking back on it with pleasure; but in her view it was a +morning more completely misspent, more totally bare of rational +satisfaction at the time, and more to be abhorred in recollection, than +any she had ever passed. A whole evening of back-gammon with her +father, was felicity to it. _There_, indeed, lay real pleasure, for +there she was giving up the sweetest hours of the twenty-four to his +comfort; and feeling that, unmerited as might be the degree of his fond +affection and confiding esteem, she could not, in her general conduct, +be open to any severe reproach. As a daughter, she hoped she was not +without a heart. She hoped no one could have said to her, “How could +you be so unfeeling to your father?—I must, I will tell you truths +while I can.” Miss Bates should never again—no, never! If attention, in +future, could do away the past, she might hope to be forgiven. She had +been often remiss, her conscience told her so; remiss, perhaps, more in +thought than fact; scornful, ungracious. But it should be so no more. +In the warmth of true contrition, she would call upon her the very next +morning, and it should be the beginning, on her side, of a regular, +equal, kindly intercourse. + +She was just as determined when the morrow came, and went early, that +nothing might prevent her. It was not unlikely, she thought, that she +might see Mr. Knightley in her way; or, perhaps, he might come in while +she were paying her visit. She had no objection. She would not be +ashamed of the appearance of the penitence, so justly and truly hers. +Her eyes were towards Donwell as she walked, but she saw him not. + +“The ladies were all at home.” She had never rejoiced at the sound +before, nor ever before entered the passage, nor walked up the stairs, +with any wish of giving pleasure, but in conferring obligation, or of +deriving it, except in subsequent ridicule. + +There was a bustle on her approach; a good deal of moving and talking. +She heard Miss Bates’s voice, something was to be done in a hurry; the +maid looked frightened and awkward; hoped she would be pleased to wait +a moment, and then ushered her in too soon. The aunt and niece seemed +both escaping into the adjoining room. Jane she had a distinct glimpse +of, looking extremely ill; and, before the door had shut them out, she +heard Miss Bates saying, “Well, my dear, I shall _say_ you are laid +down upon the bed, and I am sure you are ill enough.” + +Poor old Mrs. Bates, civil and humble as usual, looked as if she did +not quite understand what was going on. + +“I am afraid Jane is not very well,” said she, “but I do not know; they +_tell_ me she is well. I dare say my daughter will be here presently, +Miss Woodhouse. I hope you find a chair. I wish Hetty had not gone. I +am very little able—Have you a chair, ma’am? Do you sit where you like? +I am sure she will be here presently.” + +Emma seriously hoped she would. She had a moment’s fear of Miss Bates +keeping away from her. But Miss Bates soon came—“Very happy and +obliged”—but Emma’s conscience told her that there was not the same +cheerful volubility as before—less ease of look and manner. A very +friendly inquiry after Miss Fairfax, she hoped, might lead the way to a +return of old feelings. The touch seemed immediate. + +“Ah! Miss Woodhouse, how kind you are!—I suppose you have heard—and are +come to give us joy. This does not seem much like joy, indeed, in +me—(twinkling away a tear or two)—but it will be very trying for us to +part with her, after having had her so long, and she has a dreadful +headache just now, writing all the morning:—such long letters, you +know, to be written to Colonel Campbell, and Mrs. Dixon. ‘My dear,’ +said I, ‘you will blind yourself’—for tears were in her eyes +perpetually. One cannot wonder, one cannot wonder. It is a great +change; and though she is amazingly fortunate—such a situation, I +suppose, as no young woman before ever met with on first going out—do +not think us ungrateful, Miss Woodhouse, for such surprising good +fortune—(again dispersing her tears)—but, poor dear soul! if you were +to see what a headache she has. When one is in great pain, you know one +cannot feel any blessing quite as it may deserve. She is as low as +possible. To look at her, nobody would think how delighted and happy +she is to have secured such a situation. You will excuse her not coming +to you—she is not able—she is gone into her own room—I want her to lie +down upon the bed. ‘My dear,’ said I, ‘I shall say you are laid down +upon the bed:’ but, however, she is not; she is walking about the room. +But, now that she has written her letters, she says she shall soon be +well. She will be extremely sorry to miss seeing you, Miss Woodhouse, +but your kindness will excuse her. You were kept waiting at the door—I +was quite ashamed—but somehow there was a little bustle—for it so +happened that we had not heard the knock, and till you were on the +stairs, we did not know any body was coming. ‘It is only Mrs. Cole,’ +said I, ‘depend upon it. Nobody else would come so early.’ ‘Well,’ said +she, ‘it must be borne some time or other, and it may as well be now.’ +But then Patty came in, and said it was you. ‘Oh!’ said I, ‘it is Miss +Woodhouse: I am sure you will like to see her.’—‘I can see nobody,’ +said she; and up she got, and would go away; and that was what made us +keep you waiting—and extremely sorry and ashamed we were. ‘If you must +go, my dear,’ said I, ‘you must, and I will say you are laid down upon +the bed.’” + +Emma was most sincerely interested. Her heart had been long growing +kinder towards Jane; and this picture of her present sufferings acted +as a cure of every former ungenerous suspicion, and left her nothing +but pity; and the remembrance of the less just and less gentle +sensations of the past, obliged her to admit that Jane might very +naturally resolve on seeing Mrs. Cole or any other steady friend, when +she might not bear to see herself. She spoke as she felt, with earnest +regret and solicitude—sincerely wishing that the circumstances which +she collected from Miss Bates to be now actually determined on, might +be as much for Miss Fairfax’s advantage and comfort as possible. “It +must be a severe trial to them all. She had understood it was to be +delayed till Colonel Campbell’s return.” + +“So very kind!” replied Miss Bates. “But you are always kind.” + +There was no bearing such an “always;” and to break through her +dreadful gratitude, Emma made the direct inquiry of— + +“Where—may I ask?—is Miss Fairfax going?” + +“To a Mrs. Smallridge—charming woman—most superior—to have the charge +of her three little girls—delightful children. Impossible that any +situation could be more replete with comfort; if we except, perhaps, +Mrs. Suckling’s own family, and Mrs. Bragge’s; but Mrs. Smallridge is +intimate with both, and in the very same neighbourhood:—lives only four +miles from Maple Grove. Jane will be only four miles from Maple Grove.” + +“Mrs. Elton, I suppose, has been the person to whom Miss Fairfax owes—” + +“Yes, our good Mrs. Elton. The most indefatigable, true friend. She +would not take a denial. She would not let Jane say, ‘No;’ for when +Jane first heard of it, (it was the day before yesterday, the very +morning we were at Donwell,) when Jane first heard of it, she was quite +decided against accepting the offer, and for the reasons you mention; +exactly as you say, she had made up her mind to close with nothing till +Colonel Campbell’s return, and nothing should induce her to enter into +any engagement at present—and so she told Mrs. Elton over and over +again—and I am sure I had no more idea that she would change her +mind!—but that good Mrs. Elton, whose judgment never fails her, saw +farther than I did. It is not every body that would have stood out in +such a kind way as she did, and refuse to take Jane’s answer; but she +positively declared she would _not_ write any such denial yesterday, as +Jane wished her; she would wait—and, sure enough, yesterday evening it +was all settled that Jane should go. Quite a surprize to me! I had not +the least idea!—Jane took Mrs. Elton aside, and told her at once, that +upon thinking over the advantages of Mrs. Smallridge’s situation, she +had come to the resolution of accepting it.—I did not know a word of it +till it was all settled.” + +“You spent the evening with Mrs. Elton?” + +“Yes, all of us; Mrs. Elton would have us come. It was settled so, upon +the hill, while we were walking about with Mr. Knightley. ‘You _must_ +_all_ spend your evening with us,’ said she—‘I positively must have you +_all_ come.’” + +“Mr. Knightley was there too, was he?” + +“No, not Mr. Knightley; he declined it from the first; and though I +thought he would come, because Mrs. Elton declared she would not let +him off, he did not;—but my mother, and Jane, and I, were all there, +and a very agreeable evening we had. Such kind friends, you know, Miss +Woodhouse, one must always find agreeable, though every body seemed +rather fagged after the morning’s party. Even pleasure, you know, is +fatiguing—and I cannot say that any of them seemed very much to have +enjoyed it. However, _I_ shall always think it a very pleasant party, +and feel extremely obliged to the kind friends who included me in it.” + +“Miss Fairfax, I suppose, though you were not aware of it, had been +making up her mind the whole day?” + +“I dare say she had.” + +“Whenever the time may come, it must be unwelcome to her and all her +friends—but I hope her engagement will have every alleviation that is +possible—I mean, as to the character and manners of the family.” + +“Thank you, dear Miss Woodhouse. Yes, indeed, there is every thing in +the world that can make her happy in it. Except the Sucklings and +Bragges, there is not such another nursery establishment, so liberal +and elegant, in all Mrs. Elton’s acquaintance. Mrs. Smallridge, a most +delightful woman!—A style of living almost equal to Maple Grove—and as +to the children, except the little Sucklings and little Bragges, there +are not such elegant sweet children anywhere. Jane will be treated with +such regard and kindness!—It will be nothing but pleasure, a life of +pleasure.—And her salary!—I really cannot venture to name her salary to +you, Miss Woodhouse. Even you, used as you are to great sums, would +hardly believe that so much could be given to a young person like +Jane.” + +“Ah! madam,” cried Emma, “if other children are at all like what I +remember to have been myself, I should think five times the amount of +what I have ever yet heard named as a salary on such occasions, dearly +earned.” + +“You are so noble in your ideas!” + +“And when is Miss Fairfax to leave you?” + +“Very soon, very soon, indeed; that’s the worst of it. Within a +fortnight. Mrs. Smallridge is in a great hurry. My poor mother does not +know how to bear it. So then, I try to put it out of her thoughts, and +say, Come ma’am, do not let us think about it any more.” + +“Her friends must all be sorry to lose her; and will not Colonel and +Mrs. Campbell be sorry to find that she has engaged herself before +their return?” + +“Yes; Jane says she is sure they will; but yet, this is such a +situation as she cannot feel herself justified in declining. I was so +astonished when she first told me what she had been saying to Mrs. +Elton, and when Mrs. Elton at the same moment came congratulating me +upon it! It was before tea—stay—no, it could not be before tea, because +we were just going to cards—and yet it was before tea, because I +remember thinking—Oh! no, now I recollect, now I have it; something +happened before tea, but not that. Mr. Elton was called out of the room +before tea, old John Abdy’s son wanted to speak with him. Poor old +John, I have a great regard for him; he was clerk to my poor father +twenty-seven years; and now, poor old man, he is bed-ridden, and very +poorly with the rheumatic gout in his joints—I must go and see him +to-day; and so will Jane, I am sure, if she gets out at all. And poor +John’s son came to talk to Mr. Elton about relief from the parish; he +is very well to do himself, you know, being head man at the Crown, +ostler, and every thing of that sort, but still he cannot keep his +father without some help; and so, when Mr. Elton came back, he told us +what John ostler had been telling him, and then it came out about the +chaise having been sent to Randalls to take Mr. Frank Churchill to +Richmond. That was what happened before tea. It was after tea that Jane +spoke to Mrs. Elton.” + +Miss Bates would hardly give Emma time to say how perfectly new this +circumstance was to her; but as without supposing it possible that she +could be ignorant of any of the particulars of Mr. Frank Churchill’s +going, she proceeded to give them all, it was of no consequence. + +What Mr. Elton had learned from the ostler on the subject, being the +accumulation of the ostler’s own knowledge, and the knowledge of the +servants at Randalls, was, that a messenger had come over from Richmond +soon after the return of the party from Box Hill—which messenger, +however, had been no more than was expected; and that Mr. Churchill had +sent his nephew a few lines, containing, upon the whole, a tolerable +account of Mrs. Churchill, and only wishing him not to delay coming +back beyond the next morning early; but that Mr. Frank Churchill having +resolved to go home directly, without waiting at all, and his horse +seeming to have got a cold, Tom had been sent off immediately for the +Crown chaise, and the ostler had stood out and seen it pass by, the boy +going a good pace, and driving very steady. + +There was nothing in all this either to astonish or interest, and it +caught Emma’s attention only as it united with the subject which +already engaged her mind. The contrast between Mrs. Churchill’s +importance in the world, and Jane Fairfax’s, struck her; one was every +thing, the other nothing—and she sat musing on the difference of +woman’s destiny, and quite unconscious on what her eyes were fixed, +till roused by Miss Bates’s saying, + +“Aye, I see what you are thinking of, the pianoforte. What is to become +of that?—Very true. Poor dear Jane was talking of it just now.—‘You +must go,’ said she. ‘You and I must part. You will have no business +here.—Let it stay, however,’ said she; ‘give it houseroom till Colonel +Campbell comes back. I shall talk about it to him; he will settle for +me; he will help me out of all my difficulties.’—And to this day, I do +believe, she knows not whether it was his present or his daughter’s.” + +Now Emma was obliged to think of the pianoforte; and the remembrance of +all her former fanciful and unfair conjectures was so little pleasing, +that she soon allowed herself to believe her visit had been long +enough; and, with a repetition of every thing that she could venture to +say of the good wishes which she really felt, took leave. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +Emma’s pensive meditations, as she walked home, were not interrupted; +but on entering the parlour, she found those who must rouse her. Mr. +Knightley and Harriet had arrived during her absence, and were sitting +with her father.—Mr. Knightley immediately got up, and in a manner +decidedly graver than usual, said, + +“I would not go away without seeing you, but I have no time to spare, +and therefore must now be gone directly. I am going to London, to spend +a few days with John and Isabella. Have you any thing to send or say, +besides the ‘love,’ which nobody carries?” + +“Nothing at all. But is not this a sudden scheme?” + +“Yes—rather—I have been thinking of it some little time.” + +Emma was sure he had not forgiven her; he looked unlike himself. Time, +however, she thought, would tell him that they ought to be friends +again. While he stood, as if meaning to go, but not going—her father +began his inquiries. + +“Well, my dear, and did you get there safely?—And how did you find my +worthy old friend and her daughter?—I dare say they must have been very +much obliged to you for coming. Dear Emma has been to call on Mrs. and +Miss Bates, Mr. Knightley, as I told you before. She is always so +attentive to them!” + +Emma’s colour was heightened by this unjust praise; and with a smile, +and shake of the head, which spoke much, she looked at Mr. +Knightley.—It seemed as if there were an instantaneous impression in +her favour, as if his eyes received the truth from hers, and all that +had passed of good in her feelings were at once caught and honoured.— +He looked at her with a glow of regard. She was warmly gratified—and in +another moment still more so, by a little movement of more than common +friendliness on his part.—He took her hand;—whether she had not herself +made the first motion, she could not say—she might, perhaps, have +rather offered it—but he took her hand, pressed it, and certainly was +on the point of carrying it to his lips—when, from some fancy or other, +he suddenly let it go.—Why he should feel such a scruple, why he should +change his mind when it was all but done, she could not perceive.—He +would have judged better, she thought, if he had not stopped.—The +intention, however, was indubitable; and whether it was that his +manners had in general so little gallantry, or however else it +happened, but she thought nothing became him more.—It was with him, of +so simple, yet so dignified a nature.—She could not but recall the +attempt with great satisfaction. It spoke such perfect amity.—He left +them immediately afterwards—gone in a moment. He always moved with the +alertness of a mind which could neither be undecided nor dilatory, but +now he seemed more sudden than usual in his disappearance. + +Emma could not regret her having gone to Miss Bates, but she wished she +had left her ten minutes earlier;—it would have been a great pleasure +to talk over Jane Fairfax’s situation with Mr. Knightley.—Neither would +she regret that he should be going to Brunswick Square, for she knew +how much his visit would be enjoyed—but it might have happened at a +better time—and to have had longer notice of it, would have been +pleasanter.—They parted thorough friends, however; she could not be +deceived as to the meaning of his countenance, and his unfinished +gallantry;—it was all done to assure her that she had fully recovered +his good opinion.—He had been sitting with them half an hour, she +found. It was a pity that she had not come back earlier! + +In the hope of diverting her father’s thoughts from the +disagreeableness of Mr. Knightley’s going to London; and going so +suddenly; and going on horseback, which she knew would be all very bad; +Emma communicated her news of Jane Fairfax, and her dependence on the +effect was justified; it supplied a very useful check,—interested, +without disturbing him. He had long made up his mind to Jane Fairfax’s +going out as governess, and could talk of it cheerfully, but Mr. +Knightley’s going to London had been an unexpected blow. + +“I am very glad, indeed, my dear, to hear she is to be so comfortably +settled. Mrs. Elton is very good-natured and agreeable, and I dare say +her acquaintance are just what they ought to be. I hope it is a dry +situation, and that her health will be taken good care of. It ought to +be a first object, as I am sure poor Miss Taylor’s always was with me. +You know, my dear, she is going to be to this new lady what Miss Taylor +was to us. And I hope she will be better off in one respect, and not be +induced to go away after it has been her home so long.” + +The following day brought news from Richmond to throw every thing else +into the background. An express arrived at Randalls to announce the +death of Mrs. Churchill! Though her nephew had had no particular reason +to hasten back on her account, she had not lived above six-and-thirty +hours after his return. A sudden seizure of a different nature from any +thing foreboded by her general state, had carried her off after a short +struggle. The great Mrs. Churchill was no more. + +It was felt as such things must be felt. Every body had a degree of +gravity and sorrow; tenderness towards the departed, solicitude for the +surviving friends; and, in a reasonable time, curiosity to know where +she would be buried. Goldsmith tells us, that when lovely woman stoops +to folly, she has nothing to do but to die; and when she stoops to be +disagreeable, it is equally to be recommended as a clearer of ill-fame. +Mrs. Churchill, after being disliked at least twenty-five years, was +now spoken of with compassionate allowances. In one point she was fully +justified. She had never been admitted before to be seriously ill. The +event acquitted her of all the fancifulness, and all the selfishness of +imaginary complaints. + +“Poor Mrs. Churchill! no doubt she had been suffering a great deal: +more than any body had ever supposed—and continual pain would try the +temper. It was a sad event—a great shock—with all her faults, what +would Mr. Churchill do without her? Mr. Churchill’s loss would be +dreadful indeed. Mr. Churchill would never get over it.”—Even Mr. +Weston shook his head, and looked solemn, and said, “Ah! poor woman, +who would have thought it!” and resolved, that his mourning should be +as handsome as possible; and his wife sat sighing and moralising over +her broad hems with a commiseration and good sense, true and steady. +How it would affect Frank was among the earliest thoughts of both. It +was also a very early speculation with Emma. The character of Mrs. +Churchill, the grief of her husband—her mind glanced over them both +with awe and compassion—and then rested with lightened feelings on how +Frank might be affected by the event, how benefited, how freed. She saw +in a moment all the possible good. Now, an attachment to Harriet Smith +would have nothing to encounter. Mr. Churchill, independent of his +wife, was feared by nobody; an easy, guidable man, to be persuaded into +any thing by his nephew. All that remained to be wished was, that the +nephew should form the attachment, as, with all her goodwill in the +cause, Emma could feel no certainty of its being already formed. + +Harriet behaved extremely well on the occasion, with great +self-command. What ever she might feel of brighter hope, she betrayed +nothing. Emma was gratified, to observe such a proof in her of +strengthened character, and refrained from any allusion that might +endanger its maintenance. They spoke, therefore, of Mrs. Churchill’s +death with mutual forbearance. + +Short letters from Frank were received at Randalls, communicating all +that was immediately important of their state and plans. Mr. Churchill +was better than could be expected; and their first removal, on the +departure of the funeral for Yorkshire, was to be to the house of a +very old friend in Windsor, to whom Mr. Churchill had been promising a +visit the last ten years. At present, there was nothing to be done for +Harriet; good wishes for the future were all that could yet be possible +on Emma’s side. + +It was a more pressing concern to shew attention to Jane Fairfax, whose +prospects were closing, while Harriet’s opened, and whose engagements +now allowed of no delay in any one at Highbury, who wished to shew her +kindness—and with Emma it was grown into a first wish. She had scarcely +a stronger regret than for her past coldness; and the person, whom she +had been so many months neglecting, was now the very one on whom she +would have lavished every distinction of regard or sympathy. She wanted +to be of use to her; wanted to shew a value for her society, and +testify respect and consideration. She resolved to prevail on her to +spend a day at Hartfield. A note was written to urge it. The invitation +was refused, and by a verbal message. “Miss Fairfax was not well enough +to write;” and when Mr. Perry called at Hartfield, the same morning, it +appeared that she was so much indisposed as to have been visited, +though against her own consent, by himself, and that she was suffering +under severe headaches, and a nervous fever to a degree, which made him +doubt the possibility of her going to Mrs. Smallridge’s at the time +proposed. Her health seemed for the moment completely deranged—appetite +quite gone—and though there were no absolutely alarming symptoms, +nothing touching the pulmonary complaint, which was the standing +apprehension of the family, Mr. Perry was uneasy about her. He thought +she had undertaken more than she was equal to, and that she felt it so +herself, though she would not own it. Her spirits seemed overcome. Her +present home, he could not but observe, was unfavourable to a nervous +disorder:—confined always to one room;—he could have wished it +otherwise—and her good aunt, though his very old friend, he must +acknowledge to be not the best companion for an invalid of that +description. Her care and attention could not be questioned; they were, +in fact, only too great. He very much feared that Miss Fairfax derived +more evil than good from them. Emma listened with the warmest concern; +grieved for her more and more, and looked around eager to discover some +way of being useful. To take her—be it only an hour or two—from her +aunt, to give her change of air and scene, and quiet rational +conversation, even for an hour or two, might do her good; and the +following morning she wrote again to say, in the most feeling language +she could command, that she would call for her in the carriage at any +hour that Jane would name—mentioning that she had Mr. Perry’s decided +opinion, in favour of such exercise for his patient. The answer was +only in this short note: + +“Miss Fairfax’s compliments and thanks, but is quite unequal to any +exercise.” + +Emma felt that her own note had deserved something better; but it was +impossible to quarrel with words, whose tremulous inequality shewed +indisposition so plainly, and she thought only of how she might best +counteract this unwillingness to be seen or assisted. In spite of the +answer, therefore, she ordered the carriage, and drove to Mrs. Bates’s, +in the hope that Jane would be induced to join her—but it would not +do;—Miss Bates came to the carriage door, all gratitude, and agreeing +with her most earnestly in thinking an airing might be of the greatest +service—and every thing that message could do was tried—but all in +vain. Miss Bates was obliged to return without success; Jane was quite +unpersuadable; the mere proposal of going out seemed to make her +worse.—Emma wished she could have seen her, and tried her own powers; +but, almost before she could hint the wish, Miss Bates made it appear +that she had promised her niece on no account to let Miss Woodhouse in. +“Indeed, the truth was, that poor dear Jane could not bear to see any +body—any body at all—Mrs. Elton, indeed, could not be denied—and Mrs. +Cole had made such a point—and Mrs. Perry had said so much—but, except +them, Jane would really see nobody.” + +Emma did not want to be classed with the Mrs. Eltons, the Mrs. Perrys, +and the Mrs. Coles, who would force themselves anywhere; neither could +she feel any right of preference herself—she submitted, therefore, and +only questioned Miss Bates farther as to her niece’s appetite and diet, +which she longed to be able to assist. On that subject poor Miss Bates +was very unhappy, and very communicative; Jane would hardly eat any +thing:—Mr. Perry recommended nourishing food; but every thing they +could command (and never had any body such good neighbours) was +distasteful. + +Emma, on reaching home, called the housekeeper directly, to an +examination of her stores; and some arrowroot of very superior quality +was speedily despatched to Miss Bates with a most friendly note. In +half an hour the arrowroot was returned, with a thousand thanks from +Miss Bates, but “dear Jane would not be satisfied without its being +sent back; it was a thing she could not take—and, moreover, she +insisted on her saying, that she was not at all in want of any thing.” + +When Emma afterwards heard that Jane Fairfax had been seen wandering +about the meadows, at some distance from Highbury, on the afternoon of +the very day on which she had, under the plea of being unequal to any +exercise, so peremptorily refused to go out with her in the carriage, +she could have no doubt—putting every thing together—that Jane was +resolved to receive no kindness from _her_. She was sorry, very sorry. +Her heart was grieved for a state which seemed but the more pitiable +from this sort of irritation of spirits, inconsistency of action, and +inequality of powers; and it mortified her that she was given so little +credit for proper feeling, or esteemed so little worthy as a friend: +but she had the consolation of knowing that her intentions were good, +and of being able to say to herself, that could Mr. Knightley have been +privy to all her attempts of assisting Jane Fairfax, could he even have +seen into her heart, he would not, on this occasion, have found any +thing to reprove. