Chapter VIII

“No, upon no account in the world, Mr. Weston; I am m uch obliged to

y ou for rem inding m e. I should be extrem ely sorry to be giving them any pain. I know what worthy people they are. Perry tells m e that Mr. Cole never touches m alt liquor. You would not think it to look at him , but he is bilious – Mr. Cole is very bilious. No, I would not be the m eans of giving them any pain. My dear Em m a, we m ust consider this. I am sure, rather than run the risk of hurting Mr. and Mrs.

Cole, y ou would stay a little longer than y ou m ight wish. You will not regard being tired. You will be perfectly safe, y ou know, am ong y our friends.”

“Oh y es, papa. I have no fears at all for m y self; and I should have no scruples of stay ing as late as Mrs. Weston, but on y our account. I am only afraid of y our sitting up for m e. I am not afraid of y our not being exceedingly com fortable with Mrs. Goddard. She loves piquet, y ou know; but when she is gone hom e, I am afraid y ou will be sitting up by y ourself, instead of going to bed at y our usual tim e – and the idea of that would entirely destroy m y com fort. You m ust prom ise m e not to sit up.”

He did, on the condition of som e prom ises on her side: such as that, if she cam e hom e cold, she would be sure to warm herself thoroughly ; if hungry, that she would take som ething to eat; that her own m aid should sit up for her; and that Serle and the butler should see that every thing were safe in the house, as usual.

CHAPTER VIII

Frank Churchill cam e 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 im perfection which could be concealed.

He cam e back, had had his hair cut, and laughed at him self with a very good grace, but without seem ing really at all asham ed 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 m oney unspent, to im prove his spirits. He was quite as undaunted and as lively as ever; and, after seeing him , Em m a thus m oralised to herself: –

“I do not know whether it ought to be so, but certainly silly things do cease to be silly if they are done by sensible people in an im pudent way.

Wickedness is alway s wickedness, but folly is not alway s folly. – It depends upon the character of those who handle it. Mr. Knightley, he is not a trifling, silly y oung m an. If he were, he would have done this differently. He would either have gloried in the achievem ent, or been asham ed of it. There would have been either the ostentation of a coxcom b, or the evasions of a m ind too weak to defend its own vanities. – No, I am perfectly sure that he is not trifling or silly.”

With Tuesday cam e the agreeable prospect of seeing him again, and for a longer tim e than hitherto; of j udging of his general m anners, and by inference, of the m eaning of his m anners towards herself; of guessing how soon it m ight be necessary for her to throw coldness into her air; and of fancy ing what the observations of all those m ight be, who were now seeing them together for the first tim e.

She m eant to be very happy, in spite of the scene being laid at Mr.

Cole’s; and without being able to forget that am ong the failings of Mr. Elton, even in the day s of his favour, none had disturbed her m ore than his propensity to dine with Mr. Cole.

Her father’s com fort was am ply secured, Mrs. Bates as well as Mrs. Goddard being able to com e; 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 m ake the two ladies all the am ends in her power, by helping them to large slices of cake and full glasses of wine, for whatever unwilling self-denial his care of their constitution m ight have obliged them to practise during the m eal. – 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 m oney and a great deal of health, activity, and independence, was too apt, in Em m a’s opinion, to get about as he could, and not use his carriage so often as becam e the owner of Donwell Abbey. She had an opportunity now of speaking her approbation while warm from her heart, for he stopped to hand her out.

“This is com ing as y ou should do,” said she; “like a gentlem an. – I am quite glad to see y ou.”

He thanked her, observing, “How lucky that we should arrive at the sam e m om ent! for, if we had m et first in the drawing-room , I doubt whether y ou would have discerned m e to be m ore of a gentlem an than usual. – You m ight not have distinguished how I cam e, by m y look or m anner.”

“Yes I should, I am sure I should. There is alway s a look of consciousness or bustle when people com e in a way which they know to be beneath them . You think y ou carry it off very well, I dare say, but with y ou it is a sort of bravado, an air of affected unconcern; I alway s observe it whenever I m eet y ou under those circum stances. Now y ou have nothing to try for. You are not afraid of being supposed asham ed. You are not striving to look taller than any body else. Now I shall really be very happy to walk into the sam e room with y ou.”

“Nonsensical girl!” was his reply, but not at all in anger.

