Volume III: Chapter V

by Jane Austen

　　In this state of schemes, and hopes, and connivance, June openedupon Hartfield. To Highbury in general it brought no material change.The Eltons were still talking of a visit from the Sucklings,and of the use to be made of their barouche-landau; and Jane Fairfaxwas still at her grandmother's; and as the return of the Campbellsfrom Ireland was again delayed, and August, instead of Midsummer,fixed for it, she was likely to remain there full two months longer,provided at least she were able to defeat Mrs. Elton's activityin her service, and save herself from being hurried into a delightfulsituation against her will.

　　Mr. Knightley, who, for some reason best known to himself, had certainlytaken an early dislike to Frank Churchill, was only growing to dislikehim more. He began to suspect him of some double dealing in hispursuit of Emma. That Emma was his object appeared indisputable.Every thing declared it; his own attentions, his father's hints,his mother-in-law's guarded silence; it was all in unison;words, conduct, discretion, and indiscretion, told the same story.But while so many were devoting him to Emma, and Emma herself making himover to Harriet, Mr. Knightley began to suspect him of some inclinationto trifle with Jane Fairfax. He could not understand it; but therewere symptoms of intelligence between them--he thought so at least--symptoms of admiration on his side, which, having once observed,he could not persuade himself to think entirely void of meaning,however he might wish to escape any of Emma's errors of imagination.She was not present when the suspicion first arose. He was diningwith the Randalls family, and Jane, at the Eltons'; and he hadseen a look, more than a single look, at Miss Fairfax, which,from the admirer of Miss Woodhouse, seemed somewhat out of place.When he was again in their company, he could not help rememberingwhat he had seen; nor could he avoid observations which, unless itwere like Cowper and his fire at twilight,

　　"Myself creating what I saw,"

　　brought him yet stronger suspicion of there being a somethingof private liking, of private understanding even, between FrankChurchill and Jane.

　　He had walked up one day after dinner, as he very often did,to spend his evening at Hartfield. Emma and Harriet were goingto walk; he joined them; and, on returning, they fell in with alarger party, who, like themselves, judged it wisest to take theirexercise early, as the weather threatened rain; Mr. and Mrs. Westonand their son, Miss Bates and her niece, who had accidentally met.They all united; and, on reaching Hartfield gates, Emma, who knew itwas exactly the sort of visiting that would be welcome to her father,pressed them all to go in and drink tea with him. The Randallsparty agreed to it immediately; and after a pretty long speechfrom Miss Bates, which few persons listened to, she also found itpossible to accept dear Miss Woodhouse's most obliging invitation.

　　As they were turning into the grounds, Mr. Perry passed by on horseback.The gentlemen spoke of his horse.

　　"By the bye," said Frank Churchill to Mrs. Weston presently,"what became of Mr. Perry's plan of setting up his carriage?"

　　Mrs. Weston looked surprized, and said, "I did not know that heever had any such plan."

　　"Nay, I had it from you. You wrote me word of it three months ago."

　　"Me! impossible!"

　　"Indeed you did. I remember it perfectly. You mentioned it aswhat was certainly to be very soon. Mrs. Perry had told somebody,and was extremely happy about it. It was owing to her persuasion,as she thought his being out in bad weather did him a great dealof harm. You must remember it now?"

　　"Upon my word I never heard of it till this moment."

　　"Never! really, neverThen I musthave dreamt it--but I was completely persuaded--Miss Smith,you walk as if you were tired. You will not be sorry to findyourself at home."

　　"What is this?--What is this?" cried Mr. Weston, "about Perryand a carriage? Is Perry going to set up his carriage, Frank?I am glad he can afford it. You had it from himself, had you?"

　　"No, sir," replied his son, laughing, "I seem to have had itfrom nobody.--Very odd!--I really was persuaded of Mrs. Weston'shaving mentioned it in one of her letters to Enscombe, many weeks ago,with all these particulars--but as she declares she never hearda syllable of it before, of course it must have been a dream. I ama great dreamer. I dream of every body at Highbury when I am away--and when I have gone through my particular friends, then I begindreaming of Mr. and Mrs. Perry."

　　"It is odd though," observed his father, "that you should have had sucha regular connected dream about people whom it was not very likely youshould be thinking of at Enscombe. Perry's setting up his carriage!and his wife's persuading him to it, out of care for his health--just what will happen, I have no doubt, some time or other;only a little premature. What an air of probability sometimesruns through a dream! And at others, what a heap of absurditiesit is! Well, Frank, your dream certainly shews that Highbury is inyour thoughts when you are absent. Emma, you are a great dreamer,I think?"

　　Emma was out of hearing. She had hurried on before her gueststo prepare her father for their appearance, and was beyond the reachof Mr. Weston's hint.