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +One morning, about ten days after Mrs. Churchill’s decease, Emma was +called downstairs to Mr. Weston, who “could not stay five minutes, and +wanted particularly to speak with her.”—He met her at the parlour-door, +and hardly asking her how she did, in the natural key of his voice, +sunk it immediately, to say, unheard by her father, + +“Can you come to Randalls at any time this morning?—Do, if it be +possible. Mrs. Weston wants to see you. She must see you.” + +“Is she unwell?” + +“No, no, not at all—only a little agitated. She would have ordered the +carriage, and come to you, but she must see you _alone_, and that you +know—(nodding towards her father)—Humph!—Can you come?” + +“Certainly. This moment, if you please. It is impossible to refuse what +you ask in such a way. But what can be the matter?—Is she really not +ill?” + +“Depend upon me—but ask no more questions. You will know it all in +time. The most unaccountable business! But hush, hush!” + +To guess what all this meant, was impossible even for Emma. Something +really important seemed announced by his looks; but, as her friend was +well, she endeavoured not to be uneasy, and settling it with her +father, that she would take her walk now, she and Mr. Weston were soon +out of the house together and on their way at a quick pace for +Randalls. + +“Now,”—said Emma, when they were fairly beyond the sweep gates,—“now +Mr. Weston, do let me know what has happened.” + +“No, no,”—he gravely replied.—“Don’t ask me. I promised my wife to +leave it all to her. She will break it to you better than I can. Do not +be impatient, Emma; it will all come out too soon.” + +“Break it to me,” cried Emma, standing still with terror.—“Good +God!—Mr. Weston, tell me at once.—Something has happened in Brunswick +Square. I know it has. Tell me, I charge you tell me this moment what +it is.” + +“No, indeed you are mistaken.”— + +“Mr. Weston do not trifle with me.—Consider how many of my dearest +friends are now in Brunswick Square. Which of them is it?—I charge you +by all that is sacred, not to attempt concealment.” + +“Upon my word, Emma.”— + +“Your word!—why not your honour!—why not say upon your honour, that it +has nothing to do with any of them? Good Heavens!—What can be to be +_broke_ to me, that does not relate to one of that family?” + +“Upon my honour,” said he very seriously, “it does not. It is not in +the smallest degree connected with any human being of the name of +Knightley.” + +Emma’s courage returned, and she walked on. + +“I was wrong,” he continued, “in talking of its being _broke_ to you. I +should not have used the expression. In fact, it does not concern +you—it concerns only myself,—that is, we hope.—Humph!—In short, my dear +Emma, there is no occasion to be so uneasy about it. I don’t say that +it is not a disagreeable business—but things might be much worse.—If we +walk fast, we shall soon be at Randalls.” + +Emma found that she must wait; and now it required little effort. She +asked no more questions therefore, merely employed her own fancy, and +that soon pointed out to her the probability of its being some money +concern—something just come to light, of a disagreeable nature in the +circumstances of the family,—something which the late event at Richmond +had brought forward. Her fancy was very active. Half a dozen natural +children, perhaps—and poor Frank cut off!—This, though very +undesirable, would be no matter of agony to her. It inspired little +more than an animating curiosity. + +“Who is that gentleman on horseback?” said she, as they +proceeded—speaking more to assist Mr. Weston in keeping his secret, +than with any other view. + +“I do not know.—One of the Otways.—Not Frank;—it is not Frank, I assure +you. You will not see him. He is half way to Windsor by this time.” + +“Has your son been with you, then?” + +“Oh! yes—did not you know?—Well, well, never mind.” + +For a moment he was silent; and then added, in a tone much more guarded +and demure, + +“Yes, Frank came over this morning, just to ask us how we did.” + +They hurried on, and were speedily at Randalls.—“Well, my dear,” said +he, as they entered the room—“I have brought her, and now I hope you +will soon be better. I shall leave you together. There is no use in +delay. I shall not be far off, if you want me.”—And Emma distinctly +heard him add, in a lower tone, before he quitted the room,—“I have +been as good as my word. She has not the least idea.” + +Mrs. Weston was looking so ill, and had an air of so much perturbation, +that Emma’s uneasiness increased; and the moment they were alone, she +eagerly said, + +“What is it my dear friend? Something of a very unpleasant nature, I +find, has occurred;—do let me know directly what it is. I have been +walking all this way in complete suspense. We both abhor suspense. Do +not let mine continue longer. It will do you good to speak of your +distress, whatever it may be.” + +“Have you indeed no idea?” said Mrs. Weston in a trembling voice. +“Cannot you, my dear Emma—cannot you form a guess as to what you are to +hear?” + +“So far as that it relates to Mr. Frank Churchill, I do guess.” + +“You are right. It does relate to him, and I will tell you directly;” +(resuming her work, and seeming resolved against looking up.) “He has +been here this very morning, on a most extraordinary errand. It is +impossible to express our surprize. He came to speak to his father on a +subject,—to announce an attachment—” + +She stopped to breathe. Emma thought first of herself, and then of +Harriet. + +“More than an attachment, indeed,” resumed Mrs. Weston; “an +engagement—a positive engagement.—What will you say, Emma—what will any +body say, when it is known that Frank Churchill and Miss Fairfax are +engaged;—nay, that they have been long engaged!” + +Emma even jumped with surprize;—and, horror-struck, exclaimed, + +“Jane Fairfax!—Good God! You are not serious? You do not mean it?” + +“You may well be amazed,” returned Mrs. Weston, still averting her +eyes, and talking on with eagerness, that Emma might have time to +recover— “You may well be amazed. But it is even so. There has been a +solemn engagement between them ever since October—formed at Weymouth, +and kept a secret from every body. Not a creature knowing it but +themselves—neither the Campbells, nor her family, nor his.—It is so +wonderful, that though perfectly convinced of the fact, it is yet +almost incredible to myself. I can hardly believe it.—I thought I knew +him.” + +Emma scarcely heard what was said.—Her mind was divided between two +ideas—her own former conversations with him about Miss Fairfax; and +poor Harriet;—and for some time she could only exclaim, and require +confirmation, repeated confirmation. + +“Well,” said she at last, trying to recover herself; “this is a +circumstance which I must think of at least half a day, before I can at +all comprehend it. What!—engaged to her all the winter—before either of +them came to Highbury?” + +“Engaged since October,—secretly engaged.—It has hurt me, Emma, very +much. It has hurt his father equally. _Some_ _part_ of his conduct we +cannot excuse.” + +Emma pondered a moment, and then replied, “I will not pretend _not_ to +understand you; and to give you all the relief in my power, be assured +that no such effect has followed his attentions to me, as you are +apprehensive of.” + +Mrs. Weston looked up, afraid to believe; but Emma’s countenance was as +steady as her words. + +“That you may have less difficulty in believing this boast, of my +present perfect indifference,” she continued, “I will farther tell you, +that there was a period in the early part of our acquaintance, when I +did like him, when I was very much disposed to be attached to him—nay, +was attached—and how it came to cease, is perhaps the wonder. +Fortunately, however, it did cease. I have really for some time past, +for at least these three months, cared nothing about him. You may +believe me, Mrs. Weston. This is the simple truth.” + +Mrs. Weston kissed her with tears of joy; and when she could find +utterance, assured her, that this protestation had done her more good +than any thing else in the world could do. + +“Mr. Weston will be almost as much relieved as myself,” said she. “On +this point we have been wretched. It was our darling wish that you +might be attached to each other—and we were persuaded that it was so.— +Imagine what we have been feeling on your account.” + +“I have escaped; and that I should escape, may be a matter of grateful +wonder to you and myself. But this does not acquit _him_, Mrs. Weston; +and I must say, that I think him greatly to blame. What right had he to +come among us with affection and faith engaged, and with manners so +_very_ disengaged? What right had he to endeavour to please, as he +certainly did—to distinguish any one young woman with persevering +attention, as he certainly did—while he really belonged to another?—How +could he tell what mischief he might be doing?—How could he tell that +he might not be making me in love with him?—very wrong, very wrong +indeed.” + +“From something that he said, my dear Emma, I rather imagine—” + +“And how could _she_ bear such behaviour! Composure with a witness! to +look on, while repeated attentions were offering to another woman, +before her face, and not resent it.—That is a degree of placidity, +which I can neither comprehend nor respect.” + +“There were misunderstandings between them, Emma; he said so expressly. +He had not time to enter into much explanation. He was here only a +quarter of an hour, and in a state of agitation which did not allow the +full use even of the time he could stay—but that there had been +misunderstandings he decidedly said. The present crisis, indeed, seemed +to be brought on by them; and those misunderstandings might very +possibly arise from the impropriety of his conduct.” + +“Impropriety! Oh! Mrs. Weston—it is too calm a censure. Much, much +beyond impropriety!—It has sunk him, I cannot say how it has sunk him +in my opinion. So unlike what a man should be!—None of that upright +integrity, that strict adherence to truth and principle, that disdain +of trick and littleness, which a man should display in every +transaction of his life.” + +“Nay, dear Emma, now I must take his part; for though he has been wrong +in this instance, I have known him long enough to answer for his having +many, very many, good qualities; and—” + +“Good God!” cried Emma, not attending to her.—“Mrs. Smallridge, too! +Jane actually on the point of going as governess! What could he mean by +such horrible indelicacy? To suffer her to engage herself—to suffer her +even to think of such a measure!” + +“He knew nothing about it, Emma. On this article I can fully acquit +him. It was a private resolution of hers, not communicated to him—or at +least not communicated in a way to carry conviction.—Till yesterday, I +know he said he was in the dark as to her plans. They burst on him, I +do not know how, but by some letter or message—and it was the discovery +of what she was doing, of this very project of hers, which determined +him to come forward at once, own it all to his uncle, throw himself on +his kindness, and, in short, put an end to the miserable state of +concealment that had been carrying on so long.” + +Emma began to listen better. + +“I am to hear from him soon,” continued Mrs. Weston. “He told me at +parting, that he should soon write; and he spoke in a manner which +seemed to promise me many particulars that could not be given now. Let +us wait, therefore, for this letter. It may bring many extenuations. It +may make many things intelligible and excusable which now are not to be +understood. Don’t let us be severe, don’t let us be in a hurry to +condemn him. Let us have patience. I must love him; and now that I am +satisfied on one point, the one material point, I am sincerely anxious +for its all turning out well, and ready to hope that it may. They must +both have suffered a great deal under such a system of secresy and +concealment.” + +“_His_ sufferings,” replied Emma dryly, “do not appear to have done him +much harm. Well, and how did Mr. Churchill take it?” + +“Most favourably for his nephew—gave his consent with scarcely a +difficulty. Conceive what the events of a week have done in that +family! While poor Mrs. Churchill lived, I suppose there could not have +been a hope, a chance, a possibility;—but scarcely are her remains at +rest in the family vault, than her husband is persuaded to act exactly +opposite to what she would have required. What a blessing it is, when +undue influence does not survive the grave!—He gave his consent with +very little persuasion.” + +“Ah!” thought Emma, “he would have done as much for Harriet.” + +“This was settled last night, and Frank was off with the light this +morning. He stopped at Highbury, at the Bates’s, I fancy, some time—and +then came on hither; but was in such a hurry to get back to his uncle, +to whom he is just now more necessary than ever, that, as I tell you, +he could stay with us but a quarter of an hour.—He was very much +agitated—very much, indeed—to a degree that made him appear quite a +different creature from any thing I had ever seen him before.—In +addition to all the rest, there had been the shock of finding her so +very unwell, which he had had no previous suspicion of—and there was +every appearance of his having been feeling a great deal.” + +“And do you really believe the affair to have been carrying on with +such perfect secresy?—The Campbells, the Dixons, did none of them know +of the engagement?” + +Emma could not speak the name of Dixon without a little blush. + +“None; not one. He positively said that it had been known to no being +in the world but their two selves.” + +“Well,” said Emma, “I suppose we shall gradually grow reconciled to the +idea, and I wish them very happy. But I shall always think it a very +abominable sort of proceeding. What has it been but a system of +hypocrisy and deceit,—espionage, and treachery?—To come among us with +professions of openness and simplicity; and such a league in secret to +judge us all!—Here have we been, the whole winter and spring, +completely duped, fancying ourselves all on an equal footing of truth +and honour, with two people in the midst of us who may have been +carrying round, comparing and sitting in judgment on sentiments and +words that were never meant for both to hear.—They must take the +consequence, if they have heard each other spoken of in a way not +perfectly agreeable!” + +“I am quite easy on that head,” replied Mrs. Weston. “I am very sure +that I never said any thing of either to the other, which both might +not have heard.” + +“You are in luck.—Your only blunder was confined to my ear, when you +imagined a certain friend of ours in love with the lady.” + +“True. But as I have always had a thoroughly good opinion of Miss +Fairfax, I never could, under any blunder, have spoken ill of her; and +as to speaking ill of him, there I must have been safe.” + +At this moment Mr. Weston appeared at a little distance from the +window, evidently on the watch. His wife gave him a look which invited +him in; and, while he was coming round, added, “Now, dearest Emma, let +me intreat you to say and look every thing that may set his heart at +ease, and incline him to be satisfied with the match. Let us make the +best of it—and, indeed, almost every thing may be fairly said in her +favour. It is not a connexion to gratify; but if Mr. Churchill does not +feel that, why should we? and it may be a very fortunate circumstance +for him, for Frank, I mean, that he should have attached himself to a +girl of such steadiness of character and good judgment as I have always +given her credit for—and still am disposed to give her credit for, in +spite of this one great deviation from the strict rule of right. And +how much may be said in her situation for even that error!” + +“Much, indeed!” cried Emma feelingly. “If a woman can ever be excused +for thinking only of herself, it is in a situation like Jane +Fairfax’s.—Of such, one may almost say, that ‘the world is not their’s, +nor the world’s law.’” + +She met Mr. Weston on his entrance, with a smiling countenance, +exclaiming, + +“A very pretty trick you have been playing me, upon my word! This was a +device, I suppose, to sport with my curiosity, and exercise my talent +of guessing. But you really frightened me. I thought you had lost half +your property, at least. And here, instead of its being a matter of +condolence, it turns out to be one of congratulation.—I congratulate +you, Mr. Weston, with all my heart, on the prospect of having one of +the most lovely and accomplished young women in England for your +daughter.” + +A glance or two between him and his wife, convinced him that all was as +right as this speech proclaimed; and its happy effect on his spirits +was immediate. His air and voice recovered their usual briskness: he +shook her heartily and gratefully by the hand, and entered on the +subject in a manner to prove, that he now only wanted time and +persuasion to think the engagement no very bad thing. His companions +suggested only what could palliate imprudence, or smooth objections; +and by the time they had talked it all over together, and he had talked +it all over again with Emma, in their walk back to Hartfield, he was +become perfectly reconciled, and not far from thinking it the very best +thing that Frank could possibly have done. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +“Harriet, poor Harriet!”—Those were the words; in them lay the +tormenting ideas which Emma could not get rid of, and which constituted +the real misery of the business to her. Frank Churchill had behaved +very ill by herself—very ill in many ways,—but it was not so much _his_ +behaviour as her _own_, which made her so angry with him. It was the +scrape which he had drawn her into on Harriet’s account, that gave the +deepest hue to his offence.—Poor Harriet! to be a second time the dupe +of her misconceptions and flattery. Mr. Knightley had spoken +prophetically, when he once said, “Emma, you have been no friend to +Harriet Smith.”—She was afraid she had done her nothing but +disservice.—It was true that she had not to charge herself, in this +instance as in the former, with being the sole and original author of +the mischief; with having suggested such feelings as might otherwise +never have entered Harriet’s imagination; for Harriet had acknowledged +her admiration and preference of Frank Churchill before she had ever +given her a hint on the subject; but she felt completely guilty of +having encouraged what she might have repressed. She might have +prevented the indulgence and increase of such sentiments. Her influence +would have been enough. And now she was very conscious that she ought +to have prevented them.—She felt that she had been risking her friend’s +happiness on most insufficient grounds. Common sense would have +directed her to tell Harriet, that she must not allow herself to think +of him, and that there were five hundred chances to one against his +ever caring for her.—“But, with common sense,” she added, “I am afraid +I have had little to do.” + +She was extremely angry with herself. If she could not have been angry +with Frank Churchill too, it would have been dreadful.—As for Jane +Fairfax, she might at least relieve her feelings from any present +solicitude on her account. Harriet would be anxiety enough; she need no +longer be unhappy about Jane, whose troubles and whose ill-health +having, of course, the same origin, must be equally under cure.—Her +days of insignificance and evil were over.—She would soon be well, and +happy, and prosperous.—Emma could now imagine why her own attentions +had been slighted. This discovery laid many smaller matters open. No +doubt it had been from jealousy.—In Jane’s eyes she had been a rival; +and well might any thing she could offer of assistance or regard be +repulsed. An airing in the Hartfield carriage would have been the rack, +and arrowroot from the Hartfield storeroom must have been poison. She +understood it all; and as far as her mind could disengage itself from +the injustice and selfishness of angry feelings, she acknowledged that +Jane Fairfax would have neither elevation nor happiness beyond her +desert. But poor Harriet was such an engrossing charge! There was +little sympathy to be spared for any body else. Emma was sadly fearful +that this second disappointment would be more severe than the first. +Considering the very superior claims of the object, it ought; and +judging by its apparently stronger effect on Harriet’s mind, producing +reserve and self-command, it would.—She must communicate the painful +truth, however, and as soon as possible. An injunction of secresy had +been among Mr. Weston’s parting words. “For the present, the whole +affair was to be completely a secret. Mr. Churchill had made a point of +it, as a token of respect to the wife he had so very recently lost; and +every body admitted it to be no more than due decorum.”—Emma had +promised; but still Harriet must be excepted. It was her superior duty. + +In spite of her vexation, she could not help feeling it almost +ridiculous, that she should have the very same distressing and delicate +office to perform by Harriet, which Mrs. Weston had just gone through +by herself. The intelligence, which had been so anxiously announced to +her, she was now to be anxiously announcing to another. Her heart beat +quick on hearing Harriet’s footstep and voice; so, she supposed, had +poor Mrs. Weston felt when _she_ was approaching Randalls. Could the +event of the disclosure bear an equal resemblance!—But of that, +unfortunately, there could be no chance. + +“Well, Miss Woodhouse!” cried Harriet, coming eagerly into the room—“is +not this the oddest news that ever was?” + +“What news do you mean?” replied Emma, unable to guess, by look or +voice, whether Harriet could indeed have received any hint. + +“About Jane Fairfax. Did you ever hear any thing so strange? Oh!—you +need not be afraid of owning it to me, for Mr. Weston has told me +himself. I met him just now. He told me it was to be a great secret; +and, therefore, I should not think of mentioning it to any body but +you, but he said you knew it.” + +“What did Mr. Weston tell you?”—said Emma, still perplexed. + +“Oh! he told me all about it; that Jane Fairfax and Mr. Frank Churchill +are to be married, and that they have been privately engaged to one +another this long while. How very odd!” + +It was, indeed, so odd; Harriet’s behaviour was so extremely odd, that +Emma did not know how to understand it. Her character appeared +absolutely changed. She seemed to propose shewing no agitation, or +disappointment, or peculiar concern in the discovery. Emma looked at +her, quite unable to speak. + +“Had you any idea,” cried Harriet, “of his being in love with her?—You, +perhaps, might.—You (blushing as she spoke) who can see into every +body’s heart; but nobody else—” + +“Upon my word,” said Emma, “I begin to doubt my having any such talent. +Can you seriously ask me, Harriet, whether I imagined him attached to +another woman at the very time that I was—tacitly, if not +openly—encouraging you to give way to your own feelings?—I never had +the slightest suspicion, till within the last hour, of Mr. Frank +Churchill’s having the least regard for Jane Fairfax. You may be very +sure that if I had, I should have cautioned you accordingly.” + +“Me!” cried Harriet, colouring, and astonished. “Why should you caution +me?—You do not think I care about Mr. Frank Churchill.” + +“I am delighted to hear you speak so stoutly on the subject,” replied +Emma, smiling; “but you do not mean to deny that there was a time—and +not very distant either—when you gave me reason to understand that you +did care about him?” + +“Him!—never, never. Dear Miss Woodhouse, how could you so mistake me?” +turning away distressed. + +“Harriet!” cried Emma, after a moment’s pause—“What do you mean?—Good +Heaven! what do you mean?—Mistake you!—Am I to suppose then?—” + +She could not speak another word.—Her voice was lost; and she sat down, +waiting in great terror till Harriet should answer. + +Harriet, who was standing at some distance, and with face turned from +her, did not immediately say any thing; and when she did speak, it was +in a voice nearly as agitated as Emma’s. + +“I should not have thought it possible,” she began, “that you could +have misunderstood me! I know we agreed never to name him—but +considering how infinitely superior he is to every body else, I should +not have thought it possible that I could be supposed to mean any other +person. Mr. Frank Churchill, indeed! I do not know who would ever look +at him in the company of the other. I hope I have a better taste than +to think of Mr. Frank Churchill, who is like nobody by his side. And +that you should have been so mistaken, is amazing!—I am sure, but for +believing that you entirely approved and meant to encourage me in my +attachment, I should have considered it at first too great a +presumption almost, to dare to think of him. At first, if you had not +told me that more wonderful things had happened; that there had been +matches of greater disparity (those were your very words);—I should not +have dared to give way to—I should not have thought it possible—But if +_you_, who had been always acquainted with him—” + +“Harriet!” cried Emma, collecting herself resolutely—“Let us understand +each other now, without the possibility of farther mistake. Are you +speaking of—Mr. Knightley?” + +“To be sure I am. I never could have an idea of any body else—and so I +thought you knew. When we talked about him, it was as clear as +possible.” + +“Not quite,” returned Emma, with forced calmness, “for all that you +then said, appeared to me to relate to a different person. I could +almost assert that you had _named_ Mr. Frank Churchill. I am sure the +service Mr. Frank Churchill had rendered you, in protecting you from +the gipsies, was spoken of.” + +“Oh! Miss Woodhouse, how you do forget!” + +“My dear Harriet, I perfectly remember the substance of what I said on +the occasion. I told you that I did not wonder at your attachment; that +considering the service he had rendered you, it was extremely +natural:—and you agreed to it, expressing yourself very warmly as to +your sense of that service, and mentioning even what your sensations +had been in seeing him come forward to your rescue.