High in the rank of her most serious and heartfelt felicities,was the reflection that all necessity of concealment from Mr.Knightley would soon be over. The disguise,equivocation, mystery, so hateful to her to practise,might soon be over.She could now look forward to giving him that full and perfect confidence which her disposition was most ready to welcome as a duty.
In the gayest and happiest spirits she set forward with her father;not always listening,but always agreeing to what he said; and,whether in speech or silence,conniving at the comfortable persuasion of his being obliged to go to Randalls every day, or poor Mrs. Weston would be disappointed.
They arrived.—Mrs. Weston was alone in the drawing-room:—but hardly had they been told of the baby, and Mr.Woodhouse received the thanks for coming,which he asked for,when a glimpse was caught through the blind,of two figures passing near the window.
“It is Frank and Miss Fairfax,” said Mrs. Weston.“I was just going to tell you of our agreeable surprize in seeing him arrive this morning. He stays till to-morrow, and Miss Fairfax has been persuaded to spend the day with us.—They are coming in, I hope.”
In half a minute they were in the room.Emma was extremely glad to see him—but there was a degree of confusion—a number of embarrassing recollections on each side. They met readily and smiling, but with a consciousness which at first allowed little to be said; and having all sat down again, there was for some time such a blank in the circle, that Emma began to doubt whether the wish now indulged, which she had long felt, of seeing Frank Churchill once more, and of seeing him with Jane, would yield its proportion of pleasure. When Mr. Weston joined the party, however, and when the baby was fetched, there was no longer a want of subject or animation—or of courage and opportunity for Frank Churchill to draw near her and say,
“I have to thank you, Miss Woodhouse,for a very kind forgiving message in one of Mrs.Weston’s letters. I hope time has not made you less willing to pardon.I hope you do not retract what you then said.”
“No, indeed,” cried Emma, most happy to begin,“not in the least. I am particularly glad to see and shake hands with you—and to give you joy in person.”
He thanked her with all his heart,and continued some time to speak with serious feeling of his gratitude and happiness.
“Is not she looking well?” said he, turning his eyes towards Jane.“Better than she ever used to do?—You see how my father and Mrs. Weston doat upon her.”
But his spirits were soon rising again,and with laughing eyes,after mentioning the expected return of the Campbells,he named the name of Dixon.—Emma blushed,and forbade its being pronounced in her hearing.
“I can never think of it,” she cried,“without extreme shame.”
“The shame,” he answered, “is all mine, or ought to be.But is it possible that you had no suspicion?—I mean of late. Early, I know, you had none.”
“I never had the smallest, I assure you.”
“That appears quite wonderful.I was once very near—and I wish I had—it would have been better.But though I was always doing wrong things,they were very bad wrong things,and such as did me no service.—It would have been a much better transgression had I broken the bond of secrecy and told you every thing.”
“It is not now worth a regret,” said Emma.
“I have some hope,” resumed he,“of my uncle’s being persuaded to pay a visit at Randalls;he wants to be introduced to her.When the Campbells are returned,we shall meet them in London, and continue there,I trust, till we may carry her northward.—But now,I am at such a distance from her—is not it hard, Miss Woodhouse?—Till this morning, we have not once met since the day of reconciliation. Do not you pity me?”
Emma spoke her pity so very kindly,that with a sudden accession of gay thought, he cried,
“Ah!by the bye,” then sinking his voice,and looking demure for the moment—“I hope Mr. Knightley is well?” He paused.—She coloured and laughed.—“I know you saw my letter,and think you may remember my wish in your favour.Let me return your congratulations.—I assure you that I have heard the news with the warmest interest and satisfaction.—He is a man whom I cannot presume to praise.”
Emma was delighted, and only wanted him to go on in the same style;but his mind was the next moment in his own concerns and with his own Jane,and his next words were,
“Did you ever see such a skin?—such smoothness!such delicacy!—and yet without being actually fair.—One cannot call her fair.It is a most uncommon complexion,with her dark eye-lashes and hair—a most distinguishing complexion!So peculiarly the lady in it.—Just colour enough for beauty. ”
“I have always admired her complexion,” replied Emma,archly; “but do not I remember the time when you found fault with her for being so pale?—When we first began to talk of her.—Have you quite forgotten?”
“Oh!no—what an impudent dog I was!—How could I dare—”
But he laughed so heartily at the recollection,that Emma could not help saying,
“I do suspect that in the midst of your perplexities at that time,you had very great amusement in tricking us all.—I am sure you had.—I am sure it was a consolation to you.”
“Oh!no, no, no—how can you suspect me of such a thing?I was the most miserable wretch!”
“Not quite so miserable as to be insensible to mirth.I am sure it was a source of high entertainment to you,to feel that you were taking us all in.—Perhaps I am the readier to suspect,because, to tell you the truth,I think it might have been some amusement to myself in the same situation.I think there is a little likeness between us.”
He bowed.
“If not in our dispositions,” she presently added,with a look of true sensibility,“there is a likeness in our destiny;the destiny which bids fair to connect us with two characters so much superior to our own.”
“True, true,” he answered, warmly. “No,not true on your side. You can have no superior,but most true on mine.—She is a complete angel.Look at her. Is not she an angel in every gesture?Observe the turn of her throat. Observe her eyes,as she is looking up at my father.—You will be glad to hear (inclining his head, and whispering seriously) that my uncle means to give her all my aunt’s jewels. They are to be new set. I am resolved to have some in an ornament for the head. Will not it be beautiful in her dark hair?”
“Very beautiful, indeed,” replied Emma;and she spoke so kindly, that he gratefully burst out,
“How delighted I am to see you again!and to see you in such excellent looks!—I would not have missed this meeting for the world.I should certainly have called at Hartfield,had you failed to come.”
The others had been talking of the child, Mrs.Weston giving an account of a little alarm she had been under,the evening before,from the infant’s appearing not quite well.She believed she had been foolish,but it had alarmed her,and she had been within half a minute of sending for Mr.Perry. Perhaps she ought to be ashamed, but Mr.Weston had been almost as uneasy as herself.—In ten minutes,however, the child had been perfectly well again.This was her history;and particularly interesting it was to Mr. Woodhouse,who commended her very much for thinking of sending for Perry,and only regretted that she had not done it.“She should always send for Perry,if the child appeared in the slightest degree disordered,were it only for a moment.She could not be too soon alarmed,nor send for Perry too often. It was a pity, perhaps,that he had not come last night; for,though the child seemed well now,very well considering,it would probably have been better if Perry had seen it. ”
Frank Churchill caught the name.