Em m a had as m uch 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 adm iration were for her, from both husband and wife; the son approached her with a cheerful eagerness which m arked her as his peculiar obj ect, and at dinner she found him seated by her –

and, as she firm ly believed, not without som e dexterity on his side.

The party was rather large, as it included one other fam ily, a proper unobj ectionable country fam ily, whom the Coles had the advantage of nam ing am ong their acquaintance, and the m ale part of Mr. Cox’s fam ily, the lawy er of Highbury. The less worthy fem ales were to com e in the evening, with Miss Bates, Miss Fairfax, and Miss Sm ith; but already, at dinner, they were too num erous for any subj ect of conversation to be general; and, while politics and Mr. Elton were talked over, Em m a could fairly surrender all her attention to the pleasantness of her neighbour. The first rem ote sound to which she felt herself obliged to attend, was the nam e of Jane Fairfax. Mrs. Cole seem ed to be relating som ething of her that was expected to be very interesting. She listened, and found it well worth

listening to. That very dear part of Em m a, her fancy, received an am using supply. Mrs. Cole was telling that she had been calling on Miss Bates, and as soon as she entered the room had been struck by the sight of a pianoforte – a very elegant looking instrum ent – not a grand, but a large-sized square pianoforte; and the substance of the story, the end of all the dialogue which ensued of surprize, and inquiry, and congratulations on her side, and explanations on Miss Bates’s, was, that this pianoforte had arrived from Broadwood’s the day before, to the great astonishm ent of both aunt and niece – entirely unexpected; that at first, by Miss Bates’s account, Jane herself was quite at a loss, quite bewildered to think who could possibly have ordered it – but now, they were both perfectly satisfied that it could be from only one quarter; – of course it m ust be from Colonel Cam pbell.

“One can suppose nothing else,” added Mrs. Cole, “and I was only surprized that there could ever have been a doubt. But Jane, it seem s, had a letter from them very lately, and not a word was said about it. She knows their way s best; but I should not consider their silence as any reason for their not m eaning to m ake the present. They m ight chuse to surprize her.”

Mrs. Cole had m any to agree with her; every body who spoke on the subj ect was equally convinced that it m ust com e from Colonel Cam pbell, and equally rej oiced that such a present had been m ade; and there were enough ready to speak to allow Em m a 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 m e m ore satisfaction! – It alway s has quite hurt m e that Jane Fairfax, who play s so delightfully, should not have an instrum ent. It seem ed quite a sham e, especially considering how m any houses there are where fine instrum ents are absolutely thrown away. This is like giving ourselves a slap, to be sure! and it was but y esterday I was telling Mr. Cole, I really was asham ed to look at our new grand pianoforte in the drawing-room , while I do not know one note from another, and our little girls, who are but j ust beginning, perhaps m ay never m ake any thing of it; and there is poor Jane Fairfax, who is m istress of m usic, has not any thing of the nature of an instrum ent, not even the pitifullest old spinet in the world, to am use herself with. – I was say ing this to Mr. Cole but y esterday, and he quite agreed with m e; only he is so particularly fond of m usic that he could not help indulging him self in the purchase, hoping that som e of our good neighbours m ight be so obliging occasionally to put it to a better use than we can; and that really is the reason why the instrum ent was bought – or else I am sure we ought to be asham ed of it. – We are in great hopes that Miss Woodhouse m ay be prevailed with to try it this evening.”

Miss Woodhouse m ade the proper acquiescence; and finding that nothing m ore was to be entrapped from any com m unication of Mrs. Cole’s, turned to Frank Churchill.

“Why do y ou sm ile?” said she.

“Nay, why do y ou?”

“Me! – I suppose I sm ile for pleasure at Colonel Cam pbell’s being so rich and so liberal. – It is a handsom e present.”

“Very.”

“I rather wonder that it was never m ade before.”

“Perhaps Miss Fairfax has never been stay ing here so long before.”

“Or that he did not give her the use of their own instrum ent – which m ust now be shut up in London, untouched by any body.”

“That is a grand pianoforte, and he m ight think it too large for Mrs.

Bates’s house.”

“You m ay say what y ou chuse – but y our countenance testifies that y our thoughts on this subj ect are very m uch like m ine.”

“I do not know. I rather believe y ou are giving m e m ore credit for acuteness than I deserve. I sm ile because y ou sm ile, and shall probably suspect whatever I find y ou suspect; but at present I do not see what there is to question.

