LI
This letter must make its way to EmmaвАЩs feelings. She was obliged, in spite of her previous determination to the contrary, to do it all the justice that Mrs.¬†Weston foretold. As soon as she came to her own name, it was irresistible; every line relating to herself was interesting, and almost every line agreeable; and when this charm ceased, the subject could still maintain itself, by the natural return of her former regard for the writer, and the very strong attraction which any picture of love must have for her at that moment. She never stopped till she had gone through the whole; and though it was impossible not to feel that he had been wrong, yet he had been less wrong than she had supposedвБ†вАФand he had suffered, and was very sorryвБ†вАФand he was so grateful to Mrs.¬†Weston, and so much in love with Miss Fairfax, and she was so happy herself, that there was no being severe; and could he have entered the room, she must have shaken hands with him as heartily as ever.
She thought so well of the letter, that when Mr.¬†Knightley came again, she desired him to read it. She was sure of Mrs.¬†WestonвАЩs wishing it to be communicated; especially to one, who, like Mr.¬†Knightley, had seen so much to blame in his conduct.
вАЬI shall be very glad to look it over,вАЭ said he; вАЬbut it seems long. I will take it home with me at night.вАЭ
But that would not do. Mr. Weston was to call in the evening, and she must return it by him.
вАЬI would rather be talking to you,вАЭ he replied; вАЬbut as it seems a matter of justice, it shall be done.вАЭ
He beganвБ†вАФstopping, however, almost directly to say, вАЬHad I been offered the sight of one of this gentlemanвАЩs letters to his mother-in-law a few months ago, Emma, it would not have been taken with such indifference.вАЭ
He proceeded a little farther, reading to himself; and then, with a smile, observed, вАЬHumph! a fine complimentary opening: But it is his way. One manвАЩs style must not be the rule of anotherвАЩs. We will not be severe.вАЭ
вАЬIt will be natural for me,вАЭ he added shortly afterwards, вАЬto speak my opinion aloud as I read. By doing it, I shall feel that I am near you. It will not be so great a loss of time: but if you dislike itвБ†вАФвАЭ
вАЬNot at all. I should wish it.вАЭ
Mr. Knightley returned to his reading with greater alacrity.
вАЬHe trifles here,вАЭ said he, вАЬas to the temptation. He knows he is wrong, and has nothing rational to urge.вБ†вАФBad.вБ†вАФHe ought not to have formed the engagement.вБ†вАФвАШHis fatherвАЩs disposition:вАЩвБ†вАФhe is unjust, however, to his father. Mr.¬†WestonвАЩs sanguine temper was a blessing on all his upright and honourable exertions; but Mr.¬†Weston earned every present comfort before he endeavoured to gain it.вБ†вАФVery true; he did not come till Miss Fairfax was here.вАЭ
вАЬAnd I have not forgotten,вАЭ said Emma, вАЬhow sure you were that he might have come sooner if he would. You pass it over very handsomelyвБ†вАФbut you were perfectly right.вАЭ
вАЬI was not quite impartial in my judgment, Emma:вБ†вАФbut yet, I thinkвБ†вАФhad you not been in the caseвБ†вАФI should still have distrusted him.вАЭ
When he came to Miss Woodhouse, he was obliged to read the whole of it aloudвБ†вАФall that related to her, with a smile; a look; a shake of the head; a word or two of assent, or disapprobation; or merely of love, as the subject required; concluding, however, seriously, and, after steady reflection, thusвБ†вАФ
вАЬVery badвБ†вАФthough it might have been worse.вБ†вАФPlaying a most dangerous game. Too much indebted to the event for his acquittal.вБ†вАФNo judge of his own manners by you.вБ†вАФAlways deceived in fact by his own wishes, and regardless of little besides his own convenience.вБ†вАФFancying you to have fathomed his secret. Natural enough!вБ†вАФhis own mind full of intrigue, that he should suspect it in others.вБ†вАФMystery; FinesseвБ†вАФhow they pervert the understanding! My Emma, does not everything serve to prove more and more the beauty of truth and sincerity in all our dealings with each other?вАЭ
Emma agreed to it, and with a blush of sensibility on HarrietвАЩs account, which she could not give any sincere explanation of.
вАЬYou had better go on,вАЭ said she.
