Chapter XVIII

Perry, and Mrs. Elton, im m ediately afterwards. It was no m ore than the principals were prepared for; they had calculated from the tim e of its being known at Randalls, how soon it would be over Highbury ; and were thinking of them selves, as the evening wonder in m any a fam ily circle, with great sagacity.

In general, it was a very well approved m atch. Som e m ight think him , and others m ight think her, the m ost in luck. One set m ight recom m end their all rem oving to Donwell, and leaving Hartfield for the John Knightley s; and another m ight predict disagreem ents am ong their servants; but y et, upon the whole, there was no serious obj ection raised, except in one habitation, the Vicarage. – There, the surprize was not softened by any satisfaction. Mr. Elton cared little about it, com pared with his wife; he only hoped “the y oung lady ’s pride would now be contented;” and supposed “she had alway s m eant 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 m uch discom posed indeed. – “Poor Knightley ! poor fellow! – sad business for him .” – She was extrem ely 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 com e and dine with them whenever they asked him ! But that would be all over now. – Poor fellow! – No m ore exploring parties to Donwell m ade for her. Oh! no; there would be a Mrs. Knightley to throw cold water on every thing. – Extrem ely 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 fam ily near Maple Grove who had tried it, and been obliged to separate before the end of the first quarter.

CHAPTER XVIII

Tim e passed on. A few m ore to-m orrows, and the party from London would be arriving. It was an alarm ing change; and Em m a was thinking of it one m orning, as what m ust bring a great deal to agitate and grieve her, when Mr.

Knightley cam e in, and distressing thoughts were put by. After the first chat of pleasure he was silent; and then, in a graver tone, began with,

“I have som ething to tell y ou, Em m a; som e news.”

“Good or bad?” said she, quickly, looking up in his face.

“I do not know which it ought to be called.”

“Oh! good I am sure. – I see it in y our countenance. You are try ing not to sm ile.”

“I am afraid,” said he, com posing his features, “I am very m uch afraid, m y dear Em m a, that y ou will not sm ile when y ou hear it.”

“Indeed! but why so? – I can hardly im agine that any thing which pleases or am uses y ou, should not please and am use m e too.”

“There is one subj ect,” he replied, “I hope but one, on which we do not think alike.” He paused a m om ent, again sm iling, with his ey es fixed on her face.

“Does nothing occur to y ou? – Do not y ou recollect? – Harriet Sm ith.”

Her cheeks flushed at the nam e, and she felt afraid of som ething, though she knew not what.

“Have y ou heard from her y ourself this m orning?” cried he. “You have, I believe, and know the whole.”

“No, I have not; I know nothing; pray tell m e.”

“You are prepared for the worst, I see – and very bad it is. Harriet Sm ith m arries Robert Martin.”

Em m a gave a start, which did not seem like being prepared – and her ey es, in eager gaze, said, “No, this is im possible!” but her lips were closed.

“It is so, indeed,” continued Mr. Knightley ; “I have it from Robert Martin him self. He left m e not half an hour ago.”

She was still looking at him with the m ost speaking am azem ent.

“You like it, m y Em m a, as little as I feared. – I wish our opinions were

the sam e. But in tim e they will. Tim e, y ou m ay be sure, will m ake one or the other of us think differently ; and, in the m eanwhile, we need not talk m uch on the subj ect.”

“You m istake m e, y ou quite m istake m e,” she replied, exerting herself.

“It is not that such a circum stance would now m ake m e unhappy, but I cannot believe it. It seem s an im possibility ! – You cannot m ean to say, that Harriet Sm ith has accepted Robert Martin. You cannot m ean that he has even proposed to her again – y et. You only m ean, that he intends it.”

“I m ean that he has done it,” answered Mr. Knightley, with sm iling but determ ined decision, “and been accepted.”

“Good God!” she cried. – “Well!” – Then having recourse to her workbasket, in excuse for leaning down her face, and concealing all the exquisite feelings of delight and entertainm ent which she knew she m ust be expressing, she added, “Well, now tell m e every thing; m ake this intelligible to m e. How, where, when? – Let m e know it all. I never was m ore surprized – but it does not m ake m e unhappy, I assure y ou. – How – how has it been possible?”

“It is a very sim ple story. He went to town on business three day s ago, and I got him to take charge of som e papers which I was wanting to send to John.

