No More Learning

Dixon. ”

“And if the Dixons should absolutely deny all knowledge of it we must
conclude it to come from the Campbells. ”

“No, I am sure it is not from the Campbells. Miss Fairfax knows it is
not from the Campbells, or they would have been guessed at first. She
would not have been puzzled, had she dared fix on them. I may not have
convinced you perhaps, but I am perfectly convinced myself that Mr.
Dixon is a principal in the business. ”

“Indeed you injure me if you suppose me unconvinced. Your reasonings
carry my judgment along with them entirely. At first, while I supposed
you satisfied that Colonel Campbell was the giver, I saw it only as
paternal kindness, and thought it the most natural thing in the world.
But when you mentioned Mrs. Dixon, I felt how much more probable that it
should be the tribute of warm female friendship. And now I can see it in
no other light than as an offering of love. ”

There was no occasion to press the matter farther. The conviction seemed
real; he looked as if he felt it. She said no more, other subjects
took their turn; and the rest of the dinner passed away; the dessert
succeeded, the children came in, and were talked to and admired amid the
usual rate of conversation; a few clever things said, a few downright
silly, but by much the larger proportion neither the one nor the
other--nothing worse than everyday remarks, dull repetitions, old news,
and heavy jokes.

The ladies had not been long in the drawing-room, before the other
ladies, in their different divisions, arrived. Emma 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 blooming sweetness and
the artless manner, but could most heartily rejoice in that light,
cheerful, unsentimental disposition which allowed her so many
alleviations of pleasure, in the midst of the pangs of disappointed
affection. There she sat--and who would have guessed how many tears she
had been lately shedding? To be in company, nicely dressed herself and
seeing others nicely dressed, to sit and smile and look pretty, and say
nothing, was enough for the happiness of the present hour. Jane Fairfax
did look and move superior; but Emma suspected she might have been
glad to change feelings with Harriet, very glad to have purchased the
mortification of having loved--yes, 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 Emma should approach her.
She did not wish to speak of the pianoforte, she felt too much 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
subject was almost immediately introduced, and she saw the blush of
consciousness with which congratulations were received, the blush
of guilt which accompanied the name of “my excellent friend Colonel
Campbell. ”

Mrs. Weston, kind-hearted and musical, was particularly interested
by the circumstance, and Emma could not help being amused at her
perseverance in dwelling on the subject; and having so much to ask and
to say as to tone, touch, and pedal, totally unsuspicious of that wish
of saying as little about it as possible, which she plainly read in the
fair heroine’s countenance.

They were soon joined by some of the gentlemen; and the very first
of the early was Frank Churchill. In he walked, the first and the
handsomest; and after paying his compliments en passant to Miss Bates
and her niece, made 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. Emma divined what every body present must be thinking.
She was his object, and every body must perceive it. She introduced him
to her friend, Miss Smith, and, at convenient moments 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 paying
him too great a compliment, but she did think there were some looks a
little like Mr. Elton. ” Emma restrained her indignation, and only turned
from her in silence.

Smiles of intelligence passed between her and the gentleman on first
glancing towards Miss Fairfax; but it was most prudent to avoid speech.
He told her that he had been impatient to leave the dining-room--hated
sitting long--was always the first to move 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 gentlemanlike,
sensible men; and spoke so handsomely of Highbury altogether--thought it
so abundant in agreeable families--that Emma began to feel she had been
used to despise the place rather too much. She questioned him as to the
society in Yorkshire--the extent of the neighbourhood about Enscombe,
and the sort; and could make out from his answers that, as far as
Enscombe was concerned, there was very little going on, that their
visitings were among a range of great families, none very near; and
that even when days were fixed, and invitations accepted, it was an even
chance that Mrs. Churchill were not in health and spirits for going;
that they made a point of visiting no fresh person; and that, though
he had his separate engagements, it was not without difficulty, without
considerable address _at_ _times_, that he could get away, or introduce
an acquaintance for a night.

She saw that Enscombe could not satisfy, and that Highbury, taken at
its best, might reasonably please a young man who had more retirement at
home than he liked. His importance at Enscombe was very evident. He did
not boast, but it naturally betrayed 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_ _time_ persuade her to any thing. One of those points on which
his influence failed, he then mentioned. He had wanted very much to
go abroad--had been very eager indeed to be allowed to travel--but she
would not hear of it. This had happened the year before. _Now_, he said,
he was beginning to have no longer the same wish.

