Volume III: Chapter IX

by Jane Austen

　　Emma's pensive meditations, as she walked home, were not interrupted;but on entering the parlour, she found those who must rouse her.Mr. Knightley and Harriet had arrived during her absence, and weresitting with her father.--Mr. Knightley immediately got up, and in amanner decidedly graver than usual, said,

　　"I would not go away without seeing you, but I have no time to spare,and therefore must now be gone directly. I am going to London,to spend a few days with John and Isabella. Have you any thing tosend or say, besides the `love,' which nobody carries?"

　　"Nothing at all. But is not this a sudden scheme?"

　　"Yes--rather--I have been thinking of it some little time."

　　Emma was sure he had not forgiven her; he looked unlike himself.Time, however, she thought, would tell him that they ought to befriends again. While he stood, as if meaning to go, but not going--her father began his inquiries.

　　"Well, my dear, and did you get there safely?--And how did youfind my worthy old friend and her daughter?--I dare say they musthave been very much obliged to you for coming. Dear Emma has beento call on Mrs. and Miss Bates, Mr. Knightley, as I told you before.She is always so attentive to them!"

　　Emma's colour was heightened by this unjust praise; and with a smile,and shake of the head, which spoke much, she looked at Mr. Knightley.--It seemed as if there were an instantaneous impression in her favour,as if his eyes received the truth from her's, and all that hadpassed of good in her feelings were at once caught and honoured.--He looked at her with a glow of regard. She was warmly gratified--and in another moment still more so, by a little movement ofmore than common friendliness on his part.--He took her hand;--whether she had not herself made the first motion, she could not say--she might, perhaps, have rather offered it--but he took her hand,pressed it, and certainly was on the point of carrying it to his lips--when, from some fancy or other, he suddenly let it go.--Why he should feelsuch a scruple, why he should change his mind when it was all but done,she could not perceive.--He would have judged better, she thought,if he had not stopped.--The intention, however, was indubitable;and whether it was that his manners had in general so little gallantry,or however else it happened, but she thought nothing became him more.--It was with him, of so simple, yet so dignified a nature.--She could not but recall the attempt with great satisfaction.It spoke such perfect amity.--He left them immediately afterwards--gone in a moment. He always moved with the alertness of a mind whichcould neither be undecided nor dilatory, but now he seemed more suddenthan usual in his disappearance.

　　Emma could not regret her having gone to Miss Bates, but she wishedshe had left her ten minutes earlier;--it would have been a greatpleasure to talk over Jane Fairfax's situation with Mr. Knightley.--Neither would she regret that he should be going to Brunswick Square,for she knew how much his visit would be enjoyed--but it might havehappened at a better time--and to have had longer notice of it,would have been pleasanter.--They parted thorough friends, however;she could not be deceived as to the meaning of his countenance,and his unfinished gallantry;--it was all done to assure her that shehad fully recovered his good opinion.--He had been sitting with themhalf an hour, she found. It was a pity that she had not comeback earlier!

　　In the hope of diverting her father's thoughts from the disagreeablenessof Mr. Knightley's going to London; and going so suddenly;and going on horseback, which she knew would be all very bad;Emma communicated her news of Jane Fairfax, and her dependenceon the effect was justified; it supplied a very useful check,--interested, without disturbing him. He had long made up his mind to JaneFairfax's going out as governess, and could talk of it cheerfully,but Mr. Knightley's going to London had been an unexpected blow.

　　"I am very glad, indeed, my dear, to hear she is to be socomfortably settled. Mrs. Elton is very good-natured and agreeable,and I dare say her acquaintance are just what they oughtto be. I hope it is a dry situation, and that her healthwill be taken good care of. It ought to be a first object,as I am sure poor Miss Taylor's always was with me. You know,my dear, she is going to be to this new lady what Miss Taylorwas to us. And I hope she will be better off in one respect,and not be induced to go away after it has been her home so long."

