Chapter VII

They had a very fine day for Box Hill; and all the other outward circum stances of arrangem ent, accom m odation, 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 tim e. Em m a and Harriet went together; Miss Bates and her niece, with the Eltons; the gentlem en on horseback. Mrs. Weston rem ained with Mr. Woodhouse. Nothing was wanting but to be happy when they got there. Seven m iles were travelled in expectation of enj oy m ent, and every body had a burst of adm iration on first arriving; but in the general am ount 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 m uch into parties. The Eltons walked together; Mr. Knightley took charge of Miss Bates and Jane; and Em m a and Harriet belonged to Frank Churchill. And Mr. Weston tried, in vain, to m ake them harm onise better. It seem ed at first an accidental division, but it never m aterially varied. Mr. and Mrs. Elton, indeed, shewed no unwillingness to m ix, and be as agreeable as they could; but during the two whole hours that were spent on the hill, there seem ed a principle of separation, between the other parties, too strong for any fine prospects, or any cold collation, or any cheerful Mr. Weston, to rem ove.

At first it was downright dulness to Em m a. She had never seen Frank Churchill so silent and stupid. He said nothing worth hearing – looked without seeing – adm ired without intelligence – listened without knowing what she said.

While he was so dull, it was no wonder that Harriet should be dull likewise; and they were both insufferable.

When they all sat down it was better; to her taste a great deal better, for Frank Churchill grew talkative and gay, m aking her his first obj ect. Every distinguishing attention that could be paid, was paid to her. To am use her, and be agreeable in her ey es, seem ed all that he cared for – and Em m a, glad to be enlivened, not sorry to be flattered, was gay and easy too, and gave him all the friendly encouragem ent, the adm ission to be gallant, which she had ever given in the first and m ost anim ating period of their acquaintance; but which now, in her own estim ation, m eant nothing, though in the j udgm ent of m ost people looking on it m ust 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 lay ing them selves open to that very phrase – and to having it sent off in a letter to Maple Grove by one lady, to Ireland by another.

Not that Em m a 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, adm iration, or play fulness, extrem ely j udicious, they were not winning back her heart. She still intended him for her friend.

“How m uch I am obliged to y ou,” said he, “for telling m e to com e to-day ! – If it had not been for y ou, I should certainly have lost all the happiness of this party. I had quite determ ined to go away again.”

“Yes, y ou were very cross; and I do not know what about, except that y ou were too late for the best strawberries. I was a kinder friend than y ou deserved. But y ou were hum ble. You begged hard to be com m anded to com e.”

“Don’t say I was cross. I was fatigued. The heat overcam e m e.”

“It is hotter to-day.”

“Not to m y feelings. I am perfectly com fortable to-day.”

“You are com fortable because y ou are under com m and.”

“Your com m and? – Yes.”

“Perhaps I intended y ou to say so, but I m eant self-com m and. You had, som ehow or other, broken bounds y esterday, and run away from y our own m anagem ent; but to-day y ou are got back again – and as I cannot be alway s with y ou, it is best to believe y our tem per under y our own com m and rather than m ine.”

“It com es to the sam e thing. I can have no self-com m and without a m otive. You order m e, whether y ou speak or not. And y ou can be alway s with m e. You are alway s with m e.”

“Dating from three o’clock y esterday. My perpetual influence could not begin earlier, or y ou would not have been so m uch out of hum our before.”

“Three o’clock y esterday ! That is y our date. I thought I had seen y ou first in February.”

“Your gallantry is really unanswerable. But (lowering her voice) –

nobody speaks except ourselves, and it is rather too m uch to be talking nonsense for the entertainm ent of seven silent people.”

“I say nothing of which I am asham ed,” replied he, with lively im pudence. “I saw y ou first in February. Let every body on the Hill hear m e if they can. Let m y accents swell to Mickleham on one side, and Dorking on the other. I saw y ou first in February.” And then whispering – “Our com panions are excessively stupid. What shall we do to rouse them ? Any nonsense will serve.

They shall talk. Ladies and gentlem en, I am ordered by Miss Woodhouse (who, wherever she is, presides) to say, that she desires to know what y ou are all thinking of?”

Som e laughed, and answered good-hum ouredly. Miss Bates said a great deal; Mrs. Elton swelled at the idea of Miss Woodhouse’s presiding; Mr.

Knightley ’s answer was the m ost distinct.

“Is Miss Woodhouse sure that she would like to hear what we are all thinking of?”

“Oh! no, no” – cried Em m a, laughing as carelessly as she could –

“Upon no account in the world. It is the very last thing I would stand the brunt of j ust now. Let m e hear any thing rather than what y ou are all thinking of. I will not say quite all. There are one or two, perhaps, (glancing at Mr. Weston and Harriet,) whose thoughts I m ight not be afraid of knowing.”

“It is a sort of thing,” cried Mrs. Elton em phatically, “which I should not have thought m y self privileged to inquire into. Though, perhaps, as the Chaperon of the party – I never was in any circle – exploring parties – y oung ladies –

m arried wom en – “

Her m utterings were chiefly to her husband; and he m urm ured, in reply,

“Very true, m y love, very true. Exactly so, indeed – quite unheard of –

but som e ladies say any thing. Better pass it off as a j oke. Every body knows what is due to y ou.”

