Volume II: Chapter V

by Jane Austen

　　Small heart had Harriet for visiting. Only half an hour before herfriend called for her at Mrs. Goddard's, her evil stars had ledher to the very spot where, at that moment, a trunk, directed toThe Rev. Philip Elton, White-Hart, Bath, was to be seen under theoperation of being lifted into the butcher's cart, which was toconvey it to where the coaches past; and every thing in this world,excepting that trunk and the direction, was consequently a blank.

　　She went, however; and when they reached the farm, and she was tobe put down, at the end of the broad, neat gravel walk, which ledbetween espalier apple-trees to the front door, the sight of everything which had given her so much pleasure the autumn before,was beginning to revive a little local agitation; and when they parted,Emma observed her to be looking around with a sort of fearful curiosity,which determined her not to allow the visit to exceed the proposedquarter of an hour. She went on herself, to give that portionof time to an old servant who was married, and settled in Donwell.

　　The quarter of an hour brought her punctually to the white gate again;and Miss Smith receiving her summons, was with her without delay,and unattended by any alarming young man. She came solitarilydown the gravel walk--a Miss Martin just appearing at the door,and parting with her seemingly with ceremonious civility.

　　Harriet could not very soon give an intelligible account.She was feeling too much; but at last Emma collected from herenough to understand the sort of meeting, and the sort of pain itwas creating. She had seen only Mrs. Martin and the two girls.They had received her doubtingly, if not coolly; and nothingbeyond the merest commonplace had been talked almost all the time--till just at last, when Mrs. Martin's saying, all of a sudden,that she thought Miss Smith was grown, had brought on a moreinteresting subject, and a warmer manner. In that very roomshe had been measured last September, with her two friends.There were the pencilled marks and memorandums on the wainscot bythe window. He had done it. They all seemed to remember the day,the hour, the party, the occasion--to feel the same consciousness,the same regrets--to be ready to return to the same good understanding;and they were just growing again like themselves, (Harriet, as Emmamust suspect, as ready as the best of them to be cordial and happy,)when the carriage reappeared, and all was over. The style ofthe visit, and the shortness of it, were then felt to be decisive.Fourteen minutes to be given to those with whom she had thankfullypassed six weeks not six months ago!--Emma could not but pictureit all, and feel how justly they might resent, how naturallyHarriet must suffer. It was a bad business. She would have givena great deal, or endured a great deal, to have had the Martinsin a higher rank of life. They were so deserving, that a littlehigher should have been enough: but as it was, how could she havedone otherwise?--Impossible!--She could not repent. They mustbe separated; but there was a great deal of pain in the process--so much to herself at this time, that she soon felt the necessityof a little consolation, and resolved on going home by way of Randallsto procure it. Her mind was quite sick of Mr. Elton and the Martins.The refreshment of Randalls was absolutely necessary.

　　It was a good scheme; but on driving to the door they heardthat neither "master nor mistress was at home;" they had bothbeen out some time; the man believed they were gone to Hartfield.

　　"This is too bad," cried Emma, as they turned away. "And now weshall just miss them; too provoking!--I do not know when I have beenso disappointed." And she leaned back in the corner, to indulgeher murmurs, or to reason them away; probably a little of both--such being the commonest process of a not ill-disposed mind.Presently the carriage stopt; she looked up; it was stoptby Mr. and Mrs. Weston, who were standing to speak to her.There was instant pleasure in the sight of them, and still greaterpleasure was conveyed in sound--for Mr. Weston immediately accostedher with,

　　"How d'ye do?--how d'ye do?--We have been sitting with your father--glad to see him so well. Frank comes to-morrow--I had a letterthis morning--we see him to-morrow by dinner-time to a certainty--he is at Oxford to-day, and he comes for a whole fortnight; I knew it wouldbe so. If he had come at Christmas he could not have staid three days;I was always glad he did not come at Christmas; now we are goingto have just the right weather for him, fine, dry, settled weather.We shall enjoy him completely; every thing has turned out exactlyas we could wish."