If Colonel Cam pbell is not the person, who can be?”

“What do y ou say to Mrs. Dixon?”

“Mrs. Dixon! very true indeed. I had not thought of Mrs. Dixon. She m ust know as well as her father, how acceptable an instrum ent would be; and perhaps the m ode of it, the m y stery, the surprize, is m ore like a y oung wom an’s schem e than an elderly m an’s. It is Mrs. Dixon, I dare say. I told y ou that y our suspicions would guide m ine.”

“If so, y ou m ust extend y our suspicions and com prehend Mr. Dixon in them .”

“Mr. Dixon. – Very well. Yes, I im m ediately perceive that it m ust be the j oint present of Mr. and Mrs. Dixon. We were speaking the other day, y ou know, of his being so warm an adm irer of her perform ance.”

“Yes, and what y ou told m e on that head, confirm ed an idea which I had entertained before. – I do not m ean to reflect upon the good intentions of either Mr. Dixon or Miss Fairfax, but I cannot help suspecting either that, after

m aking his proposals to her friend, he had the m isfortune to fall in love with her, or that he becam e conscious of a little attachm ent on her side. One m ight guess twenty things without guessing exactly the right; but I am sure there m ust be a particular cause for her chusing to com e to Highbury instead of going with the Cam pbells to Ireland. Here, she m ust be leading a life of privation and penance; there it would have been all enj oy m ent. As to the pretence of try ing her native air, I look upon that as a m ere excuse. – In the sum m er it m ight have passed; but what can any body ’s native air do for them in the m onths of January, February, and March? Good fires and carriages would be m uch m ore to the purpose in m ost cases of delicate health, and I dare say in her’s. I do not require y ou to adopt all m y suspicions, though y ou m ake so noble a profession of doing it, but I honestly tell y ou what they are.”

“And, upon m y word, they have an air of great probability. Mr. Dixon’s preference of her m usic to her friend’s, I can answer for being very decided.”

“And then, he saved her life. Did y ou ever hear of that? – A water party ; and by som e accident she was falling overboard. He caught her.”

“He did. I was there – one of the party.”

“Were y ou really ? – Well! – But y ou observed nothing of course, for it seem s to be a new idea to y ou. – If I had been there, I think I should have m ade som e discoveries.”

“I dare say y ou would; but I, sim ple 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 m om ent. And though the consequent shock and alarm was very great and m uch m ore durable – indeed I believe it was half an hour before any of us were com fortable again – y et that was too general a sensation for any thing of peculiar anxiety to be observable. I do not m ean to say, however, that y ou m ight not have m ade discoveries.”

The conversation was here interrupted. They were called on to share in the awkwardness of a rather long interval between the courses, and obliged to be as form al and as orderly as the others; but when the table was again safely covered, when every corner dish was placed exactly right, and occupation and ease were generally restored, Em m a said,

“The arrival of this pianoforte is decisive with m e. I wanted to know a little m ore, and this tells m e 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 m ust conclude it to com e from the Cam pbells.”

“No, I am sure it is not from the Cam pbells. Miss Fairfax knows it is not from the Cam pbells, or they would have been guessed at first. She would not have been puzzled, had she dared fix on them . I m ay not have convinced y ou perhaps, but I am perfectly convinced m y self that Mr. Dixon is a principal in the business.”

“Indeed y ou inj ure m e if y ou suppose m e unconvinced. Your reasonings carry m y j udgm ent along with them entirely. At first, while I supposed y ou satisfied that Colonel Cam pbell was the giver, I saw it only as paternal kindness, and thought it the m ost natural thing in the world. But when y ou m entioned Mrs. Dixon, I felt how m uch m ore probable that it should be the tribute of warm fem ale friendship. And now I can see it in no other light than as an offering of love.”

There was no occasion to press the m atter farther. The conviction seem ed real; he looked as if he felt it. She said no m ore, other subj ects took their turn; and the rest of the dinner passed away ; the dessert succeeded, the children cam e in, and were talked to and adm ired am id the usual rate of conversation; a few clever things said, a few downright silly, but by m uch the larger proportion neither the one nor the other – nothing worse than every day rem arks, dull repetitions, old news, and heavy j okes.