—The impression of +it is strong on my memory.” + +“Oh, dear,” cried Harriet, “now I recollect what you mean; but I was +thinking of something very different at the time. It was not the +gipsies—it was not Mr. Frank Churchill that I meant. No! (with some +elevation) I was thinking of a much more precious circumstance—of Mr. +Knightley’s coming and asking me to dance, when Mr. Elton would not +stand up with me; and when there was no other partner in the room. That +was the kind action; that was the noble benevolence and generosity; +that was the service which made me begin to feel how superior he was to +every other being upon earth.” + +“Good God!” cried Emma, “this has been a most unfortunate—most +deplorable mistake!—What is to be done?” + +“You would not have encouraged me, then, if you had understood me? At +least, however, I cannot be worse off than I should have been, if the +other had been the person; and now—it _is_ possible—” + +She paused a few moments. Emma could not speak. + +“I do not wonder, Miss Woodhouse,” she resumed, “that you should feel a +great difference between the two, as to me or as to any body. You must +think one five hundred million times more above me than the other. But +I hope, Miss Woodhouse, that supposing—that if—strange as it may +appear—. But you know they were your own words, that _more_ wonderful +things had happened, matches of _greater_ disparity had taken place +than between Mr. Frank Churchill and me; and, therefore, it seems as if +such a thing even as this, may have occurred before—and if I should be +so fortunate, beyond expression, as to—if Mr. Knightley should +really—if _he_ does not mind the disparity, I hope, dear Miss +Woodhouse, you will not set yourself against it, and try to put +difficulties in the way. But you are too good for that, I am sure.” + +Harriet was standing at one of the windows. Emma turned round to look +at her in consternation, and hastily said, + +“Have you any idea of Mr. Knightley’s returning your affection?” + +“Yes,” replied Harriet modestly, but not fearfully—“I must say that I +have.” + +Emma’s eyes were instantly withdrawn; and she sat silently meditating, +in a fixed attitude, for a few minutes. A few minutes were sufficient +for making her acquainted with her own heart. A mind like hers, once +opening to suspicion, made rapid progress. She touched—she admitted—she +acknowledged the whole truth. Why was it so much worse that Harriet +should be in love with Mr. Knightley, than with Frank Churchill? Why +was the evil so dreadfully increased by Harriet’s having some hope of a +return? It darted through her, with the speed of an arrow, that Mr. +Knightley must marry no one but herself! + +Her own conduct, as well as her own heart, was before her in the same +few minutes. She saw it all with a clearness which had never blessed +her before. How improperly had she been acting by Harriet! How +inconsiderate, how indelicate, how irrational, how unfeeling had been +her conduct! What blindness, what madness, had led her on! It struck +her with dreadful force, and she was ready to give it every bad name in +the world. Some portion of respect for herself, however, in spite of +all these demerits—some concern for her own appearance, and a strong +sense of justice by Harriet—(there would be no need of _compassion_ to +the girl who believed herself loved by Mr. Knightley—but justice +required that she should not be made unhappy by any coldness now,) gave +Emma the resolution to sit and endure farther with calmness, with even +apparent kindness.—For her own advantage indeed, it was fit that the +utmost extent of Harriet’s hopes should be enquired into; and Harriet +had done nothing to forfeit the regard and interest which had been so +voluntarily formed and maintained—or to deserve to be slighted by the +person, whose counsels had never led her right.—Rousing from +reflection, therefore, and subduing her emotion, she turned to Harriet +again, and, in a more inviting accent, renewed the conversation; for as +to the subject which had first introduced it, the wonderful story of +Jane Fairfax, that was quite sunk and lost.—Neither of them thought but +of Mr. Knightley and themselves. + +Harriet, who had been standing in no unhappy reverie, was yet very glad +to be called from it, by the now encouraging manner of such a judge, +and such a friend as Miss Woodhouse, and only wanted invitation, to +give the history of her hopes with great, though trembling +delight.—Emma’s tremblings as she asked, and as she listened, were +better concealed than Harriet’s, but they were not less. Her voice was +not unsteady; but her mind was in all the perturbation that such a +development of self, such a burst of threatening evil, such a confusion +of sudden and perplexing emotions, must create.—She listened with much +inward suffering, but with great outward patience, to Harriet’s +detail.—Methodical, or well arranged, or very well delivered, it could +not be expected to be; but it contained, when separated from all the +feebleness and tautology of the narration, a substance to sink her +spirit—especially with the corroborating circumstances, which her own +memory brought in favour of Mr. Knightley’s most improved opinion of +Harriet. + +Harriet had been conscious of a difference in his behaviour ever since +those two decisive dances.—Emma knew that he had, on that occasion, +found her much superior to his expectation. From that evening, or at +least from the time of Miss Woodhouse’s encouraging her to think of +him, Harriet had begun to be sensible of his talking to her much more +than he had been used to do, and of his having indeed quite a different +manner towards her; a manner of kindness and sweetness!—Latterly she +had been more and more aware of it. When they had been all walking +together, he had so often come and walked by her, and talked so very +delightfully!—He seemed to want to be acquainted with her. Emma knew it +to have been very much the case. She had often observed the change, to +almost the same extent.—Harriet repeated expressions of approbation and +praise from him—and Emma felt them to be in the closest agreement with +what she had known of his opinion of Harriet. He praised her for being +without art or affectation, for having simple, honest, generous, +feelings.—She knew that he saw such recommendations in Harriet; he had +dwelt on them to her more than once.—Much that lived in Harriet’s +memory, many little particulars of the notice she had received from +him, a look, a speech, a removal from one chair to another, a +compliment implied, a preference inferred, had been unnoticed, because +unsuspected, by Emma. Circumstances that might swell to half an hour’s +relation, and contained multiplied proofs to her who had seen them, had +passed undiscerned by her who now heard them; but the two latest +occurrences to be mentioned, the two of strongest promise to Harriet, +were not without some degree of witness from Emma herself.—The first, +was his walking with her apart from the others, in the lime-walk at +Donwell, where they had been walking some time before Emma came, and he +had taken pains (as she was convinced) to draw her from the rest to +himself—and at first, he had talked to her in a more particular way +than he had ever done before, in a very particular way indeed!—(Harriet +could not recall it without a blush.) He seemed to be almost asking +her, whether her affections were engaged.—But as soon as she (Miss +Woodhouse) appeared likely to join them, he changed the subject, and +began talking about farming:—The second, was his having sat talking +with her nearly half an hour before Emma came back from her visit, the +very last morning of his being at Hartfield—though, when he first came +in, he had said that he could not stay five minutes—and his having told +her, during their conversation, that though he must go to London, it +was very much against his inclination that he left home at all, which +was much more (as Emma felt) than he had acknowledged to _her_. The +superior degree of confidence towards Harriet, which this one article +marked, gave her severe pain. + +On the subject of the first of the two circumstances, she did, after a +little reflection, venture the following question. “Might he not?—Is +not it possible, that when enquiring, as you thought, into the state of +your affections, he might be alluding to Mr. Martin—he might have Mr. +Martin’s interest in view? But Harriet rejected the suspicion with +spirit. + +“Mr. Martin! No indeed!—There was not a hint of Mr. Martin. I hope I +know better now, than to care for Mr. Martin, or to be suspected of +it.” + +When Harriet had closed her evidence, she appealed to her dear Miss +Woodhouse, to say whether she had not good ground for hope. + +“I never should have presumed to think of it at first,” said she, “but +for you. You told me to observe him carefully, and let his behaviour be +the rule of mine—and so I have. But now I seem to feel that I may +deserve him; and that if he does chuse me, it will not be any thing so +very wonderful.” + +The bitter feelings occasioned by this speech, the many bitter +feelings, made the utmost exertion necessary on Emma’s side, to enable +her to say on reply, + +“Harriet, I will only venture to declare, that Mr. Knightley is the +last man in the world, who would intentionally give any woman the idea +of his feeling for her more than he really does.” + +Harriet seemed ready to worship her friend for a sentence so +satisfactory; and Emma was only saved from raptures and fondness, which +at that moment would have been dreadful penance, by the sound of her +father’s footsteps. He was coming through the hall. Harriet was too +much agitated to encounter him. “She could not compose herself— Mr. +Woodhouse would be alarmed—she had better go;”—with most ready +encouragement from her friend, therefore, she passed off through +another door—and the moment she was gone, this was the spontaneous +burst of Emma’s feelings: “Oh God! that I had never seen her!” + +The rest of the day, the following night, were hardly enough for her +thoughts.—She was bewildered amidst the confusion of all that had +rushed on her within the last few hours. Every moment had brought a +fresh surprize; and every surprize must be matter of humiliation to +her.—How to understand it all! How to understand the deceptions she had +been thus practising on herself, and living under!—The blunders, the +blindness of her own head and heart!—she sat still, she walked about, +she tried her own room, she tried the shrubbery—in every place, every +posture, she perceived that she had acted most weakly; that she had +been imposed on by others in a most mortifying degree; that she had +been imposing on herself in a degree yet more mortifying; that she was +wretched, and should probably find this day but the beginning of +wretchedness. + +To understand, thoroughly understand her own heart, was the first +endeavour. To that point went every leisure moment which her father’s +claims on her allowed, and every moment of involuntary absence of mind. + +How long had Mr. Knightley been so dear to her, as every feeling +declared him now to be? When had his influence, such influence begun?— +When had he succeeded to that place in her affection, which Frank +Churchill had once, for a short period, occupied?—She looked back; she +compared the two—compared them, as they had always stood in her +estimation, from the time of the latter’s becoming known to her—and as +they must at any time have been compared by her, had it—oh! had it, by +any blessed felicity, occurred to her, to institute the comparison.—She +saw that there never had been a time when she did not consider Mr. +Knightley as infinitely the superior, or when his regard for her had +not been infinitely the most dear. She saw, that in persuading herself, +in fancying, in acting to the contrary, she had been entirely under a +delusion, totally ignorant of her own heart—and, in short, that she had +never really cared for Frank Churchill at all! + +This was the conclusion of the first series of reflection. This was the +knowledge of herself, on the first question of inquiry, which she +reached; and without being long in reaching it.—She was most +sorrowfully indignant; ashamed of every sensation but the one revealed +to her—her affection for Mr. Knightley.—Every other part of her mind +was disgusting. + +With insufferable vanity had she believed herself in the secret of +every body’s feelings; with unpardonable arrogance proposed to arrange +every body’s destiny. She was proved to have been universally mistaken; +and she had not quite done nothing—for she had done mischief. She had +brought evil on Harriet, on herself, and she too much feared, on Mr. +Knightley.—Were this most unequal of all connexions to take place, on +her must rest all the reproach of having given it a beginning; for his +attachment, she must believe to be produced only by a consciousness of +Harriet’s;—and even were this not the case, he would never have known +Harriet at all but for her folly. + +Mr. Knightley and Harriet Smith!—It was a union to distance every +wonder of the kind.—The attachment of Frank Churchill and Jane Fairfax +became commonplace, threadbare, stale in the comparison, exciting no +surprize, presenting no disparity, affording nothing to be said or +thought.—Mr. Knightley and Harriet Smith!—Such an elevation on her +side! Such a debasement on his! It was horrible to Emma to think how it +must sink him in the general opinion, to foresee the smiles, the +sneers, the merriment it would prompt at his expense; the mortification +and disdain of his brother, the thousand inconveniences to +himself.—Could it be?—No; it was impossible. And yet it was far, very +far, from impossible.—Was it a new circumstance for a man of first-rate +abilities to be captivated by very inferior powers? Was it new for one, +perhaps too busy to seek, to be the prize of a girl who would seek +him?—Was it new for any thing in this world to be unequal, +inconsistent, incongruous—or for chance and circumstance (as second +causes) to direct the human fate? + +Oh! had she never brought Harriet forward! Had she left her where she +ought, and where he had told her she ought!—Had she not, with a folly +which no tongue could express, prevented her marrying the +unexceptionable young man who would have made her happy and respectable +in the line of life to which she ought to belong—all would have been +safe; none of this dreadful sequel would have been. + +How Harriet could ever have had the presumption to raise her thoughts +to Mr. Knightley!—How she could dare to fancy herself the chosen of +such a man till actually assured of it!—But Harriet was less humble, +had fewer scruples than formerly.—Her inferiority, whether of mind or +situation, seemed little felt.—She had seemed more sensible of Mr. +Elton’s being to stoop in marrying her, than she now seemed of Mr. +Knightley’s.—Alas! was not that her own doing too? Who had been at +pains to give Harriet notions of self-consequence but herself?—Who but +herself had taught her, that she was to elevate herself if possible, +and that her claims were great to a high worldly establishment?—If +Harriet, from being humble, were grown vain, it was her doing too. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +Till now that she was threatened with its loss, Emma had never known +how much of her happiness depended on being _first_ with Mr. Knightley, +first in interest and affection.—Satisfied that it was so, and feeling +it her due, she had enjoyed it without reflection; and only in the +dread of being supplanted, found how inexpressibly important it had +been.—Long, very long, she felt she had been first; for, having no +female connexions of his own, there had been only Isabella whose claims +could be compared with hers, and she had always known exactly how far +he loved and esteemed Isabella. She had herself been first with him for +many years past. She had not deserved it; she had often been negligent +or perverse, slighting his advice, or even wilfully opposing him, +insensible of half his merits, and quarrelling with him because he +would not acknowledge her false and insolent estimate of her own—but +still, from family attachment and habit, and thorough excellence of +mind, he had loved her, and watched over her from a girl, with an +endeavour to improve her, and an anxiety for her doing right, which no +other creature had at all shared. In spite of all her faults, she knew +she was dear to him; might she not say, very dear?—When the suggestions +of hope, however, which must follow here, presented themselves, she +could not presume to indulge them. Harriet Smith might think herself +not unworthy of being peculiarly, exclusively, passionately loved by +Mr. Knightley. _She_ could not. She could not flatter herself with any +idea of blindness in his attachment to _her_. She had received a very +recent proof of its impartiality.—How shocked had he been by her +behaviour to Miss Bates! How directly, how strongly had he expressed +himself to her on the subject!—Not too strongly for the offence—but +far, far too strongly to issue from any feeling softer than upright +justice and clear-sighted goodwill.—She had no hope, nothing to deserve +the name of hope, that he could have that sort of affection for herself +which was now in question; but there was a hope (at times a slight one, +at times much stronger,) that Harriet might have deceived herself, and +be overrating his regard for _her_.—Wish it she must, for his sake—be +the consequence nothing to herself, but his remaining single all his +life. Could she be secure of that, indeed, of his never marrying at +all, she believed she should be perfectly satisfied.—Let him but +continue the same Mr. Knightley to her and her father, the same Mr. +Knightley to all the world; let Donwell and Hartfield lose none of +their precious intercourse of friendship and confidence, and her peace +would be fully secured.—Marriage, in fact, would not do for her. It +would be incompatible with what she owed to her father, and with what +she felt for him. Nothing should separate her from her father. She +would not marry, even if she were asked by Mr. Knightley. + +It must be her ardent wish that Harriet might be disappointed; and she +hoped, that when able to see them together again, she might at least be +able to ascertain what the chances for it were.—She should see them +henceforward with the closest observance; and wretchedly as she had +hitherto misunderstood even those she was watching, she did not know +how to admit that she could be blinded here.—He was expected back every +day. The power of observation would be soon given—frightfully soon it +appeared when her thoughts were in one course. In the meanwhile, she +resolved against seeing Harriet.—It would do neither of them good, it +would do the subject no good, to be talking of it farther.—She was +resolved not to be convinced, as long as she could doubt, and yet had +no authority for opposing Harriet’s confidence. To talk would be only +to irritate.—She wrote to her, therefore, kindly, but decisively, to +beg that she would not, at present, come to Hartfield; acknowledging it +to be her conviction, that all farther confidential discussion of _one_ +topic had better be avoided; and hoping, that if a few days were +allowed to pass before they met again, except in the company of +others—she objected only to a tête-à-tête—they might be able to act as +if they had forgotten the conversation of yesterday.—Harriet submitted, +and approved, and was grateful. + +This point was just arranged, when a visitor arrived to tear Emma’s +thoughts a little from the one subject which had engrossed them, +sleeping or waking, the last twenty-four hours—Mrs. Weston, who had +been calling on her daughter-in-law elect, and took Hartfield in her +way home, almost as much in duty to Emma as in pleasure to herself, to +relate all the particulars of so interesting an interview. + +Mr. Weston had accompanied her to Mrs. Bates’s, and gone through his +share of this essential attention most handsomely; but she having then +induced Miss Fairfax to join her in an airing, was now returned with +much more to say, and much more to say with satisfaction, than a +quarter of an hour spent in Mrs. Bates’s parlour, with all the +encumbrance of awkward feelings, could have afforded. + +A little curiosity Emma had; and she made the most of it while her +friend related. Mrs. Weston had set off to pay the visit in a good deal +of agitation herself; and in the first place had wished not to go at +all at present, to be allowed merely to write to Miss Fairfax instead, +and to defer this ceremonious call till a little time had passed, and +Mr. Churchill could be reconciled to the engagement’s becoming known; +as, considering every thing, she thought such a visit could not be paid +without leading to reports:—but Mr. Weston had thought differently; he +was extremely anxious to shew his approbation to Miss Fairfax and her +family, and did not conceive that any suspicion could be excited by it; +or if it were, that it would be of any consequence; for “such things,” +he observed, “always got about.” Emma smiled, and felt that Mr. Weston +had very good reason for saying so. They had gone, in short—and very +great had been the evident distress and confusion of the lady. She had +hardly been able to speak a word, and every look and action had shewn +how deeply she was suffering from consciousness. The quiet, heart-felt +satisfaction of the old lady, and the rapturous delight of her +daughter—who proved even too joyous to talk as usual, had been a +gratifying, yet almost an affecting, scene. They were both so truly +respectable in their happiness, so disinterested in every sensation; +thought so much of Jane; so much of every body, and so little of +themselves, that every kindly feeling was at work for them. Miss +Fairfax’s recent illness had offered a fair plea for Mrs. Weston to +invite her to an airing; she had drawn back and declined at first, but, +on being pressed had yielded; and, in the course of their drive, Mrs. +Weston had, by gentle encouragement, overcome so much of her +embarrassment, as to bring her to converse on the important subject. +Apologies for her seemingly ungracious silence in their first +reception, and the warmest expressions of the gratitude she was always +feeling towards herself and Mr. Weston, must necessarily open the +cause; but when these effusions were put by, they had talked a good +deal of the present and of the future state of the engagement. Mrs. +Weston was convinced that such conversation must be the greatest relief +to her companion, pent up within her own mind as every thing had so +long been, and was very much pleased with all that she had said on the +subject. + +“On the misery of what she had suffered, during the concealment of so +many months,” continued Mrs. Weston, “she was energetic. This was one +of her expressions. ‘I will not say, that since I entered into the +engagement I have not had some happy moments; but I can say, that I +have never known the blessing of one tranquil hour:’—and the quivering +lip, Emma, which uttered it, was an attestation that I felt at my +heart.” + +“Poor girl!” said Emma. “She thinks herself wrong, then, for having +consented to a private engagement?” + +“Wrong! No one, I believe, can blame her more than she is disposed to +blame herself. ‘The consequence,’ said she, ‘has been a state of +perpetual suffering to me; and so it ought. But after all the +punishment that misconduct can bring, it is still not less misconduct. +Pain is no expiation. I never can be blameless. I have been acting +contrary to all my sense of right; and the fortunate turn that every +thing has taken, and the kindness I am now receiving, is what my +conscience tells me ought not to be.’ ‘Do not imagine, madam,’ she +continued, ‘that I was taught wrong. Do not let any reflection fall on +the principles or the care of the friends who brought me up. The error +has been all my own; and I do assure you that, with all the excuse that +present circumstances may appear to give, I shall yet dread making the +story known to Colonel Campbell.’” + +“Poor girl!” said Emma again. “She loves him then excessively, I +suppose. It must have been from attachment only, that she could be led +to form the engagement. Her affection must have overpowered her +judgment.” + +“Yes, I have no doubt of her being extremely attached to him.” + +“I am afraid,” returned Emma, sighing, “that I must often have +contributed to make her unhappy.” + +“On your side, my love, it was very innocently done. But she probably +had something of that in her thoughts, when alluding to the +misunderstandings which he had given us hints of before. One natural +consequence of the evil she had involved herself in,” she said, “was +that of making her _unreasonable_. The consciousness of having done +amiss, had exposed her to a thousand inquietudes, and made her captious +and irritable to a degree that must have been—that had been—hard for +him to bear. ‘I did not make the allowances,’ said she, ‘which I ought +to have done, for his temper and spirits—his delightful spirits, and +that gaiety, that playfulness of disposition, which, under any other +circumstances, would, I am sure, have been as constantly bewitching to +me, as they were at first.’ She then began to speak of you, and of the +great kindness you had shewn her during her illness; and with a blush +which shewed me how it was all connected, desired me, whenever I had an +opportunity, to thank you—I could not thank you too much—for every wish +and every endeavour to do her good. She was sensible that you had never +received any proper acknowledgment from herself.” + +“If I did not know her to be happy now,” said Emma, seriously, “which, +in spite of every little drawback from her scrupulous conscience, she +must be, I could not bear these thanks;—for, oh! Mrs. Weston, if there +were an account drawn up of the evil and the good I have done Miss +Fairfax!—Well (checking herself, and trying to be more lively), this is +all to be forgotten. You are very kind to bring me these interesting +particulars. They shew her to the greatest advantage. I am sure she is +very good—I hope she will be very happy. It is fit that the fortune +should be on his side, for I think the merit will be all on hers.” + +Such a conclusion could not pass unanswered by Mrs. Weston. She thought +well of Frank in almost every respect; and, what was more, she loved +him very much, and her defence was, therefore, earnest. She talked with +a great deal of reason, and at least equal affection—but she had too +much to urge for Emma’s attention; it was soon gone to Brunswick Square +or to Donwell; she forgot to attempt to listen; and when Mrs. Weston +ended with, “We have not yet had the letter we are so anxious for, you +know, but I hope it will soon come,” she was obliged to pause before +she answered, and at last obliged to answer at random, before she could +at all recollect what letter it was which they were so anxious for. + +“Are you well, my Emma?” was Mrs. Weston’s parting question. + +“Oh! perfectly. I am always well, you know. Be sure to give me +intelligence of the letter as soon as possible.” + +Mrs. Weston’s communications furnished Emma with more food for +unpleasant reflection, by increasing her esteem and compassion, and her +sense of past injustice towards Miss Fairfax. She bitterly regretted +not having sought a closer acquaintance with her, and blushed for the +envious feelings which had certainly been, in some measure, the cause. +Had she followed Mr. Knightley’s known wishes, in paying that attention +to Miss Fairfax, which was every way her due; had she tried to know her +better; had she done her part towards intimacy; had she endeavoured to +find a friend there instead of in Harriet Smith; she must, in all +probability, have been spared from every pain which pressed on her +now.—Birth, abilities, and education, had been equally marking one as +an associate for her, to be received with gratitude; and the other—what +was she?