He did so, but very soon stopped again to say, вАЬthe pianoforte! Ah! That was the act of a very, very young man, one too young to consider whether the inconvenience of it might not very much exceed the pleasure. A boyish scheme, indeed!вБ†вАФI cannot comprehend a manвАЩs wishing to give a woman any proof of affection which he knows she would rather dispense with; and he did know that she would have prevented the instrumentвАЩs coming if she could.вАЭ
After this, he made some progress without any pause. Frank ChurchillвАЩs confession of having behaved shamefully was the first thing to call for more than a word in passing.
вАЬI perfectly agree with you, sir,вАЭвБ†вАФwas then his remark. вАЬYou did behave very shamefully. You never wrote a truer line.вАЭ And having gone through what immediately followed of the basis of their disagreement, and his persisting to act in direct opposition to Jane FairfaxвАЩs sense of right, he made a fuller pause to say, вАЬThis is very bad.вБ†вАФHe had induced her to place herself, for his sake, in a situation of extreme difficulty and uneasiness, and it should have been his first object to prevent her from suffering unnecessarily.вБ†вАФShe must have had much more to contend with, in carrying on the correspondence, than he could. He should have respected even unreasonable scruples, had there been such; but hers were all reasonable. We must look to her one fault, and remember that she had done a wrong thing in consenting to the engagement, to bear that she should have been in such a state of punishment.вАЭ
Emma knew that he was now getting to the Box Hill party, and grew uncomfortable. Her own behaviour had been so very improper! She was deeply ashamed, and a little afraid of his next look. It was all read, however, steadily, attentively, and without the smallest remark; and, excepting one momentary glance at her, instantly withdrawn, in the fear of giving painвБ†вАФno remembrance of Box Hill seemed to exist.
вАЬThere is no saying much for the delicacy of our good friends, the Eltons,вАЭ was his next observation.вБ†вАФвАЬHis feelings are natural.вБ†вАФWhat! actually resolve to break with him entirely!вБ†вАФShe felt the engagement to be a source of repentance and misery to eachвБ†вАФshe dissolved it.вБ†вАФWhat a view this gives of her sense of his behaviour!вБ†вАФWell, he must be a most extraordinaryвБ†вАФвАЭ
вАЬNay, nay, read on.вБ†вАФYou will find how very much he suffers.вАЭ
вАЬI hope he does,вАЭ replied Mr.¬†Knightley coolly, and resuming the letter. вАЬвАКвАШSmallridge!вАЩвБ†вАФWhat does this mean? What is all this?вАЭ
вАЬShe had engaged to go as governess to Mrs.¬†SmallridgeвАЩs childrenвБ†вАФa dear friend of Mrs.¬†EltonвАЩsвБ†вАФa neighbour of Maple Grove; and, by the by, I wonder how Mrs.¬†Elton bears the disappointment?вАЭ
вАЬSay nothing, my dear Emma, while you oblige me to readвБ†вАФnot even of Mrs.¬†Elton. Only one page more. I shall soon have done. What a letter the man writes!вАЭ
вАЬI wish you would read it with a kinder spirit towards him.вАЭ
вАЬWell, there is feeling here.вБ†вАФHe does seem to have suffered in finding her ill.вБ†вАФCertainly, I can have no doubt of his being fond of her. вАШDearer, much dearer than ever.вАЩ I hope he may long continue to feel all the value of such a reconciliation.вБ†вАФHe is a very liberal thanker, with his thousands and tens of thousands.вБ†вАФвАШHappier than I deserve.вАЩ Come, he knows himself there. вАШMiss Woodhouse calls me the child of good fortune.вАЩвБ†вАФThose were Miss WoodhouseвАЩs words, were they?вБ†вАФAnd a fine endingвБ†вАФand there is the letter. The child of good fortune! That was your name for him, was it?вАЭ
вАЬYou do not appear so well satisfied with his letter as I am; but still you must, at least I hope you must, think the better of him for it. I hope it does him some service with you.вАЭ
вАЬYes, certainly it does. He has had great faults, faults of inconsideration and thoughtlessness; and I am very much of his opinion in thinking him likely to be happier than he deserves: but still as he is, beyond a doubt, really attached to Miss Fairfax, and will soon, it may be hoped, have the advantage of being constantly with her, I am very ready to believe his character will improve, and acquire from hers the steadiness and delicacy of principle that it wants. And now, let me talk to you of something else. I have another personвАЩs interest at present so much at heart, that I cannot think any longer about Frank Churchill. Ever since I left you this morning, Emma, my mind has been hard at work on one subject.вАЭ