The ladies had not been long in the drawing-room , before the other ladies, in their different divisions, arrived. Em m a 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 bloom ing sweetness and the artless m anner, but could m ost heartily rej oice in that light, cheerful, unsentim ental disposition which allowed her so m any alleviations of pleasure, in the m idst of the pangs of disappointed affection. There she sat – and who would have guessed how m any tears she had been lately shedding? To be in com pany, nicely dressed herself and seeing others nicely dressed, to sit and sm ile and look pretty, and say nothing, was enough for the happiness of the present hour. Jane Fairfax did look and m ove superior; but Em m a suspected she m ight have been glad to change feelings with Harriet, very glad to have purchased the m ortification of having loved – y es, of having loved even Mr. Elton in vain – by the surrender of all the dangerous pleasure of knowing herself beloved by the husband of her friend.

In so large a party it was not necessary that Em m a should approach her. She did not wish to speak of the pianoforte, she felt too m uch 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 subj ect was alm ost im m ediately introduced, and she saw the blush of consciousness with which congratulations were received, the blush of guilt which accom panied the nam e of

“m y excellent friend Colonel Cam pbell.”

Mrs. Weston, kind-hearted and m usical, was particularly interested by the circum stance, and Em m a could not help being am used at her perseverance in dwelling on the subj ect; and having so m uch to ask and to say as to tone, touch, and pedal, totally unsuspicious of that wish of say ing as little about it as possible, which she plainly read in the fair heroine’s countenance.

They were soon j oined by som e of the gentlem en; and the very first of the early was Frank Churchill. In he walked, the first and the handsom est; and after pay ing his com plim ents en passant to Miss Bates and her niece, m ade 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. Em m a divined what every body present m ust be thinking. She was his obj ect, and every body m ust perceive it.

She introduced him to her friend, Miss Sm ith, and, at convenient m om ents 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 pay ing him too great a com plim ent, but she did think there were som e looks a little like Mr. Elton.” Em m a restrained her indignation, and only turned from her in silence.

Sm iles of intelligence passed between her and the gentlem an on first glancing towards Miss Fairfax; but it was m ost prudent to avoid speech. He told her that he had been im patient to leave the dining-room – hated sitting long – was alway s the first to m ove when he could – that his father, Mr. Knightley, Mr. Cox, and Mr. Cole, were left very busy over parish business – that as long as he had staid, however, it had been pleasant enough, as he had found them in general a set of gentlem anlike, sensible m en; and spoke so handsom ely of Highbury altogether

– thought it so abundant in agreeable fam ilies – that Em m a began to feel she had been used to despise the place rather too m uch. She questioned him as to the society in Yorkshire – the extent of the neighbourhood about Enscom be, and the sort; and could m ake out from his answers that, as far as Enscom be was concerned, there was very little going on, that their visitings were am ong a range of great fam ilies, none very near; and that even when day s were fixed, and invitations accepted, it was an even chance that Mrs. Churchill were not in health and spirits for going; that they m ade a point of visiting no fresh person; and that, though he had his separate engagem ents, it was not without difficulty, without considerable address at tim es, that he could get away, or introduce an acquaintance for a night.

She saw that Enscom be could not satisfy, and that Highbury, taken at its best, m ight reasonably please a y oung m an who had m ore retirem ent at hom e than he liked. His im portance at Enscom be was very evident. He did not boast,

but it naturally betray ed 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 tim e persuade her to any thing. One of those points on which his influence failed, he then m entioned. He had wanted very m uch to go abroad – had been very eager indeed to be allowed to travel –

but she would not hear of it. This had happened the y ear before. Now, he said, he was beginning to have no longer the sam e wish.

The unpersuadable point, which he did not m ention, Em m a guessed to be good behaviour to his father.

“I have m ade a m ost wretched discovery,” said he, after a short pause.

– “I have been here a week to-m orrow – half m y tim e. I never knew day s fly so fast. A week to-m orrow! – And I have hardly begun to enj oy m y self. But j ust got acquainted with Mrs. Weston, and others! – I hate the recollection.”

“Perhaps y ou m ay now begin to regret that y ou spent one whole day, out of so few, in having y our hair cut.”

“No,” said he, sm iling, “that is no subj ect of regret at all. I have no pleasure in seeing m y friends, unless I can believe m y self fit to be seen.”

The rest of the gentlem en being now in the room , Em m a found herself obliged to turn from him for a few m inutes, and listen to Mr. Cole. When Mr. Cole had m oved away, and her attention could be restored as before, she saw Frank Churchill looking intently across the room at Miss Fairfax, who was sitting exactly opposite.