“It will not do,” whispered Frank to Em m a; “they are m ost of them affronted. I will attack them with m ore address. Ladies and gentlem en – I am ordered by Miss Woodhouse to say, that she waives her right of knowing exactly what y ou m ay all be thinking of, and only requires som ething very entertaining from each of y ou, in a general way. Here are seven of y ou, besides m y self, (who, she is pleased to say, am very entertaining already,) and she only dem ands from each of y ou either one thing very clever, be it prose or verse, original or repeated – or two things m oderately clever – or three things very dull indeed, and she engages to laugh heartily at them all.”

“Oh! very well,” exclaim ed Miss Bates, “then I need not be uneasy.

‘Three things very dull indeed.’ That will j ust do for m e, y ou know. I shall be sure to say three dull things as soon as ever I open m y m outh, shan’t I? (looking round with the m ost good-hum oured dependence on every body ’s assent) – Do not y ou all think I shall?”

Em m a could not resist.

“Ah! m a’am , but there m ay be a difficulty. Pardon m e – but y ou will be lim ited as to num ber – only three at once.”

Miss Bates, deceived by the m ock cerem ony of her m anner, did not im m ediately catch her m eaning; but, when it burst on her, it could not anger, though a slight blush shewed that it could pain her.

“Ah! – well – to be sure. Yes, I see what she m eans, (turning to Mr.

Knightley,) and I will try to hold m y tongue. I m ust m ake m y self very disagreeable, or she would not have said such a thing to an old friend.”

“I like y our plan,” cried Mr. Weston. “Agreed, agreed. I will do m y best. I am m aking a conundrum . How will a conundrum reckon?”

“Low, I am afraid, sir, very low,” answered his son; – “but we shall be indulgent – especially to any one who leads the way.”

“No, no,” said Em m a, “it will not reckon low. A conundrum of Mr.

Weston’s shall clear him and his next neighbour. Com e, sir, pray let m e hear it.”

“I doubt its being very clever m y self,” said Mr. Weston. “It is too m uch a m atter of fact, but here it is. – What two letters of the alphabet are there, that express perfection?”

“What two letters! – express perfection! I am sure I do not know.”

“Ah! y ou will never guess. You, (to Em m a), I am certain, will never guess. – I will tell y ou. – M. and A. – Em -m a. – Do y ou understand?”

Understanding and gratification cam e together. It m ight be a very indifferent piece of wit, but Em m a found a great deal to laugh at and enj oy in it –

and so did Frank and Harriet. – It did not seem to touch the rest of the party equally ; som e 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 him self; but he m ust have knocked up every body else.

Perfection should not have com e quite so soon.”

“Oh! for m y self, I protest I m ust be excused,” said Mrs. Elton; “I really cannot attem pt – I am not at all fond of the sort of thing. I had an acrostic once sent to m e upon m y own nam e, which I was not at all pleased with. I knew who it cam e from . An abom inable puppy ! – You know who I m ean (nodding to her husband). These kind of things are very well at Christm as, when one is sitting round the fire; but quite out of place, in m y opinion, when one is exploring about the country in sum m er. Miss Woodhouse m ust excuse m e. 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 m y own way, but I really m ust be allowed to j udge when to speak and when to hold m y tongue. Pass us, if y ou please, Mr. Churchill.

Pass Mr. E., Knightley, Jane, and m y self. We have nothing clever to say – not one of us.

“Yes, y es, pray pass m e,” added her husband, with a sort of sneering consciousness; “I have nothing to say that can entertain Miss Woodhouse, or any other y oung lady. An old m arried m an – quite good for nothing. Shall we walk, Augusta?”

“With all m y heart. I am really tired of exploring so long on one spot.

Com e, Jane, take m y other arm .”

Jane declined it, however, and the husband and wife walked off.

“Happy couple!” said Frank Churchill, as soon as they were out of hearing: –

“How well they suit one another! – Very lucky – m arry ing as they did, upon an acquaintance form ed only in a public place! – They only knew each other, I think, a few weeks in Bath! Peculiarly lucky ! – for as to any real knowledge of a person’s disposition that Bath, or any public place, can give – it is all nothing; there can be no knowledge. It is only by seeing wom en in their own hom es, am ong their own set, j ust as they alway s are, that y ou can form any j ust j udgm ent.

Short of that, it is all guess and luck – and will generally be ill-luck. How m any a m an has com m itted him self on a short acquaintance, and rued it all the rest of his life!”

Miss Fairfax, who had seldom spoken before, except am ong her own confederates, spoke now.

“Such things do occur, undoubtedly.” – She was stopped by a cough.

Frank Churchill turned towards her to listen.

“You were speaking,” said he, gravely. She recovered her voice.

“I was only going to observe, that though such unfortunate circum stances do som etim es occur both to m en and wom en, I cannot im agine them to be very frequent. A hasty and im prudent attachm ent m ay arise – but there is generally tim e to recover from it afterwards. I would be understood to m ean, that it can be only weak, irresolute characters, (whose happiness m ust be alway s at the m ercy of chance,) who will suffer an unfortunate acquaintance to be an inconvenience, an oppression for ever.”