—Supposing even that they had never become intimate friends; +that she had never been admitted into Miss Fairfax’s confidence on this +important matter—which was most probable—still, in knowing her as she +ought, and as she might, she must have been preserved from the +abominable suspicions of an improper attachment to Mr. Dixon, which she +had not only so foolishly fashioned and harboured herself, but had so +unpardonably imparted; an idea which she greatly feared had been made a +subject of material distress to the delicacy of Jane’s feelings, by the +levity or carelessness of Frank Churchill’s. Of all the sources of evil +surrounding the former, since her coming to Highbury, she was persuaded +that she must herself have been the worst. She must have been a +perpetual enemy. They never could have been all three together, without +her having stabbed Jane Fairfax’s peace in a thousand instances; and on +Box Hill, perhaps, it had been the agony of a mind that would bear no +more. + +The evening of this day was very long, and melancholy, at Hartfield. +The weather added what it could of gloom. A cold stormy rain set in, +and nothing of July appeared but in the trees and shrubs, which the +wind was despoiling, and the length of the day, which only made such +cruel sights the longer visible. + +The weather affected Mr. Woodhouse, and he could only be kept tolerably +comfortable by almost ceaseless attention on his daughter’s side, and +by exertions which had never cost her half so much before. It reminded +her of their first forlorn tête-à-tête, on the evening of Mrs. Weston’s +wedding-day; but Mr. Knightley had walked in then, soon after tea, and +dissipated every melancholy fancy. Alas! such delightful proofs of +Hartfield’s attraction, as those sort of visits conveyed, might shortly +be over. The picture which she had then drawn of the privations of the +approaching winter, had proved erroneous; no friends had deserted them, +no pleasures had been lost.—But her present forebodings she feared +would experience no similar contradiction. The prospect before her now, +was threatening to a degree that could not be entirely dispelled—that +might not be even partially brightened. If all took place that might +take place among the circle of her friends, Hartfield must be +comparatively deserted; and she left to cheer her father with the +spirits only of ruined happiness. + +The child to be born at Randalls must be a tie there even dearer than +herself; and Mrs. Weston’s heart and time would be occupied by it. They +should lose her; and, probably, in great measure, her husband +also.—Frank Churchill would return among them no more; and Miss +Fairfax, it was reasonable to suppose, would soon cease to belong to +Highbury. They would be married, and settled either at or near +Enscombe. All that were good would be withdrawn; and if to these +losses, the loss of Donwell were to be added, what would remain of +cheerful or of rational society within their reach? Mr. Knightley to be +no longer coming there for his evening comfort!—No longer walking in at +all hours, as if ever willing to change his own home for their’s!—How +was it to be endured? And if he were to be lost to them for Harriet’s +sake; if he were to be thought of hereafter, as finding in Harriet’s +society all that he wanted; if Harriet were to be the chosen, the +first, the dearest, the friend, the wife to whom he looked for all the +best blessings of existence; what could be increasing Emma’s +wretchedness but the reflection never far distant from her mind, that +it had been all her own work? + +When it came to such a pitch as this, she was not able to refrain from +a start, or a heavy sigh, or even from walking about the room for a few +seconds—and the only source whence any thing like consolation or +composure could be drawn, was in the resolution of her own better +conduct, and the hope that, however inferior in spirit and gaiety might +be the following and every future winter of her life to the past, it +would yet find her more rational, more acquainted with herself, and +leave her less to regret when it were gone. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +The weather continued much the same all the following morning; and the +same loneliness, and the same melancholy, seemed to reign at +Hartfield—but in the afternoon it cleared; the wind changed into a +softer quarter; the clouds were carried off; the sun appeared; it was +summer again. With all the eagerness which such a transition gives, +Emma resolved to be out of doors as soon as possible. Never had the +exquisite sight, smell, sensation of nature, tranquil, warm, and +brilliant after a storm, been more attractive to her. She longed for +the serenity they might gradually introduce; and on Mr. Perry’s coming +in soon after dinner, with a disengaged hour to give her father, she +lost no time in hurrying into the shrubbery.—There, with spirits +freshened, and thoughts a little relieved, she had taken a few turns, +when she saw Mr. Knightley passing through the garden door, and coming +towards her.—It was the first intimation of his being returned from +London. She had been thinking of him the moment before, as +unquestionably sixteen miles distant.—There was time only for the +quickest arrangement of mind. She must be collected and calm. In half a +minute they were together. The “How d’ye do’s” were quiet and +constrained on each side. She asked after their mutual friends; they +were all well.—When had he left them?—Only that morning. He must have +had a wet ride.—Yes.—He meant to walk with her, she found. “He had just +looked into the dining-room, and as he was not wanted there, preferred +being out of doors.”—She thought he neither looked nor spoke +cheerfully; and the first possible cause for it, suggested by her +fears, was, that he had perhaps been communicating his plans to his +brother, and was pained by the manner in which they had been received. + +They walked together. He was silent. She thought he was often looking +at her, and trying for a fuller view of her face than it suited her to +give. And this belief produced another dread. Perhaps he wanted to +speak to her, of his attachment to Harriet; he might be watching for +encouragement to begin.—She did not, could not, feel equal to lead the +way to any such subject. He must do it all himself. Yet she could not +bear this silence. With him it was most unnatural. She +considered—resolved—and, trying to smile, began— + +“You have some news to hear, now you are come back, that will rather +surprize you.” + +“Have I?” said he quietly, and looking at her; “of what nature?” + +“Oh! the best nature in the world—a wedding.” + +After waiting a moment, as if to be sure she intended to say no more, +he replied, + +“If you mean Miss Fairfax and Frank Churchill, I have heard that +already.” + +“How is it possible?” cried Emma, turning her glowing cheeks towards +him; for, while she spoke, it occurred to her that he might have called +at Mrs. Goddard’s in his way. + +“I had a few lines on parish business from Mr. Weston this morning, and +at the end of them he gave me a brief account of what had happened.” + +Emma was quite relieved, and could presently say, with a little more +composure, + +“_You_ probably have been less surprized than any of us, for you have +had your suspicions.—I have not forgotten that you once tried to give +me a caution.—I wish I had attended to it—but—(with a sinking voice and +a heavy sigh) I seem to have been doomed to blindness.” + +For a moment or two nothing was said, and she was unsuspicious of +having excited any particular interest, till she found her arm drawn +within his, and pressed against his heart, and heard him thus saying, +in a tone of great sensibility, speaking low, + +“Time, my dearest Emma, time will heal the wound.—Your own excellent +sense—your exertions for your father’s sake—I know you will not allow +yourself—.” Her arm was pressed again, as he added, in a more broken +and subdued accent, “The feelings of the warmest +friendship—Indignation—Abominable scoundrel!”—And in a louder, steadier +tone, he concluded with, “He will soon be gone. They will soon be in +Yorkshire. I am sorry for _her_. She deserves a better fate.” + +Emma understood him; and as soon as she could recover from the flutter +of pleasure, excited by such tender consideration, replied, + +“You are very kind—but you are mistaken—and I must set you right.— I am +not in want of that sort of compassion. My blindness to what was going +on, led me to act by them in a way that I must always be ashamed of, +and I was very foolishly tempted to say and do many things which may +well lay me open to unpleasant conjectures, but I have no other reason +to regret that I was not in the secret earlier.” + +“Emma!” cried he, looking eagerly at her, “are you, indeed?”—but +checking himself—“No, no, I understand you—forgive me—I am pleased that +you can say even so much.—He is no object of regret, indeed! and it +will not be very long, I hope, before that becomes the acknowledgment +of more than your reason.—Fortunate that your affections were not +farther entangled!—I could never, I confess, from your manners, assure +myself as to the degree of what you felt—I could only be certain that +there was a preference—and a preference which I never believed him to +deserve.—He is a disgrace to the name of man.—And is he to be rewarded +with that sweet young woman?—Jane, Jane, you will be a miserable +creature.” + +“Mr. Knightley,” said Emma, trying to be lively, but really confused—“I +am in a very extraordinary situation. I cannot let you continue in your +error; and yet, perhaps, since my manners gave such an impression, I +have as much reason to be ashamed of confessing that I never have been +at all attached to the person we are speaking of, as it might be +natural for a woman to feel in confessing exactly the reverse.—But I +never have.” + +He listened in perfect silence. She wished him to speak, but he would +not. She supposed she must say more before she were entitled to his +clemency; but it was a hard case to be obliged still to lower herself +in his opinion. She went on, however. + +“I have very little to say for my own conduct.—I was tempted by his +attentions, and allowed myself to appear pleased.—An old story, +probably—a common case—and no more than has happened to hundreds of my +sex before; and yet it may not be the more excusable in one who sets up +as I do for Understanding. Many circumstances assisted the temptation. +He was the son of Mr. Weston—he was continually here—I always found him +very pleasant—and, in short, for (with a sigh) let me swell out the +causes ever so ingeniously, they all centre in this at last—my vanity +was flattered, and I allowed his attentions. Latterly, however—for some +time, indeed—I have had no idea of their meaning any thing.—I thought +them a habit, a trick, nothing that called for seriousness on my side. +He has imposed on me, but he has not injured me. I have never been +attached to him. And now I can tolerably comprehend his behaviour. He +never wished to attach me. It was merely a blind to conceal his real +situation with another.—It was his object to blind all about him; and +no one, I am sure, could be more effectually blinded than myself—except +that I was _not_ blinded—that it was my good fortune—that, in short, I +was somehow or other safe from him.” + +She had hoped for an answer here—for a few words to say that her +conduct was at least intelligible; but he was silent; and, as far as +she could judge, deep in thought. At last, and tolerably in his usual +tone, he said, + +“I have never had a high opinion of Frank Churchill.—I can suppose, +however, that I may have underrated him. My acquaintance with him has +been but trifling.—And even if I have not underrated him hitherto, he +may yet turn out well.—With such a woman he has a chance.—I have no +motive for wishing him ill—and for her sake, whose happiness will be +involved in his good character and conduct, I shall certainly wish him +well.” + +“I have no doubt of their being happy together,” said Emma; “I believe +them to be very mutually and very sincerely attached.” + +“He is a most fortunate man!” returned Mr. Knightley, with energy. “So +early in life—at three-and-twenty—a period when, if a man chuses a +wife, he generally chuses ill. At three-and-twenty to have drawn such a +prize! What years of felicity that man, in all human calculation, has +before him!—Assured of the love of such a woman—the disinterested love, +for Jane Fairfax’s character vouches for her disinterestedness; every +thing in his favour,—equality of situation—I mean, as far as regards +society, and all the habits and manners that are important; equality in +every point but one—and that one, since the purity of her heart is not +to be doubted, such as must increase his felicity, for it will be his +to bestow the only advantages she wants.—A man would always wish to +give a woman a better home than the one he takes her from; and he who +can do it, where there is no doubt of _her_ regard, must, I think, be +the happiest of mortals.—Frank Churchill is, indeed, the favourite of +fortune. Every thing turns out for his good.—He meets with a young +woman at a watering-place, gains her affection, cannot even weary her +by negligent treatment—and had he and all his family sought round the +world for a perfect wife for him, they could not have found her +superior.—His aunt is in the way.—His aunt dies.—He has only to +speak.—His friends are eager to promote his happiness.—He had used +every body ill—and they are all delighted to forgive him.—He is a +fortunate man indeed!” + +“You speak as if you envied him.” + +“And I do envy him, Emma. In one respect he is the object of my envy.” + +Emma could say no more. They seemed to be within half a sentence of +Harriet, and her immediate feeling was to avert the subject, if +possible. She made her plan; she would speak of something totally +different—the children in Brunswick Square; and she only waited for +breath to begin, when Mr. Knightley startled her, by saying, + +“You will not ask me what is the point of envy.—You are determined, I +see, to have no curiosity.—You are wise—but _I_ cannot be wise. Emma, I +must tell you what you will not ask, though I may wish it unsaid the +next moment.” + +“Oh! then, don’t speak it, don’t speak it,” she eagerly cried. “Take a +little time, consider, do not commit yourself.” + +“Thank you,” said he, in an accent of deep mortification, and not +another syllable followed. + +Emma could not bear to give him pain. He was wishing to confide in +her—perhaps to consult her;—cost her what it would, she would listen. +She might assist his resolution, or reconcile him to it; she might give +just praise to Harriet, or, by representing to him his own +independence, relieve him from that state of indecision, which must be +more intolerable than any alternative to such a mind as his.—They had +reached the house. + +“You are going in, I suppose?” said he. + +“No,”—replied Emma—quite confirmed by the depressed manner in which he +still spoke—“I should like to take another turn. Mr. Perry is not +gone.” And, after proceeding a few steps, she added—“I stopped you +ungraciously, just now, Mr. Knightley, and, I am afraid, gave you +pain.—But if you have any wish to speak openly to me as a friend, or to +ask my opinion of any thing that you may have in contemplation—as a +friend, indeed, you may command me.—I will hear whatever you like. I +will tell you exactly what I think.” + +“As a friend!”—repeated Mr. Knightley.—“Emma, that I fear is a word—No, +I have no wish—Stay, yes, why should I hesitate?—I have gone too far +already for concealment.—Emma, I accept your offer—Extraordinary as it +may seem, I accept it, and refer myself to you as a friend.—Tell me, +then, have I no chance of ever succeeding?” + +He stopped in his earnestness to look the question, and the expression +of his eyes overpowered her. + +“My dearest Emma,” said he, “for dearest you will always be, whatever +the event of this hour’s conversation, my dearest, most beloved +Emma—tell me at once. Say ‘No,’ if it is to be said.”—She could really +say nothing.—“You are silent,” he cried, with great animation; +“absolutely silent! at present I ask no more.” + +Emma was almost ready to sink under the agitation of this moment. The +dread of being awakened from the happiest dream, was perhaps the most +prominent feeling. + +“I cannot make speeches, Emma:” he soon resumed; and in a tone of such +sincere, decided, intelligible tenderness as was tolerably +convincing.—“If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it +more. But you know what I am.—You hear nothing but truth from me.—I +have blamed you, and lectured you, and you have borne it as no other +woman in England would have borne it.—Bear with the truths I would tell +you now, dearest Emma, as well as you have borne with them. The manner, +perhaps, may have as little to recommend them. God knows, I have been a +very indifferent lover.—But you understand me.—Yes, you see, you +understand my feelings—and will return them if you can. At present, I +ask only to hear, once to hear your voice.” + +While he spoke, Emma’s mind was most busy, and, with all the wonderful +velocity of thought, had been able—and yet without losing a word—to +catch and comprehend the exact truth of the whole; to see that +Harriet’s hopes had been entirely groundless, a mistake, a delusion, as +complete a delusion as any of her own—that Harriet was nothing; that +she was every thing herself; that what she had been saying relative to +Harriet had been all taken as the language of her own feelings; and +that her agitation, her doubts, her reluctance, her discouragement, had +been all received as discouragement from herself.—And not only was +there time for these convictions, with all their glow of attendant +happiness; there was time also to rejoice that Harriet’s secret had not +escaped her, and to resolve that it need not, and should not.—It was +all the service she could now render her poor friend; for as to any of +that heroism of sentiment which might have prompted her to entreat him +to transfer his affection from herself to Harriet, as infinitely the +most worthy of the two—or even the more simple sublimity of resolving +to refuse him at once and for ever, without vouchsafing any motive, +because he could not marry them both, Emma had it not. She felt for +Harriet, with pain and with contrition; but no flight of generosity run +mad, opposing all that could be probable or reasonable, entered her +brain. She had led her friend astray, and it would be a reproach to her +for ever; but her judgment was as strong as her feelings, and as strong +as it had ever been before, in reprobating any such alliance for him, +as most unequal and degrading. Her way was clear, though not quite +smooth.—She spoke then, on being so entreated.—What did she say?—Just +what she ought, of course. A lady always does.—She said enough to shew +there need not be despair—and to invite him to say more himself. He +_had_ despaired at one period; he had received such an injunction to +caution and silence, as for the time crushed every hope;—she had begun +by refusing to hear him.—The change had perhaps been somewhat +sudden;—her proposal of taking another turn, her renewing the +conversation which she had just put an end to, might be a little +extraordinary!—She felt its inconsistency; but Mr. Knightley was so +obliging as to put up with it, and seek no farther explanation. + +Seldom, very seldom, does complete truth belong to any human +disclosure; seldom can it happen that something is not a little +disguised, or a little mistaken; but where, as in this case, though the +conduct is mistaken, the feelings are not, it may not be very +material.—Mr. Knightley could not impute to Emma a more relenting heart +than she possessed, or a heart more disposed to accept of his. + +He had, in fact, been wholly unsuspicious of his own influence. He had +followed her into the shrubbery with no idea of trying it. He had come, +in his anxiety to see how she bore Frank Churchill’s engagement, with +no selfish view, no view at all, but of endeavouring, if she allowed +him an opening, to soothe or to counsel her.—The rest had been the work +of the moment, the immediate effect of what he heard, on his feelings. +The delightful assurance of her total indifference towards Frank +Churchill, of her having a heart completely disengaged from him, had +given birth to the hope, that, in time, he might gain her affection +himself;—but it had been no present hope—he had only, in the momentary +conquest of eagerness over judgment, aspired to be told that she did +not forbid his attempt to attach her.—The superior hopes which +gradually opened were so much the more enchanting.—The affection, which +he had been asking to be allowed to create, if he could, was already +his!—Within half an hour, he had passed from a thoroughly distressed +state of mind, to something so like perfect happiness, that it could +bear no other name. + +_Her_ change was equal.—This one half-hour had given to each the same +precious certainty of being beloved, had cleared from each the same +degree of ignorance, jealousy, or distrust.—On his side, there had been +a long-standing jealousy, old as the arrival, or even the expectation, +of Frank Churchill.—He had been in love with Emma, and jealous of Frank +Churchill, from about the same period, one sentiment having probably +enlightened him as to the other. It was his jealousy of Frank Churchill +that had taken him from the country.—The Box Hill party had decided him +on going away. He would save himself from witnessing again such +permitted, encouraged attentions.—He had gone to learn to be +indifferent.—But he had gone to a wrong place. There was too much +domestic happiness in his brother’s house; woman wore too amiable a +form in it; Isabella was too much like Emma—differing only in those +striking inferiorities, which always brought the other in brilliancy +before him, for much to have been done, even had his time been +longer.—He had stayed on, however, vigorously, day after day—till this +very morning’s post had conveyed the history of Jane Fairfax.—Then, +with the gladness which must be felt, nay, which he did not scruple to +feel, having never believed Frank Churchill to be at all deserving +Emma, was there so much fond solicitude, so much keen anxiety for her, +that he could stay no longer. He had ridden home through the rain; and +had walked up directly after dinner, to see how this sweetest and best +of all creatures, faultless in spite of all her faults, bore the +discovery. + +He had found her agitated and low.—Frank Churchill was a villain.— He +heard her declare that she had never loved him. Frank Churchill’s +character was not desperate.—She was his own Emma, by hand and word, +when they returned into the house; and if he could have thought of +Frank Churchill then, he might have deemed him a very good sort of +fellow. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +What totally different feelings did Emma take back into the house from +what she had brought out!—she had then been only daring to hope for a +little respite of suffering;—she was now in an exquisite flutter of +happiness, and such happiness moreover as she believed must still be +greater when the flutter should have passed away. + +They sat down to tea—the same party round the same table—how often it +had been collected!—and how often had her eyes fallen on the same +shrubs in the lawn, and observed the same beautiful effect of the +western sun!—But never in such a state of spirits, never in any thing +like it; and it was with difficulty that she could summon enough of her +usual self to be the attentive lady of the house, or even the attentive +daughter. + +Poor Mr. Woodhouse little suspected what was plotting against him in +the breast of that man whom he was so cordially welcoming, and so +anxiously hoping might not have taken cold from his ride.—Could he have +seen the heart, he would have cared very little for the lungs; but +without the most distant imagination of the impending evil, without the +slightest perception of any thing extraordinary in the looks or ways of +either, he repeated to them very comfortably all the articles of news +he had received from Mr. Perry, and talked on with much +self-contentment, totally unsuspicious of what they could have told him +in return. + +As long as Mr. Knightley remained with them, Emma’s fever continued; +but when he was gone, she began to be a little tranquillised and +subdued—and in the course of the sleepless night, which was the tax for +such an evening, she found one or two such very serious points to +consider, as made her feel, that even her happiness must have some +alloy. Her father—and Harriet. She could not be alone without feeling +the full weight of their separate claims; and how to guard the comfort +of both to the utmost, was the question. With respect to her father, it +was a question soon answered. She hardly knew yet what Mr. Knightley +would ask; but a very short parley with her own heart produced the most +solemn resolution of never quitting her father.—She even wept over the +idea of it, as a sin of thought. While he lived, it must be only an +engagement; but she flattered herself, that if divested of the danger +of drawing her away, it might become an increase of comfort to him.—How +to do her best by Harriet, was of more difficult decision;—how to spare +her from any unnecessary pain; how to make her any possible atonement; +how to appear least her enemy?—On these subjects, her perplexity and +distress were very great—and her mind had to pass again and again +through every bitter reproach and sorrowful regret that had ever +surrounded it.—She could only resolve at last, that she would still +avoid a meeting with her, and communicate all that need be told by +letter; that it would be inexpressibly desirable to have her removed +just now for a time from Highbury, and—indulging in one scheme +more—nearly resolve, that it might be practicable to get an invitation +for her to Brunswick Square.—Isabella had been pleased with Harriet; +and a few weeks spent in London must give her some amusement.—She did +not think it in Harriet’s nature to escape being benefited by novelty +and variety, by the streets, the shops, and the children.—At any rate, +it would be a proof of attention and kindness in herself, from whom +every thing was due; a separation for the present; an averting of the +evil day, when they must all be together again. + +She rose early, and wrote her letter to Harriet; an employment which +left her so very serious, so nearly sad, that Mr. Knightley, in walking +up to Hartfield to breakfast, did not arrive at all too soon; and half +an hour stolen afterwards to go over the same ground again with him, +literally and figuratively, was quite necessary to reinstate her in a +proper share of the happiness of the evening before. + +He had not left her long, by no means long enough for her to have the +slightest inclination for thinking of any body else, when a letter was +brought her from Randalls—a very thick letter;—she guessed what it must +contain, and deprecated the necessity of reading it.—She was now in +perfect charity with Frank Churchill; she wanted no explanations, she +wanted only to have her thoughts to herself—and as for understanding +any thing he wrote, she was sure she was incapable of it.—It must be +waded through, however. She opened the packet; it was too surely so;—a +note from Mrs. Weston to herself, ushered in the letter from Frank to +Mrs. Weston. + +“I have the greatest pleasure, my dear Emma, in forwarding to you the +enclosed. I know what thorough justice you will do it, and have +scarcely a doubt of its happy effect.