“What is the m atter?” said she.

He started. “Thank y ou for rousing m e,” he replied. “I believe I have been very rude; but really Miss Fairfax has done her hair in so odd a way – so very odd a way – that I cannot keep m y ey es from her. I never saw any thing so outree! – Those curls! – This m ust be a fancy of her own. I see nobody else looking like her! – I m ust go and ask her whether it is an Irish fashion. Shall I? –

Yes, I will – I declare I will – and y ou shall see how she takes it; – whether she colours.”

He was gone im m ediately ; and Em m a soon saw him standing before Miss Fairfax, and talking to her; but as to its effect on the y oung lady, as he had im providently placed him self exactly between them , exactly in front of Miss Fairfax, she could absolutely distinguish nothing.

Before he could return to his chair, it was taken by Mrs. Weston.

“This is the luxury of a large party,” said she: – “one can get near

every body, and say every thing. My dear Em m a, I am longing to talk to y ou. I have been m aking discoveries and form ing plans, j ust like y ourself, and I m ust tell them while the idea is fresh. Do y ou know how Miss Bates and her niece cam e here?”

“How? – They were invited, were not they ?”

“Oh! y es – but how they were convey ed hither? – the m anner of their com ing?”

“They walked, I conclude. How else could they com e?”

“Very true. – Well, a little while ago it occurred to m e how very sad it would be to have Jane Fairfax walking hom e again, late at night, and cold as the nights are now. And as I looked at her, though I never saw her appear to m ore advantage, it struck m e 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 cam e into the room , and I could get at him , I spoke to him about the carriage. You m ay guess how readily he cam e into m y wishes; and having his approbation, I m ade m y way directly to Miss Bates, to assure her that the carriage would be at her service before it took us hom e; for I thought it would be m aking her com fortable at once. Good soul! she was as grateful as possible, y ou m ay be sure. ‘Nobody was ever so fortunate as herself!’ – but with m any, m any thanks – ‘there was no occasion to trouble us, for Mr. Knightley ’s carriage had brought, and was to take them hom e again.’ I was quite surprized; – very glad, I am sure; but really quite surprized. Such a very kind attention – and so thoughtful an attention! – the sort of thing that so few m en would think of. And, in short, from knowing his usual way s, I am very m uch inclined to think that it was for their accom m odation the carriage was used at all. I do suspect he would not have had a pair of horses for him self, and that it was only as an excuse for assisting them .”

“Very likely,” said Em m a – “nothing m ore likely. I know no m an m ore likely than Mr. Knightley to do the sort of thing – to do any thing really good-natured, useful, considerate, or benevolent. He is not a gallant m an, but he is a very hum ane one; and this, considering Jane Fairfax’s ill-health, would appear a case of hum anity to him ; – and for an act of unostentatious kindness, there is nobody whom I would fix on m ore than on Mr. Knightley. I know he had horses to-day – for we arrived together; and I laughed at him about it, but he said not a word that could betray.”

“Well,” said Mrs. Weston, sm iling, “y ou give him credit for m ore sim ple, disinterested benevolence in this instance than I do; for while Miss Bates was speaking, a suspicion darted into m y head, and I have never been able to get it out again. The m ore I think of it, the m ore probable it appears. In short, I have

m ade a m atch between Mr. Knightley and Jane Fairfax. See the consequence of keeping y ou com pany ! – What do y ou say to it?”

“Mr. Knightley and Jane Fairfax!” exclaim ed Em m a. “Dear Mrs.

Weston, how could y ou think of such a thing? – Mr. Knightley ! – Mr. Knightley m ust not m arry ! – You would not have little Henry cut out from Donwell? – Oh!

no, no, Henry m ust have Donwell. I cannot at all consent to Mr. Knightley ’s m arry ing; and I am sure it is not at all likely. I am am azed that y ou should think of such a thing.”

“My dear Em m a, I have told y ou what led m e to think of it. I do not want the m atch – I do not want to inj ure dear little Henry – but the idea has been given m e by circum stances; and if Mr. Knightley really wished to m arry, y ou would not have him refrain on Henry ’s account, a boy of six y ears old, who knows nothing of the m atter?”

“Yes, I would. I could not bear to have Henry supplanted. – Mr.

Knightley m arry ! – No, I have never had such an idea, and I cannot adopt it now.

And Jane Fairfax, too, of all wom en!”