– He delivered these papers to John, at his cham bers, and was asked by him to j oin their party the sam e evening to Astley ’s. They were going to take the two eldest boy s to Astley ’s. The party was to be our brother and sister, Henry, John –

and Miss Sm ith. My friend Robert could not resist. They called for him in their way ; were all extrem ely am used; and m y brother asked him to dine with them the next day – which he did – and in the course of that visit (as I understand) he found an opportunity of speaking to Harriet; and certainly did not speak in vain. –

She m ade him , by her acceptance, as happy even as he is deserving. He cam e down by y esterday ’s coach, and was with m e this m orning im m ediately after breakfast, to report his proceedings, first on m y affairs, and then on his own. This is all that I can relate of the how, where, and when. Your friend Harriet will m ake a m uch longer history when y ou see her. – She will give y ou all the m inute particulars, which only wom an’s language can m ake interesting. – In our com m unications we deal only in the great. – However, I m ust say, that Robert Martin’s heart seem ed for him , and to m e, very overflowing; and that he did m ention, without its being m uch to the purpose, that on quitting their box at Astley ’s, m y brother took charge of Mrs. John Knightley and little John, and he followed with Miss Sm ith and Henry ; and that at one tim e they were in such a crowd, as to m ake Miss Sm ith rather uneasy.”

He stopped. – Em m a dared not attem pt any im m ediate reply. To speak,

she was sure would be to betray a m ost unreasonable degree of happiness. She m ust wait a m om ent, or he would think her m ad. Her silence disturbed him ; and after observing her a little while, he added, “Em m a, m y love, y ou said that this circum stance would not now m ake y ou unhappy ; but I am afraid it gives y ou m ore pain than y ou expected. His situation is an evil – but y ou m ust consider it as what satisfies y our friend; and I will answer for y our thinking better and better of him as y ou know him m ore. His good sense and good principles would delight y ou. – As far as the m an is concerned, y ou could not wish y our friend in better hands. His rank in society I would alter if I could, which is say ing a great deal I assure y ou, Em m a. – You laugh at m e about William Larkins; but I could quite as ill spare Robert Martin.”

He wanted her to look up and sm ile; and having now brought herself not to sm ile too broadly – she did – cheerfully answering,

“You need not be at any pains to reconcile m e to the m atch. I think Harriet is doing extrem ely well. Her connexions m ay be worse than his. In respectability of character, there can be no doubt that they are. I have been silent from surprize m erely, excessive surprize. You cannot im agine how suddenly it has com e on m e! how peculiarly unprepared I was! – for I had reason to believe her very lately m ore determ ined against him , m uch m ore, than she was before.”

“You ought to know y our friend best,” replied Mr. Knightley ; “but I should say she was a good-tem pered, soft-hearted girl, not likely to be very, very determ ined against any y oung m an who told her he loved her.”

Em m a could not help laughing as she answered, “Upon m y word, I believe y ou know her quite as well as I do. – But, Mr. Knightley, are y ou perfectly sure that she has absolutely and downright accepted him . I could suppose she m ight in tim e – but can she already ? – Did not y ou m isunderstand him ? – You were both talking of other things; of business, shows of cattle, or new drills – and m ight not y ou, in the confusion of so m any subj ects, m istake him ? – It was not Harriet’s hand that he was certain of – it was the dim ensions of som e fam ous ox.”

The contrast between the countenance and air of Mr. Knightley and Robert Martin was, at this m om ent, so strong to Em m a’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 em phasis, “No, I hope I know better than to think of Robert Martin,” that she was really expecting the intelligence to prove, in som e m easure, prem ature. It could not be otherwise.

“Do y ou dare say this?” cried Mr. Knightley. “Do y ou dare to suppose

m e so great a blockhead, as not to know what a m an is talking of? – What do y ou deserve?”

“Oh! I alway s deserve the best treatm ent, because I never put up with any other; and, therefore, y ou m ust give m e a plain, direct answer. Are y ou quite sure that y ou understand the term s on which Mr. Martin and Harriet now are?”

“I am quite sure,” he replied, speaking very distinctly, “that he told m e she had accepted him ; and that there was no obscurity, nothing doubtful, in the words he used; and I think I can give y ou a proof that it m ust be so. He asked m y opinion as to what he was now to do. He knew of no one but Mrs. Goddard to whom he could apply for inform ation of her relations or friends. Could I m ention any thing m ore fit to be done, than to go to Mrs. Goddard? I assured him that I could not. Then, he said, he would endeavour to see her in the course of this day.”

“I am perfectly satisfied,” replied Em m a, with the brightest sm iles,

“and m ost sincerely wish them happy.”

“You are m aterially changed since we talked on this subj ect before.”

“I hope so – for at that tim e I was a fool.”