　　There was no resisting such news, no possibility of avoiding theinfluence of such a happy face as Mr. Weston's, confirmed as it allwas by the words and the countenance of his wife, fewer and quieter,but not less to the purpose. To know that she thought his comingcertain was enough to make Emma consider it so, and sincerely didshe rejoice in their joy. It was a most delightful reanimationof exhausted spirits. The worn-out past was sunk in the freshnessof what was coming; and in the rapidity of half a moment's thought,she hoped Mr. Elton would now be talked of no more.

　　Mr. Weston gave her the history of the engagements at Enscombe,which allowed his son to answer for having an entire fortnight athis command, as well as the route and the method of his journey;and she listened, and smiled, and congratulated.

　　"I shall soon bring him over to Hartfield," said he, at the conclusion.

　　Emma could imagine she saw a touch of the arm at this speech,from his wife.

　　"We had better move on, Mr. Weston," said she, "we are detainingthe girls."

　　"Well, well, I am ready;"--and turning again to Emma, "but you mustnot be expecting such a very fine young man; you have only had myaccount you know; I dare say he is really nothing extraordinary:"--though his own sparkling eyes at the moment were speaking a verydifferent conviction.

　　Emma could look perfectly unconscious and innocent, and answerin a manner that appropriated nothing.

　　"Think of me to-morrow, my dear Emma, about four o'clock,"was Mrs. Weston's parting injunction; spoken with some anxiety,and meant only for her.

　　"Four o'clock!--depend upon it he will be here by three," was Mr. Weston'squick amendment; and so ended a most satisfactory meeting.Emma's spirits were mounted quite up to happiness; every thing worea different air; James and his horses seemed not half so sluggishas before. When she looked at the hedges, she thought the elder atleast must soon be coming out; and when she turned round to Harriet,she saw something like a look of spring, a tender smile even there.

　　"Will Mr. Frank Churchill pass through Bath as well as Oxford?"--was a question, however, which did not augur much.

　　But neither geography nor tranquillity could come all at once,and Emma was now in a humour to resolve that they should both comein time.

　　The morning of the interesting day arrived, and Mrs. Weston'sfaithful pupil did not forget either at ten, or eleven, or twelveo'clock, that she was to think of her at four.

　　"My dear, dear anxious friend,"--said she, in mental soliloquy,while walking downstairs from her own room, "always overcarefulfor every body's comfort but your own; I see you now in all yourlittle fidgets, going again and again into his room, to be surethat all is right." The clock struck twelve as she passed throughthe hall. "'Tis twelve; I shall not forget to think of you fourhours hence; and by this time to-morrow, perhaps, or a little later,I may be thinking of the possibility of their all calling here.I am sure they will bring him soon."

　　She opened the parlour door, and saw two gentlemen sitting withher father--Mr. Weston and his son. They had been arrived onlya few minutes, and Mr. Weston had scarcely finished his explanationof Frank's being a day before his time, and her father was yetin the midst of his very civil welcome and congratulations, whenshe appeared, to have her share of surprize, introduction, and pleasure.

　　The Frank Churchill so long talked of, so high in interest,was actually before her--he was presented to her, and she didnot think too much had been said in his praise; he was a very goodlooking young man; height, air, address, all were unexceptionable,and his countenance had a great deal of the spirit and livelinessof his father's; he looked quick and sensible. She felt immediatelythat she should like him; and there was a well-bred ease of manner,and a readiness to talk, which convinced her that he came intendingto be acquainted with her, and that acquainted they soon must be.

　　He had reached Randalls the evening before. She was pleasedwith the eagerness to arrive which had made him alter his plan,and travel earlier, later, and quicker, that he might gain halfa day.