The subject followed; it was in plain, unaffected, gentlemanlike English, such as Mr.¬†Knightley used even to the woman he was in love with, how to be able to ask her to marry him, without attacking the happiness of her father. EmmaвАЩs answer was ready at the first word. вАЬWhile her dear father lived, any change of condition must be impossible for her. She could never quit him.вАЭ Part only of this answer, however, was admitted. The impossibility of her quitting her father, Mr.¬†Knightley felt as strongly as herself; but the inadmissibility of any other change, he could not agree to. He had been thinking it over most deeply, most intently; he had at first hoped to induce Mr.¬†Woodhouse to remove with her to Donwell; he had wanted to believe it feasible, but his knowledge of Mr.¬†Woodhouse would not suffer him to deceive himself long; and now he confessed his persuasion, that such a transplantation would be a risk of her fatherвАЩs comfort, perhaps even of his life, which must not be hazarded. Mr.¬†Woodhouse taken from Hartfield!вБ†вАФNo, he felt that it ought not to be attempted. But the plan which had arisen on the sacrifice of this, he trusted his dearest Emma would not find in any respect objectionable; it was, that he should be received at Hartfield; that so long as her fatherвАЩs happinessвБ†вАФin other words, his lifeвБ†вАФrequired Hartfield to continue her home, it should be his likewise.
Of their all removing to Donwell, Emma had already had her own passing thoughts. Like him, she had tried the scheme and rejected it; but such an alternative as this had not occurred to her. She was sensible of all the affection it evinced. She felt that, in quitting Donwell, he must be sacrificing a great deal of independence of hours and habits; that in living constantly with her father, and in no house of his own, there would be much, very much, to be borne with. She promised to think of it, and advised him to think of it more; but he was fully convinced, that no reflection could alter his wishes or his opinion on the subject. He had given it, he could assure her, very long and calm consideration; he had been walking away from William Larkins the whole morning, to have his thoughts to himself.
вАЬAh! there is one difficulty unprovided for,вАЭ cried Emma. вАЬI am sure William Larkins will not like it. You must get his consent before you ask mine.вАЭ
She promised, however, to think of it; and pretty nearly promised, moreover, to think of it, with the intention of finding it a very good scheme.
It is remarkable, that Emma, in the many, very many, points of view in which she was now beginning to consider Donwell Abbey, was never struck with any sense of injury to her nephew Henry, whose rights as heir-expectant had formerly been so tenaciously regarded. Think she must of the possible difference to the poor little boy; and yet she only gave herself a saucy conscious smile about it, and found amusement in detecting the real cause of that violent dislike of Mr.¬†KnightleyвАЩs marrying Jane Fairfax, or anybody else, which at the time she had wholly imputed to the amiable solicitude of the sister and the aunt.
This proposal of his, this plan of marrying and continuing at HartfieldвБ†вАФthe more she contemplated it, the more pleasing it became. His evils seemed to lessen, her own advantages to increase, their mutual good to outweigh every drawback. Such a companion for herself in the periods of anxiety and cheerlessness before her!вБ†вАФSuch a partner in all those duties and cares to which time must be giving increase of melancholy!
She would have been too happy but for poor Harriet; but every blessing of her own seemed to involve and advance the sufferings of her friend, who must now be even excluded from Hartfield. The delightful family party which Emma was securing for herself, poor Harriet must, in mere charitable caution, be kept at a distance from. She would be a loser in every way. Emma could not deplore her future absence as any deduction from her own enjoyment. In such a party, Harriet would be rather a dead weight than otherwise; but for the poor girl herself, it seemed a peculiarly cruel necessity that was to be placing her in such a state of unmerited punishment.
In time, of course, Mr.¬†Knightley would be forgotten, that is, supplanted; but this could not be expected to happen very early. Mr.¬†Knightley himself would be doing nothing to assist the cure;вБ†вАФnot like Mr.¬†Elton. Mr.¬†Knightley, always so kind, so feeling, so truly considerate for everybody, would never deserve to be less worshipped than now; and it really was too much to hope even of Harriet, that she could be in love with more than three men in one year.