Read the collected works of Jane Austen.
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by Jane Austen
(1775-1817)
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Volume 2: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18
Volume 3: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19
Volume 3: Chapter 15
This letter must make its way to Emma's 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 stopt 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 supposed - and he had suffered, and was very sorry - and 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. Weston's wishing it to be communicated; especially
to one, who, like Mr. Knightley, had seen so much to blame in his conduct.'I
shall be very glad to look it over,' said he; 'but it seems long. I will take
it home with me at night.'But that would not do. Mr. Weston was to call in the
evening, and she must return it by him.'I would rather be talking to you,' he
replied; 'but as it seems a matter of justice, it shall be done.'He began -
stopping, however, almost directly to say, 'Had I been offered the sight of
one of this gentleman's letters to his mother-in-law a few months ago, Emma,
it would not have been taken with such indifference.'He proceeded a little farther,
reading to himself; and then, with a smile, observed, 'Humph! a fine complimentary
opening: But it is his way. One man's style must not be the rule of another's.
We will not be severe.''It will be natural for me,' he added shortly afterwards,
'to 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 it - ''Not at
all. I should wish it.'Mr. Knightley returned to his reading with greater alacrity.'He
trifles here,' said he, 'as to the temptation. He knows he is wrong, and has
nothing rational to urge. - Bad. - He ought not to have formed the engagement.
- "His father's disposition:'' - he is unjust, however, to his father. Mr.
Weston's 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.
- Very true; he did not come till Miss Fairfax was here.''And I have not forgotten,'
said Emma, 'how sure you were that he might have come sooner if he would. You
pass it over very handsomely - but you were perfectly right.''I was not quite
impartial in my judgment, Emma: - but yet, I think - had you not been in the
case - I should still have distrusted him.'When he came to Miss Woodhouse, he
was obliged to read the whole of it aloud - all 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, thus -'Very bad - though it might have been worse.
- Playing a most dangerous game. Too much indebted to the event for his acquittal.
- No judge of his own manners by you. - Always deceived in fact by his own wishes,
and regardless of little besides his own convenience. - Fancying you to have
fathomed his secret. Natural enough! - his own mind full of intrigue, that he
should suspect it in others. - Mystery; Finesse - how they pervert the understanding!
My Emma, does not every thing serve to prove more and more the beauty of truth
and sincerity in all our dealings with each other?'
Emma agreed to it, and with a blush of sensibility on Harriet's account, which
she could not give any sincere explanation of.'You had better go on,' said she.He
did so, but very soon stopt again to say, 'the 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! - I
cannot comprehend a man's 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 instrument's coming if she could.'After this, he made some progress
without any pause. Frank Churchill's confession of having behaved shamefully
was the first thing to call for more than a word in passing.'I perfectly agree
with you, sir,' - was then his remark. 'You did behave very shamefully. You
never wrote a truer line.' And having gone through what immediately followed
of the basis of their disagreement, and his persisting to act in direct opposition
to Jane Fairfax's sense of right, he made a fuller pause to say, 'This is very
bad. - He 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. - She 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.'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 pain
- no remembrance of Box Hill seemed to exist.'There is no saying much for the
delicacy of our good friends, the Eltons,' was his next observation. - 'His
feelings are natural. - What! actually resolve to break with him entirely! -
She felt the engagement to be a source of repentance and misery to each - she
dissolved it. - What a view this gives of her sense of his behaviour! - Well,
he must be a most extraordinary - ''Nay, nay, read on. - You will find how very
much he suffers.''I hope he does,' replied Mr. Knightley coolly, and resuming
the letter. "'Smallridge!'' - What does this mean? What is all this?''She had
engaged to go as governess to Mrs. Smallridge's children - a dear friend of
Mrs. Elton's - a neighbour of Maple Grove; and, by the bye, I wonder how Mrs.
Elton bears the disappointment?''Say nothing, my dear Emma, while you oblige
me to read - not even of Mrs. Elton. Only one page more. I shall soon have done.
What a letter the man writes!''I wish you would read it with a kinder spirit
towards him.''Well, there is feeling here. - He does seem to have suffered in
finding her ill. - Certainly, I can have no doubt of his being fond of her.
"Dearer, much dearer than ever.'' I hope he may long continue to feel all the
value of such a reconciliation. - He is a very liberal thanker, with his thousands
and tens of thousands. - "Happier than I deserve.'' Come, he knows himself
there. "Miss Woodhouse calls me the child of good fortune.'' - Those were Miss
Woodhouse's words, were they? - And a fine ending - and there is the letter.
The child of good fortune! That was your name for him, was it?'
'You 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.''Yes, 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
person's 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.'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. Emma's answer was ready at the first word. 'While her dear father
lived, any change of condition must be impossible for her. She could never quit
him.' 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 father's comfort, perhaps even of his life, which must not be hazarded.
Mr. Woodhouse taken from Hartfield! - No, 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 father's happiness in other words
his life - required 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.'Ah! there is one difficulty unprovided for,' cried Emma. 'I am sure
William Larkins will not like it. You must get his consent before you ask mine.'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. Knightley's marrying
Jane Fairfax, or any body 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 Hartfield - the 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! - Such 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;
- not like Mr. Elton. Mr. Knightley, always so kind, so feeling, so truly considerate
for every body, 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.
Volume 1: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18
Volume 2: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18
Volume 3: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19
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