“Nay, she has alway s been a first favourite with him , as y ou very well know.”

“But the im prudence of such a m atch!”

“I am not speaking of its prudence; m erely its probability.”

“I see no probability in it, unless y ou have any better foundation than what y ou m ention. His good-nature, his hum anity, as I tell y ou, would be quite enough to account for the horses. He has a great regard for the Bateses, y ou know, independent of Jane Fairfax – and is alway s glad to shew them attention.

My dear Mrs. Weston, do not take to m atch-m aking. You do it very ill. Jane Fairfax m istress of the Abbey ! – Oh! no, no; – every feeling revolts. For his own sake, I would not have him do so m ad a thing.”

“Im prudent, if y ou please – but not m ad. Excepting inequality of fortune, and perhaps a little disparity of age, I can see nothing unsuitable.”

“But Mr. Knightley does not want to m arry. I am sure he has not the least idea of it. Do not put it into his head. Why should he m arry ? – He is as happy as possible by him self; with his farm , and his sheep, and his library, and all the parish to m anage; and he is extrem ely fond of his brother’s children. He has no occasion to m arry, either to fill up his tim e or his heart.”

“My dear Em m a, as long as he thinks so, it is so; but if he really loves Jane Fairfax – “

“Nonsense! He does not care about Jane Fairfax. In the way of love, I am sure he does not. He would do any good to her, or her fam ily ; but – “

“Well,” said Mrs. Weston, laughing, “perhaps the greatest good he could do them , would be to give Jane such a respectable hom e.”

“If it would be good to her, I am sure it would be evil to him self; a very sham eful 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 m arry ing Jane? – ‘So very kind and obliging! – But he alway s had been such a very kind neighbour!’ And then fly off, through half a sentence, to her m other’s old petticoat. ‘Not that it was such a very old petticoat either – for still it would last a great while – and, indeed, she m ust thankfully say that their petticoats were all very strong.’”

“For sham e, Em m a! Do not m im ic her. You divert m e against m y conscience. And, upon m y word, I do not think Mr. Knightley would be m uch disturbed by Miss Bates. Little things do not irritate him . She m ight talk on; and if he wanted to say any thing him self, 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 m ust y ou, so very highly of Jane Fairfax! The interest he takes in her – his anxiety about her health – his concern that she should have no happier prospect! I have heard him express him self so warm ly on those points! – Such an adm irer of her perform ance on the pianoforte, and of her voice! I have heard him say that he could listen to her for ever. Oh! and I had alm ost forgotten one idea that occurred to m e – this pianoforte that has been sent here by som ebody – though we have all been so well satisfied to consider it a present from the Cam pbells, m ay it not be from Mr. Knightley ? I cannot help suspecting him . I think he is j ust the person to do it, even without being in love.”

“Then it can be no argum ent to prove that he is in love. But I do not think it is at all a likely thing for him to do. Mr. Knightley does nothing m y steriously.”

“I have heard him lam enting her having no instrum ent repeatedly ; oftener than I should suppose such a circum stance would, in the com m on course of things, occur to him .”

“Very well; and if he had intended to give her one, he would have told her so.”

“There m ight be scruples of delicacy, m y dear Em m a. I have a very strong notion that it com es from him . I am sure he was particularly silent when Mrs. Cole told us of it at dinner.”

“You take up an idea, Mrs. Weston, and run away with it; as y ou have m any a tim e reproached m e with doing. I see no sign of attachm ent – I believe nothing of the pianoforte – and proof only shall convince m e that Mr. Knightley has any thought of m arry ing Jane Fairfax.”

They com bated the point som e tim e longer in the sam e way ; Em m a rather gaining ground over the m ind of her friend; for Mrs. Weston was the m ost used of the two to y ield; till a little bustle in the room shewed them that tea was over, and the instrum ent in preparation; – and at the sam e m om ent Mr. Cole approaching to entreat Miss Woodhouse would do them the honour of try ing 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 Em m a best to lead, she gave a very proper com pliance.

She knew the lim itations of her own powers too well to attem pt m ore than she could perform with credit; she wanted neither taste nor spirit in the little things which are generally acceptable, and could accom pany her own voice well. One accom panim ent to her song took her agreeably by surprize – a second, slightly but correctly taken by Frank Churchill. Her pardon was duly begged at the close of the song, and every thing usual followed. He was accused of having a delightful voice, and a perfect knowledge of m usic; which was properly denied; and that he knew nothing of the m atter, and had no voice at all, roundly asserted.