　　"Why, to own the truth," cried Miss Bates, who had been trying in vainto be heard the last two minutes, "if I must speak on this subject,there is no denying that Mr. Frank Churchill might have--I do notmean to say that he did not dream it--I am sure I have sometimesthe oddest dreams in the world--but if I am questioned about it,I must acknowledge that there was such an idea last spring;for Mrs. Perry herself mentioned it to my mother, and the Colesknew of it as well as ourselves--but it was quite a secret,known to nobody else, and only thought of about three days.Mrs. Perry was very anxious that he should have a carriage, and cameto my mother in great spirits one morning because she thought shehad prevailed. Jane, don't you remember grandmama's telling usof it when we got home? I forget where we had been walking to--very likely to Randalls; yes, I think it was to Randalls.Mrs. Perry was always particularly fond of my mother--indeed I donot know who is not--and she had mentioned it to her in confidence;she had no objection to her telling us, of course, but it was notto go beyond: and, from that day to this, I never mentioned itto a soul that I know of. At the same time, I will not positivelyanswer for my having never dropt a hint, because I know I dosometimes pop out a thing before I am aware. I am a talker,you know; I am rather a talker; and now and then I have let a thingescape me which I should not. I am not like Jane; I wish I were.I will answer for it she never betrayed the least thing in the world.Where is she?--Oh! just behind. Perfectly remember Mrs. Perry's coming.--Extraordinary dream, indeed!"

　　They were entering the hall. Mr. Knightley's eyes had precededMiss Bates's in a glance at Jane. From Frank Churchill's face,where he thought he saw confusion suppressed or laughed away,he had involuntarily turned to hers; but she was indeed behind,and too busy with her shawl. Mr. Weston had walked in. The twoother gentlemen waited at the door to let her pass. Mr. Knightleysuspected in Frank Churchill the determination of catching her eye--he seemed watching her intently--in vain, however, if it were so--Jane passed between them into the hall, and looked at neither.

　　There was no time for farther remark or explanation. The dream mustbe borne with, and Mr. Knightley must take his seat with the rest roundthe large modern circular table which Emma had introduced at Hartfield,and which none but Emma could have had power to place there andpersuade her father to use, instead of the small-sized Pembroke,on which two of his daily meals had, for forty years been crowded.Tea passed pleasantly, and nobody seemed in a hurry to move.

　　"Miss Woodhouse," said Frank Churchill, after examining a tablebehind him, which he could reach as he sat, "have your nephews takenaway their alphabets--their box of letters? It used to stand here.Where is it? This is a sort of dull-looking evening, that oughtto be treated rather as winter than summer. We had great amusementwith those letters one morning. I want to puzzle you again."

　　Emma was pleased with the thought; and producing the box, the tablewas quickly scattered over with alphabets, which no one seemed so muchdisposed to employ as their two selves. They were rapidly formingwords for each other, or for any body else who would be puzzled.The quietness of the game made it particularly eligible forMr. Woodhouse, who had often been distressed by the more animated sort,which Mr. Weston had occasionally introduced, and who now sat happilyoccupied in lamenting, with tender melancholy, over the departureof the "poor little boys," or in fondly pointing out, as he tookup any stray letter near him, how beautifully Emma had written it.

　　Frank Churchill placed a word before Miss Fairfax. She gavea slight glance round the table, and applied herself to it.Frank was next to Emma, Jane opposite to them--and Mr. Knightleyso placed as to see them all; and it was his object to see as muchas he could, with as little apparent observation. The wordwas discovered, and with a faint smile pushed away. If meantto be immediately mixed with the others, and buried from sight,she should have looked on the table instead of looking just across,for it was not mixed; and Harriet, eager after every fresh word,and finding out none, directly took it up, and fell to work.She was sitting by Mr. Knightley, and turned to him for help.The word was blunder; and as Harriet exultingly proclaimed it,there was a blush on Jane's cheek which gave it a meaning nototherwise ostensible. Mr. Knightley connected it with the dream;but how it could all be, was beyond his comprehension.How the delicacy, the discretion of his favourite could have beenso lain asleep! He feared there must be some decided involvement.Disingenuousness and double dealing seemed to meet him at every turn.These letters were but the vehicle for gallantry and trick.It was a child's play, chosen to conceal a deeper game on FrankChurchill's part.

　　With great indignation did he continue to observe him; with greatalarm and distrust, to observe also his two blinded companions.He saw a short word prepared for Emma, and given to her with a looksly and demure. He saw that Emma had soon made it out, and foundit highly entertaining, though it was something which she judged itproper to appear to censure; for she said, "Nonsense! for shame!"He heard Frank Churchill next say, with a glance towards Jane,"I will give it to her--shall I?"--and as clearly heard Emmaopposing it with eager laughing warmth. "No, no, you must not;you shall not, indeed."

