Volume II: Chapter XIII

by Jane Austen

　　Emma continued to entertain no doubt of her being in love. Her ideasonly varied as to the how much. At first, she thought it was a good deal;and afterwards, but little. She had great pleasure in hearing FrankChurchill talked of; and, for his sake, greater pleasure than everin seeing Mr. and Mrs. Weston; she was very often thinking of him,and quite impatient for a letter, that she might know how he was,how were his spirits, how was his aunt, and what was the chanceof his coming to Randalls again this spring. But, on the other hand,she could not admit herself to be unhappy, nor, after thefirst morning, to be less disposed for employment than usual;she was still busy and cheerful; and, pleasing as he was, she couldyet imagine him to have faults; and farther, though thinking of himso much, and, as she sat drawing or working, forming a thousandamusing schemes for the progress and close of their attachment,fancying interesting dialogues, and inventing elegant letters;the conclusion of every imaginary declaration on his side was that sherefused him. Their affection was always to subside into friendship.Every thing tender and charming was to mark their parting;but still they were to part. When she became sensible of this,it struck her that she could not be very much in love; for in spiteof her previous and fixed determination never to quit her father,never to marry, a strong attachment certainly must produce moreof a struggle than she could foresee in her own feelings.

　　"I do not find myself making any use of the word sacrifice," said she.--"In not one of all my clever replies, my delicate negatives,is there any allusion to making a sacrifice. I do suspect that heis not really necessary to my happiness. So much the better.I certainly will not persuade myself to feel more than I do. I amquite enough in love. I should be sorry to be more."

　　Upon the whole, she was equally contented with her view of his feelings.

　　"He is undoubtedly very much in love--every thing denotes it--very muchin love indeed!--and when he comes again, if his affection continue,I must be on my guard not to encourage it.--It would be mostinexcusable to do otherwise, as my own mind is quite made up.Not that I imagine he can think I have been encouraging him hitherto.No, if he had believed me at all to share his feelings, he wouldnot have been so wretched. Could he have thought himself encouraged,his looks and language at parting would have been different.--Still, however, I must be on my guard. This is in the suppositionof his attachment continuing what it now is; but I do not know that Iexpect it will; I do not look upon him to be quite the sort of man--I do not altogether build upon his steadiness or constancy.--His feelings are warm, but I can imagine them rather changeable.--Every consideration of the subject, in short, makes me thankfulthat my happiness is not more deeply involved.--I shall do very wellagain after a little while--and then, it will be a good thing over;for they say every body is in love once in their lives, and I shallhave been let off easily."

　　When his letter to Mrs. Weston arrived, Emma had the perusal of it;and she read it with a degree of pleasure and admiration which madeher at first shake her head over her own sensations, and think shehad undervalued their strength. It was a long, well-written letter,giving the particulars of his journey and of his feelings,expressing all the affection, gratitude, and respect which wasnatural and honourable, and describing every thing exterior and localthat could be supposed attractive, with spirit and precision.No suspicious flourishes now of apology or concern; it was thelanguage of real feeling towards Mrs. Weston; and the transitionfrom Highbury to Enscombe, the contrast between the places in someof the first blessings of social life was just enough touched onto shew how keenly it was felt, and how much more might have beensaid but for the restraints of propriety.--The charm of her ownname was not wanting. Miss Woodhouse appeared more than once,and never without a something of pleasing connexion, either acompliment to her taste, or a remembrance of what she had said;and in the very last time of its meeting her eye, unadorned as itwas by any such broad wreath of gallantry, she yet could discernthe effect of her influence and acknowledge the greatest complimentperhaps of all conveyed. Compressed into the very lowest vacantcorner were these words--"I had not a spare moment on Tuesday,as you know, for Miss Woodhouse's beautiful little friend. Pray makemy excuses and adieus to her." This, Emma could not doubt, was allfor herself. Harriet was remembered only from being her friend.His information and prospects as to Enscombe were neither worse norbetter than had been anticipated; Mrs. Churchill was recovering,and he dared not yet, even in his own imagination, fix a time forcoming to Randalls again.

　　Gratifying, however, and stimulative as was the letter in thematerial part, its sentiments, she yet found, when it was folded upand returned to Mrs. Weston, that it had not added any lasting warmth,that she could still do without the writer, and that he must learnto do without her. Her intentions were unchanged. Her resolutionof refusal only grew more interesting by the addition of a scheme forhis subsequent consolation and happiness. His recollection of Harriet,and the words which clothed it, the "beautiful little friend,"suggested to her the idea of Harriet's succeeding her in his affections.Was it impossible?--No.--Harriet undoubtedly was greatly hisinferior in understanding; but he had been very much struck withthe loveliness of her face and the warm simplicity of her manner;and all the probabilities of circumstance and connexion were inher favour.--For Harriet, it would be advantageous and delightful indeed.