　　"I told you yesterday," cried Mr. Weston with exultation, "I toldyou all that he would be here before the time named. I rememberedwhat I used to do myself. One cannot creep upon a journey;one cannot help getting on faster than one has planned; and thepleasure of coming in upon one's friends before the look-out begins,is worth a great deal more than any little exertion it needs."

　　"It is a great pleasure where one can indulge in it," said the young man,"though there are not many houses that I should presume on so far;but in coming home I felt I might do any thing."

　　The word home made his father look on him with fresh complacency.Emma was directly sure that he knew how to make himself agreeable;the conviction was strengthened by what followed. He was very muchpleased with Randalls, thought it a most admirably arranged house,would hardly allow it even to be very small, admired the situation,the walk to Highbury, Highbury itself, Hartfield still more,and professed himself to have always felt the sort of interestin the country which none but one's own country gives, and thegreatest curiosity to visit it. That he should never have beenable to indulge so amiable a feeling before, passed suspiciouslythrough Emma's brain; but still, if it were a falsehood, it was apleasant one, and pleasantly handled. His manner had no air of studyor exaggeration. He did really look and speak as if in a state of nocommon enjoyment.

　　Their subjects in general were such as belong to an opening acquaintance.On his side were the inquiries,--"Was she a horsewoman?--Pleasant rides?--Pleasant walks?--Had they a large neighbourhood?--Highbury, perhaps,afforded society enough?--There were several very pretty housesin and about it.--Balls--had they balls?--Was it a musical society?"

　　But when satisfied on all these points, and their acquaintanceproportionably advanced, he contrived to find an opportunity,while their two fathers were engaged with each other, of introducinghis mother-in-law, and speaking of her with so much handsome praise,so much warm admiration, so much gratitude for the happiness shesecured to his father, and her very kind reception of himself,as was an additional proof of his knowing how to please--and of his certainly thinking it worth while to try to please her.He did not advance a word of praise beyond what she knew to bethoroughly deserved by Mrs. Weston; but, undoubtedly he could knowvery little of the matter. He understood what would be welcome;he could be sure of little else. "His father's marriage," he said,"had been the wisest measure, every friend must rejoice in it;and the family from whom he had received such a blessing mustbe ever considered as having conferred the highest obligationon him."

　　He got as near as he could to thanking her for Miss Taylor's merits,without seeming quite to forget that in the common course of things itwas to be rather supposed that Miss Taylor had formed Miss Woodhouse'scharacter, than Miss Woodhouse Miss Taylor's. And at last, as if resolvedto qualify his opinion completely for travelling round to its object, hewound it all up with astonishment at the youth and beauty of her person.

　　"Elegant, agreeable manners, I was prepared for," said he;"but I confess that, considering every thing, I had not expectedmore than a very tolerably well-looking woman of a certain age;I did not know that I was to find a pretty young woman in Mrs. Weston."

　　"You cannot see too much perfection in Mrs. Weston for my feelings,"said Emma; "were you to guess her to be eighteen, I should listenwith pleasure; but she would be ready to quarrel with you for usingsuch words. Don't let her imagine that you have spoken of her asa pretty young woman."

　　"I hope I should know better," he replied; "no, depend upon it,(with a gallant bow,) that in addressing Mrs. Weston I shouldunderstand whom I might praise without any danger of being thoughtextravagant in my terms."

　　Emma wondered whether the same suspicion of what might be expectedfrom their knowing each other, which had taken strong possessionof her mind, had ever crossed his; and whether his compliments wereto be considered as marks of acquiescence, or proofs of defiance.She must see more of him to understand his ways; at present sheonly felt they were agreeable.

　　She had no doubt of what Mr. Weston was often thinking about.His quick eye she detected again and again glancing towards themwith a happy expression; and even, when he might have determined notto look, she was confident that he was often listening.