　　It was done however. This gallant young man, who seemed to lovewithout feeling, and to recommend himself without complaisance,directly handed over the word to Miss Fairfax, and with a particulardegree of sedate civility entreated her to study it. Mr. Knightley'sexcessive curiosity to know what this word might be, made him seizeevery possible moment for darting his eye towards it, and it wasnot long before he saw it to be Dixon. Jane Fairfax's perceptionseemed to accompany his; her comprehension was certainly more equalto the covert meaning, the superior intelligence, of those five lettersso arranged. She was evidently displeased; looked up, and seeingherself watched, blushed more deeply than he had ever perceived her,and saying only, "I did not know that proper names were allowed,"pushed away the letters with even an angry spirit, and lookedresolved to be engaged by no other word that could be offered.Her face was averted from those who had made the attack, and turnedtowards her aunt.

　　"Aye, very true, my dear," cried the latter, though Jane had notspoken a word--"I was just going to say the same thing. It is timefor us to be going indeed. The evening is closing in, and grandmamawill be looking for us. My dear sir, you are too obliging.We really must wish you good night."

　　Jane's alertness in moving, proved her as ready as her aunthad preconceived. She was immediately up, and wanting to quitthe table; but so many were also moving, that she could not get away;and Mr. Knightley thought he saw another collection of letters anxiouslypushed towards her, and resolutely swept away by her unexamined.She was afterwards looking for her shawl--Frank Churchill waslooking also--it was growing dusk, and the room was in confusion;and how they parted, Mr. Knightley could not tell.

　　He remained at Hartfield after all the rest, his thoughts fullof what he had seen; so full, that when the candles came to assisthis observations, he must--yes, he certainly must, as a friend--an anxious friend--give Emma some hint, ask her some question.He could not see her in a situation of such danger, without trying topreserve her. It was his duty.

　　"Pray, Emma," said he, "may I ask in what lay the great amusement,the poignant sting of the last word given to you and Miss Fairfax?I saw the word, and am curious to know how it could be so veryentertaining to the one, and so very distressing to the other."

　　Emma was extremely confused. She could not endure to give him thetrue explanation; for though her suspicions were by no means removed,she was really ashamed of having ever imparted them.

　　"Oh!" she cried in evident embarrassment, "it all meant nothing;a mere joke among ourselves."

　　"The joke," he replied gravely, "seemed confined to youand Mr. Churchill."

　　He had hoped she would speak again, but she did not. She wouldrather busy herself about any thing than speak. He sat a littlewhile in doubt. A variety of evils crossed his mind. Interference--fruitless interference. Emma's confusion, and the acknowledged intimacy,seemed to declare her affection engaged. Yet he would speak.He owed it to her, to risk any thing that might be involved inan unwelcome interference, rather than her welfare; to encounterany thing, rather than the remembrance of neglect in such a cause.

　　"My dear Emma," said he at last, with earnest kindness, "do youthink you perfectly understand the degree of acquaintance betweenthe gentleman and lady we have been speaking of?"

　　"Between Mr. Frank Churchill and Miss Fairfax? Oh! yes, perfectly.--Why do you make a doubt of it?"

　　"Have you never at any time had reason to think that he admired her,or that she admired him?"

　　"Never, never!" she cried with a most open eagerness--"Never, forthe twentieth part of a moment, did such an idea occur to me.And how could it possibly come into your head?"

　　"I have lately imagined that I saw symptoms of attachment between them--certain expressive looks, which I did not believe meant to be public."

　　"Oh! you amuse me excessively. I am delighted to find that youcan vouchsafe to let your imagination wander--but it will not do--very sorry to check you in your first essay--but indeed it willnot do. There is no admiration between them, I do assure you;and the appearances which have caught you, have arisen from somepeculiar circumstances--feelings rather of a totally different nature--it is impossible exactly to explain:--there is a good deal ofnonsense in it--but the part which is capable of being communicated,which is sense, is, that they are as far from any attachment oradmiration for one another, as any two beings in the world can be.That is, I presume it to be so on her side, and I can answer for itsbeing so on his. I will answer for the gentleman's indifference."

　　She spoke with a confidence which staggered, with a satisfactionwhich silenced, Mr. Knightley. She was in gay spirits, and wouldhave prolonged the conversation, wanting to hear the particularsof his suspicions, every look described, and all the wheres and howsof a circumstance which highly entertained her: but his gaiety didnot meet hers. He found he could not be useful, and his feelingswere too much irritated for talking. That he might not be irritatedinto an absolute fever, by the fire which Mr. Woodhouse's tenderhabits required almost every evening throughout the year, he soonafterwards took a hasty leave, and walked home to the coolnessand solitude of Donwell Abbey.