　　"I must not dwell upon it," said she.--"I must not think of it.I know the danger of indulging such speculations. But strangerthings have happened; and when we cease to care for each otheras we do now, it will be the means of confirming us in that sortof true disinterested friendship which I can already look forwardto with pleasure."

　　It was well to have a comfort in store on Harriet's behalf,though it might be wise to let the fancy touch it seldom; for evilin that quarter was at hand. As Frank Churchill's arrival hadsucceeded Mr. Elton's engagement in the conversation of Highbury,as the latest interest had entirely borne down the first, so nowupon Frank Churchill's disappearance, Mr. Elton's concerns wereassuming the most irresistible form.--His wedding-day was named.He would soon be among them again; Mr. Elton and his bride.There was hardly time to talk over the first letter from Enscombebefore "Mr. Elton and his bride" was in every body's mouth,and Frank Churchill was forgotten. Emma grew sick at the sound.She had had three weeks of happy exemption from Mr. Elton;and Harriet's mind, she had been willing to hope, had been latelygaining strength. With Mr. Weston's ball in view at least,there had been a great deal of insensibility to other things;but it was now too evident that she had not attained such a stateof composure as could stand against the actual approach--new carriage,bell-ringing, and all.

　　Poor Harriet was in a flutter of spirits which required all thereasonings and soothings and attentions of every kind that Emmacould give. Emma felt that she could not do too much for her,that Harriet had a right to all her ingenuity and all her patience;but it was heavy work to be for ever convincing without producingany effect, for ever agreed to, without being able to make their opinionsthe same. Harriet listened submissively, and said "it was very true--it was just as Miss Woodhouse described--it was not worth while tothink about them--and she would not think about them any longer"but no change of subject could avail, and the next half-hoursaw her as anxious and restless about the Eltons as before.At last Emma attacked her on another ground.

　　"Your allowing yourself to be so occupied and so unhappy aboutMr. Elton's marrying, Harriet, is the strongest reproach you canmake me. You could not give me a greater reproof for the mistake Ifell into. It was all my doing, I know. I have not forgotten it,I assure you.--Deceived myself, I did very miserably deceive you--and it will be a painful reflection to me for ever. Do not imagineme in danger of forgetting it."

　　Harriet felt this too much to utter more than a few wordsof eager exclamation. Emma continued,

　　"I have not said, exert yourself Harriet for my sake; think less,talk less of Mr. Elton for my sake; because for your own sake rather,I would wish it to be done, for the sake of what is more importantthan my comfort, a habit of self-command in you, a considerationof what is your duty, an attention to propriety, an endeavourto avoid the suspicions of others, to save your health and credit,and restore your tranquillity. These are the motives which Ihave been pressing on you. They are very important--and sorryI am that you cannot feel them sufficiently to act upon them.My being saved from pain is a very secondary consideration. I wantyou to save yourself from greater pain. Perhaps I may sometimeshave felt that Harriet would not forget what was due--or ratherwhat would be kind by me."

　　This appeal to her affections did more than all the rest.The idea of wanting gratitude and consideration for Miss Woodhouse,whom she really loved extremely, made her wretched for a while,and when the violence of grief was comforted away, still remainedpowerful enough to prompt to what was right and support her in itvery tolerably.

　　"You, who have been the best friend I ever had in my life--Want gratitude to youI care for nobodyas I do for you!--Oh! Miss Woodhouse, how ungrateful I have been!"

　　Such expressions, assisted as they were by every thing that lookand manner could do, made Emma feel that she had never loved Harrietso well, nor valued her affection so highly before.

　　"There is no charm equal to tenderness of heart," said sheafterwards to herself. "There is nothing to be compared to it.Warmth and tenderness of heart, with an affectionate, open manner,will beat all the clearness of head in the world, for attraction,I am sure it will. It is tenderness of heart which makes my dearfather so generally beloved--which gives Isabella all her popularity.--I have it not--but I know how to prize and respect it.--Harriet ismy superior in all the charm and all the felicity it gives.Dear Harriet!--I would not change you for the clearest-headed,longest-sighted, best-judging female breathing. Oh! the coldnessof a Jane FairfaxAnd for a wife--a sensible man's wife--it is invaluable. I mention no names;but happy the man who changes Emma for Harriet!"