“And I am changed also; for I am now very willing to grant y ou all Harriet’s good qualities. I have taken som e pains for y our sake, and for Robert Martin’s sake, (whom I have alway s had reason to believe as m uch in love with her as ever,) to get acquainted with her. I have often talked to her a good deal.

You m ust have seen that I did. Som etim es, indeed, I have thought y ou were half suspecting m e of pleading poor Martin’s cause, which was never the case; but, from all m y observations, I am convinced of her being an artless, am iable girl, with very good notions, very seriously good principles, and placing her happiness in the affections and utility of dom estic life. – Much of this, I have no doubt, she m ay thank y ou for.”

“Me!” cried Em m a, shaking her head. – “Ah! poor Harriet!”

She checked herself, however, and subm itted quietly to a little m ore 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 m ind was in a state of flutter and wonder, which m ade it im possible for her to be collected. She was in dancing, singing, exclaim ing spirits; and till she had m oved about, and talked to herself, and laughed and reflected, she could be fit for nothing rational.

Her father’s business was to announce Jam es’s being gone out to put the horses to, preparatory to their now daily drive to Randalls; and she had, therefore,

an im m ediate excuse for disappearing.

The j oy, the gratitude, the exquisite delight of her sensations m ay be im agined. The sole grievance and alloy thus rem oved in the prospect of Harriet’s welfare, she was really in danger of becom ing too happy for security. – What had she to wish for? Nothing, but to grow m ore worthy of him , whose intentions and j udgm ent had been ever so superior to her own. Nothing, but that the lessons of her past folly m ight teach her hum ility and circum spection in future.

Serious she was, very serious in her thankfulness, and in her resolutions; and y et there was no preventing a laugh, som etim es in the very m idst of them .

She m ust laugh at such a close! Such an end of the doleful disappointm ent of five weeks back! Such a heart – such a Harriet!

Now there would be pleasure in her returning – Every thing would be a pleasure. It would be a great pleasure to know Robert Martin.

High in the rank of her m ost serious and heartfelt felicities, was the reflection that all necessity of concealm ent from Mr. Knightley would soon be over. The disguise, equivocation, m y stery, so hateful to her to practise, m ight soon be over. She could now look forward to giving him that full and perfect confidence which her disposition was m ost ready to welcom e as a duty.

In the gay est and happiest spirits she set forward with her father; not alway s listening, but alway s agreeing to what he said; and, whether in speech or silence, conniving at the com fortable persuasion of his being obliged to go to Randalls every day, or poor Mrs. Weston would be disappointed.

They arrived. – Mrs. Weston was alone in the drawing-room : – but hardly had they been told of the baby, and Mr. Woodhouse received the thanks for com ing, which he asked for, when a glim pse was caught through the blind, of two figures passing near the window.

“It is Frank and Miss Fairfax,” said Mrs. Weston. “I was j ust going to tell y ou of our agreeable surprize in seeing him arrive this m orning. He stay s till to-m orrow, and Miss Fairfax has been persuaded to spend the day with us. – They are com ing in, I hope.”

In half a m inute they were in the room . Em m a was extrem ely glad to see him – but there was a degree of confusion – a num ber of em barrassing recollections on each side. They m et readily and sm iling, but with a consciousness which at first allowed little to be said; and having all sat down again, there was for som e tim e such a blank in the circle, that Em m a began to doubt whether the wish now indulged, which she had long felt, of seeing Frank Churchill once m ore, and of seeing him with Jane, would y ield its proportion of

pleasure. When Mr. Weston j oined the party, however, and when the baby was fetched, there was no longer a want of subj ect or anim ation – or of courage and opportunity for Frank Churchill to draw near her and say,

“I have to thank y ou, Miss Woodhouse, for a very kind forgiving m essage in one of Mrs. Weston’s letters. I hope tim e has not m ade y ou less willing to pardon. I hope y ou do not retract what y ou then said.”

“No, indeed,” cried Em m a, m ost happy to begin, “not in the least. I am particularly glad to see and shake hands with y ou – and to give y ou j oy in person.”

He thanked her with all his heart, and continued som e tim e to speak with serious feeling of his gratitude and happiness.

“Is not she looking well?” said he, turning his ey es towards Jane. “Better than she ever used to do? – You see how m y father and Mrs. Weston doat upon her.”

But his spirits were soon rising again, and with laughing ey es, after m entioning the expected return of the Cam pbells, he nam ed the nam e of Dixon. –

Em m a blushed, and forbade its being pronounced in her hearing.