The unpersuadable point, which he did not mention, Emma guessed to be
good behaviour to his father.

“I have made a most wretched discovery,” said he, after a short pause. --
“I have been here a week to-morrow--half my time. I never knew days fly
so fast. A week to-morrow! --And I have hardly begun to enjoy myself.
But just got acquainted with Mrs. Weston, and others! --I hate the
recollection. ”

“Perhaps you may now begin to regret that you spent one whole day, out
of so few, in having your hair cut. ”

“No,” said he, smiling, “that is no subject of regret at all. I have
no pleasure in seeing my friends, unless I can believe myself fit to be
seen. ”

The rest of the gentlemen being now in the room, Emma found herself
obliged to turn from him for a few minutes, and listen to Mr. Cole. When
Mr. Cole had moved 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 matter? ” said she.

He started. “Thank you for rousing me,” 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 my eyes from her. I never saw
any thing so outree! --Those curls! --This must be a fancy of her own. I
see nobody else looking like her! --I must go and ask her whether it
is an Irish fashion. Shall I? --Yes, I will--I declare I will--and you
shall see how she takes it;--whether she colours. ”

He was gone immediately; and Emma soon saw him standing before Miss
Fairfax, and talking to her; but as to its effect on the young lady,
as he had improvidently placed himself 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 Emma, I am longing to talk
to you. I have been making discoveries and forming plans, just like
yourself, and I must tell them while the idea is fresh. Do you know how
Miss Bates and her niece came here? ”

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

“Oh! yes--but how they were conveyed hither? --the manner of their
coming? ”

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

“Very true. --Well, a little while ago it occurred to me how very sad
it would be to have Jane Fairfax walking home again, late at night, and
cold as the nights are now. And as I looked at her, though I never saw
her appear to more advantage, it struck me 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 came into the room,
and I could get at him, I spoke to him about the carriage. You may guess
how readily he came into my wishes; and having his approbation, I made
my way directly to Miss Bates, to assure her that the carriage would be
at her service before it took us home; for I thought it would be making
her comfortable at once. Good soul! she was as grateful as possible, you
may be sure. ‘Nobody was ever so fortunate as herself! ’--but with many,
many thanks--‘there was no occasion to trouble us, for Mr. Knightley’s
carriage had brought, and was to take them home 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 men would think of. And, in short, from knowing his
usual ways, I am very much inclined to think that it was for their
accommodation the carriage was used at all. I do suspect he would not
have had a pair of horses for himself, and that it was only as an excuse
for assisting them. ”

“Very likely,” said Emma--“nothing more likely. I know no man more
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 man, but he is a very humane one; and this, considering Jane
Fairfax’s ill-health, would appear a case of humanity to him;--and for
an act of unostentatious kindness, there is nobody whom I would fix on
more 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, smiling, “you give him credit for more simple,
disinterested benevolence in this instance than I do; for while Miss
Bates was speaking, a suspicion darted into my head, and I have never
been able to get it out again. The more I think of it, the more probable
it appears. In short, I have made a match between Mr. Knightley and Jane
Fairfax. See the consequence of keeping you company! --What do you say to
it? ”

“Mr. Knightley and Jane Fairfax! ” exclaimed Emma. “Dear Mrs. Weston, how
could you think of such a thing? --Mr. Knightley! --Mr. Knightley must not
marry! --You would not have little Henry cut out from Donwell? --Oh! no,
no, Henry must have Donwell. I cannot at all consent to Mr. Knightley’s
marrying; and I am sure it is not at all likely. I am amazed that you
should think of such a thing. ”

“My dear Emma, I have told you what led me to think of it. I do not want
the match--I do not want to injure dear little Henry--but the idea has
been given me by circumstances; and if Mr. Knightley really wished to
marry, you would not have him refrain on Henry’s account, a boy of six
years old, who knows nothing of the matter? ”

“Yes, I would. I could not bear to have Henry supplanted. --Mr.
Knightley marry! --No, I have never had such an idea, and I cannot adopt
it now. And Jane Fairfax, too, of all women! ”

“Nay, she has always been a first favourite with him, as you very well
know. ”

“But the imprudence of such a match! ”

