Chapter VIII

Tim e did not com pose her. As she reflected m ore, she seem ed but to feel it m ore. She never had been so depressed. Happily it was not necessary to speak. There was only Harriet, who seem ed not in spirits herself, fagged, and very willing to be silent; and Em m a felt the tears running down her cheeks alm ost all the way hom e, without being at any trouble to check them , extraordinary as they were.

CHAPTER VIII

The wretchedness of a schem e to Box Hill was in Em m a’s thoughts all the evening. How it m ight be considered by the rest of the party, she could not tell. They, in their different hom es, and their different way s, m ight be looking back on it with pleasure; but in her view it was a m orning m ore com pletely m isspent, m ore totally bare of rational satisfaction at the tim e, and m ore to be abhorred in recollection, than any she had ever passed. A whole evening of backgam m on with her father, was felicity to it. There, indeed, lay real pleasure, for there she was giving up the sweetest hours of the twenty -four to his com fort; and feeling that, unm erited as m ight 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 y ou be so unfeeling to y our father? – I m ust, I will tell y ou truths while I can.” Miss Bates should never again – no, never! If attention, in future, could do away the past, she m ight hope to be forgiven. She had been often rem iss, her conscience told her so; rem iss, perhaps, m ore in thought than fact; scornful, ungracious. But it should be so no m ore. In the warm th of true contrition, she would call upon her the very next m orning, and it should be the beginning, on her side, of a regular, equal, kindly intercourse.

She was j ust as determ ined when the m orrow cam e, and went early, that nothing m ight prevent her. It was not unlikely, she thought, that she m ight see Mr. Knightley in her way ; or, perhaps, he m ight com e in while she were pay ing her visit. She had no obj ection. She would not be asham ed of the appearance of the penitence, so j ustly and truly hers. Her ey es were towards Donwell as she walked, but she saw him not.

“The ladies were all at hom e.” She had never rej oiced at the sound before, nor ever before entered the passage, nor walked up the stairs, with any wish of giving pleasure, but in conferring obligation, or of deriving it, except in subsequent ridicule.

There was a bustle on her approach; a good deal of m oving and talking.

She heard Miss Bates’s voice, som ething was to be done in a hurry ; the m aid looked frightened and awkward; hoped she would be pleased to wait a m om ent, and then ushered her in too soon. The aunt and niece seem ed both escaping into the adj oining room . Jane she had a distinct glim pse of, looking extrem ely ill; and, before the door had shut them out, she heard Miss Bates say ing, “Well, m y dear, I shall say y ou are laid down upon the bed, and I am sure y ou are ill enough.”

Poor old Mrs. Bates, civil and hum ble 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 m e she is well. I dare say m y daughter will be here presently, Miss Woodhouse. I hope y ou find a chair. I wish Hetty had not gone. I am very little able – Have y ou a chair, m a’am ? Do y ou sit where y ou like? I am sure she will be here presently.”

Em m a seriously hoped she would. She had a m om ent’s fear of Miss Bates keeping away from her. But Miss Bates soon cam e – “Very happy and obliged” – but Em m a’s conscience told her that there was not the sam e cheerful volubility as before – less ease of look and m anner. A very friendly inquiry after Miss Fairfax, she hoped, m ight lead the way to a return of old feelings. The touch seem ed im m ediate.

“Ah! Miss Woodhouse, how kind y ou are! – I suppose y ou have heard –

and are com e to give us j oy. This does not seem m uch like j oy, indeed, in m e –

(twinkling away a tear or two) – but it will be very try ing for us to part with her, after having had her so long, and she has a dreadful headache j ust now, writing all the m orning: – such long letters, y ou know, to be written to Colonel Cam pbell, and Mrs. Dixon. ‘My dear,’ said I, ‘y ou will blind y ourself ’ – for tears were in her ey es perpetually. One cannot wonder, one cannot wonder. It is a great change; and though she is am azingly fortunate – such a situation, I suppose, as no y oung wom an before ever m et with on first going out – do not think us ungrateful, Miss Woodhouse, for such surprising good fortune – (again dispersing her tears) – but, poor dear soul! if y ou were to see what a headache she has. When one is in great pain, y ou know one cannot feel any blessing quite as it m ay 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 com ing to y ou – she is not able – she is gone into her own room – I want her to lie down upon the bed. ‘My dear,’ said I, ‘I shall say y ou 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 say s she shall soon be well. She will be extrem ely sorry to m iss seeing y ou, Miss Woodhouse, but y our kindness will excuse her. You were kept waiting at the door –

