Emma...................................................................................................................................................................1

Jane Austen..............................................................................................................................................1

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 twentyone years in the world with very

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

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

Sorrow camea gentle sorrowbut 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 weddingday of this beloved friend

that Emma first sat in mournful thought of any continuance. The wedding over, and the bridepeople 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

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 selfdenying, 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 kindnessthe kindness, the affection of sixteen yearshow she had taught and how she had played

with her from five years oldhow she had devoted all her powers to attach and amuse her in healthand

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, wellinformed, 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

hersone to whom she could speak every thought as it arose, and who had such an affection for her as could

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

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

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

"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 goodhumoured, pleasant, excellent

man, that he thoroughly deserves a good wife;and you would not have had Miss Taylor live with us for

"A house of her own!But where is the advantage of a house of her own? This is three times as large.And

"How often we shall be going to see them, and they coming to see us!We shall be always meeting! We

"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

"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

"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, prettyspoken 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

backgammontable was placed; but a visitor immediately afterwards walked in and made it unnecessary.

Mr. Knightley, a sensible man about seven or eightandthirty, 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."

"Well! that is quite surprising, for we have had a vast deal of rain here. It rained dreadfully hard for half an

"By the byeI 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

"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,

"Especially when one of those two is such a fanciful, troublesome creature!" said Emma playfully. "That is

what you have in your head, I knowand 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

"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

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

"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

"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

"Dear Emma bears every thing so well," said her father. "But, Mr. Knightley, she is really very sorry to lose

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

"And you have forgotten one matter of joy to me," said Emma, "and a very considerable onethat 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

"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

"Ever since the dayabout four years agothat 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 matchmaking."

"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?

"And have you never known the pleasure and triumph of a lucky guess? I pity you.I thought you

clevererfor, 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 thirda something between the donothing

and the doall. 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

"A straightforward, openhearted 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

"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

"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 himand 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 longerand I thought

when he was joining their hands today, 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 sevenandtwenty can take

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

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

Miss Churchill, however, being of age, and with the full command of her fortunethough her fortune bore

no proportion to the familyestatewas 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 widowerfather 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 competenceenough to

secure the purchase of a little estate adjoining Highbury, which he had always longed forenough to marry a

woman as portionless even as Miss Taylor, and to live according to the wishes of his own friendly and social

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 welljudging 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

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

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

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

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 satisfactionher more than satisfactionher 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 Taylornor 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 weddingcake, 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 weddingcake 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 weddingcake might certainly disagree with

manyperhaps 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;

There was a strange rumour in Highbury of all the little Perrys being seen with a slice of Mrs. Weston's

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 dinnerparties, 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

Real, longstanding 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 drawingroom, and the smiles of his lovely daughter, was in no

After these came a second set; among the most comeatable 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

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 goodwill. It

was her own universal goodwill 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

Mrs. Goddard was the mistress of a Schoolnot 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 systemsand where young ladies for enormous pay might be screwed out of health

and into vanitybut a real, honest, oldfashioned Boardingschool, 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 reputeand 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 teavisit; and

having formerly owed much to Mr. Woodhouse's kindness, felt his particular claim on her to leave her neat

parlour, hung round with fancywork, 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

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

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

parlourboarder. 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

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,

She was not struck by any thing remarkably clever in Miss Smith's conversation, but she found her altogether

very engagingnot inconveniently shy, not unwilling to talkand 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 Donwellvery creditably, she believedshe knew Mr. Knightley thought highly of thembut

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

She was so busy in admiring those soft blue eyes, in talking and listening, and forming all these schemes in

the inbetweens, that the evening flew away at a very unusual rate; and the suppertable, 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

goodwill 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

Upon such occasions poor Mr. Woodhouses 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

Such another small basin of thin gruel as his own was all that he could, with thorough selfapprobation,

recommend; though he might constrain himself, while the ladies were comfortably clearing the nicer things,

"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 seeone of our small eggs will not

hurt you. Miss Bates, let Emma help you to a little bit of tarta very little bit. Ours are all appletarts. 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 halfglass, put into a tumbler of water? I do not think it could disagree with

Emma allowed her father to talkbut 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,

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

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 wantedexactly 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

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 likedbut 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.

Mrs. Goddard, and the teachers, and the girls and the affairs of the school in general, formed naturally a great

part of the conversationand but for her acquaintance with the Martins of AbbeyMill 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 drawingroom; and of

her having an upper maid who had lived fiveandtwenty 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

summerhouse in their garden, where some day next year they were all to drink tea: a very handsome

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 goodnature 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

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 goodhumoured 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

"And when she had come away, Mrs. Martin was so very kind as to send Mrs. Goddard a beautiful

goosethe 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, noI do not knowbut I believe he has read a good dealbut not what you would think

any thing of. He reads the Agricultural Reports, and some other books that lay in one of the window

seatsbut 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."

"Oh! not handsomenot 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

"To be sure. Oh yes! It is not likely you should ever have observed him; but he knows you very well

"I have no doubt of his being a very respectable young man. I know, indeed, that he is so, and, as such, wish

"He was fourandtwenty the 8th of last June, and my birthday is the 23rd just a fortnight and a day's

"Only fourandtwenty. 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

"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 makecannot 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

"To be sure, so it is. But they live very comfortably. They have no indoors man, else they do not want for any

"I wish you may not get into a scrape, Harriet, whenever he does marry;I mean, as to being acquainted

with his wifefor 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

"Yes, to be sure, I suppose there are. But while I visit at Hartfield, and you are so kind to me, Miss

"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

"To be sure. Yes. Not that I think Mr. Martin would ever marry any body but what had had some

educationand been very well brought up. However, I do not mean to set up my opinion against

your'sand 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

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

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

"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 tomorrow. 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, undoubtedlyremarkably 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 creatureand

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

"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

"Oh yes!there is a great difference. But Mr. Weston is almost an old man. Mr. Weston must be between

"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

"But there may be pretty good guessing. He will be a completely gross, vulgar farmer, totally inattentive to

"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

elsewhich 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 timeand 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.

"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 goodhumour with

itbut 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 goodhumoured, 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

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 goodhumoured, wellmeaning, respectable young man, without any deficiency of useful

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.

"I do not know what your opinion may be, Mrs. Weston," said Mr. Knightley, "of this great intimacy between

"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

"Perhaps you think I am come on purpose to quarrel with you, knowing Weston to be out, and that you must

"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

"Emma has been meaning to read more ever since she was twelve years old. I have seen a great many lists of

her drawingup at various times of books that she meant to read regularly throughand very good lists they

werevery well chosen, and very neatly arrangedsometimes alphabetically, and sometimes by some other

rule. The list she drew up when only fourteenI 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

"I dare say," replied Mrs. Weston, smiling, "that I thought so then;but since we have parted, I can never

"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

"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

"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

"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

"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

SmithI 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

"I either depend more upon Emma's good sense than you do, or am more anxious for her present comfort; for

"Oh! you would rather talk of her person than her mind, would you? Very well; I shall not attempt to deny

"Pretty! say beautiful rather. Can you imagine any thing nearer perfect beauty than Emma altogether face

"I do not know what I could imagine, but I confess that I have seldom seen a face or figure more pleasing to

"Such an eye!the true hazle eyeand 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 grownup

"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

"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

"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

"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

"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 illhumour 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!"

"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 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

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

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,

"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

"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

"I have perhaps given her a little more decision of character, have taught her to think on points which had not

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

"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

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

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

"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

"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.

Yes, good man!thought Emmabut 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

"Exactly soThe shape of the eye and the lines about the mouthI 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

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, halflengths, wholelengths, pencil, crayon, and watercolours 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 drawingin 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

"No great variety of faces for you," said Emma. "I had only my own family to study from. There is my

fatheranother of my fatherbut 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, wholelength "my last and my bestmy 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

handsometoo flatteringbut that was a fault on the right side after all this, came poor dear Isabella's

cold approbation of"Yes, it was a little likebut 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

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 had soon fixed on the size and sort of portrait. It was to be a wholelength in watercolours, like Mr.

John Knightley's, and was destined, if she could please herself, to hold a very honourable station over the

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

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 botha 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

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 himnot 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."

"Oh no! certainly not too tall; not in the least too tall. Consider, she is sitting downwhich naturally presents

a differentwhich in short gives exactly the ideaand the proportions must be preserved, you know.

Proportions, foreshortening.Oh no! it gives one exactly the idea of such a height as Miss Smith's. Exactly

"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 shouldersand it makes one think she must catch

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

"You, sir, may say any thing," cried Mr. Elton, "but I must confess that I regard it as a most happy thought,

the placing of Miss Smith out of doors; and the tree is touched with such inimitable spirit! Any other situation

would have been much less in character. The naivete of Miss Smith's mannersand altogetherOh, it is

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

"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

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

"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

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 muchbut she did not knowand so, she was come as fast as she could to ask

Miss Woodhouse what she should do." Emma was halfashamed of her friend for seeming so pleased and

"Upon my word," she cried, "the young man is determined not to lose any thing for want of asking. He will

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 forthinks strongly and clearlyand 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

"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

"Ought to refuse him! My dear Harriet, what do you mean? Are you in any doubt as to that? I thoughtbut 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

"No, I do not; that is, I do not meanWhat shall I do? What would you advise me to do? Pray, dear Miss

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

"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

"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 tobut if you would just advise me what I had best doNo,

no, I do not mean thatAs you say, one's mind ought to be quite made upOne should not be

hesitatingIt is a very serious thing.It will be safer to say `No,' perhaps.Do you think I had better say

"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

"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 mindto 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 AbbeyMill 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

"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 AbbeyMill 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

"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 fromand you know, though he may like me, it does not follow that I

shouldand certainly I must confess that since my visiting here I have seen peopleand 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 meand his writing such a letterbut as to leaving you, it is what I would not do

"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."

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

"Oh! yes, very. Nobody cares for a letter; the thing is, to be always happy with pleasant companions. I am

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

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 AbbeyMill 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

"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 wouldfor Miss Nash thinks her own sister very well married, and it is only

"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 tittletattle of Highbury yet. Hitherto I fancy you and I are the only people to

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 tenderhearted again towards the

"Now he has got my letter," said she softly. "I wonder what they are all doingwhether his sisters knowif

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

"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 Bondstreet till just before he mounts his horse tomorrow. 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

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 bedroom 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

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

"I leave an excellent substitute in my daughter. Emma will be happy to entertain you. And therefore I think I

"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

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

"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

"Come," said he, "you are anxious for a compliment, so I will tell you that you have improved her. You have

"Thank you. I should be mortified indeed if I did not believe I had been of some use; but it is not every body

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

"Very serious! I can think of but one thingWho 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

"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 AbbeyMill, this summer, seems to have

"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 today; and she may be detained by a visitor,

"Pray, Mr. Knightley," said Emma, who had been smiling to herself through a great part of this speech, "how

"Certainly," replied he, surprized, "I do not absolutely know it; but it may be inferred. Was not she the whole

"Come," said she, "I will tell you something, in return for what you have told me. He did speak

This was obliged to be repeated before it could be believed; and Mr. Knightley actually looked red with

"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

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

"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

"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

parlourboarder 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 cryout 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

"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

"A degradation to illegitimacy and ignorance, to be married to a respectable, intelligent gentlemanfarmer!"

"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 gentlemanand 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

It was most convenient to Emma not to make a direct reply to this assertion; she chose rather to take up her

"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 goodnatured, 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 ninetynine 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 wellinformed 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 goodnature, 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

"Upon my word, Emma, to hear you abusing the reason you have, is almost enough to make me think so too.