They sang together once m ore; and Em m a would then resign her place to Miss Fairfax, whose perform ance, both vocal and instrum ental, she never could attem pt to conceal from herself, was infinitely superior to her own.

With m ixed feelings, she seated herself at a little distance from the num bers round the instrum ent, to listen. Frank Churchill sang again. They had sung together once or twice, it appeared, at Wey m outh. But the sight of Mr.

Knightley am ong the m ost attentive, soon drew away half Em m a’s m ind; and she fell into a train of thinking on the subj ect of Mrs. Weston’s suspicions, to which the sweet sounds of the united voices gave only m om entary interruptions. Her obj ections to Mr. Knightley ’s m arry ing did not in the least subside. She could see nothing but evil in it. It would be a great disappointm ent to Mr. John Knightley ; consequently to Isabella. A real inj ury to the children – a m ost m ortify ing change, and m aterial loss to them all; – a very great deduction from her father’s daily com fort – and, as to herself, she could not at all endure the idea of Jane Fairfax at Donwell Abbey. A Mrs. Knightley for them all to give way to! – No –

Mr. Knightley m ust never m arry. Little Henry m ust rem ain the heir of Donwell.

Presently Mr. Knightley looked back, and cam e and sat down by her.

They talked at first only of the perform ance. His adm iration was certainly very

warm ; y et 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 convey ing the aunt and niece; and though his answer was in the spirit of cutting the m atter short, she believed it to indicate only his disinclination to dwell on any kindness of his own.

“I often feel concern,” said she, “that I dare not m ake our carriage m ore useful on such occasions. It is not that I am without the wish; but y ou know how im possible m y father would deem it that Jam es should put-to for such a purpose.”

“Quite out of the question, quite out of the question,” he replied; – “but y ou m ust often wish it, I am sure.” And he sm iled with such seem ing pleasure at the conviction, that she m ust proceed another step.

“This present from the Cam pbells,” said she – “this pianoforte is very kindly given.”

“Yes,” he replied, and without the sm allest apparent em barrassm ent. –

“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 j udgm ent in Colonel Cam pbell.”

From that m om ent, Em m a could have taken her oath that Mr. Knightley had had no concern in giving the instrum ent. But whether he were entirely free from peculiar attachm ent – whether there were no actual preference – rem ained 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 – “y ou have sung quite enough for one evening – now be quiet.”

Another song, however, was soon begged for. “One m ore; – they would not fatigue Miss Fairfax on any account, and would only ask for one m ore.” And Frank Churchill was heard to say, “I think y ou could m anage this without effort; the first part is so very trifling. The strength of the song falls on the second.”

Mr. Knightley grew angry.

“That fellow,” said he, indignantly, “thinks of nothing but shewing off his own voice. This m ust not be.” And touching Miss Bates, who at that m om ent passed near – “Miss Bates, are y ou m ad, to let y our niece sing herself hoarse in this m anner? Go, and interfere. They have no m ercy on her.”

Miss Bates, in her real anxiety for Jane, could hardly stay even to be grateful, before she stept forward and put an end to all farther singing. Here ceased the concert part of the evening, for Miss Woodhouse and Miss Fairfax

were the only y oung lady perform ers; but soon (within five m inutes) the proposal of dancing – originating nobody exactly knew where – was so effectually prom oted by Mr. and Mrs. Cole, that every thing was rapidly clearing away, to give proper space. Mrs. Weston, capital in her country -dances, was seated, and beginning an irresistible waltz; and Frank Churchill, com ing up with m ost becom ing gallantry to Em m a, had secured her hand, and led her up to the top.

While waiting till the other y oung people could pair them selves off, Em m a found tim e, in spite of the com plim ents she was receiving on her voice and her taste, to look about, and see what becam e 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 m ight augur som ething. There was no im m ediate appearance. No; he was talking to Mrs. Cole – he was looking on unconcerned; Jane was asked by som ebody else, and he was still talking to Mrs. Cole.

Em m a had no longer an alarm for Henry ; his interest was y et safe; and she led off the dance with genuine spirit and enj oy m ent. Not m ore than five couple could be m ustered; but the rarity and the suddenness of it m ade it very delightful, and she found herself well m atched in a partner. They were a couple worth looking at.