　　The following day brought news from Richmond to throw everything else into the background. An express arrived at Randallsto announce the death of Mrs. Churchill! Though her nephewhad had no particular reason to hasten back on her account,she had not lived above six-and-thirty hours after his return.A sudden seizure of a different nature from any thing forebodedby her general state, had carried her off after a short struggle.The great Mrs. Churchill was no more.

　　It was felt as such things must be felt. Every body had adegree of gravity and sorrow; tenderness towards the departed,solicitude for the surviving friends; and, in a reasonable time,curiosity to know where she would be buried. Goldsmith tells us,that when lovely woman stoops to folly, she has nothing to dobut to die; and when she stoops to be disagreeable, it is equallyto be recommended as a clearer of ill-fame. Mrs. Churchill,after being disliked at least twenty-five years, was now spoken ofwith compassionate allowances. In one point she was fully justified.She had never been admitted before to be seriously ill. The eventacquitted her of all the fancifulness, and all the selfishnessof imaginary complaints.

　　"Poor Mrs. Churchill! no doubt she had been suffering a great deal:more than any body had ever supposed--and continual pain would trythe temper. It was a sad event--a great shock--with all her faults,what would Mr. Churchill do without her? Mr. Churchill's losswould be dreadful indeed. Mr. Churchill would never get over it."--Even Mr. Weston shook his head, and looked solemn, and said,"Ah! poor woman, who would have thought it!" and resolved, that hismourning should be as handsome as possible; and his wife sat sighingand moralising over her broad hems with a commiseration and good sense,true and steady. How it would affect Frank was among the earliestthoughts of both. It was also a very early speculation with Emma.The character of Mrs. Churchill, the grief of her husband--her mindglanced over them both with awe and compassion--and then restedwith lightened feelings on how Frank might be affected by the event,how benefited, how freed. She saw in a moment all the possible good.Now, an attachment to Harriet Smith would have nothing to encounter.Mr. Churchill, independent of his wife, was feared by nobody;an easy, guidable man, to be persuaded into any thing by his nephew.All that remained to be wished was, that the nephew should formthe attachment, as, with all her goodwill in the cause, Emma could feelno certainty of its being already formed.

　　Harriet behaved extremely well on the occasion, with great self-command.What ever she might feel of brighter hope, she betrayed nothing. Emma wasgratified, to observe such a proof in her of strengthened character,and refrained from any allusion that might endanger its maintenance.They spoke, therefore, of Mrs. Churchill's death with mutual forbearance.

　　Short letters from Frank were received at Randalls, communicatingall that was immediately important of their state and plans.Mr. Churchill was better than could be expected; and theirfirst removal, on the departure of the funeral for Yorkshire,was to be to the house of a very old friend in Windsor, to whomMr. Churchill had been promising a visit the last ten years.At present, there was nothing to be done for Harriet; good wishesfor the future were all that could yet be possible on Emma's side.

　　It was a more pressing concern to shew attention to Jane Fairfax,whose prospects were closing, while Harriet's opened, and whoseengagements now allowed of no delay in any one at Highbury, who wishedto shew her kindness--and with Emma it was grown into a first wish.She had scarcely a stronger regret than for her past coldness;and the person, whom she had been so many months neglecting, was nowthe very one on whom she would have lavished every distinction ofregard or sympathy. She wanted to be of use to her; wanted to shewa value for her society, and testify respect and consideration.She resolved to prevail on her to spend a day at Hartfield.A note was written to urge it. The invitation was refused, and bya verbal message. "Miss Fairfax was not well enough to write;"and when Mr. Perry called at Hartfield, the same morning,it appeared that she was so much indisposed as to have been visited,though against her own consent, by himself, and that she was sufferingunder severe headaches, and a nervous fever to a degree, which madehim doubt the possibility of her going to Mrs. Smallridge's at thetime proposed. Her health seemed for the moment completely deranged--appetite quite gone--and though there were no absolutelyalarming symptoms, nothing touching the pulmonary complaint,which was the standing apprehension of the family, Mr. Perry wasuneasy about her. He thought she had undertaken more than shewas equal to, and that she felt it so herself, though she wouldnot own it. Her spirits seemed overcome. Her present home,he could not but observe, was unfavourable to a nervous disorder:--confined always to one room;--he could have wished it otherwise--and her good aunt, though his very old friend, he must acknowledgeto be not the best companion for an invalid of that description.Her care and attention could not be questioned; they were, in fact,only too great. He very much feared that Miss Fairfax derived moreevil than good from them. Emma listened with the warmest concern;grieved for her more and more, and looked around eager to discoversome way of being useful. To take her--be it only an houror two--from her aunt, to give her change of air and scene,and quiet rational conversation, even for an hour or two,might do her good; and the following morning she wrote again to say,in the most feeling language she could command, that she wouldcall for her in the carriage at any hour that Jane would name--mentioning that she had Mr. Perry's decided opinion, in favourof such exercise for his patient. The answer was only in thisshort note:

　　"Miss Fairfax's compliments and thanks, but is quite unequalto any exercise."

　　Emma felt that her own note had deserved something better; but itwas impossible to quarrel with words, whose tremulous inequalityshewed indisposition so plainly, and she thought only of how shemight best counteract this unwillingness to be seen or assisted.In spite of the answer, therefore, she ordered the carriage, and droveto Mrs. Bates's, in the hope that Jane would be induced to join her--but it would not do;--Miss Bates came to the carriage door, all gratitude,and agreeing with her most earnestly in thinking an airing might be ofthe greatest service--and every thing that message could do was tried--but all in vain. Miss Bates was obliged to return without success;Jane was quite unpersuadable; the mere proposal of going outseemed to make her worse.--Emma wished she could have seen her,and tried her own powers; but, almost before she could hint the wish,Miss Bates made it appear that she had promised her niece onno account to let Miss Woodhouse in. "Indeed, the truth was,that poor dear Jane could not bear to see any body--any body at all--Mrs. Elton, indeed, could not be denied--and Mrs. Cole had madesuch a point--and Mrs. Perry had said so much--but, except them,Jane would really see nobody."

　　Emma did not want to be classed with the Mrs. Eltons, the Mrs. Perrys,and the Mrs. Coles, who would force themselves anywhere;neither could she feel any right of preference herself--she submitted, therefore, and only questioned Miss Bates fartheras to her niece's appetite and diet, which she longed to be ableto assist. On that subject poor Miss Bates was very unhappy,and very communicative; Jane would hardly eat any thing:--Mr. Perry recommended nourishing food; but every thing they couldcommand (and never had any body such good neighbours) was distasteful.

　　Emma, on reaching home, called the housekeeper directly, to anexamination of her stores; and some arrowroot of very superior qualitywas speedily despatched to Miss Bates with a most friendly note.In half an hour the arrowroot was returned, with a thousand thanksfrom Miss Bates, but "dear Jane would not be satisfied without itsbeing sent back; it was a thing she could not take--and, moreover,she insisted on her saying, that she was not at all in want of any thing."

　　When Emma afterwards heard that Jane Fairfax had been seen wanderingabout the meadows, at some distance from Highbury, on the afternoonof the very day on which she had, under the plea of being unequalto any exercise, so peremptorily refused to go out with her inthe carriage, she could have no doubt--putting every thing together--that Jane was resolved to receive no kindness from her. She was sorry,very sorry. Her heart was grieved for a state which seemedbut the more pitiable from this sort of irritation of spirits,inconsistency of action, and inequality of powers; and it mortifiedher that she was given so little credit for proper feeling, or esteemedso little worthy as a friend: but she had the consolation of knowingthat her intentions were good, and of being able to say to herself,that could Mr. Knightley have been privy to all her attemptsof assisting Jane Fairfax, could he even have seen into her heart,he would not, on this occasion, have found any thing to reprove.