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

“I see no probability in it, unless you have any better foundation than
what you mention. His good-nature, his humanity, as I tell you, would
be quite enough to account for the horses. He has a great regard for the
Bateses, you know, independent of Jane Fairfax--and is always glad to
shew them attention. My dear Mrs. Weston, do not take to match-making.
You do it very ill. Jane Fairfax mistress of the Abbey! --Oh! no,
no;--every feeling revolts. For his own sake, I would not have him do so
mad a thing. ”

“Imprudent, if you please--but not mad. Excepting inequality of fortune,
and perhaps a little disparity of age, I can see nothing unsuitable. ”

“But Mr. Knightley does not want to marry. I am sure he has not the
least idea of it. Do not put it into his head. Why should he marry? --He
is as happy as possible by himself; with his farm, and his sheep, and
his library, and all the parish to manage; and he is extremely fond of
his brother’s children. He has no occasion to marry, either to fill up
his time or his heart. ”

“My dear Emma, 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 family; but--”

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

“If it would be good to her, I am sure it would be evil to himself; a
very shameful 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 marrying Jane? --‘So very
kind and obliging! --But he always had been such a very kind neighbour! ’
And then fly off, through half a sentence, to her mother’s old
petticoat. ‘Not that it was such a very old petticoat either--for still
it would last a great while--and, indeed, she must thankfully say that
their petticoats were all very strong. ’”

“For shame, Emma! Do not mimic her. You divert me against my conscience.
And, upon my word, I do not think Mr. Knightley would be much disturbed
by Miss Bates. Little things do not irritate him. She might talk on; and
if he wanted to say any thing himself, 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 must you, 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 himself
so warmly on those points! --Such an admirer of her performance on the
pianoforte, and of her voice! I have heard him say that he could listen
to her for ever. Oh! and I had almost forgotten one idea that occurred
to me--this pianoforte that has been sent here by somebody--though
we have all been so well satisfied to consider it a present from the
Campbells, may it not be from Mr. Knightley? I cannot help suspecting
him. I think he is just the person to do it, even without being in
love. ”

“Then it can be no argument 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 mysteriously. ”

“I have heard him lamenting her having no instrument repeatedly; oftener
than I should suppose such a circumstance would, in the common course of
things, occur to him. ”

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

“There might be scruples of delicacy, my dear Emma. I have a very strong
notion that it comes 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 you have
many a time reproached me with doing. I see no sign of attachment--I
believe nothing of the pianoforte--and proof only shall convince me that
Mr. Knightley has any thought of marrying Jane Fairfax. ”

They combated the point some time longer in the same way; Emma rather
gaining ground over the mind of her friend; for Mrs. Weston was the most
used of the two to yield; till a little bustle in the room shewed them
that tea was over, and the instrument in preparation;--and at the same
moment Mr. Cole approaching to entreat Miss Woodhouse would do them the
honour of trying 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 Emma best to
lead, she gave a very proper compliance.

She knew the limitations of her own powers too well to attempt more than
she could perform with credit; she wanted neither taste nor spirit in
the little things which are generally acceptable, and could accompany
her own voice well. One accompaniment 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 music; which was properly denied; and that he knew nothing
of the matter, and had no voice at all, roundly asserted. They sang
together once more; and Emma would then resign her place to Miss
Fairfax, whose performance, both vocal and instrumental, she never could
attempt to conceal from herself, was infinitely superior to her own.

With mixed feelings, she seated herself at a little distance from the
numbers round the instrument, to listen. Frank Churchill sang again.
They had sung together once or twice, it appeared, at Weymouth. But the
sight of Mr. Knightley among the most attentive, soon drew away half
Emma’s mind; and she fell into a train of thinking on the subject of
Mrs. Weston’s suspicions, to which the sweet sounds of the united voices
gave only momentary interruptions. Her objections to Mr. Knightley’s
marrying did not in the least subside. She could see nothing but evil
in it. It would be a great disappointment to Mr. John Knightley;
consequently to Isabella. A real injury to the children--a most
mortifying change, and material loss to them all;--a very great
deduction from her father’s daily comfort--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 must never
marry. Little Henry must remain the heir of Donwell.

Presently Mr. Knightley looked back, and came and sat down by her. They
talked at first only of the performance. His admiration was certainly
very warm; yet 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 conveying the aunt and niece; and though his answer was in
the spirit of cutting the matter 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 make our carriage
more useful on such occasions. It is not that I am without the wish; but
you know how impossible my father would deem it that James should put-to
for such a purpose. ”

“Quite out of the question, quite out of the question,” he
replied;--“but you must often wish it, I am sure. ” And he smiled with
such seeming pleasure at the conviction, that she must proceed another
step.