　　Her own father's perfect exemption from any thought of the kind,the entire deficiency in him of all such sort of penetrationor suspicion, was a most comfortable circumstance. Happily hewas not farther from approving matrimony than from foreseeing it.--Though always objecting to every marriage that was arranged,he never suffered beforehand from the apprehension of any;it seemed as if he could not think so ill of any two persons'understanding as to suppose they meant to marry till it wereproved against them. She blessed the favouring blindness.He could now, without the drawback of a single unpleasant surmise,without a glance forward at any possible treachery in his guest,give way to all his natural kind-hearted civility in solicitousinquiries after Mr. Frank Churchill's accommodation on his journey,through the sad evils of sleeping two nights on the road, and expressvery genuine unmixed anxiety to know that he had certainly escapedcatching cold--which, however, he could not allow him to feel quiteassured of himself till after another night.

　　A reasonable visit paid, Mr. Weston began to move.--"He must be going.He had business at the Crown about his hay, and a great many errandsfor Mrs. Weston at Ford's, but he need not hurry any body else."His son, too well bred to hear the hint, rose immediately also,saying,

　　"As you are going farther on business, sir, I will take theopportunity of paying a visit, which must be paid some day or other,and therefore may as well be paid now. I have the honour of beingacquainted with a neighbour of yours, (turning to Emma,) a ladyresiding in or near Highbury; a family of the name of Fairfax.I shall have no difficulty, I suppose, in finding the house;though Fairfax, I believe, is not the proper name--I should rathersay Barnes, or Bates. Do you know any family of that name?"

　　"To be sure we do," cried his father; "Mrs. Bates--we passed her house--I saw Miss Bates at the window. True, true, you are acquaintedwith Miss Fairfax; I remember you knew her at Weymouth, and a finegirl she is. Call upon her, by all means."

　　"There is no necessity for my calling this morning," said theyoung man; "another day would do as well; but there was that degreeof acquaintance at Weymouth which--"

　　"Oh! go to-day, go to-day. Do not defer it. What is right to be donecannot be done too soon. And, besides, I must give you a hint, Frank;any want of attention to her here should be carefully avoided.You saw her with the Campbells, when she was the equal of every bodyshe mixed with, but here she is with a poor old grandmother,who has barely enough to live on. If you do not call early itwill be a slight."

　　The son looked convinced.

　　"I have heard her speak of the acquaintance," said Emma; "she isa very elegant young woman."

　　He agreed to it, but with so quiet a "Yes," as inclined her almostto doubt his real concurrence; and yet there must be a very distinctsort of elegance for the fashionable world, if Jane Fairfax couldbe thought only ordinarily gifted with it.

　　"If you were never particularly struck by her manners before,"said she, "I think you will to-day. You will see her to advantage;see her and hear her--no, I am afraid you will not hear her at all,for she has an aunt who never holds her tongue."

　　"You are acquainted with Miss Jane Fairfax, sir, are you?"said Mr. Woodhouse, always the last to make his way in conversation;"then give me leave to assure you that you will find her a veryagreeable young lady. She is staying here on a visit to her grandmamaand aunt, very worthy people; I have known them all my life.They will be extremely glad to see you, I am sure; and one of myservants shall go with you to shew you the way."

　　"My dear sir, upon no account in the world; my father can direct me."

　　"But your father is not going so far; he is only going to the Crown,quite on the other side of the street, and there are a great many houses;you might be very much at a loss, and it is a very dirty walk,unless you keep on the footpath; but my coachman can tell youwhere you had best cross the street."

　　Mr. Frank Churchill still declined it, looking as serious as he could,and his father gave his hearty support by calling out, "My good friend,this is quite unnecessary; Frank knows a puddle of water when hesees it, and as to Mrs. Bates's, he may get there from the Crownin a hop, step, and jump."

　　They were permitted to go alone; and with a cordial nod from one,and a graceful bow from the other, the two gentlemen took leave.Emma remained very well pleased with this beginning of the acquaintance,and could now engage to think of them all at Randalls any hour ofthe day, with full confidence in their comfort.