—I think we shall never materially +disagree about the writer again; but I will not delay you by a long +preface.—We are quite well.—This letter has been the cure of all the +little nervousness I have been feeling lately.—I did not quite like +your looks on Tuesday, but it was an ungenial morning; and though you +will never own being affected by weather, I think every body feels a +north-east wind.—I felt for your dear father very much in the storm of +Tuesday afternoon and yesterday morning, but had the comfort of hearing +last night, by Mr. Perry, that it had not made him ill. + +“Yours ever, +“A. W.” + + +[_To Mrs. Weston_.] + + +Windsor—July. + + +MY DEAR MADAM, + + +“If I made myself intelligible yesterday, this letter will be expected; +but expected or not, I know it will be read with candour and +indulgence.—You are all goodness, and I believe there will be need of +even all your goodness to allow for some parts of my past conduct.—But +I have been forgiven by one who had still more to resent. My courage +rises while I write. It is very difficult for the prosperous to be +humble. I have already met with such success in two applications for +pardon, that I may be in danger of thinking myself too sure of yours, +and of those among your friends who have had any ground of offence.—You +must all endeavour to comprehend the exact nature of my situation when +I first arrived at Randalls; you must consider me as having a secret +which was to be kept at all hazards. This was the fact. My right to +place myself in a situation requiring such concealment, is another +question. I shall not discuss it here. For my temptation to _think_ it +a right, I refer every caviller to a brick house, sashed windows below, +and casements above, in Highbury. I dared not address her openly; my +difficulties in the then state of Enscombe must be too well known to +require definition; and I was fortunate enough to prevail, before we +parted at Weymouth, and to induce the most upright female mind in the +creation to stoop in charity to a secret engagement.—Had she refused, I +should have gone mad.—But you will be ready to say, what was your hope +in doing this?—What did you look forward to?—To any thing, every +thing—to time, chance, circumstance, slow effects, sudden bursts, +perseverance and weariness, health and sickness. Every possibility of +good was before me, and the first of blessings secured, in obtaining +her promises of faith and correspondence. If you need farther +explanation, I have the honour, my dear madam, of being your husband’s +son, and the advantage of inheriting a disposition to hope for good, +which no inheritance of houses or lands can ever equal the value +of.—See me, then, under these circumstances, arriving on my first visit +to Randalls;—and here I am conscious of wrong, for that visit might +have been sooner paid. You will look back and see that I did not come +till Miss Fairfax was in Highbury; and as _you_ were the person +slighted, you will forgive me instantly; but I must work on my father’s +compassion, by reminding him, that so long as I absented myself from +his house, so long I lost the blessing of knowing you. My behaviour, +during the very happy fortnight which I spent with you, did not, I +hope, lay me open to reprehension, excepting on one point. And now I +come to the principal, the only important part of my conduct while +belonging to you, which excites my own anxiety, or requires very +solicitous explanation. With the greatest respect, and the warmest +friendship, do I mention Miss Woodhouse; my father perhaps will think I +ought to add, with the deepest humiliation.—A few words which dropped +from him yesterday spoke his opinion, and some censure I acknowledge +myself liable to.—My behaviour to Miss Woodhouse indicated, I believe, +more than it ought.—In order to assist a concealment so essential to +me, I was led on to make more than an allowable use of the sort of +intimacy into which we were immediately thrown.—I cannot deny that Miss +Woodhouse was my ostensible object—but I am sure you will believe the +declaration, that had I not been convinced of her indifference, I would +not have been induced by any selfish views to go on.—Amiable and +delightful as Miss Woodhouse is, she never gave me the idea of a young +woman likely to be attached; and that she was perfectly free from any +tendency to being attached to me, was as much my conviction as my +wish.—She received my attentions with an easy, friendly, goodhumoured +playfulness, which exactly suited me. We seemed to understand each +other. From our relative situation, those attentions were her due, and +were felt to be so.—Whether Miss Woodhouse began really to understand +me before the expiration of that fortnight, I cannot say;—when I called +to take leave of her, I remember that I was within a moment of +confessing the truth, and I then fancied she was not without suspicion; +but I have no doubt of her having since detected me, at least in some +degree.—She may not have surmised the whole, but her quickness must +have penetrated a part. I cannot doubt it. You will find, whenever the +subject becomes freed from its present restraints, that it did not take +her wholly by surprize. She frequently gave me hints of it. I remember +her telling me at the ball, that I owed Mrs. Elton gratitude for her +attentions to Miss Fairfax.—I hope this history of my conduct towards +her will be admitted by you and my father as great extenuation of what +you saw amiss. While you considered me as having sinned against Emma +Woodhouse, I could deserve nothing from either. Acquit me here, and +procure for me, when it is allowable, the acquittal and good wishes of +that said Emma Woodhouse, whom I regard with so much brotherly +affection, as to long to have her as deeply and as happily in love as +myself.—Whatever strange things I said or did during that fortnight, +you have now a key to. My heart was in Highbury, and my business was to +get my body thither as often as might be, and with the least suspicion. +If you remember any queernesses, set them all to the right account.—Of +the pianoforte so much talked of, I feel it only necessary to say, that +its being ordered was absolutely unknown to Miss F—, who would never +have allowed me to send it, had any choice been given her.—The delicacy +of her mind throughout the whole engagement, my dear madam, is much +beyond my power of doing justice to. You will soon, I earnestly hope, +know her thoroughly yourself.—No description can describe her. She must +tell you herself what she is—yet not by word, for never was there a +human creature who would so designedly suppress her own merit.—Since I +began this letter, which will be longer than I foresaw, I have heard +from her.—She gives a good account of her own health; but as she never +complains, I dare not depend. I want to have your opinion of her looks. +I know you will soon call on her; she is living in dread of the visit. +Perhaps it is paid already. Let me hear from you without delay; I am +impatient for a thousand particulars. Remember how few minutes I was at +Randalls, and in how bewildered, how mad a state: and I am not much +better yet; still insane either from happiness or misery. When I think +of the kindness and favour I have met with, of her excellence and +patience, and my uncle’s generosity, I am mad with joy: but when I +recollect all the uneasiness I occasioned her, and how little I deserve +to be forgiven, I am mad with anger. If I could but see her again!—But +I must not propose it yet. My uncle has been too good for me to +encroach.—I must still add to this long letter. You have not heard all +that you ought to hear. I could not give any connected detail +yesterday; but the suddenness, and, in one light, the unseasonableness +with which the affair burst out, needs explanation; for though the +event of the 26th ult., as you will conclude, immediately opened to me +the happiest prospects, I should not have presumed on such early +measures, but from the very particular circumstances, which left me not +an hour to lose. I should myself have shrunk from any thing so hasty, +and she would have felt every scruple of mine with multiplied strength +and refinement.—But I had no choice. The hasty engagement she had +entered into with that woman—Here, my dear madam, I was obliged to +leave off abruptly, to recollect and compose myself.—I have been +walking over the country, and am now, I hope, rational enough to make +the rest of my letter what it ought to be.—It is, in fact, a most +mortifying retrospect for me. I behaved shamefully. And here I can +admit, that my manners to Miss W., in being unpleasant to Miss F., were +highly blameable. _She_ disapproved them, which ought to have been +enough.—My plea of concealing the truth she did not think +sufficient.—She was displeased; I thought unreasonably so: I thought +her, on a thousand occasions, unnecessarily scrupulous and cautious: I +thought her even cold. But she was always right. If I had followed her +judgment, and subdued my spirits to the level of what she deemed +proper, I should have escaped the greatest unhappiness I have ever +known.—We quarrelled.— Do you remember the morning spent at +Donwell?—_There_ every little dissatisfaction that had occurred before +came to a crisis. I was late; I met her walking home by herself, and +wanted to walk with her, but she would not suffer it. She absolutely +refused to allow me, which I then thought most unreasonable. Now, +however, I see nothing in it but a very natural and consistent degree +of discretion. While I, to blind the world to our engagement, was +behaving one hour with objectionable particularity to another woman, +was she to be consenting the next to a proposal which might have made +every previous caution useless?—Had we been met walking together +between Donwell and Highbury, the truth must have been suspected.—I was +mad enough, however, to resent.—I doubted her affection. I doubted it +more the next day on Box Hill; when, provoked by such conduct on my +side, such shameful, insolent neglect of her, and such apparent +devotion to Miss W., as it would have been impossible for any woman of +sense to endure, she spoke her resentment in a form of words perfectly +intelligible to me.—In short, my dear madam, it was a quarrel blameless +on her side, abominable on mine; and I returned the same evening to +Richmond, though I might have staid with you till the next morning, +merely because I would be as angry with her as possible. Even then, I +was not such a fool as not to mean to be reconciled in time; but I was +the injured person, injured by her coldness, and I went away determined +that she should make the first advances.—I shall always congratulate +myself that you were not of the Box Hill party. Had you witnessed my +behaviour there, I can hardly suppose you would ever have thought well +of me again. Its effect upon her appears in the immediate resolution it +produced: as soon as she found I was really gone from Randalls, she +closed with the offer of that officious Mrs. Elton; the whole system of +whose treatment of her, by the bye, has ever filled me with indignation +and hatred. I must not quarrel with a spirit of forbearance which has +been so richly extended towards myself; but, otherwise, I should loudly +protest against the share of it which that woman has known.—‘Jane,’ +indeed!—You will observe that I have not yet indulged myself in calling +her by that name, even to you. Think, then, what I must have endured in +hearing it bandied between the Eltons with all the vulgarity of +needless repetition, and all the insolence of imaginary superiority. +Have patience with me, I shall soon have done.—She closed with this +offer, resolving to break with me entirely, and wrote the next day to +tell me that we never were to meet again.—_She_ _felt_ _the_ +_engagement_ _to_ _be_ _a_ _source_ _of_ _repentance_ _and_ _misery_ +_to_ _each_: _she_ _dissolved_ _it_.—This letter reached me on the very +morning of my poor aunt’s death. I answered it within an hour; but from +the confusion of my mind, and the multiplicity of business falling on +me at once, my answer, instead of being sent with all the many other +letters of that day, was locked up in my writing-desk; and I, trusting +that I had written enough, though but a few lines, to satisfy her, +remained without any uneasiness.—I was rather disappointed that I did +not hear from her again speedily; but I made excuses for her, and was +too busy, and—may I add?—too cheerful in my views to be captious.—We +removed to Windsor; and two days afterwards I received a parcel from +her, my own letters all returned!—and a few lines at the same time by +the post, stating her extreme surprize at not having had the smallest +reply to her last; and adding, that as silence on such a point could +not be misconstrued, and as it must be equally desirable to both to +have every subordinate arrangement concluded as soon as possible, she +now sent me, by a safe conveyance, all my letters, and requested, that +if I could not directly command hers, so as to send them to Highbury +within a week, I would forward them after that period to her at—: in +short, the full direction to Mr. Smallridge’s, near Bristol, stared me +in the face. I knew the name, the place, I knew all about it, and +instantly saw what she had been doing. It was perfectly accordant with +that resolution of character which I knew her to possess; and the +secrecy she had maintained, as to any such design in her former letter, +was equally descriptive of its anxious delicacy. For the world would +not she have seemed to threaten me.—Imagine the shock; imagine how, +till I had actually detected my own blunder, I raved at the blunders of +the post.—What was to be done?—One thing only.—I must speak to my +uncle. Without his sanction I could not hope to be listened to again.—I +spoke; circumstances were in my favour; the late event had softened +away his pride, and he was, earlier than I could have anticipated, +wholly reconciled and complying; and could say at last, poor man! with +a deep sigh, that he wished I might find as much happiness in the +marriage state as he had done.—I felt that it would be of a different +sort.—Are you disposed to pity me for what I must have suffered in +opening the cause to him, for my suspense while all was at stake?—No; +do not pity me till I reached Highbury, and saw how ill I had made her. +Do not pity me till I saw her wan, sick looks.—I reached Highbury at +the time of day when, from my knowledge of their late breakfast hour, I +was certain of a good chance of finding her alone.—I was not +disappointed; and at last I was not disappointed either in the object +of my journey. A great deal of very reasonable, very just displeasure I +had to persuade away. But it is done; we are reconciled, dearer, much +dearer, than ever, and no moment’s uneasiness can ever occur between us +again. Now, my dear madam, I will release you; but I could not conclude +before. A thousand and a thousand thanks for all the kindness you have +ever shewn me, and ten thousand for the attentions your heart will +dictate towards her.—If you think me in a way to be happier than I +deserve, I am quite of your opinion.—Miss W. calls me the child of good +fortune. I hope she is right.—In one respect, my good fortune is +undoubted, that of being able to subscribe myself, + +Your obliged and affectionate Son, + +F. C. WESTON CHURCHILL. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +This letter must make its way to Emma’s feelings. She was obliged, in +spite of her previous determination to the contrary, to do it all the +justice that Mrs. Weston foretold. As soon as she came to her own name, +it was irresistible; every line relating to herself was interesting, +and almost every line agreeable; and when this charm ceased, the +subject could still maintain itself, by the natural return of her +former regard for the writer, and the very strong attraction which any +picture of love must have for her at that moment. She never stopt till +she had gone through the whole; and though it was impossible not to +feel that he had been wrong, yet he had been less wrong than she had +supposed—and he had suffered, and was very sorry—and he was so grateful +to Mrs. Weston, and so much in love with Miss Fairfax, and she was so +happy herself, that there was no being severe; and could he have +entered the room, she must have shaken hands with him as heartily as +ever. + +She thought so well of the letter, that when Mr. Knightley came again, +she desired him to read it. She was sure of Mrs. Weston’s wishing it to +be communicated; especially to one, who, like Mr. Knightley, had seen +so much to blame in his conduct. + +“I shall be very glad to look it over,” said he; “but it seems long. I +will take it home with me at night.” + +But that would not do. Mr. Weston was to call in the evening, and she +must return it by him. + +“I would rather be talking to you,” he replied; “but as it seems a +matter of justice, it shall be done.” + +He began—stopping, however, almost directly to say, “Had I been offered +the sight of one of this gentleman’s letters to his mother-in-law a few +months ago, Emma, it would not have been taken with such indifference.” + +He proceeded a little farther, reading to himself; and then, with a +smile, observed, “Humph! a fine complimentary opening: But it is his +way. One man’s style must not be the rule of another’s. We will not be +severe.” + +“It will be natural for me,” he added shortly afterwards, “to speak my +opinion aloud as I read. By doing it, I shall feel that I am near you. +It will not be so great a loss of time: but if you dislike it—” + +“Not at all. I should wish it.” + +Mr. Knightley returned to his reading with greater alacrity. + +“He trifles here,” said he, “as to the temptation. He knows he is +wrong, and has nothing rational to urge.—Bad.—He ought not to have +formed the engagement.—‘His father’s disposition:’—he is unjust, +however, to his father. Mr. Weston’s sanguine temper was a blessing on +all his upright and honourable exertions; but Mr. Weston earned every +present comfort before he endeavoured to gain it.—Very true; he did not +come till Miss Fairfax was here.” + +“And I have not forgotten,” said Emma, “how sure you were that he might +have come sooner if he would. You pass it over very handsomely—but you +were perfectly right.” + +“I was not quite impartial in my judgment, Emma:—but yet, I think—had +_you_ not been in the case—I should still have distrusted him.” + +When he came to Miss Woodhouse, he was obliged to read the whole of it +aloud—all that related to her, with a smile; a look; a shake of the +head; a word or two of assent, or disapprobation; or merely of love, as +the subject required; concluding, however, seriously, and, after steady +reflection, thus— + +“Very bad—though it might have been worse.—Playing a most dangerous +game. Too much indebted to the event for his acquittal.—No judge of his +own manners by you.—Always deceived in fact by his own wishes, and +regardless of little besides his own convenience.—Fancying you to have +fathomed his secret. Natural enough!—his own mind full of intrigue, +that he should suspect it in others.—Mystery; Finesse—how they pervert +the understanding! My Emma, does not every thing serve to prove more +and more the beauty of truth and sincerity in all our dealings with +each other?” + +Emma agreed to it, and with a blush of sensibility on Harriet’s +account, which she could not give any sincere explanation of. + +“You had better go on,” said she. + +He did so, but very soon stopt again to say, “the pianoforte! Ah! That +was the act of a very, very young man, one too young to consider +whether the inconvenience of it might not very much exceed the +pleasure. A boyish scheme, indeed!—I cannot comprehend a man’s wishing +to give a woman any proof of affection which he knows she would rather +dispense with; and he did know that she would have prevented the +instrument’s coming if she could.” + +After this, he made some progress without any pause. Frank Churchill’s +confession of having behaved shamefully was the first thing to call for +more than a word in passing. + +“I perfectly agree with you, sir,”—was then his remark. “You did behave +very shamefully. You never wrote a truer line.” And having gone through +what immediately followed of the basis of their disagreement, and his +persisting to act in direct opposition to Jane Fairfax’s sense of +right, he made a fuller pause to say, “This is very bad.—He had induced +her to place herself, for his sake, in a situation of extreme +difficulty and uneasiness, and it should have been his first object to +prevent her from suffering unnecessarily.—She must have had much more +to contend with, in carrying on the correspondence, than he could. He +should have respected even unreasonable scruples, had there been such; +but hers were all reasonable. We must look to her one fault, and +remember that she had done a wrong thing in consenting to the +engagement, to bear that she should have been in such a state of +punishment.” + +Emma knew that he was now getting to the Box Hill party, and grew +uncomfortable. Her own behaviour had been so very improper! She was +deeply ashamed, and a little afraid of his next look. It was all read, +however, steadily, attentively, and without the smallest remark; and, +excepting one momentary glance at her, instantly withdrawn, in the fear +of giving pain—no remembrance of Box Hill seemed to exist. + +“There is no saying much for the delicacy of our good friends, the +Eltons,” was his next observation.—“His feelings are natural.—What! +actually resolve to break with him entirely!—She felt the engagement to +be a source of repentance and misery to each—she dissolved it.—What a +view this gives of her sense of his behaviour!—Well, he must be a most +extraordinary—” + +“Nay, nay, read on.—You will find how very much he suffers.” + +“I hope he does,” replied Mr. Knightley coolly, and resuming the +letter. “‘Smallridge!’—What does this mean? What is all this?” + +“She had engaged to go as governess to Mrs. Smallridge’s children—a +dear friend of Mrs. Elton’s—a neighbour of Maple Grove; and, by the +bye, I wonder how Mrs. Elton bears the disappointment?” + +“Say nothing, my dear Emma, while you oblige me to read—not even of +Mrs. Elton. Only one page more. I shall soon have done. What a letter +the man writes!” + +“I wish you would read it with a kinder spirit towards him.” + +“Well, there _is_ feeling here.—He does seem to have suffered in +finding her ill.—Certainly, I can have no doubt of his being fond of +her. ‘Dearer, much dearer than ever.’ I hope he may long continue to +feel all the value of such a reconciliation.—He is a very liberal +thanker, with his thousands and tens of thousands.—‘Happier than I +deserve.’ Come, he knows himself there. ‘Miss Woodhouse calls me the +child of good fortune.’—Those were Miss Woodhouse’s words, were they?— +And a fine ending—and there is the letter. The child of good fortune! +That was your name for him, was it?” + +“You do not appear so well satisfied with his letter as I am; but still +you must, at least I hope you must, think the better of him for it. I +hope it does him some service with you.” + +“Yes, certainly it does. He has had great faults, faults of +inconsideration and thoughtlessness; and I am very much of his opinion +in thinking him likely to be happier than he deserves: but still as he +is, beyond a doubt, really attached to Miss Fairfax, and will soon, it +may be hoped, have the advantage of being constantly with her, I am +very ready to believe his character will improve, and acquire from hers +the steadiness and delicacy of principle that it wants. And now, let me +talk to you of something else. I have another person’s interest at +present so much at heart, that I cannot think any longer about Frank +Churchill. Ever since I left you this morning, Emma, my mind has been +hard at work on one subject.” + +The subject followed; it was in plain, unaffected, gentlemanlike +English, such as Mr. Knightley used even to the woman he was in love +with, how to be able to ask her to marry him, without attacking the +happiness of her father. Emma’s answer was ready at the first word. +“While her dear father lived, any change of condition must be +impossible for her. She could never quit him.” Part only of this +answer, however, was admitted. The impossibility of her quitting her +father, Mr. Knightley felt as strongly as herself; but the +inadmissibility of any other change, he could not agree to. He had been +thinking it over most deeply, most intently; he had at first hoped to +induce Mr. Woodhouse to remove with her to Donwell; he had wanted to +believe it feasible, but his knowledge of Mr. Woodhouse would not +suffer him to deceive himself long; and now he confessed his +persuasion, that such a transplantation would be a risk of her father’s +comfort, perhaps even of his life, which must not be hazarded. Mr. +Woodhouse taken from Hartfield!—No, he felt that it ought not to be +attempted. But the plan which had arisen on the sacrifice of this, he +trusted his dearest Emma would not find in any respect objectionable; +it was, that he should be received at Hartfield; that so long as her +father’s happiness—in other words, his life—required Hartfield to +continue her home, it should be his likewise. + +Of their all removing to Donwell, Emma had already had her own passing +thoughts. Like him, she had tried the scheme and rejected it; but such +an alternative as this had not occurred to her. She was sensible of all +the affection it evinced. She felt that, in quitting Donwell, he must +be sacrificing a great deal of independence of hours and habits; that +in living constantly with her father, and in no house of his own, there +would be much, very much, to be borne with. She promised to think of +it, and advised him to think of it more; but he was fully convinced, +that no reflection could alter his wishes or his opinion on the +subject. He had given it, he could assure her, very long and calm +consideration; he had been walking away from William Larkins the whole +morning, to have his thoughts to himself. + +“Ah! there is one difficulty unprovided for,” cried Emma. “I am sure +William Larkins will not like it. You must get his consent before you +ask mine.” + +She promised, however, to think of it; and pretty nearly promised, +moreover, to think of it, with the intention of finding it a very good +scheme. + +It is remarkable, that Emma, in the many, very many, points of view in +which she was now beginning to consider Donwell Abbey, was never struck +with any sense of injury to her nephew Henry, whose rights as +heir-expectant had formerly been so tenaciously regarded. Think she +must of the possible difference to the poor little boy; and yet she +only gave herself a saucy conscious smile about it, and found amusement +in detecting the real cause of that violent dislike of Mr. Knightley’s +marrying Jane Fairfax, or any body else, which at the time she had +wholly imputed to the amiable solicitude of the sister and the aunt. + +This proposal of his, this plan of marrying and continuing at +Hartfield—the more she contemplated it, the more pleasing it became. +His evils seemed to lessen, her own advantages to increase, their +mutual good to outweigh every drawback. Such a companion for herself in +the periods of anxiety and cheerlessness before her!