"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 inwhat 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

"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 parlourboarder at

Mrs. Goddard's all the rest of her lifeor, 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 writingmaster'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 AbbeyMill, 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

"Nonsense, errant nonsense, as ever was talked!" cried Mr. Knightley."Robert Martin's manners have

sense, sincerity, and goodhumour to recommend them; and his mind has more true gentility than Harriet

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

"Robert Martin has no great lossif 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 matchmaking, 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

"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

"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 matchmaking indeed. I could never hope to equal my own doings at Randalls. I shall leave

"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

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 selfapprobation 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,

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 whistclub 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."

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

The Picture, elegantly framed, came safely to hand soon after Mr. Elton's return, and being hung over the

mantelpiece of the common sittingroom, 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

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 tomorrow. 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 hotpressed paper,

In this age of literature, such collections on a very grand scale are not uncommon. Miss Nash, headteacher

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

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

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

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

My first doth affliction denote, Which my second is destin'd to feel And my whole is the best antidote That

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;

"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

"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

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

"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

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

But ah! united, what reverse we have! Man's boasted power and freedom, all are flown; Lord of the earth and

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. Courtshipa 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

Harriet exactly. Soft is the very word for her eyeof all epithets, the justest that could be given.

HumphHarriet'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.

She was obliged to break off from these very pleasant observations, which were otherwise of a sort to run

"What can it be, Miss Woodhouse?what can it be? I have not an ideaI 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 wasand who could be the young lady. Do you think it is a good one?

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.

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, (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

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

"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 what 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 wantconsideration, independence, a proper homeit will fix

you in the centre of all your real friends, close to Hartfield and to me, and confirm our intimacy for ever.

"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

"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

"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 matteroffact prose."

"It is a sort of thing which nobody could have expected. I am sure, a month ago, I had no more idea

"When Miss Smiths and Mr. Eltons get acquaintedthey do indeedand really it is strange; it is out of the

common course that what is so evidently, so palpably desirablewhat courts the prearrangement 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.

"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 goodnatured. And how beautiful we thought he looked! He was arminarm with Mr.

"This is an alliance which, whoeverwhatever 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

"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, presentlyher 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

"Such sweet lines!" continued Harriet"these two last!But how shall I ever be able to return the paper, or

"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

"Oh! Miss Woodhouse, what a pity that I must not write this beautiful charade into my book! I am sure I have

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

"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

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.

"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

"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,

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

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,

"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

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

Kitty, a fair but frozen maid, Kindled a flame I yet deplore, The hoodwink'd boy I called to aid, Though of

And that is all that I can recollect of itbut it is very clever all the way through. But I think, my dear, you

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

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

"Oh! yesshe will have her own room, of course; the room she always has;and there is the nursery for the

"I do not know, my dearbut 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!"

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

"Yes, my dear, if there is time.But(in a very depressed tone)she is coming for only one week. There

"It is unfortunate that they cannot stay longerbut 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

"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! papathat is what you never have been able to accomplish, and I do not think you ever will. Isabella

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

"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

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

"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 fathercertainly Mr. John

"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."

"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 pushof

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 himhad made such a

Emma thanked him, but could not allow of his disappointing his friend on their account; her father was sure

of his rubber. He reurged she redeclined; and he seemed then about to make his bow, when taking the

"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

Mr. Elton certainly did not very well know what to say. He looked rather doubtinglyrather 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

"You must make my apologies to your friend; but so good a charade must not be confined to one or two. He

"I have no hesitation in saying," replied Mr. Elton, though hesitating a good deal while he spoke; "I have no

hesitation in sayingat least if my friend feels at all as I doI 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

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.

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

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

"There it is. There go you and your riddlebook 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

"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

Harriet, she found, had never in her life been within side the Vicarage, and her curiosity to see it was so

extreme, that, considering exteriors and probabilities, Emma could only class it, as a proof of love, with Mr.

"I wish we could contrive it," said she; "but I cannot think of any tolerable pretence for going in;no servant

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

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

"My being charming, Harriet, is not quite enough to induce me to marry; I must find other people

charmingone other person at least. And I am not only, not going to be married, at present, but have very

"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."

"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."

"That is as formidable an image as you could present, Harriet; and if I thought I should ever be like Miss

Bates! so sillyso satisfied so smilingso prosingso undistinguishing and unfastidious and so apt

to tell every thing relative to every body about me, I would marry tomorrow. But between us, I am

"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

"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 oneandtwenty. 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 carpetwork. 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

"Do you know Miss Bates's niece? That is, I know you must have seen her a hundred timesbut are you

"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 goodwill. 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

"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

"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

They walked on. The lane made a slight bend; and when that bend was passed, Mr. Elton was immediately in

"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

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.

"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

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 halfboot, 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

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

"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

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

"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 illequipped. 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

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

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

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 expectedshe 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 seabathing 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

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 nurserymaids, 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

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, overcareful 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

Mr. John Knightley was a tall, gentlemanlike, 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 illtempered 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 was not a great favourite with his fair sisterinlaw. 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 illbestowed. It did not often happen; for Mr. John Knightley had really a great regard for

his fatherinlaw, 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

"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

"Pretty well, my dearI hopepretty 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! nonone in the least. I never saw Mrs. Weston better in my life never looking so well. Papa is only

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

"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 hereand 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

"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, certainlyI cannot deny that Mrs. Weston, poor Mrs.

Weston, does come and see us pretty often but thenshe 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

"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 besttempered 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 Easterand 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

"Where is the young man?" said John Knightley. "Has he been here on this occasionor has he not?"

"He has not been here yet," replied Emma. "There was a strong expectation of his coming soon after the

"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,

"Threeandtwenty!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. 28thand began, `My dear Madam,' but I forget how it went on;

"How very pleasing and proper of him!" cried the goodhearted 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

"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, cheerfultempered 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

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 allsufficiency 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

Mr. Knightley was to dine with themrather 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. Makingup 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 herthe 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

"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

"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 oneandtwenty years bring our understandings a good deal

"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

"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."

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

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 mixingand

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 homefarm 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

"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 dearand 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

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

"It was an awkward business, my dear, your spending the autumn at South End instead of coming here. I

"Mr. Wingfield most strenuously recommended it, siror 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

"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."

"Why, pretty well; but not quite well. Poor Perry is bilious, and he has not time to take care of himselfhe

tells me he has not time to take care of himselfwhich is very sadbut 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

"And Mrs. Perry and the children, how are they? do the children grow? I have a great regard for Mr. Perry. I

"I hope he will be here tomorrow, 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,

"It is not very likely, my dear, that bathing should have been of use to herand if I had known you were

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

"Oh! the good BatesesI am quite ashamed of myselfbut you mention them in most of your letters. I hope

they are quite well. Good old Mrs. BatesI will call upon her tomorrow, and take my children.They are

always so pleased to see my children. And that excellent Miss Bates!such thorough worthy people!

"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 heavyexcept 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

"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

"No, indeedwe 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

"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

"I am sorry to hear you say so, sir; but I assure you, excepting those little nervous headaches 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 tomorrow; 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

"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 wellbut 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

"My dear Isabella,"exclaimed he hastily"pray do not concern yourself about my looks. Be satisfied with

"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

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."

"Our little friend Harriet Smith, however, is just such another pretty kind of young person. You will like

"I am most happy to hear itbut only Jane Fairfax one knows to be so very accomplished and

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 saidmuch 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 tolerable;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

"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

"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

"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 seabathing 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 seaa quarter of a mile

"But, my dear sir, the difference of the journey;only consider how great it would have been.An hundred

"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

Emma's attempts to stop her father had been vain; and when he had reached such a point as this, she could not

"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

"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 tomorrow morning I hope, and then we will look them over, and you shall give

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,

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

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

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

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, and she was sorry to find

from Mrs. Goddard that Harriet was liable to very bad sorethroats, and had often alarmed her with them."

"A sorethroat!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

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 afterwardsas if quite

"It is so cold, so very coldand 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 todayand 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 tomorrow will bring, I think it would be no more than common prudence

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

"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

"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 outa dinner engagement is so high

in the class of their pleasures, their employments, their dignities, almost their duties, that any thing gives way

to itand 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

"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,

"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 goodtemper and goodwill in Mr. Elton

"Yes," said Mr. John Knightley presently, with some slyness, "he seems to have a great deal of goodwill

"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

"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

"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

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

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 absurdityActually snowing at this moment! The

folly of not allowing people to be comfortable at homeand 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 tomorrow. 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

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

"My report from Mrs. Goddard's," said she presently, "was not so pleasant as I had hoped`Not better' was

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

"Oh! noI am grieved to findI 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

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

"He has been used to her in these complaints, and I hope tomorrow morning will bring us both a more

comfortable report. But it is impossible not to feel uneasiness. Such a sad loss to our party today!"

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

"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

afternoonbut in this carriage we know nothing of the matter.Ha! snows a little I see."

"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

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

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 diningroom 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

"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 sweepgate, "will be to find myself

Some change of countenance was necessary for each gentleman as they walked into Mrs. Weston's

drawingroom;Mr. Elton must compose his joyous looks, and Mr. John Knightley disperse his illhumour.

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 halfhour; 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

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 wouldbe 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

halfsyllables 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

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 thoughtespecially since

his father's marriage with Miss Taylorthat 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 illtimed; but she had the comfort of appearing

very polite, while feeling very crossand 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 openhearted 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 sonand then I should say we were quite complete. I believe you did not hear

me telling the others in the drawingroom that we are expecting Frank. I had a letter from him this morning,

Emma spoke with a very proper degree of pleasure; and fully assented to his proposition of Mr. Frank

"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

"What a very great pleasure it will be to you! and Mrs. Weston is so anxious to be acquainted with him, that

"Yes, she would be, but that she thinks there will be another putoff. 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

"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."

"YesI 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 wayallowing 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

Emma liked the subject so well, that she began upon it, to Mrs. Weston, very soon after their moving into the

drawingroom: 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

"Yesit seems to depend upon nothing but the illhumour of Mrs. Churchill, which I imagine to be the most

"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 youto my two daughtersI may venture on the truth. Mrs.

Churchill rules at Enscombe, and is a very oddtempered woman; and his coming now, depends upon her

"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 illtempered 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 drawingroom. 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.

"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

"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 teazed, 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

"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

"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

"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

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

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 drawingroom 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

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

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 anxietyhe 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

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'smore 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 sickchamber again, for the presentto 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

appearthere was no concealing itexactly 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

"So scrupulous for others," he continued, "and yet so careless for herself! She wanted me to nurse my cold by

staying at home today, 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

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

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;

"This will prove a spirited beginning of your winter engagements, sir. Something new for your coachman and

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 soninlaw, who was pursuing his

"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

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 goodwill 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

"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,

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

"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

"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

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 roadthe

snow was nowhere above half an inch deepin 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,

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

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

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 teteatete 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 threequarters 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.

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 sweepgate and joined the other carriage, than she found her subject cut upher hand

seizedher attention demanded, and Mr. Elton actually making violent love to her: availing himself of the

hopingfearingadoringready 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 scruplewithout

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 friendany

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

"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

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

As she thought less of his inebriety, she thought more of his inconstancy and presumption; and with fewer

"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 Smithsuch attentions as I have been in the daily habit of observingto be addressing me in this

mannerthis is an unsteadiness of character, indeed, which I had not supposed possible! Believe me, sir, I

"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 existencenever 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 sorryextremely sorryBut, 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

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

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

"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 wishesyour attachment

to my friend Harrietyour 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 toEvery 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 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 footpace. 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 Laneturning a corner which he could never bear to think of and in strange

handsa mere common coachmanno 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 illhumour, was now all kindness and

attention; and so particularly solicitous for the comfort of her father, as to seemif not quite ready to join

him in a basin of gruelperfectly 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

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 errormore disgraced by

misjudgment, 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

How she could have been so deceived!He protested that he had never thought seriously of Harrietnever!