He m ade no answer; m erely looked, and bowed in subm ission; and soon afterwards said, in a lively tone,

“Well, I have so little confidence in m y own j udgm ent, that whenever I m arry, I hope som e body will chuse m y wife for m e. Will y ou? (turning to Em m a.) Will y ou chuse a wife for m e? – I am sure I should like any body fixed on by y ou. You provide for the fam ily, y ou know, (with a sm ile at his father). Find som e body for m e. I am in no hurry. Adopt her, educate her.”

“And m ake her like m y self.”

“By all m eans, if y ou can.”

“Very well. I undertake the com m ission. You shall have a charm ing wife.”

“She m ust be very lively, and have hazle ey es. I care for nothing else. I shall go abroad for a couple of y ears – and when I return, I shall com e to y ou for m y wife. Rem em ber.”

Em m a was in no danger of forgetting. It was a com m ission to touch every favourite feeling. Would not Harriet be the very creature described? Hazle ey es excepted, two y ears m ore m ight m ake her all that he wished. He m ight even have Harriet in his thoughts at the m om ent; who could say ? Referring the education to her seem ed to im ply it.

“Now, m a’am ,” said Jane to her aunt, “shall we j oin Mrs. Elton?”

“If y ou please, m y dear. With all m y heart. I am quite ready. I was ready to have gone with her, but this will do j ust as well. We shall soon overtake her. There she is – no, that’s som ebody else. That’s one of the ladies in the Irish car party, not at all like her. – Well, I declare – “

They walked off, followed in half a m inute by Mr. Knightley. Mr.

Weston, his son, Em m a, and Harriet, only rem ained; and the y oung m an’s spirits now rose to a pitch alm ost unpleasant. Even Em m a grew tired at last of flattery and m errim ent, and wished herself rather walking quietly about with any of the others, or sitting alm ost 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 j oy ful 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 hom e which was to close the very questionable enj oy m ents of this day of pleasure. Such another schem e, com posed of so m any ill-assorted people, she hoped never to be betray ed into again.

While waiting for the carriage, she found Mr. Knightley by her side. He looked around, as if to see that no one were near, and then said,

“Em m a, I m ust once m ore speak to y ou as I have been used to do: a privilege rather endured than allowed, perhaps, but I m ust still use it. I cannot see y ou acting wrong, without a rem onstrance. How could y ou be so unfeeling to Miss Bates? How could y ou be so insolent in y our wit to a wom an of her character, age, and situation? – Em m a, I had not thought it possible.”

Em m a recollected, blushed, was sorry, but tried to laugh it off.

“Nay, how could I help say ing what I did? – Nobody could have helped it. It was not so very bad. I dare say she did not understand m e.”

“I assure y ou she did. She felt y our full m eaning. She has talked of it since. I wish y ou could have heard how she talked of it – with what candour and generosity. I wish y ou could have heard her honouring y our forbearance, in being able to pay her such attentions, as she was for ever receiving from y ourself and y our father, when her society m ust be so irksom e.”

“Oh!” cried Em m a, “I know there is not a better creature in the world: but y ou m ust allow, that what is good and what is ridiculous are m ost unfortunately blended in her.”

“They are blended,” said he, “I acknowledge; and, were she prosperous, I could allow m uch for the occasional prevalence of the ridiculous over the good. Were she a wom an of fortune, I would leave every harm less absurdity to take its chance, I would not quarrel with y ou for any liberties of m anner. Were she y our equal in situation – but, Em m a, consider how far this is from being the case. She is poor; she has sunk from the com forts she was born to; and, if she live to old age, m ust probably sink m ore. Her situation should secure y our com passion. 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 y ou now, in thoughtless spirits, and the pride of the m om ent, laugh at her, hum ble her – and before her niece, too – and before others, m any of whom (certainly som e,) would be entirely guided by y our treatm ent of her. –

This is not pleasant to y ou, Em m a – and it is very far from pleasant to m e; but I m ust, I will, – I will tell y ou truths while I can; satisfied with proving m y self y our friend by very faithful counsel, and trusting that y ou will som e tim e or other do m e greater j ustice than y ou can do now.”

While they talked, they were advancing towards the carriage; it was ready ; and, before she could speak again, he had handed her in. He had m isinterpreted the feelings which had kept her face averted, and her tongue m otionless. They were com bined only of anger against herself, m ortification, and deep concern. She had not been able to speak; and, on entering the carriage, sunk back for a m om ent overcom e – then reproaching herself for having taken no leave, m aking no acknowledgm ent, parting in apparent sullenness, she looked out with voice and hand eager to shew a difference; but it was j ust too late. He had turned away, and the horses were in m otion. 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 bey ond what could have been expressed – alm ost bey ond what she could conceal. Never had she felt so agitated, m ortified, grieved, at any circum stance in her life. She was m ost forcibly struck. The truth of this representation there was no deny ing. 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 say ing one word of gratitude, of concurrence, of com m on kindness!