I was quite asham ed – but som ehow there was a little bustle – for it so happened that we had not heard the knock, and till y ou were on the stairs, we did not know any body was com ing. ‘It is only Mrs. Cole,’ said I, ‘depend upon it. Nobody else would com e so early.’

‘Well,’ said she, ‘it m ust be borne som e tim e or other, and it m ay as well be now.’ But then Patty cam e in, and said it was y ou. ‘Oh!’ said I, ‘it is Miss Woodhouse: I am sure y ou will like to see her.’ – ‘I can see nobody,’ said she; and up she got, and would go away ; and that was what m ade us keep y ou waiting – and extrem ely sorry and asham ed we were. ‘If y ou m ust go, m y dear,’

said I, ‘y ou m ust, and I will say y ou are laid down upon the bed.’”

Em m a was m ost sincerely interested. Her heart had been long growing kinder towards Jane; and this picture of her present sufferings acted as a cure of every form er ungenerous suspicion, and left her nothing but pity ; and the rem em brance of the less j ust and less gentle sensations of the past, obliged her to adm it that Jane m ight very naturally resolve on seeing Mrs. Cole or any other steady friend, when she m ight not bear to see herself. She spoke as she felt, with earnest regret and solicitude – sincerely wishing that the circum stances which she collected from Miss Bates to be now actually determ ined on, m ight be as m uch for Miss Fairfax’s advantage and com fort as possible. “It m ust be a severe trial to them all. She had understood it was to be delay ed till Colonel Cam pbell’s return.”

“So very kind!” replied Miss Bates. “But y ou are alway s kind.”

There was no bearing such an “alway s;” and to break through her dreadful gratitude, Em m a m ade the direct inquiry of –

“Where – m ay I ask? – is Miss Fairfax going?”

“To a Mrs. Sm allridge – charm ing wom an – m ost superior – to have the charge of her three little girls – delightful children. Im possible that any situation could be m ore replete with com fort; if we except, perhaps, Mrs. Suckling’s own fam ily, and Mrs. Bragge’s; but Mrs. Sm allridge is intim ate with both, and in the very sam e neighbourhood: – lives only four m iles from Maple Grove. Jane will be only four m iles from Maple Grove.”

“Mrs. Elton, I suppose, has been the person to whom Miss Fairfax owes

– “

“Yes, our good Mrs. Elton. The m ost 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 y esterday, the very m orning we were at Donwell,) when Jane first heard of it, she was quite decided against accepting the offer, and for the reasons y ou m ention; exactly as y ou say, she had m ade up her m ind to close with nothing till Colonel Cam pbell’s return, and nothing should induce her to enter into any engagem ent at present – and so she told Mrs. Elton over and over again – and I am sure I had no m ore idea that she would change her m ind! – but that good Mrs. Elton, whose j udgm ent 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 y esterday, as Jane wished her; she would wait – and, sure enough, y esterday evening it was all settled that Jane should go. Quite a surprize to m e! I had not the least idea! – Jane took Mrs. Elton aside, and told her at once, that upon thinking over the advantages of Mrs. Sm allridge’s situation, she had com e to the resolution of accepting it. – I did not know a word of it till it was all settled.”

“You spent the evening with Mrs. Elton?”

“Yes, all of us; Mrs. Elton would have us com e. It was settled so, upon the hill, while we were walking about with Mr. Knightley. ‘You m ust all spend y our evening with us,’ said she – ‘I positively m ust have y ou all com e.’”

“Mr. Knightley was there too, was he?”