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

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

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

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

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

Butthat 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 familyand 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

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

"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 CoxeOh! no, I could not endure William Coxe a pert young

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

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 himthat 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

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 illhumour 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

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

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

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 illjudged solemnity of leavetaking

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

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 feedingto appear in the ungracious character of the one

preferred and acknowledge herself grossly mistaken and misjudging 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 shameand the sight of Harriet's tears made her think that she

Harriet bore the intelligence very wellblaming nobody and in every thing testifying such an

ingenuousness of disposition and lowly opinion of herself, as must appear with particular advantage at that

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 himand nobody but so partial and kind a friend as Miss Woodhouse would

Her tears fell abundantlybut 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

understandingreally for the time convinced that Harriet was the superior creature of the twoand 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 simpleminded 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 matchmaking. She got her to Hartfield,

and shewed her the most unvarying kindness, striving to occupy and amuse her, and by books and

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

Harriet did think him all perfection, and maintained the nonexistence of any body equal to him in person or

goodnessand 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

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

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

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

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 disappointedmuch 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

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,

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.

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 galaday 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

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

"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

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

"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

agewhat is he?three or fourandtwentycannot be without the means of doing as much as that. It is

"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

"It is not to be conceived that a man of three or fourandtwenty should not have liberty of mind or limb to

that amount. He cannot want moneyhe 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

wateringplace or other. A little while ago, he was at Weymouth. This proves that he can leave the

"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 tomorrow.' If he would say so to her at once, in the tone of decision becoming a

"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

"Depend upon it, Emma, a sensible man would find no difficulty in it. He would feel himself in the right; and

the declarationmade, 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,

"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,

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

"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

"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

"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

"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 `aimable,' have very good manners, and be very agreeable; but he can have no English delicacy

"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

"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, wellbred 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

"You will excuse my being so much overpowered. 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 threeandtwenty to be the king of his companythe 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

"I will say no more about him," cried Emma, "you turn every thing to evil. We are both prejudiced; you

"But I am very much, and without being at all ashamed of it. My love for Mr. and Mrs. Weston gives me a

"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

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

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

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

She had had many a hint from Mr. Knightley and some from her own heart, as to her deficiencybut none

were equal to counteract the persuasion of its being very disagreeable,a waste of timetiresome

women and all the horror of being in danger of falling in with the secondrate and thirdrate 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 inobserving, 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 drawingroom floor; and there,

in the very moderatesized 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 sweetcake 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

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 cardparties. 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

"Oh! yesMr. Elton, I understandcertainly 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.'"

"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 Janethat she can never hear it often enough; so I knew it could not be far

off, and here it is, only just under my huswifeand 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 letteronly two

pages you see hardly twoand 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 checkerwork' 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 itI 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 doand so much fine work as you have done too!I only

All this spoken extremely fast obliged Miss Bates to stop for breath; and Emma said something very civil

"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

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 seejust 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

lifeand 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."

"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

"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

againfor 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 motheror her father, I declare I do not know which it was, but we shall

see presently in Jane's letterwrote 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,

Balycraig, 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 addressesand as Jane used to be very often

walking out with themfor 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

"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 togethernot 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

"But, in spite of all her friends' urgency, and her own wish of seeing Ireland, Miss Fairfax prefers devoting

"Yesentirely 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

"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

"Oh! no. You are very obliging to say such thingsbut certainly not. There is no comparison between them.

"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

"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 illnessbut 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 today 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

"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 streethappy in this, that though

much had been forced on her against her will, though she had in fact heard the whole substance of Jane

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 abroadof his widow sinking under consumption and grief soon afterwardsand this

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 fondling 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 warmhearted, wellmeaning 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 campfever, 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

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

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 rightminded and wellinformed

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

firstrate 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

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

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 oneandtwenty should be the period. With the fortitude of a

devoted novitiate, she had resolved at oneandtwenty 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 itMr. Frank

Churchillmust put up for the present with Jane Fairfax, who could bring only the freshness of a two years'

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 selfexamination 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 notand 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 intimatebecause their ages were the same, every body had supposed they must be

It was a dislike so little justevery 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 illhealth seemed to point out

the likeliest evil of the two. Emma could not but feel all this; and then, her faceher 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 eyelashes 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

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 wellknown particular entitling her to

interest, were added the highly probable circumstance of an attachment to Mr. Dixon, which she had so

naturally started to herself. In that case, nothing could be more pitiable or more honourable than the sacrifices

she had resolved on. Emma was very willing now to acquit her of having seduced Mr. Dixon's actions from

his wife, or of any thing mischievous which her imagination had suggested at first. If it were love, it might be

simple, single, successless love on her side alone. She might have been unconsciously sucking in the sad

poison, while a sharer of his conversation with her friend; and from the best, the purest of motives, might

now be denying herself this visit to Ireland, and resolving to divide herself effectually from him and his

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

These were charming feelingsbut 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

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 wateringplace, 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

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

"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

"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 nightif it had been handed round once, I

"No," said Mr. Knightley, nearly at the same time; "you are not often deficient; not often deficient either in

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

"I always told you she wasa 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."

"My dear Emma," said he, moving from his chair into one close by her, "you are not going to tell me, I hope,

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

"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 goodhumoured, 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 wellbehaved young lady indeed. She must have

Emma saw his anxiety, and wishing to appease it, at least for the present, said, and with a sincerity which no

"She is a sort of elegant creature that one cannot keep one's eyes from. I am always watching her to admire;

Mr. Knightley looked as if he were more gratified than he cared to express; and before he could make any

"It is a great pity that their circumstances should be so confined! a great pity indeed! and I have often

wishedbut it is so little one can venture to dosmall, 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

delicateHartfield pork is not like any other porkbut still it is porkand, 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 porkI think we had better send the leg do not you think so, my

"My dear papa, I sent the whole hindquarter. 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

oversalt the leg; and then, if it is not oversalted, 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

"Emma," said Mr. Knightley presently, "I have a piece of news for you. You like newsand I heard an

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

"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

"Oh! my dear sir, how are you this morning? My dear Miss Woodhouse I come quite overpowered. Such

a beautiful hindquarter of pork! You are too bountiful! Have you heard the news? Mr. Elton is going to be

Emma had not had time even to think of Mr. Elton, and she was so completely surprized that she could not

"There is my news:I thought it would interest you," said Mr. Knightley, with a smile which implied a

"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 noteno, it cannot be more than five or at least tenfor I

had got my bonnet and spencer on, just ready to come outI was only gone down to speak to Patty again

about the porkJane was standing in the passagewere not you, Jane? for my mother was so afraid that

we had not any saltingpan 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

Iwell, 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

"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,

"Well! that is quiteI 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,

"We consider our Hartfield pork," replied Mr. Woodhouse"indeed it certainly is, so very superior to all

"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 shortmerely to announcebut cheerful, exulting, of course." Here was a sly glance at Emma.

"He had been so fortunate as to I forget the precise wordsone 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

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

"He is very young to settle," was Mr. Woodhouse's observation. "He had better not be in a hurry. He seemed

"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

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

"NoI have never seen Mr. Elton," she replied, starting on this appeal; "is heis 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 manBut, 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 knowit 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 itthe

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 togetherand they always do. Now, here will be Mr. Elton and Miss Hawkins; and there are the Coles,

such very good people; and the PerrysI 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

"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

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

"You are silent, Miss Fairfaxbut 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 accountwe 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 interestedbut 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 everMrs. Cole once whispered to mebut I immediately said, `No, Mr. Elton is a most worthy

young manbut'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

aspiredMiss Woodhouse lets me chatter on, so goodhumouredly. 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

"Very odd! but one never does form a just idea of any body beforehand. One takes up a notion, and runs

"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 welllooking.

"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 directlyI 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

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 tooand 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 itand 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

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 agoshe had been afraid it would rainshe had been afraid it would pour down

every momentbut she thought she might get to Hartfield firstshe 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 woollendraper, linendraper, 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, perhapswhen, 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 doorElizabeth 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 Woodhousewell, 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 forwardcame 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 saidI 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 awayand

thenonly think! I found he was coming up towards me tooslowly you know, and as if he did not quite

know what to do; and so he came and spoke, and I answeredand 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 stablesI believe

I didbut 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

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

wellmeaning, 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 herthey 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 pleasedso little discerning; what

She exerted herself, and did try to make her comfortable, by considering all that had passed as a mere trifle,

"It might be distressing, for the moment," said she; "but you seem to have behaved extremely well; and it is

overand 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 itstill 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 Harrietsuch a conclusion of Mr. Elton's

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

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.

Human nature is so well disposed towards those who are in interesting situations, that a young person, who

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

Mr. Elton returned, a very happy man. He had gone away rejected and mortifieddisappointed 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 offendedhe

came back engaged to anotherand 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 selfsatisfied, eager and busy,

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 awayhe 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 gloriousthe steps so quick, from the accidental rencontre,

to the dinner at Mr. Green's, and the party at Mrs. Brown'ssmiles and blushes rising in importance with

consciousness and agitation richly scatteredthe lady had been so easily impressedso sweetly

disposedhad in short, to use a most intelligible phrase, been so very ready to have him, that vanity and

He had caught both substance and shadowboth fortune and affection, and was just the happy man he ought

to be; talking only of himself and his own concernsexpecting to be congratulatedready to be laughed

atand, with cordial, fearless smiles, now addressing all the young ladies of the place, to whom, a few

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

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

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

Of the lady, individually, Emma thought very little. She was good enough for Mr. Elton, no doubt;

accomplished enough for Highbury handsome enoughto 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

linenothing 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 windup of the history; that was

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 guessall

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 housethe 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 acknowledgedwhat 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

She could think of nothing better: and though there was something in it which her own heart could not

approvesomething of ingratitude, merely glossed overit must be done, or what would become of

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,

WhiteHart, 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

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 appletrees 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

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 walka Miss Martin just appearing at the door, and parting with her seemingly with ceremonious

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 occasionto feel the same consciousness, the same regretsto 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.

It was a good scheme; but on driving to the door they heard that neither "master nor mistress was at home;"

"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 illdisposed

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

"How d'ye do?how d'ye do?We have been sitting with your father glad to see him so well. Frank

comes tomorrowI had a letter this morningwe see him tomorrow by dinnertime to a certainty he

is at Oxford today, 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

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

wornout past was sunk in the freshness of what was coming; and in the rapidity of half a moment's thought,

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

"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 tomorrow, my dear Emma, about four o'clock," was Mrs. Weston's parting injunction; spoken

"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

"Will Mr. Frank Churchill pass through Bath as well as Oxford?" was a question, however, which did not

But neither geography nor tranquillity could come all at once, and Emma was now in a humour to resolve

The morning of the interesting day arrived, and Mrs. Weston's faithful pupil did not forget either at ten, or

"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 tomorrow,

perhaps, or a little later, I may be thinking of the possibility of their all calling here. I am sure they will bring

She opened the parlour door, and saw two gentlemen sitting with her fatherMr. 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

The Frank Churchill so long talked of, so high in interest, was actually before herhe 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

wellbred ease of manner, and a readiness to talk, which convinced her that he came intending to 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 lookout begins, is

"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

Their subjects in general were such as belong to an opening acquaintance. On his side were the

neighbourhood?Highbury, perhaps, afforded society enough?There were several very pretty houses in

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 motherinlaw, 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

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 welllooking woman of a certain age; I did not know that I was to

"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.

"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

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

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

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 kindhearted 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

coldwhich, 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

"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 nameI

"To be sure we do," cried his father; "Mrs. Bateswe 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

"There is no necessity for my calling this morning," said the young man; "another day would do as well; but

"Oh! go today, go today. 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."

"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

"If you were never particularly struck by her manners before," said she, "I think you will today. You will

see her to advantage; see her and hear herno, I am afraid you will not hear her at all, for she has an aunt

"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

"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

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.