“I can never think of it,” she cried, “without extrem e sham e.”

“The sham e,” he answered, “is all m ine, or ought to be. But is it possible that y ou had no suspicion? – I m ean of late. Early, I know, y ou had none.”

“I never had the sm allest, I assure y ou.”

“That appears quite wonderful. I was once very near – and I wish I had

– it would have been better. But though I was alway s doing wrong things, they were very bad wrong things, and such as did m e no service. – It would have been a m uch better transgression had I broken the bond of secrecy and told y ou every thing.”

“It is not now worth a regret,” said Em m a.

“I have som e hope,” resum ed he, “of m y uncle’s being persuaded to pay a visit at Randalls; he wants to be introduced to her. When the Cam pbells are returned, we shall m eet them in London, and continue there, I trust, till we m ay carry her northward. – But now, I am at such a distance from her – is not it hard, Miss Woodhouse? – Till this m orning, we have not once m et since the day of reconciliation. Do not y ou pity m e?”

Em m a spoke her pity so very kindly, that with a sudden accession of gay thought, he cried,

“Ah! by the by e,” then sinking his voice, and looking dem ure for the m om ent – “I hope Mr. Knightley is well?” He paused. – She coloured and laughed. – “I know y ou saw m y letter, and think y ou m ay rem em ber m y wish in y our favour. Let m e return y our congratulations. – I assure y ou that I have heard the news with the warm est interest and satisfaction. – He is a m an whom I cannot presum e to praise.”

Em m a was delighted, and only wanted him to go on in the sam e sty le; but his m ind was the next m om ent in his own concerns and with his own Jane, and his next words were, “Did y ou ever see such a skin? – such sm oothness! such delicacy ! – and y et without being actually fair. – One cannot call her fair. It is a m ost uncom m on com plexion, with her dark ey e-lashes and hair – a m ost distinguishing com plexion! So peculiarly the lady in it. – Just colour enough for beauty.”

“I have alway s adm ired her com plexion,” replied Em m a, archly ; “but do not I rem em ber the tim e when y ou found fault with her for being so pale? –

When we first began to talk of her. – Have y ou quite forgotten?”

“Oh! no – what an im pudent dog I was! – How could I dare – “

But he laughed so heartily at the recollection, that Em m a could not help say ing,

“I do suspect that in the m idst of y our perplexities at that tim e, y ou had very great am usem ent in tricking us all. – I am sure y ou had. – I am sure it was a consolation to y ou.”

“Oh! no, no, no – how can y ou suspect m e of such a thing? I was the m ost m iserable wretch!”

“Not quite so m iserable as to be insensible to m irth. I am sure it was a source of high entertainm ent to y ou, to feel that y ou were taking us all in. –

Perhaps I am the readier to suspect, because, to tell y ou the truth, I think it m ight have been som e am usem ent to m y self in the sam e situation. I think there is a little likeness between us.”

He bowed.

“If not in our dispositions,” she presently added, with a look of true sensibility, “there is a likeness in our destiny ; the destiny which bids fair to connect us with two characters so m uch superior to our own.”

“True, true,” he answered, warm ly. “No, not true on y our side. You can have no superior, but m ost true on m ine. – She is a com plete angel. Look at her. Is

not she an angel in every gesture? Observe the turn of her throat. Observe her ey es, as she is looking up at m y father. – You will be glad to hear (inclining his head, and whispering seriously ) that m y uncle m eans to give her all m y aunt’s j ewels. They are to be new set. I am resolved to have som e in an ornam ent for the head. Will not it be beautiful in her dark hair?”

“Very beautiful, indeed,” replied Em m a; and she spoke so kindly, that he gratefully burst out,

“How delighted I am to see y ou again! and to see y ou in such excellent looks! – I would not have m issed this m eeting for the world. I should certainly have called at Hartfield, had y ou failed to com e.”

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 alarm ed her, and she had been within half a m inute of sending for Mr. Perry. Perhaps she ought to be asham ed, but Mr. Weston had been alm ost as uneasy as herself. – In ten m inutes, however, the child had been perfectly well again. This was her history ; and particularly interesting it was to Mr. Woodhouse, who com m ended her very m uch for thinking of sending for Perry, and only regretted that she had not done it. “She should alway s send for Perry, if the child appeared in the slightest degree disordered, were it only for a m om ent. She could not be too soon alarm ed, nor send for Perry too often. It was a pity, perhaps, that he had not com e last night; for, though the child seem ed well now, very well considering, it would probably have been better if Perry had seen it.”

Frank Churchill caught the nam e.