“No, not Mr. Knightley ; he declined it from the first; and though I thought he would com e, because Mrs. Elton declared she would not let him off, he did not; – but m y m other, and Jane, and I, were all there, and a very agreeable evening we had. Such kind friends, y ou know, Miss Woodhouse, one m ust alway s find agreeable, though every body seem ed rather fagged after the m orning’s party. Even pleasure, y ou know, is fatiguing – and I cannot say that any of them seem ed very m uch to have enj oy ed it. However, I shall alway s think it a very pleasant party, and feel extrem ely obliged to the kind friends who included m e in it.”

“Miss Fairfax, I suppose, though y ou were not aware of it, had been m aking up her m ind the whole day ?”

“I dare say she had.”

“Whenever the tim e m ay com e, it m ust be unwelcom e to her and all her friends – but I hope her engagem ent will have every alleviation that is possible – I m ean, as to the character and m anners of the fam ily.”

“Thank y ou, dear Miss Woodhouse. Yes, indeed, there is every thing in the world that can m ake her happy in it. Except the Sucklings and Bragges, there is not such another nursery establishm ent, so liberal and elegant, in all Mrs. Elton’s acquaintance. Mrs. Sm allridge, a m ost delightful wom an! – A sty le of living alm ost equal to Maple Grove – and as to the children, except the little Sucklings and little Bragges, there are not such elegant sweet children any where. 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 nam e her salary to y ou, Miss Woodhouse. Even y ou, used as y ou are to great sum s, would hardly believe that so m uch could be given to a y oung person like Jane.”

“Ah! m adam ,” cried Em m a, “if other children are at all like what I rem em ber to have been m y self, I should think five tim es the am ount of what I have ever y et heard nam ed as a salary on such occasions, dearly earned.”

“You are so noble in y our ideas!”

“And when is Miss Fairfax to leave y ou?”

“Very soon, very soon, indeed; that’s the worst of it. Within a fortnight.

Mrs. Sm allridge is in a great hurry. My poor m other does not know how to bear it.

So then, I try to put it out of her thoughts, and say, Com e m a’am , do not let us think about it any m ore.”

“Her friends m ust all be sorry to lose her; and will not Colonel and Mrs.

Cam pbell be sorry to find that she has engaged herself before their return?”

“Yes; Jane say s she is sure they will; but y et, this is such a situation as she cannot feel herself j ustified in declining. I was so astonished when she first told m e what she had been say ing to Mrs. Elton, and when Mrs. Elton at the sam e m om ent cam e congratulating m e upon it! It was before tea – stay – no, it could not be before tea, because we were j ust going to cards – and y et it was before tea, because I rem em ber thinking – Oh! no, now I recollect, now I have it; som ething 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 m y poor father twenty -seven y ears; and now, poor old m an, he is bed-ridden, and very poorly with the rheum atic gout in his j oints – I m ust go and see him to-day ; and so will Jane, I am sure, if she gets out at all. And poor John’s son cam e to talk to Mr. Elton about relief from the parish; he is very well to do him self, y ou know, being head m an at the Crown, ostler, and every thing of that sort, but still he cannot keep his father without som e help; and so, when Mr. Elton cam e back, he told us what John ostler had been telling him , and then it cam e out about the chaise having been sent to Randalls to take Mr. Frank Churchill to Richm ond. That was what happened before tea. It was after tea that Jane spoke to Mrs. Elton.”

Miss Bates would hardly give Em m a tim e to say how perfectly new this circum stance was to her; but as without supposing it possible that she could be ignorant of any of the particulars of Mr. Frank Churchill’s going, she proceeded to give them all, it was of no consequence.

What Mr. Elton had learned from the ostler on the subj ect, being the accum ulation of the ostler’s own knowledge, and the knowledge of the servants at Randalls, was, that a m essenger had com e over from Richm ond soon after the return of the party from Box Hill – which m essenger, however, had been no m ore 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 com ing back bey ond the next m orning early ; but that Mr. Frank Churchill having resolved to go hom e directly, without waiting at all, and his horse seem ing to have got a cold, Tom had been sent off im m ediately 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 Em m a’s attention only as it united with the subj ect which already engaged her m ind. The contrast between Mrs. Churchill’s im portance in the world, and Jane Fairfax’s, struck her; one was every thing, the other nothing – and she sat m using on the difference of wom an’s destiny, and quite unconscious on what her ey es were fixed, till roused by Miss Bates’s say ing,