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, happylooking 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

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 hernothing 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 goodwill 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 posthorses 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 ballroom, 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 halfgentlemen of the place.

He was immediately interested. Its character as a ballroom 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 goodlooking 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

"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 himbut 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 threequarters of an hour. The good lady had not given me the possibility of

"Ill, very illthat 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 samebut 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 wasfortunately he need not

"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."

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

"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 sonbut lay out half a guinea at Ford's, and

They went in; and while the sleek, welltied 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

"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

"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,

"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, warmhearted woman. I like

"You know Miss Fairfax's situation in life, I conclude; what she is destined to be?"

"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

"I certainly do forget to think of her," said Emma, "as having ever been any thing but my friend and my

When the gloves were bought, and they had quitted the shop again, "Did you ever hear the young lady we

"Ever hear her!" repeated Emma. "You forget how much she belongs to Highbury. I have heard her every

"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 womanengaged to heron 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 insteadnever 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 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."

"Certainlyvery 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 lovemore ear

than eyea more acute sensibility to fine sounds than to my feelings. How did Miss Campbell appear to like

"Poor comfort!" said Emma, laughing. "One would rather have a stranger preferred than one's very particular

friendwith a stranger it might not recur againbut 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

"You are right. It was not very flattering to Miss Campbell; but she really did not seem to feel it."

"So much the betteror so much the worse:I do not know which. But be it sweetness or be it stupidity in

herquickness of friendship, or dulness of feelingthere was one person, I think, who must have felt it:

Miss Fairfax herself. She must have felt the improper and dangerous distinction."

"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

"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

"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 reserveI never could attach myself to any one so

"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 hernot the leastexcept 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

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

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

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

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 himselfhow

much she saw to like in his disposition altogether. He appeared to have a very open tempercertainly 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 himsaid 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 extremelythought 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

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 smilesMr.

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

peoplefriendly, 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 diningroom, prepared every body for their keeping dinnercompany; 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

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

She owned that, considering every thing, she was not absolutely without inclination for the party. The Coles

expressed themselves so properlythere 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 foldingscreen 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

comforthow 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 dinnervisiting," 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 ustake 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

"Well, sir," cried Mr. Weston, "as I took Miss Taylor away, it is incumbent on me to supply her place, if I

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

"Oh! no, my love; but you will soon be tired. There will be a great many people talking at once. You will not

"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 goodnatured 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 biliousMr. 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 timeand the idea of that

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.

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

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

"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

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

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 selfdenial 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

"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 drawingroom, I doubt whether you would have discerned me to be more of a gentleman than usual.

"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

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 herand, 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 pianofortea very elegant looking instrumentnot a

grand, but a largesized 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

nieceentirely 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

"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

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 drawingroom, 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

"Me!I suppose I smile for pleasure at Colonel Campbell's being so rich and so liberal.It is a handsome

"Or that he did not give her the use of their own instrument which must now be shut up in London,

"That is a grand pianoforte, and he might think it too large for Mrs. Bates's house."

"You may say what you chusebut your countenance testifies that your thoughts on this subject are very

"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

"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

"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

"And, upon my word, they have an air of great probability. Mr. Dixon's preference of her music to her

"And then, he saved her life. Did you ever hear of that? A water party; and by some accident she was

"Were you really?Well!But you observed nothing of course, for it seems to be a new idea to you.If I

"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 durableindeed 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

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

"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

"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

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 othernothing worse

The ladies had not been long in the drawingroom, 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 satand 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 lovedyes, of having loved even Mr.

Elton in vainby the surrender of all the dangerous pleasure of knowing herself beloved by the husband of

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

Mrs. Weston, kindhearted 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

They were soon joined by some of the gentlemen; and the very first of the early was Frank Churchill. In he

walked, the first and the handsomest; and after paying his compliments en passant to Miss Bates and her

niece, made his way directly to the opposite side of the circle, where sat Miss Woodhouse; and till he could

find a seat by her, would not sit at all. Emma divined what every body present must be thinking. She was his

object, and every body must perceive it. She introduced him to her friend, Miss Smith, and, at convenient

moments afterwards, heard what each thought of the other. "He had never seen so lovely a face, and was

delighted with her naivete." And she, "Only to be sure it was paying him too great a compliment, but she did

think there were some looks a little like Mr. Elton." Emma restrained her indignation, and only turned from

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 diningroom hated

sitting longwas always the first to move when he could that his father, Mr. Knightley, Mr. Cox, and Mr.

Cole, were left very busy over parish businessthat 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 altogetherthought 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

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 abroadhad been very eager indeed to be allowed to

travelbut she would not hear of it. This had happened the year before. Now, he said, he was beginning to

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

tomorrowhalf my time. I never knew days fly so fast. A week tomorrow!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

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

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 wayso very odd a waythat I cannot keep my eyes from her. I never saw

any thing so outree!Those curls!This must be a fancy of her own. I see nobody else looking like her!

I must go and ask her whether it is an Irish fashion. Shall I? Yes, I willI declare I willand you shall

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

"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?"

"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

attentionand 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

"Very likely," said Emma"nothing more likely. I know no man more likely than Mr. Knightley to do the

sort of thingto do any thing really goodnatured, useful, considerate, or benevolent. He is not a gallant

man, but he is a very humane one; and this, considering Jane Fairfax's illhealth, 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 todayfor we arrived together; and I laughed at him about it, but

"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

"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 matchI 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

"Yes, I would. I could not bear to have Henry supplanted. Mr. Knightley marry!No, I have never had

"I see no probability in it, unless you have any better foundation than what you mention. His goodnature, 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 matchmaking. 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 pleasebut not mad. Excepting inequality of fortune, and perhaps a little disparity of age,

"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

"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

"Well," said Mrs. Weston, laughing, "perhaps the greatest good he could do them, would be to give Jane such

"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 eitherfor still it would last a great whileand, indeed, she must

"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 healthhis 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 methis 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

"I have heard him lamenting her having no instrument repeatedly; oftener than I should suppose such a

"There might be scruples of delicacy, my dear Emma. I have a very strong notion that it comes from him. I

"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 pianoforteand proof only shall convince me

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

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 surprizea 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 childrena most mortifying change, and material loss to them all;a very great

deduction from her father's daily comfortand, 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!NoMr. Knightley must never

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

"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 putto

"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 attachmentwhether there were no actual

preferenceremained 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

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."

"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

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 wherewas so effectually promoted by Mr. and Mrs. Cole, that every thing

was rapidly clearing away, to give proper space. Mrs. Weston, capital in her countrydances, was seated, and

beginning an irresistible waltz; and Frank Churchill, coming up with most becoming gallantry to Emma, had

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.

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

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,

"Perhaps it is as well," said Frank Churchill, as he attended Emma to her carriage. "I must have asked Miss

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 Colesworthy 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 childhoodand 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

"Don't class us together, Harriet. My playing is no more like her's, than a lamp is like sunshine."

"Oh! dearI think you play the best of the two. I think you play quite as well as she does. I am sure I had

"Those who knew any thing about it, must have felt the difference. The truth is, Harriet, that my playing is

"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

"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?"

"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.

"He came to their father upon some business, and he asked him to stay to dinner."

"They talked a great deal about him, especially Anne Cox. I do not know what she meant, but she asked me if

"She said he was very agreeable the day he dined there. He sat by her at dinner. Miss Nash thinks either of

"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

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 officedoor, Mr. Cole's carriagehorses returning from exercise, or a

stray letterboy 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

bowwindow 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

She looked down the Randalls road. The scene enlarged; two persons appeared; Mrs. Weston and her

soninlaw; 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

"And while Mrs. Weston pays her visit, I may be allowed, I hope," said Frank Churchill, "to join your party

"Me! I should be quite in the way. But, perhapsI 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;

"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."

"Wellif 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 tonewhat 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

"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

"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

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,

"Should I send it to Mrs. Goddard's, ma'am?" asked Mrs. Ford. "Yesnoyes, 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 Hartfieldat least the ribbon. You could make it into two parcels, Mrs. Ford, could not

"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 knowNo, I think, Miss Woodhouse, I may just as well have it sent to Hartfield, and

"That you do not give another halfsecond 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.

Voices approached the shopor rather one voice and two ladies: Mrs. Weston and Miss Bates met them at

"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

"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 herand 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, alwaysI 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 presentand she really eats nothingmakes such a

shocking breakfast, you would be quite frightened if you saw it. I dare not let my mother know how little she

eatsso 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 appledumplings, however, very

often. Patty makes an excellent appledumpling. Well, Mrs. Weston, you have prevailed, I hope, and these

Emma would be "very happy to wait on Mrs. Bates, and they did at last move out of the shop, with no farther

"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

"What was I talking of?" said she, beginning again when they were all in the street.

"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 finestlooking homebaked 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 justiceonly 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

Donwellsome 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 treesI 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 notfor really as to ours being gone, I could not absolutely say that we had a

great many leftit 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 meNo, 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 alland 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 appletart 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

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 goodwill.

"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."

The appearance of the little sittingroom 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

"This is a pleasure," said he, in rather a low voice, "coming at least ten minutes earlier than I had calculated.

"What!" said Mrs. Weston, "have not you finished it yet? you would not earn a very good livelihood as a

"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

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

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

"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

"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

"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?"

"Till I have a letter from Colonel Campbell," said she, in a voice of forced calmness, "I can imagine nothing

"Conjectureaye, 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 wordMiss 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 givefor another halfhour."

"What felicity it is to hear a tune again which has made one happy! If I mistake not that was danced at

She looked up at him for a moment, coloured deeply, and played something else. He took some music from a

"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

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

He brought all the music to her, and they looked it over together. Emma took the opportunity of

"I hope she does. I would have her understand me. I am not in the least ashamed of my meaning."

"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.

"I do not see much sign of it. She is playing Robin Adair at this momenthis favourite."

Shortly afterwards Miss Bates, passing near the window, descried Mr. Knightley on horseback 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

"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

"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 today? 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

"So obliged to you!so very much obliged to you for the carriage," resumed Miss Bates.

"Oh! dear, Kingstonare you?Mrs. Cole was saying the other day she wanted something from Kingston."

"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."

"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."

"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

"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 countrydance

player, without exception, in England. Now, if your friends have any gratitude, they will say something pretty

"Oh! Mr. Knightley, one moment more; something of consequence so shocked!Jane and I are both so

"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

"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

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.

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,

Frank Churchill had danced once at Highbury, and longed to dance again; and the last halfhour 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 dancedfor doing that in which she need not blush to compare herself with Jane Fairfaxand

even for simple dancing itself, without any of the wicked aids of vanityto assist him first in pacing out the

room they were in to see what it could be made to holdand 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

His first proposition and request, that the dance begun at Mr. Cole's should be finished therethat 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

"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

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

"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 goodwill 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

"We were too magnificent," said he. "We allowed unnecessary room. Ten couple may stand here very well."

Emma demurred. "It would be a crowda sad crowd; and what could be worse than dancing without space

"Very true," he gravely replied; "it was very bad." But still he went on measuring, and still he ended with,

"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 crowdand a crowd in a little room!"

"There is no denying it," he replied. "I agree with you exactly. A crowd in a little roomMiss 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 fatherand

altogetherI do not know thatI am rather of opinion that ten couple might stand here very well."