—Such a partner in +all those duties and cares to which time must be giving increase of +melancholy! + +She would have been too happy but for poor Harriet; but every blessing +of her own seemed to involve and advance the sufferings of her friend, +who must now be even excluded from Hartfield. The delightful family +party which Emma was securing for herself, poor Harriet must, in mere +charitable caution, be kept at a distance from. She would be a loser in +every way. Emma could not deplore her future absence as any deduction +from her own enjoyment. In such a party, Harriet would be rather a dead +weight than otherwise; but for the poor girl herself, it seemed a +peculiarly cruel necessity that was to be placing her in such a state +of unmerited punishment. + +In time, of course, Mr. Knightley would be forgotten, that is, +supplanted; but this could not be expected to happen very early. Mr. +Knightley himself would be doing nothing to assist the cure;—not like +Mr. Elton. Mr. Knightley, always so kind, so feeling, so truly +considerate for every body, would never deserve to be less worshipped +than now; and it really was too much to hope even of Harriet, that she +could be in love with more than _three_ men in one year. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +It was a very great relief to Emma to find Harriet as desirous as +herself to avoid a meeting. Their intercourse was painful enough by +letter. How much worse, had they been obliged to meet! + +Harriet expressed herself very much as might be supposed, without +reproaches, or apparent sense of ill-usage; and yet Emma fancied there +was a something of resentment, a something bordering on it in her +style, which increased the desirableness of their being separate.—It +might be only her own consciousness; but it seemed as if an angel only +could have been quite without resentment under such a stroke. + +She had no difficulty in procuring Isabella’s invitation; and she was +fortunate in having a sufficient reason for asking it, without +resorting to invention.—There was a tooth amiss. Harriet really wished, +and had wished some time, to consult a dentist. Mrs. John Knightley was +delighted to be of use; any thing of ill health was a recommendation to +her—and though not so fond of a dentist as of a Mr. Wingfield, she was +quite eager to have Harriet under her care.—When it was thus settled on +her sister’s side, Emma proposed it to her friend, and found her very +persuadable.—Harriet was to go; she was invited for at least a +fortnight; she was to be conveyed in Mr. Woodhouse’s carriage.—It was +all arranged, it was all completed, and Harriet was safe in Brunswick +Square. + +Now Emma could, indeed, enjoy Mr. Knightley’s visits; now she could +talk, and she could listen with true happiness, unchecked by that sense +of injustice, of guilt, of something most painful, which had haunted +her when remembering how disappointed a heart was near her, how much +might at that moment, and at a little distance, be enduring by the +feelings which she had led astray herself. + +The difference of Harriet at Mrs. Goddard’s, or in London, made perhaps +an unreasonable difference in Emma’s sensations; but she could not +think of her in London without objects of curiosity and employment, +which must be averting the past, and carrying her out of herself. + +She would not allow any other anxiety to succeed directly to the place +in her mind which Harriet had occupied. There was a communication +before her, one which _she_ only could be competent to make—the +confession of her engagement to her father; but she would have nothing +to do with it at present.—She had resolved to defer the disclosure till +Mrs. Weston were safe and well. No additional agitation should be +thrown at this period among those she loved—and the evil should not act +on herself by anticipation before the appointed time.—A fortnight, at +least, of leisure and peace of mind, to crown every warmer, but more +agitating, delight, should be hers. + +She soon resolved, equally as a duty and a pleasure, to employ half an +hour of this holiday of spirits in calling on Miss Fairfax.—She ought +to go—and she was longing to see her; the resemblance of their present +situations increasing every other motive of goodwill. It would be a +_secret_ satisfaction; but the consciousness of a similarity of +prospect would certainly add to the interest with which she should +attend to any thing Jane might communicate. + +She went—she had driven once unsuccessfully to the door, but had not +been into the house since the morning after Box Hill, when poor Jane +had been in such distress as had filled her with compassion, though all +the worst of her sufferings had been unsuspected.—The fear of being +still unwelcome, determined her, though assured of their being at home, +to wait in the passage, and send up her name.—She heard Patty +announcing it; but no such bustle succeeded as poor Miss Bates had +before made so happily intelligible.—No; she heard nothing but the +instant reply of, “Beg her to walk up;”—and a moment afterwards she was +met on the stairs by Jane herself, coming eagerly forward, as if no +other reception of her were felt sufficient.—Emma had never seen her +look so well, so lovely, so engaging. There was consciousness, +animation, and warmth; there was every thing which her countenance or +manner could ever have wanted.— She came forward with an offered hand; +and said, in a low, but very feeling tone, + +“This is most kind, indeed!—Miss Woodhouse, it is impossible for me to +express—I hope you will believe—Excuse me for being so entirely without +words.” + +Emma was gratified, and would soon have shewn no want of words, if the +sound of Mrs. Elton’s voice from the sitting-room had not checked her, +and made it expedient to compress all her friendly and all her +congratulatory sensations into a very, very earnest shake of the hand. + +Mrs. Bates and Mrs. Elton were together. Miss Bates was out, which +accounted for the previous tranquillity. Emma could have wished Mrs. +Elton elsewhere; but she was in a humour to have patience with every +body; and as Mrs. Elton met her with unusual graciousness, she hoped +the rencontre would do them no harm. + +She soon believed herself to penetrate Mrs. Elton’s thoughts, and +understand why she was, like herself, in happy spirits; it was being in +Miss Fairfax’s confidence, and fancying herself acquainted with what +was still a secret to other people. Emma saw symptoms of it immediately +in the expression of her face; and while paying her own compliments to +Mrs. Bates, and appearing to attend to the good old lady’s replies, she +saw her with a sort of anxious parade of mystery fold up a letter which +she had apparently been reading aloud to Miss Fairfax, and return it +into the purple and gold reticule by her side, saying, with significant +nods, + +“We can finish this some other time, you know. You and I shall not want +opportunities. And, in fact, you have heard all the essential already. +I only wanted to prove to you that Mrs. S. admits our apology, and is +not offended. You see how delightfully she writes. Oh! she is a sweet +creature! You would have doated on her, had you gone.—But not a word +more. Let us be discreet—quite on our good behaviour.—Hush!—You +remember those lines—I forget the poem at this moment: + +“For when a lady’s in the case, +“You know all other things give place.” + + +Now I say, my dear, in _our_ case, for _lady_, read——mum! a word to the +wise.—I am in a fine flow of spirits, an’t I? But I want to set your +heart at ease as to Mrs. S.—_My_ representation, you see, has quite +appeased her.” + +And again, on Emma’s merely turning her head to look at Mrs. Bates’s +knitting, she added, in a half whisper, + +“I mentioned no _names_, you will observe.—Oh! no; cautious as a +minister of state. I managed it extremely well.” + +Emma could not doubt. It was a palpable display, repeated on every +possible occasion. When they had all talked a little while in harmony +of the weather and Mrs. Weston, she found herself abruptly addressed +with, + +“Do not you think, Miss Woodhouse, our saucy little friend here is +charmingly recovered?—Do not you think her cure does Perry the highest +credit?—(here was a side-glance of great meaning at Jane.) Upon my +word, Perry has restored her in a wonderful short time!—Oh! if you had +seen her, as I did, when she was at the worst!”—And when Mrs. Bates was +saying something to Emma, whispered farther, “We do not say a word of +any _assistance_ that Perry might have; not a word of a certain young +physician from Windsor.—Oh! no; Perry shall have all the credit.” + +“I have scarce had the pleasure of seeing you, Miss Woodhouse,” she +shortly afterwards began, “since the party to Box Hill. Very pleasant +party. But yet I think there was something wanting. Things did not +seem—that is, there seemed a little cloud upon the spirits of some.—So +it appeared to me at least, but I might be mistaken. However, I think +it answered so far as to tempt one to go again. What say you both to +our collecting the same party, and exploring to Box Hill again, while +the fine weather lasts?—It must be the same party, you know, quite the +same party, not _one_ exception.” + +Soon after this Miss Bates came in, and Emma could not help being +diverted by the perplexity of her first answer to herself, resulting, +she supposed, from doubt of what might be said, and impatience to say +every thing. + +“Thank you, dear Miss Woodhouse, you are all kindness.—It is impossible +to say—Yes, indeed, I quite understand—dearest Jane’s prospects—that +is, I do not mean.—But she is charmingly recovered.—How is Mr. +Woodhouse?—I am so glad.—Quite out of my power.—Such a happy little +circle as you find us here.—Yes, indeed.—Charming young man!—that is—so +very friendly; I mean good Mr. Perry!—such attention to Jane!”—And from +her great, her more than commonly thankful delight towards Mrs. Elton +for being there, Emma guessed that there had been a little show of +resentment towards Jane, from the vicarage quarter, which was now +graciously overcome.—After a few whispers, indeed, which placed it +beyond a guess, Mrs. Elton, speaking louder, said, + +“Yes, here I am, my good friend; and here I have been so long, that +anywhere else I should think it necessary to apologise; but, the truth +is, that I am waiting for my lord and master. He promised to join me +here, and pay his respects to you.” + +“What! are we to have the pleasure of a call from Mr. Elton?—That will +be a favour indeed! for I know gentlemen do not like morning visits, +and Mr. Elton’s time is so engaged.” + +“Upon my word it is, Miss Bates.—He really is engaged from morning to +night.—There is no end of people’s coming to him, on some pretence or +other.—The magistrates, and overseers, and churchwardens, are always +wanting his opinion. They seem not able to do any thing without +him.—‘Upon my word, Mr. E.,’ I often say, ‘rather you than I.—I do not +know what would become of my crayons and my instrument, if I had half +so many applicants.’—Bad enough as it is, for I absolutely neglect them +both to an unpardonable degree.—I believe I have not played a bar this +fortnight.—However, he is coming, I assure you: yes, indeed, on purpose +to wait on you all.” And putting up her hand to screen her words from +Emma—“A congratulatory visit, you know.—Oh! yes, quite indispensable.” + +Miss Bates looked about her, so happily—! + +“He promised to come to me as soon as he could disengage himself from +Knightley; but he and Knightley are shut up together in deep +consultation.—Mr. E. is Knightley’s right hand.” + +Emma would not have smiled for the world, and only said, “Is Mr. Elton +gone on foot to Donwell?—He will have a hot walk.” + +“Oh! no, it is a meeting at the Crown, a regular meeting. Weston and +Cole will be there too; but one is apt to speak only of those who +lead.—I fancy Mr. E. and Knightley have every thing their own way.” + +“Have not you mistaken the day?” said Emma. “I am almost certain that +the meeting at the Crown is not till to-morrow.—Mr. Knightley was at +Hartfield yesterday, and spoke of it as for Saturday.” + +“Oh! no, the meeting is certainly to-day,” was the abrupt answer, which +denoted the impossibility of any blunder on Mrs. Elton’s side.—“I do +believe,” she continued, “this is the most troublesome parish that ever +was. We never heard of such things at Maple Grove.” + +“Your parish there was small,” said Jane. + +“Upon my word, my dear, I do not know, for I never heard the subject +talked of.” + +“But it is proved by the smallness of the school, which I have heard +you speak of, as under the patronage of your sister and Mrs. Bragge; +the only school, and not more than five-and-twenty children.” + +“Ah! you clever creature, that’s very true. What a thinking brain you +have! I say, Jane, what a perfect character you and I should make, if +we could be shaken together. My liveliness and your solidity would +produce perfection.—Not that I presume to insinuate, however, that +_some_ people may not think _you_ perfection already.—But hush!—not a +word, if you please.” + +It seemed an unnecessary caution; Jane was wanting to give her words, +not to Mrs. Elton, but to Miss Woodhouse, as the latter plainly saw. +The wish of distinguishing her, as far as civility permitted, was very +evident, though it could not often proceed beyond a look. + +Mr. Elton made his appearance. His lady greeted him with some of her +sparkling vivacity. + +“Very pretty, sir, upon my word; to send me on here, to be an +encumbrance to my friends, so long before you vouchsafe to come!—But +you knew what a dutiful creature you had to deal with. You knew I +should not stir till my lord and master appeared.—Here have I been +sitting this hour, giving these young ladies a sample of true conjugal +obedience—for who can say, you know, how soon it may be wanted?” + +Mr. Elton was so hot and tired, that all this wit seemed thrown away. +His civilities to the other ladies must be paid; but his subsequent +object was to lament over himself for the heat he was suffering, and +the walk he had had for nothing. + +“When I got to Donwell,” said he, “Knightley could not be found. Very +odd! very unaccountable! after the note I sent him this morning, and +the message he returned, that he should certainly be at home till one.” + +“Donwell!” cried his wife.—“My dear Mr. E., you have not been to +Donwell!—You mean the Crown; you come from the meeting at the Crown.” + +“No, no, that’s to-morrow; and I particularly wanted to see Knightley +to-day on that very account.—Such a dreadful broiling morning!—I went +over the fields too—(speaking in a tone of great ill-usage,) which made +it so much the worse. And then not to find him at home! I assure you I +am not at all pleased. And no apology left, no message for me. The +housekeeper declared she knew nothing of my being expected.—Very +extraordinary!—And nobody knew at all which way he was gone. Perhaps to +Hartfield, perhaps to the Abbey Mill, perhaps into his woods.—Miss +Woodhouse, this is not like our friend Knightley!—Can you explain it?” + +Emma amused herself by protesting that it was very extraordinary, +indeed, and that she had not a syllable to say for him. + +“I cannot imagine,” said Mrs. Elton, (feeling the indignity as a wife +ought to do,) “I cannot imagine how he could do such a thing by you, of +all people in the world! The very last person whom one should expect to +be forgotten!—My dear Mr. E., he must have left a message for you, I am +sure he must.—Not even Knightley could be so very eccentric;—and his +servants forgot it. Depend upon it, that was the case: and very likely +to happen with the Donwell servants, who are all, I have often +observed, extremely awkward and remiss.—I am sure I would not have such +a creature as his Harry stand at our sideboard for any consideration. +And as for Mrs. Hodges, Wright holds her very cheap indeed.—She +promised Wright a receipt, and never sent it.” + +“I met William Larkins,” continued Mr. Elton, “as I got near the house, +and he told me I should not find his master at home, but I did not +believe him.—William seemed rather out of humour. He did not know what +was come to his master lately, he said, but he could hardly ever get +the speech of him. I have nothing to do with William’s wants, but it +really is of very great importance that _I_ should see Knightley +to-day; and it becomes a matter, therefore, of very serious +inconvenience that I should have had this hot walk to no purpose.” + +Emma felt that she could not do better than go home directly. In all +probability she was at this very time waited for there; and Mr. +Knightley might be preserved from sinking deeper in aggression towards +Mr. Elton, if not towards William Larkins. + +She was pleased, on taking leave, to find Miss Fairfax determined to +attend her out of the room, to go with her even downstairs; it gave her +an opportunity which she immediately made use of, to say, + +“It is as well, perhaps, that I have not had the possibility. Had you +not been surrounded by other friends, I might have been tempted to +introduce a subject, to ask questions, to speak more openly than might +have been strictly correct.—I feel that I should certainly have been +impertinent.” + +“Oh!” cried Jane, with a blush and an hesitation which Emma thought +infinitely more becoming to her than all the elegance of all her usual +composure—“there would have been no danger. The danger would have been +of my wearying you. You could not have gratified me more than by +expressing an interest—. Indeed, Miss Woodhouse, (speaking more +collectedly,) with the consciousness which I have of misconduct, very +great misconduct, it is particularly consoling to me to know that those +of my friends, whose good opinion is most worth preserving, are not +disgusted to such a degree as to—I have not time for half that I could +wish to say. I long to make apologies, excuses, to urge something for +myself. I feel it so very due. But, unfortunately—in short, if your +compassion does not stand my friend—” + +“Oh! you are too scrupulous, indeed you are,” cried Emma warmly, and +taking her hand. “You owe me no apologies; and every body to whom you +might be supposed to owe them, is so perfectly satisfied, so delighted +even—” + +“You are very kind, but I know what my manners were to you.—So cold and +artificial!—I had always a part to act.—It was a life of deceit!—I know +that I must have disgusted you.” + +“Pray say no more. I feel that all the apologies should be on my side. +Let us forgive each other at once. We must do whatever is to be done +quickest, and I think our feelings will lose no time there. I hope you +have pleasant accounts from Windsor?” + +“Very.” + +“And the next news, I suppose, will be, that we are to lose you—just as +I begin to know you.” + +“Oh! as to all that, of course nothing can be thought of yet. I am here +till claimed by Colonel and Mrs. Campbell.” + +“Nothing can be actually settled yet, perhaps,” replied Emma, +smiling—“but, excuse me, it must be thought of.” + +The smile was returned as Jane answered, + +“You are very right; it has been thought of. And I will own to you, (I +am sure it will be safe), that so far as our living with Mr. Churchill +at Enscombe, it is settled. There must be three months, at least, of +deep mourning; but when they are over, I imagine there will be nothing +more to wait for.” + +“Thank you, thank you.—This is just what I wanted to be assured of.—Oh! +if you knew how much I love every thing that is decided and +open!—Good-bye, good-bye.” + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +Mrs. Weston’s friends were all made happy by her safety; and if the +satisfaction of her well-doing could be increased to Emma, it was by +knowing her to be the mother of a little girl. She had been decided in +wishing for a Miss Weston. She would not acknowledge that it was with +any view of making a match for her, hereafter, with either of +Isabella’s sons; but she was convinced that a daughter would suit both +father and mother best. It would be a great comfort to Mr. Weston, as +he grew older—and even Mr. Weston might be growing older ten years +hence—to have his fireside enlivened by the sports and the nonsense, +the freaks and the fancies of a child never banished from home; and +Mrs. Weston—no one could doubt that a daughter would be most to her; +and it would be quite a pity that any one who so well knew how to +teach, should not have their powers in exercise again. + +“She has had the advantage, you know, of practising on me,” she +continued—“like La Baronne d’Almane on La Comtesse d’Ostalis, in Madame +de Genlis’ Adelaide and Theodore, and we shall now see her own little +Adelaide educated on a more perfect plan.” + +“That is,” replied Mr. Knightley, “she will indulge her even more than +she did you, and believe that she does not indulge her at all. It will +be the only difference.” + +“Poor child!” cried Emma; “at that rate, what will become of her?” + +“Nothing very bad.—The fate of thousands. She will be disagreeable in +infancy, and correct herself as she grows older. I am losing all my +bitterness against spoilt children, my dearest Emma. I, who am owing +all my happiness to _you_, would not it be horrible ingratitude in me +to be severe on them?” + +Emma laughed, and replied: “But I had the assistance of all your +endeavours to counteract the indulgence of other people. I doubt +whether my own sense would have corrected me without it.” + +“Do you?—I have no doubt. Nature gave you understanding:—Miss Taylor +gave you principles. You must have done well. My interference was quite +as likely to do harm as good. It was very natural for you to say, what +right has he to lecture me?—and I am afraid very natural for you to +feel that it was done in a disagreeable manner. I do not believe I did +you any good. The good was all to myself, by making you an object of +the tenderest affection to me. I could not think about you so much +without doating on you, faults and all; and by dint of fancying so many +errors, have been in love with you ever since you were thirteen at +least.” + +“I am sure you were of use to me,” cried Emma. “I was very often +influenced rightly by you—oftener than I would own at the time. I am +very sure you did me good. And if poor little Anna Weston is to be +spoiled, it will be the greatest humanity in you to do as much for her +as you have done for me, except falling in love with her when she is +thirteen.” + +“How often, when you were a girl, have you said to me, with one of your +saucy looks—‘Mr. Knightley, I am going to do so-and-so; papa says I +may, or I have Miss Taylor’s leave’—something which, you knew, I did +not approve. In such cases my interference was giving you two bad +feelings instead of one.” + +“What an amiable creature I was!—No wonder you should hold my speeches +in such affectionate remembrance.” + +“‘Mr. Knightley.’—You always called me, ‘Mr. Knightley;’ and, from +habit, it has not so very formal a sound.—And yet it is formal. I want +you to call me something else, but I do not know what.” + +“I remember once calling you ‘George,’ in one of my amiable fits, about +ten years ago. I did it because I thought it would offend you; but, as +you made no objection, I never did it again.” + +“And cannot you call me ‘George’ now?” + +“Impossible!—I never can call you any thing but ‘Mr. Knightley.’ I will +not promise even to equal the elegant terseness of Mrs. Elton, by +calling you Mr. K.—But I will promise,” she added presently, laughing +and blushing—“I will promise to call you once by your Christian name. I +do not say when, but perhaps you may guess where;—in the building in +which N. takes M. for better, for worse.” + +Emma grieved that she could not be more openly just to one important +service which his better sense would have rendered her, to the advice +which would have saved her from the worst of all her womanly +follies—her wilful intimacy with Harriet Smith; but it was too tender a +subject.—She could not enter on it.—Harriet was very seldom mentioned +between them. This, on his side, might merely proceed from her not +being thought of; but Emma was rather inclined to attribute it to +delicacy, and a suspicion, from some appearances, that their friendship +were declining. She was aware herself, that, parting under any other +circumstances, they certainly should have corresponded more, and that +her intelligence would not have rested, as it now almost wholly did, on +Isabella’s letters. He might observe that it was so. The pain of being +obliged to practise concealment towards him, was very little inferior +to the pain of having made Harriet unhappy. + +Isabella sent quite as good an account of her visitor as could be +expected; on her first arrival she had thought her out of spirits, +which appeared perfectly natural, as there was a dentist to be +consulted; but, since that business had been over, she did not appear +to find Harriet different from what she had known her before.—Isabella, +to be sure, was no very quick observer; yet if Harriet had not been +equal to playing with the children, it would not have escaped her. +Emma’s comforts and hopes were most agreeably carried on, by Harriet’s +being to stay longer; her fortnight was likely to be a month at least. +Mr. and Mrs. John Knightley were to come down in August, and she was +invited to remain till they could bring her back. + +“John does not even mention your friend,” said Mr. Knightley. “Here is +his answer, if you like to see it.” + +It was the answer to the communication of his intended marriage. Emma +accepted it with a very eager hand, with an impatience all alive to +know what he would say about it, and not at all checked by hearing that +her friend was unmentioned. + +“John enters like a brother into my happiness,” continued Mr. +Knightley, “but he is no complimenter; and though I well know him to +have, likewise, a most brotherly affection for you, he is so far from +making flourishes, that any other young woman might think him rather +cool in her praise. But I am not afraid of your seeing what he writes.” + +“He writes like a sensible man,” replied Emma, when she had read the +letter. “I honour his sincerity. It is very plain that he considers the +good fortune of the engagement as all on my side, but that he is not +without hope of my growing, in time, as worthy of your affection, as +you think me already. Had he said any thing to bear a different +construction, I should not have believed him.” + +“My Emma, he means no such thing. He only means—” + +“He and I should differ very little in our estimation of the two,” +interrupted she, with a sort of serious smile—“much less, perhaps, than +he is aware of, if we could enter without ceremony or reserve on the +subject.” + +“Emma, my dear Emma—” + +“Oh!” she cried with more thorough gaiety, “if you fancy your brother +does not do me justice, only wait till my dear father is in the secret, +and hear his opinion. Depend upon it, he will be much farther from +doing _you_ justice. He will think all the happiness, all the +advantage, on your side of the question; all the merit on mine. I wish +I may not sink into ‘poor Emma’ with him at once.—His tender compassion +towards oppressed worth can go no farther.” + +“Ah!” he cried, “I wish your father might be half as easily convinced +as John will be, of our having every right that equal worth can give, +to be happy together. I am amused by one part of John’s letter—did you +notice it?—where he says, that my information did not take him wholly +by surprize, that he was rather in expectation of hearing something of +the kind.” + +“If I understand your brother, he only means so far as your having some +thoughts of marrying. He had no idea of me. He seems perfectly +unprepared for that.” + +“Yes, yes—but I am amused that he should have seen so far into my +feelings. What has he been judging by?—I am not conscious of any +difference in my spirits or conversation that could prepare him at this +time for my marrying any more than at another.