“This present from the Campbells,” said she--“this pianoforte is very
kindly given. ”

“Yes,” he replied, and without the smallest apparent
embarrassment. --“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 judgment in Colonel Campbell. ”

From that moment, Emma could have taken her oath that Mr. Knightley had
had no concern in giving the instrument. But whether he were
entirely free from peculiar attachment--whether there were no actual
preference--remained 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--“you have
sung quite enough for one evening--now be quiet. ”

Another song, however, was soon begged for. “One more;--they would not
fatigue Miss Fairfax on any account, and would only ask for one more. ”
And Frank Churchill was heard to say, “I think you could manage 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 must not be. ” And touching Miss Bates, who at that
moment passed near--“Miss Bates, are you mad, to let your niece sing
herself hoarse in this manner? Go, and interfere. They have no mercy 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 young lady performers; but soon (within
five minutes) the proposal of dancing--originating nobody exactly knew
where--was so effectually promoted 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, coming up with most becoming gallantry to
Emma, had secured her hand, and led her up to the top.

While waiting till the other young people could pair themselves off,
Emma found time, in spite of the compliments she was receiving on
her voice and her taste, to look about, and see what became 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 might augur
something. There was no immediate appearance. No; he was talking to Mrs.
Cole--he was looking on unconcerned; Jane was asked by somebody else,
and he was still talking to Mrs. Cole.

Emma had no longer an alarm for Henry; his interest was yet safe; and
she led off the dance with genuine spirit and enjoyment. Not more than
five couple could be mustered; but the rarity and the suddenness of
it made it very delightful, and she found herself well matched in a
partner. They were a couple worth looking at.

Two dances, unfortunately, were all that could be allowed. It was
growing late, and Miss Bates became anxious to get home, on her mother’s
account. After some attempts, therefore, to be permitted to begin again,
they were obliged to thank Mrs. Weston, look sorrowful, and have done.

“Perhaps it is as well,” said Frank Churchill, as he attended Emma to
her carriage. “I must have asked Miss Fairfax, and her languid dancing
would not have agreed with me, after yours. ”



CHAPTER IX


Emma did not repent her condescension in going to the Coles. The visit
afforded her many pleasant recollections the next day; and all that she
might be supposed to have lost on the side of dignified seclusion, must
be amply repaid in the splendour of popularity. She must have delighted
the Coles--worthy people, who deserved to be made happy! --And left a
name behind her that would not soon die away.

Perfect happiness, even in memory, is not common; and there were two
points on which she was not quite easy. She doubted whether she had not
transgressed the duty of woman by woman, in betraying her suspicions of
Jane Fairfax’s feelings to Frank Churchill. It was hardly right; but it
had been so strong an idea, that it would escape her, and his submission
to all that she told, was a compliment to her penetration, which made
it difficult for her to be quite certain that she ought to have held her
tongue.

The other circumstance of regret related also to Jane Fairfax; and
there she had no doubt. She did unfeignedly and unequivocally regret the
inferiority of her own playing and singing. She did most heartily
grieve over the idleness of her childhood--and sat down and practised
vigorously an hour and a half.

She was then interrupted by Harriet’s coming in; and if Harriet’s praise
could have satisfied her, she might soon have been comforted.

“Oh! if I could but play as well as you and Miss Fairfax! ”

“Don’t class us together, Harriet. My playing is no more like her’s,
than a lamp is like sunshine. ”

“Oh! dear--I think you play the best of the two. I think you play quite
as well as she does. I am sure I had much rather hear you. Every body
last night said how well you played. ”

“Those who knew any thing about it, must have felt the difference. The
truth is, Harriet, that my playing is just good enough to be praised,
but Jane Fairfax’s is much beyond it. ”

“Well, I always shall think that you play quite as well as she does, or
that if there is any difference nobody would ever find it out. Mr. Cole
said how much taste you had; and Mr. Frank Churchill talked a great deal
about your taste, and that he valued taste much more than execution. ”

“Ah! but Jane Fairfax has them both, Harriet. ”

“Are you sure? I saw she had execution, but I did not know she had any
taste. Nobody talked about it. And I hate Italian singing. --There is no
understanding a word of it. Besides, if she does play so very well, you
know, it is no more than she is obliged to do, because she will have to
teach. The Coxes were wondering last night whether she would get into
any great family. How did you think the Coxes looked? ”

“Just as they always do--very vulgar. ”

“They told me something,” said Harriet rather hesitatingly; “but it is
nothing of any consequence. ”

Emma was obliged to ask what they had told her, though fearful of its
producing Mr. Elton.