Emma perceived that the nature of his gallantry was a little selfwilled, 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

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

"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 happyIt seems the only improvement that could be. Papa,

She was obliged to repeat and explain it, before it was fully comprehended; and then, being quite new, farther

"No; he thought it very far from an improvementa 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 lifedid not know the

people who kept it by sight.Oh! noa very bad plan. They would catch worse colds at the Crown than

"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

"From the very circumstance of its being larger, sir. We shall have no occasion to open the windows at

allnot once the whole evening; and it is that dreadful habit of opening the windows, letting in cold air upon

"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! sirbut a thoughtless young person will sometimes step behind a windowcurtain, and throw up a

"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

overbut 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

"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

"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 airedbut is Mrs. Stokes to be trusted? I

"I can answer for every thing of that nature, sir, because it will be under Mrs. Weston's care. Mrs. Weston

"There, papa!Now you must be satisfiedOur 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

"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 sortwhich 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

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;

"Emma," said she, "this paper is worse than I expected. Look! in places you see it is dreadfully dirty; and the

"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 clubnights."

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 supperroom. At the time

of the ballroom's being built, suppers had not been in question; and a small cardroom adjoining, was the

only addition. What was to be done? This cardroom would be wanted as a cardroom 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

Mrs. Weston proposed having no regular supper; merely sandwiches, 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

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

"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 objectif 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 themthe 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

"Wellif 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

"But she is so amusing, so extremely amusing! I am very fond of hearing Miss Bates talk. And I need not

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

"The old lady! No, the young lady, to be sure. I shall think you a great blockhead, Frank, if you bring the aunt

"Oh! I beg your pardon, sir. I did not immediately recollect. Undoubtedly if you wish it, I will endeavour to

Long before he reappeared, attending the short, neat, briskmoving aunt, and her elegant niece,Mrs.

Weston, like a sweettempered 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.

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 halfhour 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

One thing only was wanting to make the prospect of the ball completely satisfactory to Emmaits 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 uncertaintyat the risk in her opinion, the great risk, of its being all in

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

"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, indeedI

never look at it I do not know who does.Fine dancing, I believe, like virtue, must be its own reward.

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 animatedopen hearted she

"Oh! Miss Woodhouse, I hope nothing may happen to prevent the ball. What a disappointment it would be! I

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

Alas! there was soon no leisure for quarrelling with Mr. Knightley. Two days of joyful security were

immediately followed by the overthrow 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

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 ballthe 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

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

"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

springbut I am afraidthey did not stir last spring I am afraid it is a custom gone for ever."

"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

"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."

"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

He laughed rather consciously; and though denying the sentiment, Emma was convinced that it had been so.

"Yes; my father is to join me here: we shall walk back together, and I must be off immediately. I am almost

"Not five minutes to spare even for your friends Miss Fairfax and Miss Bates? How unlucky! Miss Bates's

"YesI 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

"In short," said he, "perhaps, Miss WoodhouseI 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

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

"It was something to feel that all the rest of my time might be given to Hartfield. My regard for Hartfield is

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.

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

"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

A very friendly shake of the hand, a very earnest "Goodbye," closed the speech, and the door had soon shut

out Frank Churchill. Short had been the noticeshort 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

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 weeksindescribable 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 notfor a few weeks at least. Well! evil to some is

always good to others. I shall have many fellowmourners 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

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

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

"He is undoubtedly very much in loveevery thing denotes itvery 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 whileand 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, wellwritten 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

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

"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

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

weddingday 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

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 describedit was not worth while to think about

themand she would not think about them any longer" but no change of subject could avail, and the next

halfhour saw her as anxious and restless about the Eltons as before. At last Emma attacked her on another

"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

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 selfcommand 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 importantand 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

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

"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

"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 belovedwhich gives Isabella all her popularity. I have it notbut 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 clearestheaded, longestsighted, bestjudging female breathing. Oh! the coldness of a

Jane Fairfax!Harriet is worth a hundred suchAnd for a wife a sensible man's wifeit is invaluable. I

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

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

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

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,

As for Mr. Elton, his manners did not appearbut 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

"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

"Oh! nothere 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

"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.

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

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 brotherinlaw near Bristol was the pride of the alliance, and his place and his

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 wellbuilt. 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 morningroom at Maple Grove; her sister's

favourite room." Mr. Elton was appealed to."Was not it astonishingly like? She could really almost

"And the staircaseYou 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

Emma made as slight a reply as she could; but it was fully sufficient for Mrs. Elton, who only wanted to be

"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 wayjust 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

"When you have seen more of this country, I am afraid you will think you have overrated Hartfield. Surry is

"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

"No, I fancy not," replied Mrs. Elton, with a most satisfied smile." I never heard any county but Surry called

"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 barouchelandau, 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 barouchelandau; 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'sWeston twice last

summer, in that way, most delightfully, just after their first having the barouchelandau. You have many

"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

"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 barouchelandau without a companion; but Augusta, I believe, with her own goodwill,

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

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 introductionof her going into public under the auspices of a friend of Mrs.

Elton'sprobably some vulgar, dashing widow, who, with the help of a boarder, just made a shift to live!

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

"I do not ask whether you are musical, Mrs. Elton. Upon these occasions, a lady's character generally

"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 musicpassionately

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 tooknowing what I had been

accustomed toof 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 upparties, balls, playsfor 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

smallersized 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

"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

"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

"I should hope not; but really when I look around among my acquaintance, I tremble. Selina has entirely

given up musicnever touches the instrumentthough she played sweetly. And the same may be said of

Mrs. JeffereysClara Partridge, that wasand 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."

Emma, finding her so determined upon neglecting her music, had nothing more to say; and, after a moment's

"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 firstrate favourite with

me already, I assure you. And she appears so truly goodthere is something so motherly and kindhearted

Emma was almost too much astonished to answer; but Mrs. Elton hardly waited for the affirmative before she

"Having understood as much, I was rather astonished to find her so very ladylike! But she is really quite the

"Mrs. Weston's manners," said Emma, "were always particularly good. Their propriety, simplicity, and

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 gentlemanlike man."

"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, prettybehaved 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."

"Yes: but a young ladya brideI ought to have paid my respects to her if possible. It was being very

"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

"No, my dear, I never encouraged any body to marry, but I would always wish to pay every proper attention

to a ladyand a bride, especially, is never to be neglected. More is avowedly due to her. A bride, you know,

"Well, papa, if this is not encouragement to marry, I do not know what is. And I should never have expected

"My dear, you do not understand me. This is a matter of mere common politeness and goodbreeding, and

Emma had done. Her father was growing nervous, and could not understand her. Her mind returned to Mrs.

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,selfimportant, presuming, familiar, ignorant, and illbred. 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 goodwill, 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

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 illwill which produced it was necessarily increasing Emma's dislike. Her manners, tooand

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

"Jane Fairfax is absolutely charming, Miss Woodhouse.I quite rave about Jane Fairfax.A sweet,

interesting creature. So mild and ladylikeand 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 warmthbut, 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.'

"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

"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 timidityand 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 dealbut 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 barouchelandau in some of our

"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 Woodhouseing me! But upon my honour, there seems no limits to the licentiousness of that

Emma had not to listen to such paradings againto any so exclusively addressed to herselfso disgustingly

decorated with a "dear Miss Woodhouse." The change on Mrs. Elton's side soon afterwards appeared, and she

was left in peaceneither 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

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 womanjust 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

"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 Batesit all came from herMrs.

Dixon had written most pressingly. Would Jane but go, means were to be found, servants sent, friends

contrivedno 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.

"We cannot suppose that she has any great enjoyment at the Vicarage, my dear Emmabut 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

Emma felt that Mrs. Weston was giving her a momentary glance; and she was herself struck by his warmth.

"Such attentions as Mrs. Elton's, I should have imagined, would rather disgust than gratify Miss Fairfax. Mrs.

"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 tooMrs. 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 beforeand 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

"And yet," said Emma, beginning hastily and with an arch look, but soon stoppingit 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

"That will never be, however, I can assure you. Miss Fairfax, I dare say, would not have me if I were to ask

Emma returned her friend's pressure with interest; and was pleased enough to exclaim,

He seemed hardly to hear her; he was thoughtfuland in a manner which shewed him not pleased, soon

"No indeed I have not. You have scolded me too much for matchmaking, 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 womanbut 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

"Yes, very soon. He gave me a quiet hint; I told him he was mistaken; he asked my pardon and said no more.

"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, Knightleywhat 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 goodbreeding. 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

"Jane Fairfax has feeling," said Mr. Knightley"I do not accuse her of want of feeling. Her sensibilities, I

suspect, are strongand her temper excellent in its power of forbearance, patience, selfcontroul; but it

wants openness. She is reserved, more reserved, I think, than she used to beAnd I love an open temper.

Notill Cole alluded to my supposed attachment, it had never entered my head. I saw Jane Fairfax and

conversed with her, with admiration and pleasure alwaysbut with no thought beyond."

"Well, Mrs. Weston," said Emma triumphantly when he left them, "what do you say now to Mr. Knightley's

"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."

Every body in and about Highbury who had ever visited Mr. Elton, was disposed to pay him attention on his

marriage. Dinnerparties and eveningparties 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

No invitation came amiss to her. Her Bath habits made eveningparties 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 routcakes, and there being no ice in the Highbury cardparties. Mrs. Bates, Mrs. Perry, Mrs.

Goddard and others, were a good deal behindhand 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 partyin which her cardtables should be set out with their separate candles and unbroken

packs in the true styleand 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

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 friendfor 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

consciencestricken 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 meantand it is very

shameful.Of the same age and always knowing herI 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 Hartfieldwhich 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 ninthand Emma apprehended that it would be a ninth

very much out of humour at not being able to come even to Hartfield for fortyeight hours without falling in

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

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

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 informationbut 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

"I hope you did not venture far, Miss Fairfax, this morning, or I am sure you must have been wet.We

"I went only to the postoffice," 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

"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

postoffice has a great charm at one period of our lives. When you have lived to my age, you will begin to

"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! noI never conceived you could become indifferent. Letters are no matter of indifference;

"I have often thought them the worst of the two," replied he coolly. "Business, you know, may bring money,

"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 postoffice, I think, must always have power to draw me out, in worse weather

"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 circlebut 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

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 herand with all his mildest

"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

"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 grandmama 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 today, I am sure. My daughter and I are both highly sensible of your goodness,

The kindhearted, polite old man might then sit down and feel that he had done his duty, and made every fair

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 postoffice 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."

"Oh! do not tell me. You really are a very sad girl, and do not know how to take care of yourself.To the

postoffice 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

"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

"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 postoffice is an object; and upon my word, I have scarcely

"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

"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

"The postoffice 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!"

"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 wrongand 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

"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

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

"Yes," said his brother hesitatingly, "there is a likeness. I know what you meanbut Emma's hand is the

"Isabella and Emma both write beautifully," said Mr. Woodhouse; "and always did. And so does poor Mrs.

"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 elseand 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

Mrs. Weston was disengaged and Emma began again"Mr. Frank Churchill writes one of the best

"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

"If we were in the other room," said Emma, "if I had my writingdesk, 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?"

"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

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 diningparlour, was saying

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 usuala glow

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 goodwill

When the ladies returned to the drawingroom 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 halfwhisper, especially on Mrs. Elton's side, there was

no avoiding a knowledge of their principal subjects: The postofficecatching coldfetching lettersand

friendship, were long under discussion; and to them succeeded one, which must be at least equally unpleasant

to Janeinquiries whether she had yet heard of any situation likely to suit her, and professions of Mrs.

"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 monthmerely looked forward to the summer in general."

"Oh! my dear, we cannot begin too early; you are not aware of the difficulty of procuring exactly the

"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. Waxcandles in the schoolroom! You may imagine how desirable! Of all houses

"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

"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 lookout 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

"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;

"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 somethingOffices for

"Oh! my dear, human flesh! You quite shock me; if you mean a fling at the slavetrade, I assure you Mr.