—But it was so, I +suppose. I dare say there was a difference when I was staying with them +the other day. I believe I did not play with the children quite so much +as usual. I remember one evening the poor boys saying, ‘Uncle seems +always tired now.’” + +The time was coming when the news must spread farther, and other +persons’ reception of it tried. As soon as Mrs. Weston was sufficiently +recovered to admit Mr. Woodhouse’s visits, Emma having it in view that +her gentle reasonings should be employed in the cause, resolved first +to announce it at home, and then at Randalls.—But how to break it to +her father at last!—She had bound herself to do it, in such an hour of +Mr. Knightley’s absence, or when it came to the point her heart would +have failed her, and she must have put it off; but Mr. Knightley was to +come at such a time, and follow up the beginning she was to make.—She +was forced to speak, and to speak cheerfully too. She must not make it +a more decided subject of misery to him, by a melancholy tone herself. +She must not appear to think it a misfortune.—With all the spirits she +could command, she prepared him first for something strange, and then, +in a few words, said, that if his consent and approbation could be +obtained—which, she trusted, would be attended with no difficulty, +since it was a plan to promote the happiness of all—she and Mr. +Knightley meant to marry; by which means Hartfield would receive the +constant addition of that person’s company whom she knew he loved, next +to his daughters and Mrs. Weston, best in the world. + +Poor man!—it was at first a considerable shock to him, and he tried +earnestly to dissuade her from it. She was reminded, more than once, of +having always said she would never marry, and assured that it would be +a great deal better for her to remain single; and told of poor +Isabella, and poor Miss Taylor.—But it would not do. Emma hung about +him affectionately, and smiled, and said it must be so; and that he +must not class her with Isabella and Mrs. Weston, whose marriages +taking them from Hartfield, had, indeed, made a melancholy change: but +she was not going from Hartfield; she should be always there; she was +introducing no change in their numbers or their comforts but for the +better; and she was very sure that he would be a great deal the happier +for having Mr. Knightley always at hand, when he were once got used to +the idea.—Did he not love Mr. Knightley very much?—He would not deny +that he did, she was sure.—Whom did he ever want to consult on business +but Mr. Knightley?—Who was so useful to him, who so ready to write his +letters, who so glad to assist him?—Who so cheerful, so attentive, so +attached to him?—Would not he like to have him always on the spot?—Yes. +That was all very true. Mr. Knightley could not be there too often; he +should be glad to see him every day;—but they did see him every day as +it was.—Why could not they go on as they had done? + +Mr. Woodhouse could not be soon reconciled; but the worst was overcome, +the idea was given; time and continual repetition must do the rest.—To +Emma’s entreaties and assurances succeeded Mr. Knightley’s, whose fond +praise of her gave the subject even a kind of welcome; and he was soon +used to be talked to by each, on every fair occasion.—They had all the +assistance which Isabella could give, by letters of the strongest +approbation; and Mrs. Weston was ready, on the first meeting, to +consider the subject in the most serviceable light—first, as a settled, +and, secondly, as a good one—well aware of the nearly equal importance +of the two recommendations to Mr. Woodhouse’s mind.—It was agreed upon, +as what was to be; and every body by whom he was used to be guided +assuring him that it would be for his happiness; and having some +feelings himself which almost admitted it, he began to think that some +time or other—in another year or two, perhaps—it might not be so very +bad if the marriage did take place. + +Mrs. Weston was acting no part, feigning no feelings in all that she +said to him in favour of the event.—She had been extremely surprized, +never more so, than when Emma first opened the affair to her; but she +saw in it only increase of happiness to all, and had no scruple in +urging him to the utmost.—She had such a regard for Mr. Knightley, as +to think he deserved even her dearest Emma; and it was in every respect +so proper, suitable, and unexceptionable a connexion, and in one +respect, one point of the highest importance, so peculiarly eligible, +so singularly fortunate, that now it seemed as if Emma could not safely +have attached herself to any other creature, and that she had herself +been the stupidest of beings in not having thought of it, and wished it +long ago.—How very few of those men in a rank of life to address Emma +would have renounced their own home for Hartfield! And who but Mr. +Knightley could know and bear with Mr. Woodhouse, so as to make such an +arrangement desirable!—The difficulty of disposing of poor Mr. +Woodhouse had been always felt in her husband’s plans and her own, for +a marriage between Frank and Emma. How to settle the claims of Enscombe +and Hartfield had been a continual impediment—less acknowledged by Mr. +Weston than by herself—but even he had never been able to finish the +subject better than by saying—“Those matters will take care of +themselves; the young people will find a way.” But here there was +nothing to be shifted off in a wild speculation on the future. It was +all right, all open, all equal. No sacrifice on any side worth the +name. It was a union of the highest promise of felicity in itself, and +without one real, rational difficulty to oppose or delay it. + +Mrs. Weston, with her baby on her knee, indulging in such reflections +as these, was one of the happiest women in the world. If any thing +could increase her delight, it was perceiving that the baby would soon +have outgrown its first set of caps. + +The news was universally a surprize wherever it spread; and Mr. Weston +had his five minutes share of it; but five minutes were enough to +familiarise the idea to his quickness of mind.—He saw the advantages of +the match, and rejoiced in them with all the constancy of his wife; but +the wonder of it was very soon nothing; and by the end of an hour he +was not far from believing that he had always foreseen it. + +“It is to be a secret, I conclude,” said he. “These matters are always +a secret, till it is found out that every body knows them. Only let me +be told when I may speak out.—I wonder whether Jane has any suspicion.” + +He went to Highbury the next morning, and satisfied himself on that +point. He told her the news. Was not she like a daughter, his eldest +daughter?—he must tell her; and Miss Bates being present, it passed, of +course, to Mrs. Cole, Mrs. Perry, and Mrs. Elton, immediately +afterwards. It was no more than the principals were prepared for; they +had calculated from the time of its being known at Randalls, how soon +it would be over Highbury; and were thinking of themselves, as the +evening wonder in many a family circle, with great sagacity. + +In general, it was a very well approved match. Some might think him, +and others might think her, the most in luck. One set might recommend +their all removing to Donwell, and leaving Hartfield for the John +Knightleys; and another might predict disagreements among their +servants; but yet, upon the whole, there was no serious objection +raised, except in one habitation, the Vicarage.—There, the surprize was +not softened by any satisfaction. Mr. Elton cared little about it, +compared with his wife; he only hoped “the young lady’s pride would now +be contented;” and supposed “she had always meant to catch Knightley if +she could;” and, on the point of living at Hartfield, could daringly +exclaim, “Rather he than I!”—But Mrs. Elton was very much discomposed +indeed.—“Poor Knightley! poor fellow!—sad business for him.”—She was +extremely concerned; for, though very eccentric, he had a thousand good +qualities.—How could he be so taken in?—Did not think him at all in +love—not in the least.—Poor Knightley!—There would be an end of all +pleasant intercourse with him.—How happy he had been to come and dine +with them whenever they asked him! But that would be all over now.—Poor +fellow!—No more exploring parties to Donwell made for _her_. Oh! no; +there would be a Mrs. Knightley to throw cold water on every +thing.—Extremely disagreeable! But she was not at all sorry that she +had abused the housekeeper the other day.—Shocking plan, living +together. It would never do. She knew a family near Maple Grove who had +tried it, and been obliged to separate before the end of the first +quarter. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +Time passed on. A few more to-morrows, and the party from London would +be arriving. It was an alarming change; and Emma was thinking of it one +morning, as what must bring a great deal to agitate and grieve her, +when Mr. Knightley came in, and distressing thoughts were put by. After +the first chat of pleasure he was silent; and then, in a graver tone, +began with, + +“I have something to tell you, Emma; some news.” + +“Good or bad?” said she, quickly, looking up in his face. + +“I do not know which it ought to be called.” + +“Oh! good I am sure.—I see it in your countenance. You are trying not +to smile.” + +“I am afraid,” said he, composing his features, “I am very much afraid, +my dear Emma, that you will not smile when you hear it.” + +“Indeed! but why so?—I can hardly imagine that any thing which pleases +or amuses you, should not please and amuse me too.” + +“There is one subject,” he replied, “I hope but one, on which we do not +think alike.” He paused a moment, again smiling, with his eyes fixed on +her face. “Does nothing occur to you?—Do not you recollect?—Harriet +Smith.” + +Her cheeks flushed at the name, and she felt afraid of something, +though she knew not what. + +“Have you heard from her yourself this morning?” cried he. “You have, I +believe, and know the whole.” + +“No, I have not; I know nothing; pray tell me.” + +“You are prepared for the worst, I see—and very bad it is. Harriet +Smith marries Robert Martin.” + +Emma gave a start, which did not seem like being prepared—and her eyes, +in eager gaze, said, “No, this is impossible!” but her lips were +closed. + +“It is so, indeed,” continued Mr. Knightley; “I have it from Robert +Martin himself. He left me not half an hour ago.” + +She was still looking at him with the most speaking amazement. + +“You like it, my Emma, as little as I feared.—I wish our opinions were +the same. But in time they will. Time, you may be sure, will make one +or the other of us think differently; and, in the meanwhile, we need +not talk much on the subject.” + +“You mistake me, you quite mistake me,” she replied, exerting herself. +“It is not that such a circumstance would now make me unhappy, but I +cannot believe it. It seems an impossibility!—You cannot mean to say, +that Harriet Smith has accepted Robert Martin. You cannot mean that he +has even proposed to her again—yet. You only mean, that he intends it.” + +“I mean that he has done it,” answered Mr. Knightley, with smiling but +determined decision, “and been accepted.” + +“Good God!” she cried.—“Well!”—Then having recourse to her workbasket, +in excuse for leaning down her face, and concealing all the exquisite +feelings of delight and entertainment which she knew she must be +expressing, she added, “Well, now tell me every thing; make this +intelligible to me. How, where, when?—Let me know it all. I never was +more surprized—but it does not make me unhappy, I assure you.—How—how +has it been possible?” + +“It is a very simple story. He went to town on business three days ago, +and I got him to take charge of some papers which I was wanting to send +to John.—He delivered these papers to John, at his chambers, and was +asked by him to join their party the same evening to Astley’s. They +were going to take the two eldest boys to Astley’s. The party was to be +our brother and sister, Henry, John—and Miss Smith. My friend Robert +could not resist. They called for him in their way; were all extremely +amused; and my brother asked him to dine with them the next day—which +he did—and in the course of that visit (as I understand) he found an +opportunity of speaking to Harriet; and certainly did not speak in +vain.—She made him, by her acceptance, as happy even as he is +deserving. He came down by yesterday’s coach, and was with me this +morning immediately after breakfast, to report his proceedings, first +on my affairs, and then on his own. This is all that I can relate of +the how, where, and when. Your friend Harriet will make a much longer +history when you see her.—She will give you all the minute particulars, +which only woman’s language can make interesting.—In our communications +we deal only in the great.—However, I must say, that Robert Martin’s +heart seemed for _him_, and to _me_, very overflowing; and that he did +mention, without its being much to the purpose, that on quitting their +box at Astley’s, my brother took charge of Mrs. John Knightley and +little John, and he followed with Miss Smith and Henry; and that at one +time they were in such a crowd, as to make Miss Smith rather uneasy.” + +He stopped.—Emma dared not attempt any immediate reply. To speak, she +was sure would be to betray a most unreasonable degree of happiness. +She must wait a moment, or he would think her mad. Her silence +disturbed him; and after observing her a little while, he added, + +“Emma, my love, you said that this circumstance would not now make you +unhappy; but I am afraid it gives you more pain than you expected. His +situation is an evil—but you must consider it as what satisfies your +friend; and I will answer for your thinking better and better of him as +you know him more. His good sense and good principles would delight +you.—As far as the man is concerned, you could not wish your friend in +better hands. His rank in society I would alter if I could, which is +saying a great deal I assure you, Emma.—You laugh at me about William +Larkins; but I could quite as ill spare Robert Martin.” + +He wanted her to look up and smile; and having now brought herself not +to smile too broadly—she did—cheerfully answering, + +“You need not be at any pains to reconcile me to the match. I think +Harriet is doing extremely well. _Her_ connexions may be worse than +_his_. In respectability of character, there can be no doubt that they +are. I have been silent from surprize merely, excessive surprize. You +cannot imagine how suddenly it has come on me! how peculiarly +unprepared I was!—for I had reason to believe her very lately more +determined against him, much more, than she was before.” + +“You ought to know your friend best,” replied Mr. Knightley; “but I +should say she was a good-tempered, soft-hearted girl, not likely to be +very, very determined against any young man who told her he loved her.” + +Emma could not help laughing as she answered, “Upon my word, I believe +you know her quite as well as I do.—But, Mr. Knightley, are you +perfectly sure that she has absolutely and downright _accepted_ him. I +could suppose she might in time—but can she already?—Did not you +misunderstand him?—You were both talking of other things; of business, +shows of cattle, or new drills—and might not you, in the confusion of +so many subjects, mistake him?—It was not Harriet’s hand that he was +certain of—it was the dimensions of some famous ox.” + +The contrast between the countenance and air of Mr. Knightley and +Robert Martin was, at this moment, so strong to Emma’s feelings, and so +strong was the recollection of all that had so recently passed on +Harriet’s side, so fresh the sound of those words, spoken with such +emphasis, “No, I hope I know better than to think of Robert Martin,” +that she was really expecting the intelligence to prove, in some +measure, premature. It could not be otherwise. + +“Do you dare say this?” cried Mr. Knightley. “Do you dare to suppose me +so great a blockhead, as not to know what a man is talking of?—What do +you deserve?” + +“Oh! I always deserve the best treatment, because I never put up with +any other; and, therefore, you must give me a plain, direct answer. Are +you quite sure that you understand the terms on which Mr. Martin and +Harriet now are?” + +“I am quite sure,” he replied, speaking very distinctly, “that he told +me she had accepted him; and that there was no obscurity, nothing +doubtful, in the words he used; and I think I can give you a proof that +it must be so. He asked my opinion as to what he was now to do. He knew +of no one but Mrs. Goddard to whom he could apply for information of +her relations or friends. Could I mention any thing more fit to be +done, than to go to Mrs. Goddard? I assured him that I could not. Then, +he said, he would endeavour to see her in the course of this day.” + +“I am perfectly satisfied,” replied Emma, with the brightest smiles, +“and most sincerely wish them happy.” + +“You are materially changed since we talked on this subject before.” + +“I hope so—for at that time I was a fool.” + +“And I am changed also; for I am now very willing to grant you all +Harriet’s good qualities. I have taken some pains for your sake, and +for Robert Martin’s sake, (whom I have always had reason to believe as +much in love with her as ever,) to get acquainted with her. I have +often talked to her a good deal. You must have seen that I did. +Sometimes, indeed, I have thought you were half suspecting me of +pleading poor Martin’s cause, which was never the case; but, from all +my observations, I am convinced of her being an artless, amiable girl, +with very good notions, very seriously good principles, and placing her +happiness in the affections and utility of domestic life.—Much of this, +I have no doubt, she may thank you for.” + +“Me!” cried Emma, shaking her head.—“Ah! poor Harriet!” + +She checked herself, however, and submitted quietly to a little more +praise than she deserved. + +Their conversation was soon afterwards closed by the entrance of her +father. She was not sorry. She wanted to be alone. Her mind was in a +state of flutter and wonder, which made it impossible for her to be +collected. She was in dancing, singing, exclaiming spirits; and till +she had moved about, and talked to herself, and laughed and reflected, +she could be fit for nothing rational. + +Her father’s business was to announce James’s being gone out to put the +horses to, preparatory to their now daily drive to Randalls; and she +had, therefore, an immediate excuse for disappearing. + +The joy, the gratitude, the exquisite delight of her sensations may be +imagined. The sole grievance and alloy thus removed in the prospect of +Harriet’s welfare, she was really in danger of becoming too happy for +security.—What had she to wish for? Nothing, but to grow more worthy of +him, whose intentions and judgment had been ever so superior to her +own. Nothing, but that the lessons of her past folly might teach her +humility and circumspection in future. + +Serious she was, very serious in her thankfulness, and in her +resolutions; and yet there was no preventing a laugh, sometimes in the +very midst of them. She must laugh at such a close! Such an end of the +doleful disappointment of five weeks back! Such a heart—such a Harriet! + +Now there would be pleasure in her returning—Every thing would be a +pleasure. It would be a great pleasure to know Robert Martin. + +High in the rank of her most serious and heartfelt felicities, was the +reflection that all necessity of concealment from Mr. Knightley would +soon be over. The disguise, equivocation, mystery, so hateful to her to +practise, might soon be over. She could now look forward to giving him +that full and perfect confidence which her disposition was most ready +to welcome as a duty. + +In the gayest and happiest spirits she set forward with her father; not +always listening, but always agreeing to what he said; and, whether in +speech or silence, conniving at the comfortable persuasion of his being +obliged to go to Randalls every day, or poor Mrs. Weston would be +disappointed. + +They arrived.—Mrs. Weston was alone in the drawing-room:—but hardly had +they been told of the baby, and Mr. Woodhouse received the thanks for +coming, which he asked for, when a glimpse was caught through the +blind, of two figures passing near the window. + +“It is Frank and Miss Fairfax,” said Mrs. Weston. “I was just going to +tell you of our agreeable surprize in seeing him arrive this morning. +He stays till to-morrow, and Miss Fairfax has been persuaded to spend +the day with us.—They are coming in, I hope.” + +In half a minute they were in the room. Emma was extremely glad to see +him—but there was a degree of confusion—a number of embarrassing +recollections on each side. They met readily and smiling, but with a +consciousness which at first allowed little to be said; and having all +sat down again, there was for some time such a blank in the circle, +that Emma began to doubt whether the wish now indulged, which she had +long felt, of seeing Frank Churchill once more, and of seeing him with +Jane, would yield its proportion of pleasure. When Mr. Weston joined +the party, however, and when the baby was fetched, there was no longer +a want of subject or animation—or of courage and opportunity for Frank +Churchill to draw near her and say, + +“I have to thank you, Miss Woodhouse, for a very kind forgiving message +in one of Mrs. Weston’s letters. I hope time has not made you less +willing to pardon. I hope you do not retract what you then said.” + +“No, indeed,” cried Emma, most happy to begin, “not in the least. I am +particularly glad to see and shake hands with you—and to give you joy +in person.” + +He thanked her with all his heart, and continued some time to speak +with serious feeling of his gratitude and happiness. + +“Is not she looking well?” said he, turning his eyes towards Jane. +“Better than she ever used to do?—You see how my father and Mrs. Weston +doat upon her.” + +But his spirits were soon rising again, and with laughing eyes, after +mentioning the expected return of the Campbells, he named the name of +Dixon.—Emma blushed, and forbade its being pronounced in her hearing. + +“I can never think of it,” she cried, “without extreme shame.” + +“The shame,” he answered, “is all mine, or ought to be. But is it +possible that you had no suspicion?—I mean of late. Early, I know, you +had none.” + +“I never had the smallest, I assure you.” + +“That appears quite wonderful. I was once very near—and I wish I had—it +would have been better. But though I was always doing wrong things, +they were very bad wrong things, and such as did me no service.—It +would have been a much better transgression had I broken the bond of +secrecy and told you every thing.” + +“It is not now worth a regret,” said Emma. + +“I have some hope,” resumed he, “of my uncle’s being persuaded to pay a +visit at Randalls; he wants to be introduced to her. When the Campbells +are returned, we shall meet them in London, and continue there, I +trust, till we may carry her northward.—But now, I am at such a +distance from her—is not it hard, Miss Woodhouse?—Till this morning, we +have not once met since the day of reconciliation. Do not you pity me?” + +Emma spoke her pity so very kindly, that with a sudden accession of gay +thought, he cried, + +“Ah! by the bye,” then sinking his voice, and looking demure for the +moment—“I hope Mr. Knightley is well?” He paused.—She coloured and +laughed.—“I know you saw my letter, and think you may remember my wish +in your favour. Let me return your congratulations.—I assure you that I +have heard the news with the warmest interest and satisfaction.—He is a +man whom I cannot presume to praise.” + +Emma was delighted, and only wanted him to go on in the same style; but +his mind was the next moment in his own concerns and with his own Jane, +and his next words were, + +“Did you ever see such a skin?—such smoothness! such delicacy!—and yet +without being actually fair.—One cannot call her fair. It is a most +uncommon complexion, with her dark eye-lashes and hair—a most +distinguishing complexion! So peculiarly the lady in it.—Just colour +enough for beauty.” + +“I have always admired her complexion,” replied Emma, archly; “but do +not I remember the time when you found fault with her for being so +pale?—When we first began to talk of her.—Have you quite forgotten?” + +“Oh! no—what an impudent dog I was!—How could I dare—” + +But he laughed so heartily at the recollection, that Emma could not +help saying, + +“I do suspect that in the midst of your perplexities at that time, you +had very great amusement in tricking us all.—I am sure you had.—I am +sure it was a consolation to you.” + +“Oh! no, no, no—how can you suspect me of such a thing? I was the most +miserable wretch!” + +“Not quite so miserable as to be insensible to mirth. I am sure it was +a source of high entertainment to you, to feel that you were taking us +all in.—Perhaps I am the readier to suspect, because, to tell you the +truth, I think it might have been some amusement to myself in the same +situation. I think there is a little likeness between us.” + +He bowed. + +“If not in our dispositions,” she presently added, with a look of true +sensibility, “there is a likeness in our destiny; the destiny which +bids fair to connect us with two characters so much superior to our +own.” + +“True, true,” he answered, warmly. “No, not true on your side. You can +have no superior, but most true on mine.—She is a complete angel. Look +at her. Is not she an angel in every gesture? Observe the turn of her +throat. Observe her eyes, as she is looking up at my father.—You will +be glad to hear (inclining his head, and whispering seriously) that my +uncle means to give her all my aunt’s jewels. They are to be new set. I +am resolved to have some in an ornament for the head. Will not it be +beautiful in her dark hair?” + +“Very beautiful, indeed,” replied Emma; and she spoke so kindly, that +he gratefully burst out, + +“How delighted I am to see you again! and to see you in such excellent +looks!—I would not have missed this meeting for the world. I should +certainly have called at Hartfield, had you failed to come.” + +The others had been talking of the child, Mrs. Weston giving an account +of a little alarm she had been under, the evening before, from the +infant’s appearing not quite well. She believed she had been foolish, +but it had alarmed her, and she had been within half a minute of +sending for Mr. Perry. Perhaps she ought to be ashamed, but Mr. Weston +had been almost as uneasy as herself.—In ten minutes, however, the +child had been perfectly well again. This was her history; and +particularly interesting it was to Mr. Woodhouse, who commended her +very much for thinking of sending for Perry, and only regretted that +she had not done it. “She should always send for Perry, if the child +appeared in the slightest degree disordered, were it only for a moment. +She could not be too soon alarmed, nor send for Perry too often. It was +a pity, perhaps, that he had not come last night; for, though the child +seemed well now, very well considering, it would probably have been +better if Perry had seen it.” + +Frank Churchill caught the name. + +“Perry!” said he to Emma, and trying, as he spoke, to catch Miss +Fairfax’s eye. “My friend Mr. Perry! What are they saying about Mr. +Perry?—Has he been here this morning?—And how does he travel now?—Has +he set up his carriage?” + +Emma soon recollected, and understood him; and while she joined in the +laugh, it was evident from Jane’s countenance that she too was really +hearing him, though trying to seem deaf. + +“Such an extraordinary dream of mine!” he cried. “I can never think of +it without laughing.