“They told me--that Mr. Martin dined with them last Saturday. ”

“Oh! ”

“He came to their father upon some business, and he asked him to stay to
dinner. ”

“Oh! ”

“They talked a great deal about him, especially Anne Cox. I do not know
what she meant, but she asked me if I thought I should go and stay there
again next summer. ”

“She meant to be impertinently curious, just as such an Anne Cox should
be. ”

“She said he was very agreeable the day he dined there. He sat by her at
dinner. Miss Nash thinks either of the Coxes would be very glad to marry
him. ”

“Very likely. --I think they are, without exception, the most vulgar
girls in Highbury. ”

Harriet had business at Ford’s. --Emma thought it most prudent to go with
her. Another accidental meeting with the Martins was possible, and in
her present state, would be dangerous.

Harriet, tempted by every thing and swayed by half a word, was always
very long at a purchase; and while she was still hanging over muslins
and changing her mind, Emma went to the door for amusement. --Much could
not be hoped from the traffic of even the busiest part of Highbury;--Mr.
Perry walking hastily by, Mr. William Cox letting himself in at the
office-door, Mr. Cole’s carriage-horses returning from exercise, or a
stray letter-boy on an obstinate mule, were the liveliest objects she
could presume to expect; and when her eyes fell only on the butcher with
his tray, a tidy old woman travelling homewards from shop with her full
basket, two curs quarrelling over a dirty bone, and a string of dawdling
children round the baker’s little bow-window eyeing the gingerbread, she
knew she had no reason to complain, and was amused enough; quite enough
still to stand at the door. A mind lively and at ease, can do with
seeing nothing, and can see nothing that does not answer.

She looked down the Randalls road. The scene enlarged; two persons
appeared; Mrs. Weston and her son-in-law; they were walking into
Highbury;--to Hartfield of course. They were stopping, however, in the
first place at Mrs. Bates’s; whose house was a little nearer
Randalls than Ford’s; and had all but knocked, when Emma caught their
eye. --Immediately they crossed the road and came forward to her; and the
agreeableness of yesterday’s engagement seemed to give fresh pleasure to
the present meeting. Mrs. Weston informed her that she was going to call
on the Bateses, in order to hear the new instrument.

“For my companion tells me,” said she, “that I absolutely promised Miss
Bates last night, that I would come this morning. I was not aware of it
myself. I did not know that I had fixed a day, but as he says I did, I
am going now. ”

“And while Mrs. Weston pays her visit, I may be allowed, I hope,” said
Frank Churchill, “to join your party and wait for her at Hartfield--if
you are going home. ”

Mrs. Weston was disappointed.

“I thought you meant to go with me. They would be very much pleased. ”

“Me! I should be quite in the way. But, perhaps--I may be equally in the
way here. Miss Woodhouse looks as if she did not want me. My aunt always
sends me off when she is shopping. She says I fidget her to death; and
Miss Woodhouse looks as if she could almost say the same. What am I to
do? ”

“I am here on no business of my own,” said Emma; “I am only waiting for
my friend. She will probably have soon done, and then we shall go home.
But you had better go with Mrs. Weston and hear the instrument. ”

“Well--if you advise it. --But (with a smile) if Colonel Campbell should
have employed a careless friend, and if it should prove to have an
indifferent tone--what shall I say? I shall be no support to Mrs.
Weston. She might do very well by herself. A disagreeable truth would be
palatable through her lips, but I am the wretchedest being in the world
at a civil falsehood. ”

“I do not believe any such thing,” replied Emma. --“I am persuaded that
you can be as insincere as your neighbours, when it is necessary; but
there is no reason to suppose the instrument is indifferent. Quite
otherwise indeed, if I understood Miss Fairfax’s opinion last night. ”

“Do come with me,” said Mrs. Weston, “if it be not very disagreeable to
you. It need not detain us long. We will go to Hartfield afterwards.
We will follow them to Hartfield. I really wish you to call with me. It
will be felt so great an attention!