"I did not mean, I was not thinking of the slavetrade," replied Jane; "governesstrade, 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

"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

"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 isI 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

"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

"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 halfwhisper 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,

oldfashioned 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 choicehandsome, I think, but I do not know whether it is not

overtrimmed; I have the greatest dislike to the idea of being overtrimmedquite 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

The whole party were but just reassembled in the drawingroom 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 bedtime, 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

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

"Read it, read it," said he, "it will give you pleasure; only a few lineswill not take you long; read it to

The two ladies looked over it together; and he sat smiling and talking to them the whole time, in a voice a

"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 seeat 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 tomorrow 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

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

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

"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

"You have heard of a certain Frank Churchill, I presume," he continued "and know him to be my son,

"Oh! yes, and I shall be very happy in his acquaintance. I am sure Mr. Elton will lose no time in calling on

"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 today. I met the letters in my way this morning, and seeing my son's

hand, presumed to open itthough it was not directed to meit was to Mrs. Weston. She is his principal

"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

"Aye, we men are sad fellows. You must take care of yourself, Mrs. Elton.This letter tells usit is a short

letterwritten in a hurry, merely to give us noticeit tells us that they are all coming up to town directly,

on Mrs. Churchill's accountshe has not been well the whole winter, and thinks Enscombe too cold for

"Yes, they are about one hundred and ninety miles from London. a considerable journey."

"Yes, upon my word, very considerable. Sixtyfive 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

"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 weaknessbut 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.

"No, indeed, I shall grant you nothing. I Always take the part of my own sex. I do indeed. I give you

noticeYou 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 herand I believe I have

caught a little of her nicety. She always travels with her own sheets; an excellent precaution. Does Mrs.

"Depend upon it, Mrs. Churchill does every thing that any other fine lady ever did. Mrs. Churchill will not be

"Oh! Mr. Weston, do not mistake me. Selina is no fine lady, I assure you. Do not run away with such an

"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

"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

"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

"Ayelike 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 thingin 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 resourcesand I feel very thankful that I have so many myself as to be quite independent of

"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

This was too loud a call for a compliment to be passed by, and Mr. Weston, with a very good grace,

"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."

"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 upbut 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 forthI 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

"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 carriagewe had disappointments about the carriage;one

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 Enscombein 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 today or

tomorrow, 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

"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

"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 outChurchill'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 himI believe, at leastI am almost sure

They were interrupted. Tea was carrying round, and Mr. Weston, having said all that he wanted, soon took

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

Mr. John Knightley proved more talkative than his brother. He was to leave them early the next day; and he

"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

"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."

"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."

"Certainly; you must be sensible that the last halfyear has made a great difference in your way of life."

"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 dinnerparty! 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 goingson, is very great."

"Very welland 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

"No," cried Mr. Knightley, "that need not be the consequence. Let them be sent to Donwell. I shall certainly

"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 Colesand 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

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

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

He was in high spirits; as ready to talk and laugh as ever, and seemed delighted to speak of his former visit,

and recur to old stories: and he was not without agitation. It was not in his calmness that she read his

comparative difference. He was not calm; his spirits were evidently fluttered; there was restlessness about

him. Lively as he was, it seemed a liveliness that did not satisfy himself; but what decided her belief on the

subject, was his staying only a quarter of an hour, and hurrying away to make other calls in Highbury. "He

had seen a group of old acquaintance in the street as he passed he had not stopped, he would not stop for

more than a wordbut 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 lovebut

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

comebut 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

readyfurnished 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

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

milesnay, eighteenit must be full eighteen to Manchesterstreetwas 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

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 twentyfour hours at any given time, induced them to name as

Mr. Weston's ball was to be a real thing. A very few tomorrows stood between the young people of

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

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

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 openheartedness 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 halfcircle 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

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

Mrs. Elton was spoken of. "I think she must be here soon," said he. "I have a great curiosity to see Mrs. Elton,

"I am forgetting that I am not acquainted with her. I have never seen either Mr. or Mrs. Elton. I have no

"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,

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 approveso 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,

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

"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 headach! 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

shawlfor the evenings are not warmher large new shawl Mrs. Dixon's weddingpresent.So kind of

her to think of my mother! Bought at Weymouth, you knowMr. 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 uponI 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 goodnature. 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 fairyland! Such a

transformation!Must not compliment, I know (eyeing Emma most complacently)that would be

rudebut upon my word, Miss Woodhouse, you do lookhow 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 townMrs. 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 menever take coffee.A little tea if you please, sir, by and bye,no

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 dobut upon such

an occasion as this, when every body's eyes are so much upon me, and in compliment to the Westonswho I

have no doubt are giving this ball chiefly to do me honourI 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

"Oh! you have found us out at last, have you, in our seclusion? I was this moment telling Jane, I thought

"Jane!"repeated Frank Churchill, with a look of surprize and displeasure. "That is easybut Miss

"Ungrateful!What do you mean?" Then changing from a frown to a smile"No, do not tell meI do not

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

"And what are we to do for a proper partner for her?" said Mr. Weston. "She will think Frank ought to ask

Frank turned instantly to Emma, to claim her former promise; and boasted himself an engaged man, which

his father looked his most perfect approbation ofand 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 standersby, where he ought not to be; he ought

to be dancing,not classing himself with the husbands, and fathers, and whistplayers, 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

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 notand she was expecting him every moment to escape into the cardroom.

Escape, however, was not his plan. He came to the part of the room where the sittersby 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 halfway

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 kindhearted, 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

"If Mrs. Gilbert wishes to dance," said he, "I shall have great pleasure, I am surefor, though beginning to

feel myself rather an old married man, and that my dancing days are over, it would give me very great

"Mrs. Gilbert does not mean to dance, but there is a young lady disengaged whom I should be very glad to

see dancingMiss 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 commandbut 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,

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

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 cardroom, 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

"Knightley has taken pity on poor little Miss Smith!Very goodnatured, I declare."

Supper was announced. The move began; and Miss Bates might be heard from that moment, without

"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 doneOne door

nailed upQuantities of mattingMy 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 tomorrow: 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 styleCandles 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 goodbut 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

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

"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

He shook his head; but there was a smile of indulgence with it, and he only said,

"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

"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 firstrate qualities, which Mrs. Elton

is totally without. An unpretending, singleminded, 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

"Come Miss Woodhouse, Miss Otway, Miss Fairfax, what are you all doing? Come Emma, set your

"Indeed I will. You have shewn that you can dance, and you know we are not really so much brother and

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

resultthe 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

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 sweepgate opened, and two persons entered whom she had never less expected to see

togetherFrank Churchill, with Harriet leaning on his armactually 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 frontdoor were not twenty yards asunder; they were all three

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

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

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 awaybut her terror and her purse were too tempting, and she was followed, or

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

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

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

It was a very extraordinary thing! Nothing of the sort had ever occurred before to any young ladies in the

place, within her memory; no rencontre, no alarm of the kind;and now it had happened to the very person,

and at the very hour, when the other very person was chancing to pass by to rescue her!It certainly was

very extraordinary!And knowing, as she did, the favourable state of mind of each at this period, it struck

her the more. He was wishing to get the better of his attachment to herself, she just recovering from her

mania for Mr. Elton. It seemed as if every thing united to promise the most interesting consequences. It was

not possible that the occurrence should not be strongly recommending each to the other.

In the few minutes' conversation which she had yet had with him, while Harriet had been partially insensible,

he had spoken of her terror, her naivete, her fervour as she seized and clung to his arm, with a sensibility

amused and delighted; and just at last, after Harriet's own account had been given, he had expressed his

indignation at the abominable folly of Miss Bickerton in the warmest terms. Every thing was to take its

natural course, however, neither impelled nor assisted. She would not stir a step, nor drop a hint. No, she had

had enough of interference. There could be no harm in a scheme, a mere passive scheme. It was no more than

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

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.

A very few days had passed after this adventure, when Harriet came one morning to Emma with a small

"Miss Woodhouseif you are at leisureI have something that I should like to tell youa sort of

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 necessaryI am too much ashamed of having given way as I

"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 notexcept that of the

two I had rather not see him and indeed I would go any distance round to avoid himbut 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 illtempered and disagreeableI 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 destroywhat I ought to have destroyed long agowhat I ought never to have kept I

know that very well (blushing as she spoke).However, now I will destroy it alland 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

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 Tunbridgeware box, which Harriet opened: it was well lined with the softest

cotton; but, excepting the cotton, Emma saw only a small piece of courtplaister.

"Dear me! I should not have thought it possible you could forget what passed in this very room about

courtplaister, one of the very last times we ever met in it!It was but a very few days before I had my sore

throatjust 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 courtplaister? 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

"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

relicI knew nothing of that till this momentbut the cutting the finger, and my recommending

courtplaister, 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

"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 courtplaister 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 courtplaister that Frank Churchill

"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 courtplaister never did."

Emma was quite eager to see this superior treasure. It was the end of an old pencil,the part without any

"This was really his," said Harriet."Do not you remember one morning?no, I dare say you do not. But

one morningI forget exactly the daybut perhaps it was the Tuesday or Wednesday before that evening,

he wanted to make a memorandum in his pocketbook; it was about sprucebeer. Mr. Knightley had been

telling him something about brewing sprucebeer, 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,

"I do remember it," cried Emma; "I perfectly remember it. Talking about sprucebeer.Oh! yesMr.

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

"Ah! I do not know. I cannot recollect.It is very odd, but I cannot recollect.Mr. Elton was sitting here, I

"Oh! that's all. I have nothing more to shew you, or to say except that I am now going to throw them both

"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

"But, Harriet, is it necessary to burn the courtplaister?I have not a word to say for the bit of old pencil,

"I shall be happier to burn it," replied Harriet. "It has a disagreeable look to me. I must get rid of every

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

After another short hesitation, "I hope it does not proceed from I hope it is not in compliment to Mr.

"Mr. Elton indeed!" cried Harriet indignantly."Oh! no"and Emma could just catch the words, "so

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

"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

"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 distanceand 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 cominghis noble lookand my wretchedness before. Such a change! In one

"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 that 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

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

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 barouchelandau; 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 motherinlaw'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 themhe 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

brought him yet stronger suspicion of there being a something of private liking, of private understanding

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

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

Mrs. Weston looked surprized, and said, "I did not know that he ever had any such plan."

"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?"

"Never! really, never!Bless me! how could it be?Then I must have dreamt itbut I was completely

persuadedMiss 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

"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 particularsbut 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

"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

Emma was out of hearing. She had hurried on before her guests to prepare her father for their appearance, and

"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 haveI do not mean to say

that he did not dream itI am sure I have sometimes the oddest dreams in the worldbut 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 ourselvesbut 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 motherindeed I do

not know who is notand 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

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 intentlyin vain, however, if it were so Jane passed between

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

smallsized Pembroke, on which two of his daily meals had, for forty years been crowded. Tea passed

"Miss Woodhouse," said Frank Churchill, after examining a table behind him, which he could reach as he sat,

"have your nephews taken away their alphabetstheir box of letters? It used to stand here. Where is it? This

is a sort of dulllooking evening, that ought to be treated rather as winter than summer. We had great

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

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 themand 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

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 hershall I?"and as clearly heard Emma opposing it

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

"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

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 shawlFrank Churchill was looking alsoit 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 mustyes, he certainly must, as a friend an anxious friendgive

Emma some hint, ask her some question. He could not see her in a situation of such danger, without trying to

"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

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."

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

"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

"I have lately imagined that I saw symptoms of attachment between them certain expressive looks, which I

"Oh! you amuse me excessively. I am delighted to find that you can vouchsafe to let your imagination

wanderbut it will not do very sorry to check you in your first essaybut 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 circumstancesfeelings rather of a totally different nature it is impossible exactly to

explain:there is a good deal of nonsense in itbut 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

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

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

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 goodnatured woman after all. One could not leave her out."