—She hears us, she hears us, Miss Woodhouse. I see +it in her cheek, her smile, her vain attempt to frown. Look at her. Do +not you see that, at this instant, the very passage of her own letter, +which sent me the report, is passing under her eye—that the whole +blunder is spread before her—that she can attend to nothing else, +though pretending to listen to the others?” + +Jane was forced to smile completely, for a moment; and the smile partly +remained as she turned towards him, and said in a conscious, low, yet +steady voice, + +“How you can bear such recollections, is astonishing to me!—They _will_ +sometimes obtrude—but how you can court them!” + +He had a great deal to say in return, and very entertainingly; but +Emma’s feelings were chiefly with Jane, in the argument; and on leaving +Randalls, and falling naturally into a comparison of the two men, she +felt, that pleased as she had been to see Frank Churchill, and really +regarding him as she did with friendship, she had never been more +sensible of Mr. Knightley’s high superiority of character. The +happiness of this most happy day, received its completion, in the +animated contemplation of his worth which this comparison produced. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +If Emma had still, at intervals, an anxious feeling for Harriet, a +momentary doubt of its being possible for her to be really cured of her +attachment to Mr. Knightley, and really able to accept another man from +unbiased inclination, it was not long that she had to suffer from the +recurrence of any such uncertainty. A very few days brought the party +from London, and she had no sooner an opportunity of being one hour +alone with Harriet, than she became perfectly satisfied—unaccountable +as it was!—that Robert Martin had thoroughly supplanted Mr. Knightley, +and was now forming all her views of happiness. + +Harriet was a little distressed—did look a little foolish at first: but +having once owned that she had been presumptuous and silly, and +self-deceived, before, her pain and confusion seemed to die away with +the words, and leave her without a care for the past, and with the +fullest exultation in the present and future; for, as to her friend’s +approbation, Emma had instantly removed every fear of that nature, by +meeting her with the most unqualified congratulations.—Harriet was most +happy to give every particular of the evening at Astley’s, and the +dinner the next day; she could dwell on it all with the utmost delight. +But what did such particulars explain?—The fact was, as Emma could now +acknowledge, that Harriet had always liked Robert Martin; and that his +continuing to love her had been irresistible.—Beyond this, it must ever +be unintelligible to Emma. + +The event, however, was most joyful; and every day was giving her fresh +reason for thinking so.—Harriet’s parentage became known. She proved to +be the daughter of a tradesman, rich enough to afford her the +comfortable maintenance which had ever been hers, and decent enough to +have always wished for concealment.—Such was the blood of gentility +which Emma had formerly been so ready to vouch for!—It was likely to be +as untainted, perhaps, as the blood of many a gentleman: but what a +connexion had she been preparing for Mr. Knightley—or for the +Churchills—or even for Mr. Elton!—The stain of illegitimacy, unbleached +by nobility or wealth, would have been a stain indeed. + +No objection was raised on the father’s side; the young man was treated +liberally; it was all as it should be: and as Emma became acquainted +with Robert Martin, who was now introduced at Hartfield, she fully +acknowledged in him all the appearance of sense and worth which could +bid fairest for her little friend. She had no doubt of Harriet’s +happiness with any good-tempered man; but with him, and in the home he +offered, there would be the hope of more, of security, stability, and +improvement. She would be placed in the midst of those who loved her, +and who had better sense than herself; retired enough for safety, and +occupied enough for cheerfulness. She would be never led into +temptation, nor left for it to find her out. She would be respectable +and happy; and Emma admitted her to be the luckiest creature in the +world, to have created so steady and persevering an affection in such a +man;—or, if not quite the luckiest, to yield only to herself. + +Harriet, necessarily drawn away by her engagements with the Martins, +was less and less at Hartfield; which was not to be regretted.—The +intimacy between her and Emma must sink; their friendship must change +into a calmer sort of goodwill; and, fortunately, what ought to be, and +must be, seemed already beginning, and in the most gradual, natural +manner. + +Before the end of September, Emma attended Harriet to church, and saw +her hand bestowed on Robert Martin with so complete a satisfaction, as +no remembrances, even connected with Mr. Elton as he stood before them, +could impair.—Perhaps, indeed, at that time she scarcely saw Mr. Elton, +but as the clergyman whose blessing at the altar might next fall on +herself.—Robert Martin and Harriet Smith, the latest couple engaged of +the three, were the first to be married. + +Jane Fairfax had already quitted Highbury, and was restored to the +comforts of her beloved home with the Campbells.—The Mr. Churchills +were also in town; and they were only waiting for November. + +The intermediate month was the one fixed on, as far as they dared, by +Emma and Mr. Knightley.—They had determined that their marriage ought +to be concluded while John and Isabella were still at Hartfield, to +allow them the fortnight’s absence in a tour to the seaside, which was +the plan.—John and Isabella, and every other friend, were agreed in +approving it. But Mr. Woodhouse—how was Mr. Woodhouse to be induced to +consent?—he, who had never yet alluded to their marriage but as a +distant event. + +When first sounded on the subject, he was so miserable, that they were +almost hopeless.—A second allusion, indeed, gave less pain.—He began to +think it was to be, and that he could not prevent it—a very promising +step of the mind on its way to resignation. Still, however, he was not +happy. Nay, he appeared so much otherwise, that his daughter’s courage +failed. She could not bear to see him suffering, to know him fancying +himself neglected; and though her understanding almost acquiesced in +the assurance of both the Mr. Knightleys, that when once the event were +over, his distress would be soon over too, she hesitated—she could not +proceed. + +In this state of suspense they were befriended, not by any sudden +illumination of Mr. Woodhouse’s mind, or any wonderful change of his +nervous system, but by the operation of the same system in another +way.—Mrs. Weston’s poultry-house was robbed one night of all her +turkeys—evidently by the ingenuity of man. Other poultry-yards in the +neighbourhood also suffered.—Pilfering was _housebreaking_ to Mr. +Woodhouse’s fears.—He was very uneasy; and but for the sense of his +son-in-law’s protection, would have been under wretched alarm every +night of his life. The strength, resolution, and presence of mind of +the Mr. Knightleys, commanded his fullest dependence. While either of +them protected him and his, Hartfield was safe.—But Mr. John Knightley +must be in London again by the end of the first week in November. + +The result of this distress was, that, with a much more voluntary, +cheerful consent than his daughter had ever presumed to hope for at the +moment, she was able to fix her wedding-day—and Mr. Elton was called +on, within a month from the marriage of Mr. and Mrs. Robert Martin, to +join the hands of Mr. Knightley and Miss Woodhouse. + +The wedding was very much like other weddings, where the parties have +no taste for finery or parade; and Mrs. Elton, from the particulars +detailed by her husband, thought it all extremely shabby, and very +inferior to her own.—“Very little white satin, very few lace veils; a +most pitiful business!—Selina would stare when she heard of it.”—But, +in spite of these deficiencies, the wishes, the hopes, the confidence, +the predictions of the small band of true friends who witnessed the +ceremony, were fully answered in the perfect happiness of the union. + +FINIS + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EMMA *** + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the +United States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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Thus, we do not +necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper +edition. + +Most people start at our website which has the main PG search +facility: www.gutenberg.org + +This website includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/Code/zeke/python/notes_zeke.py b/Code/zeke/python/notes_zeke.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..557f7cfa --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/python/notes_zeke.py @@ -0,0 +1,113 @@ +# import random +# import string + +# class Jackalope: +# #Initialize jacklope with an age +# def __init__ (self, name, sex, age =0, pregnant = False): +# self.name = name +# self.age = age +# self.sex = sex +# self.pregnant = pregnant +# #increase age by 1 +# def aging(self): +# self.age += 1 +# def get_pregnant(self, left, right): +# if self.sex == 'f': +# if self.age <= self.age<= 8: +# if left.sex == 'm' and 4 <= left.age <= 8: +# self.pregnant = True +# elif right.sex == 'm and 4 <= right.age <= 8: +# else: +# return + +# #Define how to print a +# def __str__(self): +# return str(self.age) +# #compare age between 2 jackalopes +# def __gt__(self, jackalope): +# return self.age >jackalope.age + +# def generate_name(): +# name = '' +# vowels = 'aeiouy' +# not_vowels = 'bcdfghjklmnpqrstvwxz' +# for i in range(4): +# name += random.choice(string. ascii_lowercase) +# name += random.choice(vowels) +# return name + +# def generate_sex(): +# sex = 'mf' +# sex == random.choice(sex) + + +# herd = [] # Empty list of jackalopes +# # add two jackalopes to our herd list +# herd.append(Jackalope(0)) +# herd.append(Jackalope(generate_name(), 'f') + +# year = 0 +# while len(herd) < 1000: +# year += 1 +# print(f'Year: {year}. Population: {len(herd)}') +# #check to see if jackalopes can mate +# for index, jackalope in enumerate(herd): +# #increase age of all jackalopes by 1 +# jackalope.aging() + +# if jackalope.pregnant: +# herd.append +# for jackalope in herd: +# jackalope.aging() + +# if 4 <= jackalope.age <=8: +# herd.append(Jackalope(0)) +# herd.append(Jackalope(0)) +# elif jackalope.age>= 10: +# herd.remove(jackalope) + +################################################### + + + +''' +#anatomy of a funcation +def funcation_name(parameters): + """docstring""" + statement1 + statement2 + ... + ... + return_what do you want to get out of the funcation_-some expression +''' +import random + +def top_five(first_name, last_name,): + ''' + Print a welcome message to the console_ Docstring get exactly what the funcation should do. + ''' + # print(f'Hello {first_name} {last_name}') + +top_five("Micheal", "Jordan") +top_five("Stephen", "Curry") +top_five("Derrick", "Rose") +top_five("Kevin", "Durrant") +top_five("Klay", "Thompson") + + +top_five_count = 0 +top_five_list = [] +top_five = [ +"Micheal Jordan" +"Stephen Curry" +"Derrick Rose" +"Kevin Durrant" +"Klay Thompson" +] + +for i in range(len(top_five)): + top_five=random.randint(1,5) + top_five_list.append(top_five_list) + print(top_five_list) + + diff --git a/Code/zeke/python/requests_demo.py b/Code/zeke/python/requests_demo.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..831d3cec --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/python/requests_demo.py @@ -0,0 +1,19 @@ +import requests + + +response = requests.get("https://api.dictionaryapi.dev/api/v2/entries/en/kiwi") + +print(response.text) +word = response.json +print(type(word)) + + + # self.deposit = deposit + # self.check_withdrawl = check_balance + # self.withdraw = withdraw + # self.calc_intrest =calc_intrest + + + # def interest(): + # interest += 0.01 + # return interest() diff --git a/Code/zeke/python/zeke_lab1.py b/Code/zeke/python/zeke_lab1.py index 170655c8..5df28041 100644 --- a/Code/zeke/python/zeke_lab1.py +++ b/Code/zeke/python/zeke_lab1.py @@ -9,34 +9,41 @@ # #ask the user enter distance -# ##Version1 +##Version1 -# distance = int(input("what is the distance? ")) -#ask the user enter units +distance = int(input("what is the distance? ")) +# ask the user enter units -# units = input("what is the units? ") +units = input("what is the units? ") -#convert the distance into meters +# convert the distance into meters -# print(distance) -# print(units) +print(distance) +print(units) -# # # Version 2 -# if units == "ft": -# print(f"{distance} {units} is {distance * 0.348} m") -# elif units == "mi": -# print(f"{distance} {units} is {distance * 1609.34} m") -# elif units == "m": -# print(f"{distance} {units} is {distance * 1} m") -# elif units == "km": -# print(f"{distance} {units} is {distance * 1000} m") +# # Version 2 +if units == "ft": + print(f"{distance} {units} is {distance * 0.348} m") +elif units == "mi": + print(f"{distance} {units} is {distance * 1609.34} m") +elif units == "m": + print(f"{distance} {units} is {distance * 1} m") +elif units == "km": + print(f"{distance} {units} is {distance * 1000} m") -# # # Version 3 +# # Version 3 # elif units == "yard": # print(f"{distance} {units} is {distance * 0.9144} m") # elif units == "inch": # print(f"{distance} {units} is {distance * 0.0254} m") +<<<<<<< HEAD +###################################################### + + + +======= ####################################################### +>>>>>>> 9fe83ea97a8674bb3c4a7885a36bc3846a10dcb1 diff --git a/Code/zeke/python/zeke_lab10.py b/Code/zeke/python/zeke_lab10.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..e69de29b diff --git a/Code/zeke/python/zeke_lab12.py b/Code/zeke/python/zeke_lab12.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..7d14a74a --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/python/zeke_lab12.py @@ -0,0 +1,89 @@ +# Let's represent an ATM with a class containing two attributes: a balance +# and an interest rate. A newly created account will default to a balance +# of 0 and an interest rate of 0.1%. Implement the initializer, +# as well as the following functions: + +# check_balance() returns the account balance +# deposit(amount) deposits the given amount in the account +# check_withdrawal(amount) returns true if the withdrawn amount won't put the account in the negative +# withdraw(amount) withdraws the amount from the account and returns it +# calc_interest() returns the amount of interest calculated on the account + + +transaction = [] + +class ATM: + def __init__(self, balance = 0, interest =.001): + self.balance = balance + self.interest = interest + + + def check_balance(self): + balance = self.balance + return balance + + def deposit(self,amount): + self.balance += amount + # self.transaction.append(f'Deposited ${amount}') + return self.balance + + def check_withdrawal(self, amount): + if self.balance>= amount: + return True + else: + return False + + def withdraw(self, amount): + self.balance -= amount + # self.transaction.append(f"withdrew ${amount}") + return self.balance + def calc_interest(self): + return round((self.balance * self.interest), 2) + + def print_transaction(self): + return "\n".join(self.transaction) + +atm = ATM() # create an instance of our class +print('Welcome to the ATM') +while True: + command = input('Enter a command: ') + if command == 'balance': + balance = atm.check_balance() # call the check_balance() method + print(f'Your balance is ${balance}') + elif command == 'deposit': + amount = float(input('How much would you like to deposit? ')) + atm.deposit(amount) # call the deposit(amount) method + transaction.append(f"user deposited {amount}") + + + print(f'Deposited ${amount}') + elif command == 'withdraw': + amount = float(input('How much would you like ')) + if atm.check_withdrawal(amount): # call the check_withdrawal(amount) method + atm.withdraw(amount) # call the withdraw(amount) method + transaction.append(f"user withdrew {amount}") + print(f'Withdrew ${amount}') + else: + print('Insufficient funds') + elif command == 'interest': + amount = atm.calc_interest() # call the calc_interest() method + atm.deposit(amount) + print(f'Accumulated ${amount} in interest') + + # elif command == 'print': + # transactions = atm.print_transaction() + # print(f'Transactions: {transactions}') + elif command == 'help': + print('Available commands:') + print('balance - get the current balance') + print('deposit - deposit money') + print('withdraw - withdraw money') + print('interest - accumulate interest') + print('exit - exit the program') + elif command == 'exit': + break + else: + print('Command not recognized') +print(transaction,"testing transaction") +print("\n".join(transaction)) +# \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/Code/zeke/python/zeke_lab2.py b/Code/zeke/python/zeke_lab2.py index 7362deba..62160077 100644 --- a/Code/zeke/python/zeke_lab2.py +++ b/Code/zeke/python/zeke_lab2.py @@ -12,12 +12,11 @@ ######################################################## # Version 1 -def average_list(num): - total=0 - for number in num: - total = total + number - return(total/len(num)) - +# def average_list(num): +# total=0 +# for number in num: +# total = total + number +# return(total/len(num)) # a = [1,2,3] # print(average_list(a)) diff --git a/Code/zeke/python/zeke_lab4.py b/Code/zeke/python/zeke_lab4.py index f4c37083..7e088ba1 100644 --- a/Code/zeke/python/zeke_lab4.py +++ b/Code/zeke/python/zeke_lab4.py @@ -13,10 +13,7 @@ # Then, figure out the point value of each card individually. -print('A', 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 'J', 'Q','K') -card1=input('please enter your card 1: ').upper() -card2=input('please enter your card 2: ').upper() -card3=input('please enter your card 3: ').upper() + user_input ={ 'A': 1, @@ -34,6 +31,11 @@ '9': 9, '10':10, } +print('A', 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 'J', 'Q','K') +card1=input('please enter your card 1: ').upper() +card2=input('please enter your card 2: ').upper() +card3=input('please enter your card 3: ').upper() + # card1 = user_input # card2 = diff --git a/Code/zeke/python/zeke_lab5.py b/Code/zeke/python/zeke_lab5.py index fdb46d0b..03a236f4 100644 --- a/Code/zeke/python/zeke_lab5.py +++ b/Code/zeke/python/zeke_lab5.py @@ -17,14 +17,12 @@ def pick6(): tickets = [ ] - - for i in range(6): tickets.append((random.randint(1, 99))) # print(random.randint(1, 99)) return tickets -# player_ticket=pick6() +player_ticket=pick6() # Another function could be num_matches(winning, ticket) which returns the number of matches between the winning numbers # and the ticket. #################################################################### @@ -33,7 +31,7 @@ def pick6(): # for i in range(6): # winning_ticket.append(random.randint(1,99)) # winning_ticket = pick6() -winning_ticket = [1,2,4,2,5,6] +winning_ticket = pick6() print(winning_ticket) ##################################################################### # print(winning_ticket) @@ -48,11 +46,11 @@ def pick6(): money_spent = 0 earnings = 0 -for i in range(100,000): +for i in range(100000): player_ticket = pick6() balance = balance -2 money_spent = money_spent +2 - counter = 0 + matches = 0 print(player_ticket) # while balance <10: @@ -63,23 +61,23 @@ def pick6(): if winning_ticket[0] == player_ticket[0]: print(f'you win') - counter = counter +1 + matches = matches +1 # checks if winning and player ticket matches in spot 0 if winning_ticket[1]== player_ticket[1]: print(f'you win') - counter = counter +1 + matches = matches +1 if winning_ticket[2]== player_ticket[2]: print(f'you win') - counter = counter +1 + matches = matches +1 if winning_ticket[3]== player_ticket[3]: print(f'you win') - counter = counter +1 + matches = matches +1 if winning_ticket[4]== player_ticket[4]: print(f'you win') - counter = counter +1 + matches = matches +1 if winning_ticket[5]== player_ticket[5]: print(f'you win') - counter = counter +1 + matches = matches +1 # print(counter) #printing (counter) prints the total @@ -94,31 +92,31 @@ def pick6(): } - if counter == 1: + if matches == 1: print(f'you have earned ${total_earnings[1]}') balance = total_earnings[1] + balance earnings = total_earnings[1] - if counter == 2: + if matches == 2: print(f'you have earned ${total_earnings[2]}') balance = total_earnings[2] + balance earnings = total_earnings[2] - if counter == 3: + if matches == 3: print(f'you have earned ${total_earnings[3]}') balance = total_earnings[3] + balance earnings = total_earnings[3] - if counter == 4: + if matches == 4: print(f'you have earned ${total_earnings[4]}') balance = total_earnings[4] + balance earnings = total_earnings[4] - if counter == 5: + if matches == 5: print(f'you have earned ${total_earnings[5]}') balance = total_earnings[5] + balance earnings = total_earnings[5] - if counter == 6: + if matches == 6: print(f'you have earned ${total_earnings[6]}') balance = total_earnings[6] + balance earnings = total_earnings[6] - if counter == 0: + if matches == 0: print(f'you have no matches') print(f'your balance ${balance}') print(f'your earnings: {earnings}') diff --git a/Code/zeke/python/zeke_lab7.py b/Code/zeke/python/zeke_lab7.py index 0ef451eb..4ffb66c8 100644 --- a/Code/zeke/python/zeke_lab7.py +++ b/Code/zeke/python/zeke_lab7.py @@ -36,6 +36,7 @@ 'z':'m', } + user_input = input(f'Please tell enter your first and last name: ') encrypted_string = '' @@ -45,3 +46,20 @@ print(encrypted_string) ##################################################################### +# import string +# original_input = input("please enter a string: ").lower() +# shift = int(input('enter amount of rotation: ')) + +# output = '' +# # for each charcter find corresponding character +# for letter in original_input: +# if letter in string.ascii_lowercase: +# position = string.ascii_lowercase.find(letter) +# encrypted_letter = string.ascii_lowercase[(position + 13) % 26] +# # add to output string +# output += encrypted_letter +# else: +# output += letter + +# #show the user the encrypted message +# print(output) \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/Code/zeke/python/zeke_lab8.py b/Code/zeke/python/zeke_lab8.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..b592ba0f --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/python/zeke_lab8.py @@ -0,0 +1,132 @@ +# Lab 8: Peaks and Valleys +# Define the following functions: + + + + + +# peaks_and_valleys - uses the above two functions to compile a single list of the peaks and valleys in order of appearance in the original data. + +# Visualization of test data: + +# Data 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 6 5 4 5 6 7 8 9 8 7 6 7 8 9 +# Index 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 +# POI P V P V +# Example I/O: + +# X X +# X X X X X +# X X X X X X X X X +# X X X X X X X X X X X X X +# X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X +# X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X +# X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X +# X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X +# X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X +# >>> data = [1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 6, 5, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 8, 7, 6, 7, 8, 9] +# >>> peaks(data) +# [6, 14] +# >>> valleys(data) +# [9, 17] +# >>> peaks_and_valleys(data) +# [6, 9, 14, 17] +data_list = [ +1, +2, +3, +4, +5, +6, +7, +6, +5, +4, +5, +6, +7, +8, +9, +8, +7, +6, +7, +8, +9, +] + + + +''' +create two funcations Peak and Valley +loop over each position in list +check number before and after each number + + +''' +# + + + +# # peaks A peak has a lower number on both the left and the right. +# def peaks(): +# # #len gives the length of a list without hardcode number +# for i in range(len(data_list)): +# if data_list[i -1] > data_list[i] < data_list[i +1]: +# print("we found a peak") +# peaks() + + + +# valleys A valley is a number with a higher number on both the left and the right. + +def peak(): + list_of_peaks = [] + + for i in range(len(data_list)): + if i == 0 or i == len(data_list) -1: + pass + +# loop over data + elif data_list[i -1] data_list[i +1]: + # print(i,data_list[i]) + list_of_peaks.append(i) + + return list_of_peaks +peak() +print('the peaks', peak()) + +def valley(): + list_of_valley = [] + for i in range(len(data_list)): + if i == 0 or i == len(data_list) -1: + pass + +# loop over data + elif data_list[i-1] >data_list[i] < data_list[i +1]: + list_of_valley.append(i) + + return list_of_valley +valley() + +print('the valley', valley()) + +# peaks_and_valleys - uses the above two functions to compile +# a single list of the peaks and valleys in order of appearance in the original data. +# def single_list(): +def peaks_and_valleys(): + peaks = peak() + valleys = valley() + a = peaks + valleys #adding to list together + a.sort() + + return a + + # for num in a: + # final_list.append(data_list[num]) + + # return final_list + +print(peaks_and_valleys()) + + + diff --git a/Code/zeke/python/zeke_lab9.py b/Code/zeke/python/zeke_lab9.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..13f75ba5 --- /dev/null +++ b/Code/zeke/python/zeke_lab9.py @@ -0,0 +1,92 @@ +# Lab 9: Compute Automated Readability Index +# Compute the ARI for a given body of text loaded in from a file. The automated readability index (ARI) is a formula for computing the U.S. +# grade level for a given block of text. The general formula to compute the ARI is as follows: + +# ARI Formula + +# ari = 4.71*(n_characters/n_words) + 0.5*(n_words/n_sentences)-21.43 + + +ari_scale = { + 1: {'ages': '5-6', 'grade_level': 'Kindergarten'}, + 2: {'ages': '6-7', 'grade_level': '1st Grade'}, + 3: {'ages': '7-8', 'grade_level': '2nd Grade'}, + 4: {'ages': '8-9', 'grade_level': '3rd Grade'}, + 5: {'ages': '9-10', 'grade_level': '4th Grade'}, + 6: {'ages': '10-11', 'grade_level': '5th Grade'}, + 7: {'ages': '11-12', 'grade_level': '6th Grade'}, + 8: {'ages': '12-13', 'grade_level': '7th Grade'}, + 9: {'ages': '13-14', 'grade_level': '8th Grade'}, + 10: {'ages': '14-15', 'grade_level': '9th Grade'}, + 11: {'ages': '15-16', 'grade_level': '10th Grade'}, + 12: {'ages': '16-17', 'grade_level': '11th Grade'}, + 13: {'ages': '17-18', 'grade_level': '12th Grade'}, + 14: {'ages': '18-22', 'grade_level': 'College'} +} + +# find words +# find characters + +# find sentences + + +with open('/Users/ezekielwells/Desktop/class_kiwi/Code/zeke/python/emma.txt') as word_file: + words = word_file.read() + +import string +# print(type(words)) + +punctuations = string.punctuation +# print(punctuations) + +sentence = words.replace('\n','') +# for item in words: +# if item in punctuations: +# sen_count += 1 +sentence = sentence.split('.') +# sentence = sentence.split('?') +# sentence = sentence.split('!') + +sen_count = len(sentence) + + +# print(type(sentence)) +print(f'sentence: {sen_count}') + + +# print(words) +# words = words.replace('.','') +# words = words.replace(',','') +# print(words) +words = words.split() +word_count= len(words) +print(f'words: {word_count} ') + + +# print(type(words)) + +count_characters = 0 +# test = ['hello', 'friday', 'sunshine'] +characters = string.ascii_letters + +for word in words: + count_characters += len(word) + + # print(word, len(word), count_characters) +print(f'characters: {count_characters}') +# print(characters) + +# ari = 4.71*(n_characters/n_words) + 0.5*(n_words/n_sentences)-21.43 +a= 4.71 * (count_characters/word_count) + 0.5 * (word_count/sen_count)-21.43 + +a = round(a) + +# print(sentence) + +ari_scale[a] +print(ari_scale[a]) + +print(f'''The ARI for Emma is {a} +This corresponds to a {ari_scale[a]['grade_level']}th Grade level of difficulty +that is suitable for an average person {ari_scale[a]['ages']} years old.''') +print(punctuations) \ No newline at end of file