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 pigeonpies and cold lamb, when a lame carriagehorse 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

"Is not this most vexations, 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

"You had better explore to Donwell," replied Mr. Knightley. "That may be done without horses. Come, and

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 strawberrybeds, which seemed a plea for the invitation: but no plea was necessary;

cabbagebeds would have been enough to tempt the lady, who only wanted to be going somewhere. She

promised him again and again to comemuch oftener than he doubtedand 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

"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 carteblanche.I am Lady Patroness, you know. It is my party. I

"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 consideryou 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

"No,"he calmly replied,"there is but one married woman in the world whom I can ever allow to invite

"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

"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 paradea 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 doorsa table spread in the shade, you know. Every thing as natural and simple as possible. Is

"Not quite. My idea of the simple and the natural will be to have the table spread in the diningroom. 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

"Wellas 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

"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 meand

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 knowin 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

"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

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,

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 sensiblemuch cleverer than

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

Under a bright midday sun, at almost Midsummer, Mr. Woodhouse was safely conveyed in his carriage,

with one window down, to partake of this alfresco 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

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 sightand 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

wasand 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 strawberrybeds.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 talkingstrawberries, and

only strawberries, could now be thought or spoken of."The best fruit in England every body's

favouritealways wholesome.These the finest beds and finest sorts.Delightful to gather for one's

selfthe only way of really enjoying them.Morning decidedly the best timenever tired every sort

goodhautboy infinitely superiorno comparison the others hardly eatablehautboys very

scarceChili preferred white wood finest flavour of allprice of strawberries in London abundance

about BristolMaple Grovecultivationbeds when to be renewedgardeners thinking exactly

differentno general rule gardeners never to be put out of their waydelicious fruit only too rich to

be eaten much ofinferior to cherries currants more refreshingonly objection to gathering strawberries

the stoopingglaring suntired to deathcould bear it no longer must go and sit in the shade."

Such, for half an hour, was the conversationinterrupted only once by Mrs. Weston, who came out, in her

solicitude after her soninlaw, to inquire if he were comeand she was a little uneasy. She had some

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 thingand Mrs. Elton was wild to have the offer closed with immediately.On her side, all

was warmth, energy, and triumphand 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 pointedlyand 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

It was a sweet viewsweet to the eye and the mind. English verdure, English culture, English comfort, seen

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 teteatete; 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

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 dependenceand 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

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 fishponds; 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

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 groundplot

of the houseand 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

"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 absentbut 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?"

"But it is too far, indeed it is, to be walking quite alone. Let my father's servant go with you.Let me order

"Thank you, thank youbut on no account.I would rather walk. And for me to be afraid of walking

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

"I am,"she answered"I am fatigued; but it is not the sort of fatiguequick 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

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

gratefuland 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

"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 himbut 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 hoursand 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 italmost wished he had staid at homenothing killed him like heathe could bear

any degree of cold, etc., but heat was intolerableand he sat down, at the greatest possible distance from the

"As soon as I am cooler I shall go back again. I could very ill be sparedbut 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

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

"Nohe 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 sprucebeer, walked off. Emma returned all her

"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

He was gone long enough to have had a very comfortable meal, and came back all the bettergrown quite

cooland, with good manners, like himselfable 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

"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 ator my tour to reador my poem. I shall

"That may bebut not by sketches in Swisserland. You will never go to Swisserland. Your uncle and aunt

"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 fancyI am sick of England and would leave it

"You are sick of prosperity and indulgence. Cannot you invent a few hardships for yourself, and be contented

"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

"We are going to Box Hill tomorrow;you will join us. It is not Swisserland, but it will be something for a

"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

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,

She smiled her acceptance; and nothing less than a summons from Richmond was to take him back before the

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 seeingadmired without intelligencelistened without knowing

what she said. While he was so dull, it was no wonder that Harriet should be dull likewise; and they were

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 forand 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 phraseand 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.

"How much I am obliged to you," said he, "for telling me to come today! 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

"Perhaps I intended you to say so, but I meant selfcommand. You had, somehow or other, broken bounds

yesterday, and run away from your own management; but today you are got back againand 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 selfcommand without a motive. You order me, whether you

"Dating from three o'clock yesterday. My perpetual influence could not begin earlier, or you would not have

"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

Some laughed, and answered goodhumouredly. Miss Bates said a great deal; Mrs. Elton swelled at the idea

"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,)

"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 circleexploring

"Very true, my love, very true. Exactly so, indeedquite unheard of but some ladies say any thing. Better

"It will not do," whispered Frank to Emma; "they are most of them affronted. I will attack them with more

address. Ladies and gentlemenI 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 repeatedor two things moderately clever or three things very dull indeed, and she

"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 goodhumoured dependence on every body's assent)Do not you all think I

"Ah! ma'am, but there may be a difficulty. Pardon mebut you will be limited as to numberonly three at

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!wellto 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

"Low, I am afraid, sir, very low," answered his son;"but we shall be indulgentespecially to any one who

"No, no," said Emma, "it will not reckon low. A conundrum of Mr. Weston's shall clear him and his next

"I doubt its being very clever myself," said Mr. Weston. "It is too much a matter of fact, but here it is.What

"Ah! you will never guess. You, (to Emma), I am certain, will never guess.I will tell you.M. and

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 itand 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 attemptI 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

"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.

"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 luckymarrying 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 giveit 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 illluck. How many a man has committed himself on a short acquaintance,

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

"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

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

"She must be very lively, and have hazle eyes. I care for nothing else. I shall go abroad for a couple of

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

"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 isno, that's somebody else. That's one of the ladies

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 illassorted people, she

While waiting for the carriage, she found Mr. Knightley by her side. He looked around, as if to see that no

"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

"Nay, how could I help saying what I did?Nobody could have helped it. It was not so very bad. I dare say

"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

"Oh!" cried Emma, "I know there is not a better creature in the world: but you must allow, that what is good

"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 herand before her niece, tooand before others, many of

whom (certainly some,) would be entirely guided by your treatment of her.This is not pleasant to you,

Emmaand 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

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 overcomethen 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

expressedalmost 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

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

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 backgammon with her father, was felicity to it. There, indeed, lay real pleasure,

for there she was giving up the sweetest hours of the twentyfour 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 againno, 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

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

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 ableHave 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 beforeless 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 headach 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 fortunatesuch a situation, I suppose, as no young woman

before ever met with on first going outdo 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 youshe is not ableshe 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 doorI was quite ashamed but somehow there was a little bustlefor 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 waitingand 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 solicitudesincerely 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

There was no bearing such an "always;" and to break through her dreadful gratitude, Emma made the direct

"To a Mrs. Smallridgecharming womanmost superiorto have the charge of her three little

girlsdelightful 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

"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 presentand so she told Mrs. Elton

over and over againand 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 waitand, 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."

"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

"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

fatiguingand 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?"

"Whenever the time may come, it must be unwelcome to her and all her friendsbut I hope her engagement

will have every alleviation that is possibleI 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 Groveand 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

"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

"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

"Her friends must all be sorry to lose her; and will not Colonel and Mrs. Campbell be sorry to find that she

"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 teastayno, it could not be

before tea, because we were just going to cardsand yet it was before tea, because I remember

thinkingOh! 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 twentyseven years; and now, poor old man, he is

bedridden, and very poorly with the rheumatic gout in his joints I must go and see him today; 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

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

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 nothingand 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

"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

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,

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

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

"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 her's, 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 itbut 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

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 enjoyedbut it might have happened at a better timeand 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

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

"I am very glad, indeed, my dear, to hear she is to be so comfortably settled. Mrs. Elton is very goodnatured

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 sixandthirty 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.

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 illfame. Mrs. Churchill,

after being disliked at least twentyfive 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

"Poor Mrs. Churchill! no doubt she had been suffering a great deal: more than any body had ever

supposedand continual pain would try the temper. It was a sad eventa great shockwith 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 husbandher mind glanced over

them both with awe and compassionand 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

Harriet behaved extremely well on the occasion, with great selfcommand. 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

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;

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 kindnessand 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 goneand 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 herbe it only an hour or twofrom 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:

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 serviceand 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 bodyany body

at all Mrs. Elton, indeed, could not be deniedand Mrs. Cole had made such a pointand Mrs. Perry had

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

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 takeand, moreover, she insisted on her

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 doubtputting

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,

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

parlourdoor, and hardly asking her how she did, in the natural key of his voice, sunk it immediately, to say,

"Can you come to Randalls at any time this morning?Do, if it be possible. Mrs. Weston wants to see you.

"No, no, not at allonly 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

"Depend upon mebut ask no more questions. You will know it all in time. The most unaccountable

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

"Now,"said Emma, when they were fairly beyond the sweep gates, "now Mr. Weston, do let me know

"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

"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."

"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

"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 businessbut

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

concernsomething 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, perhapsand poor Frank cut off! This, though very undesirable, would be no

"Who is that gentleman on horseback?" said she, as they proceeded speaking more to assist Mr. Weston in

"I do not know.One of the Otways.Not Frank;it is not Frank, I assure you. You will not see him. He

For a moment he was silent; and then added, in a tone much more guarded and demure,

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

Mrs. Weston was looking so ill, and had an air of so much perturbation, that Emma's uneasiness increased;

"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 Emmacannot

"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"

"More than an attachment, indeed," resumed Mrs. Weston; "an engagement a positive

engagement.What will you say, Emmawhat will any body say, when it is known that Frank Churchill

"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 Octoberformed at Weymouth, and kept a secret from every body.

Not a creature knowing it but themselvesneither 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

Emma scarcely heard what was said.Her mind was divided between two ideasher own former

conversations with him about Miss Fairfax; and poor Harriet;and for some time she could only exclaim,

"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

"Engaged since October,secretly engaged.It has hurt me, Emma, very much. It has hurt his father

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

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 himnay, was attachedand 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

"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 otherand we were persuaded that it was so.

"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 didto distinguish any one young woman with persevering attention, as

he certainly didwhile 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

"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

"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

"Impropriety! Oh! Mrs. Westonit 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

"Nay, dear Emma, now I must take his part; for though he has been wrong in this instance, I have known him

"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

"He knew nothing about it, Emma. On this article I can fully acquit him. It was a private resolution of hers,

not communicated to himor 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

"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

"His sufferings," replied Emma dryly, "do not appear to have done him much harm. Well, and how did Mr.

"Most favourably for his nephewgave 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."

"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 timeand 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 agitatedvery much, indeedto 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

"And do you really believe the affair to have been carrying on with such perfect secresy?The Campbells,

"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

"I am quite easy on that head," replied Mrs. Weston. "I am very sure that I never said any thing of either to

"You are in luck.Your only blunder was confined to my ear, when you imagined a certain friend of ours in

"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 itand, 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

"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

"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

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.

"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

herselfvery 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

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 illhealth 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

selfcommand, 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

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

"Well, Miss Woodhouse!" cried Harriet, coming eagerly into the room "is not this the oddest news that

"What news do you mean?" replied Emma, unable to guess, by look or voice, whether Harriet could indeed

"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."

"Oh! he told me all about it; that Jane Fairfax and Mr. Frank Churchill are to be married, and that they have

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

"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 wastacitly, 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

"Me!" cried Harriet, colouring, and astonished. "Why should you caution me?You do not think I care

"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 timeand not very distant eitherwhen you gave me reason to understand that you

"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

She could not speak another word.Her voice was lost; and she sat down, waiting in great terror till Harriet

Harriet, who was standing at some distance, and with face turned from her, did not immediately say any

"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 toI should not have thought

"Harriet!" cried Emma, collecting herself resolutely"Let us understand each other now, without the

"To be sure I am. I never could have an idea of any body else and so I thought you knew. When we talked

"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."

"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

"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 gipsiesit 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

"Good God!" cried Emma, "this has been a most unfortunate most deplorable mistake!What is to be

"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 nowit is possible"

"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 supposingthat 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

reallyif 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

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 admittedshe 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

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. Knightleybut 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 maintainedor 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.

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

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 limewalk 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 himselfand 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 Hartfieldthough, when he first came in, he had said that he

could not stay five minutesand 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

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

"Mr. Martin! No indeed!There was not a hint of Mr. Martin. I hope I know better now, than to care for Mr.

When Harriet had closed her evidence, she appealed to her dear Miss Woodhouse, to say whether she had not

"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 mineand so I have. But now I seem to feel that I may deserve

The bitter feelings occasioned by this speech, the many bitter feelings, made the utmost exertion necessary on

"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 alarmedshe had better go;"with most ready

encouragement from her friend, therefore, she passed off through another doorand 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

shrubberyin 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 twocompared

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 heartand, 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 herher affection for Mr. Knightley. Every

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 nothingfor 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

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 firstrate 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, incongruousor 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

selfconsequence 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

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 ownbut 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

offencebut far, far too strongly to issue from any feeling softer than upright justice and clearsighted

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

sakebe 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

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 givenfrightfully 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 othersshe objected only to a teteatetethey might be able to act as if they had forgotten the

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 twentyfour hoursMrs. Weston, who had been

calling on her daughterinlaw 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,

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 shortand 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, heartfelt satisfaction of the old lady, and the rapturous delight of

her daughterwho 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

"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."

"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 beenhard 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 youI could not thank you too muchfor every wish and every

endeavour to do her good. She was sensible that you had never received any proper acknowledgment from

"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

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

"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 otherwhat 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 probablestill, 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

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 teteatete, on the evening of Mrs. Weston's weddingday; 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

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

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 secondsand 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.

The weather continued much the same all the following morning; and the same loneliness, and the same

melancholy, seemed to reign at Hartfieldbut 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 ill 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 diningroom, 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

"You have some news to hear, now you are come back, that will rather surprize you."

After waiting a moment, as if to be sure she intended to say no more, he replied,

"How is it possible?" cried Emma, turning her glowing cheeks towards him; for, while she spoke, it occurred

"I had a few lines on parish business from Mr. Weston this morning, and at the end of them he gave me a

"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 itbut(with a sinking voice

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

"Time, my dearest Emma, time will heal the wound.Your own excellent senseyour exertions for your

father's sakeI 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 friendshipIndignationAbominable

scoundrel!" And in a louder, steadier tone, he concluded with, "He will soon be gone. They will soon be in

Emma understood him; and as soon as she could recover from the flutter of pleasure, excited by such tender

"You are very kindbut you are mistakenand 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

youforgive meI 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 preferenceand a preference

which I never believed him to deserve.He is a disgrace to the name of man.And is he to be rewarded

"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

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

"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, probablya common caseand 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. Westonhe was continually hereI always

found him very pleasantand, in short, for (with a sigh) let me swell out the causes ever so ingeniously, they

all centre in this at lastmy vanity was flattered, and I allowed his attentions. Latterly, howeverfor 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 myselfexcept that I was not blindedthat it was

She had hoped for an answer herefor 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 illand

for her sake, whose happiness will be involved in his good character and conduct, I shall certainly wish him

"I have no doubt of their being happy together," said Emma; "I believe them to be very mutually and very

"He is a most fortunate man!" returned Mr. Knightley, with energy. "So early in lifeat

threeandtwentya period when, if a man chuses a wife, he generally chuses ill. At threeandtwenty 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 womanthe disinterested love, for Jane Fairfax's character vouches for her

disinterestedness; every thing in his favour, equality of situationI 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 wateringplace, gains her affection, cannot even weary her by negligent

treatmentand 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 illand they are all delighted to forgive him.

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 differentthe

children in Brunswick Square; and she only waited for breath to begin, when Mr. Knightley startled her, by

"You will not ask me what is the point of envy.You are determined, I see, to have no curiosity.You are

wisebut I cannot be wise. Emma, I must tell you what you will not ask, though I may wish it unsaid the

"Oh! then, don't speak it, don't speak it," she eagerly cried. "Take a little time, consider, do not commit

"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.

"No,"replied Emmaquite 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 contemplationas 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 wordNo, I have no wishStay, 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

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 Emmatell 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

"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

While he spoke, Emma's mind was most busy, and, with all the wonderful velocity of thought, had been

ableand 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

ownthat 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 despairand 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 hopehe 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

Her change was equal.This one halfhour 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

longstanding 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 Emmadiffering 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 daytill 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

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

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

They sat down to teathe 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 selfcontentment, 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 subduedand 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 fatherand 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, andindulging 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

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 Randallsa 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.

"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 northeast 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.

"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 thingto 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 objectbut 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 womanHere, 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 writingdesk; 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,

andmay 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,

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 supposedand he had suffered, and was very sorryand 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

"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 beganstopping, however, almost directly to say, "Had I been offered the sight of one of this

gentleman's letters to his motherinlaw a few months ago, Emma, it would not have been taken with such

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

"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"

"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

"And I have not forgotten," said Emma, "how sure you were that he might have come sooner if he would.

"I was not quite impartial in my judgment, Emma:but yet, I think had you not been in the caseI

When he came to Miss Woodhouse, he was obliged to read the whole of it aloudall 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 badthough 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; Finessehow they

pervert the understanding! My Emma, does not every thing serve to prove more and more the beauty of truth

Emma agreed to it, and with a blush of sensibility on Harriet's account, which she could not give any sincere

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

After this, he made some progress without any pause. Frank Churchill's confession of having behaved

"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

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 painno 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

"I hope he does," replied Mr. Knightley coolly, and resuming the letter. "`Smallridge!'What does this

"She had engaged to go as governess to Mrs. Smallridge's children a dear friend of Mrs. Elton'sa

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 readnot even of Mrs. Elton. Only one page more. I

"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 endingand there is the

"You do not appear so well satisfied with his letter as I am; but still you must, at least I hope you must, think

"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

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 liferequired 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

"Ah! there is one difficulty unprovided for," cried Emma. "I am sure William Larkins will not like it. You

She promised, however, to think of it; and pretty nearly promised, moreover, to think of it, with the intention

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

heirexpectant 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

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

It was a very great relief to Emma to find Harriet as desirous as herself to avoid a meeting. Their intercourse

Harriet expressed herself very much as might be supposed, without reproaches, or apparent sense of

illusage; 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 herand 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

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

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,

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

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 goand 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

She wentshe 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

"This is most kind, indeed!Miss Woodhouse, it is impossible for me to expressI hope you will

Emma was gratified, and would soon have shewn no want of words, if the sound of Mrs. Elton's voice from

the sittingroom had not checked her, and made it expedient to compress all her friendly and all her

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

Now I say, my dear, in our case, for lady, readmum! 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

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 sideglance 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!

"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

seemthat 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

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

"Thank you, dear Miss Woodhouse, you are all kindness.It is impossible to sayYes, indeed, I quite

understanddearest 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 isso 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

"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

"What! are we to have the pleasure of a call from Mr. Elton? That will be a favour indeed! for I know

"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

"He promised to come to me as soon as he could disengage himself from Knightley; but he and Knightley are

Emma would not have smiled for the world, and only said, "Is Mr. Elton gone on foot to Donwell?He will

"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

tomorrow.Mr. Knightley was at Hartfield yesterday, and spoke of it as for Saturday."

"Oh! no, the meeting is certainly today," 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

"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 fiveandtwenty 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

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

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

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

"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

"No, no, that's tomorrow; and I particularly wanted to see Knightley today on that very account.Such a

dreadful broiling morning! I went over the fields too(speaking in a tone of great illusage,) 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

Emma amused herself by protesting that it was very extraordinary, indeed, and that she had not a syllable to

"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 today; and it

becomes a matter, therefore, of very serious inconvenience that I should have had this hot walk to no

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,

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

"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 toI 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, unfortunatelyin

"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

"You are very kind, but I know what my manners were to you. So cold and artificial!I had always a part

"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

"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.

"Nothing can be actually settled yet, perhaps," replied Emma, smiling"but, excuse me, it must be thought

"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

Mrs. Weston's friends were all made happy by her safety; and if the satisfaction of her welldoing 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 henceto 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

"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

"That is," replied Mr. Knightley, "she will indulge her even more than she did you, and believe that she does

"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

"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

"I am sure you were of use to me," cried Emma. "I was very often influenced rightly by youoftener 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

"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 soandso; 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

"`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."

"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

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 folliesher

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

"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

"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

"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

"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

"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

"If I understand your brother, he only means so far as your having some thoughts of marrying. He had no idea

"Yes, yesbut 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

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 obtainedwhich, 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

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

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 lightfirst, 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, perhapsit 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 impedimentless acknowledged by Mr. Weston than by

herselfbut 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

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

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

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

Time passed on. A few more tomorrows, 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

"I am afraid," said he, composing his features, "I am very much afraid, my dear Emma, that you will not

"Indeed! but why so?I can hardly imagine that any thing which pleases or amuses you, should not please

"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

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."

"You are prepared for the worst, I seeand 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

"It is so, indeed," continued Mr. Knightley; "I have it from Robert Martin himself. He left me not half an hour

"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

"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

"I mean that he has done it," answered Mr. Knightley, with smiling but determined decision, "and been

"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 surprizedbut it does not make me unhappy, I assure

"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, Johnand 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 daywhich he didand 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

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

"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 evilbut 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 broadlyshe

"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,

"You ought to know your friend best," replied Mr. Knightley; "but I should say she was a goodtempered,

softhearted 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 timebut can she already? Did not you misunderstand him?You were both

talking of other things; of business, shows of cattle, or new drillsand might not you, in the confusion of so

many subjects, mistake him?It was not Harriet's hand that he was certain ofit was the dimensions of

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

"Do you dare say this?" cried Mr. Knightley. "Do you dare to suppose me so great a blockhead, as not to

"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

"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

"I am perfectly satisfied," replied Emma, with the brightest smiles, "and most sincerely wish them happy."

"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."

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

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

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

Now there would be pleasure in her returningEvery thing would be a pleasure. It would be a great pleasure

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

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

They arrived.Mrs. Weston was alone in the drawingroom: 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

"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 tomorrow, and Miss Fairfax has been persuaded to spend the

In half a minute they were in the room. Emma was extremely glad to see himbut there was a degree of

confusiona 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

He thanked her with all his heart, and continued some time to speak with serious feeling of his gratitude and

"Is not she looking well?" said he, turning his eyes towards Jane. "Better than she ever used to do?You see

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.

"The shame," he answered, "is all mine, or ought to be. But is it possible that you had no suspicion?I mean

"That appears quite wonderful. I was once very nearand 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."

"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 heris not it hard, Miss

Woodhouse? Till this morning, we have not once met since the day of reconciliation. Do not you pity

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

"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 eyelashes 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?"

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

"Oh! no, no, nohow 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

"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

"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

Emma soon recollected, and understood him; and while she joined in the laugh, it was evident from Jane's

"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 herthat she can attend to nothing else, though pretending to

Jane was forced to smile completely, for a moment; and the smile partly remained as she turned towards him,

"How you can bear such recollections, is astonishing to me! They will sometimes obtrudebut how you

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.

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 satisfiedunaccountable as it was! that Robert Martin had thoroughly

Harriet was a little distresseddid look a little foolish at first: but having once owned that she had been

presumptuous and silly, and selfdeceived, 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

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. Knightleyor for the Churchillsor even for Mr. Elton! The stain of illegitimacy,

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 goodtempered 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

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

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. Woodhousehow was Mr. Woodhouse to be induced to

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 hesitatedshe

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 poultryhouse was robbed one night of all her turkeys evidently by the ingenuity of man. Other

poultryyards in the neighbourhood also suffered.Pilfering was housebreaking to Mr. Woodhouse's

fears.He was very uneasy; and but for the sense of his soninlaw'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 weddingdayand 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

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