“Are you sure?I saw she had execution, but I did not know she had any taste. Nobody talked about it.And I hate Italian singing.—There is no understanding a word of it. Besides,if she does play so very well, you know, it is no more than she is obliged to do,because she will have to teach. The Coxes were wondering last night whether she would get into any great family. How did you think the Coxes looked?”
“Just as they always do—very vulgar.”
“They told me something,” said Harriet rather hesitatingly; “but it is nothing of any consequence.”
Emma was obliged to ask what they had told her, though fearful of its producing Mr. Elton.
“They told me—that Mr. Martin dined with them last Saturday.”
“Oh!”
“He came to their father upon some business, and he asked him to stay to dinner.”
“Oh!”
“They talked a great deal about him, especially Anne Cox. I do not know what she meant,but she asked me if I thought I should go and stay there again next summer.”
“She meant to be impertinently curious, just as such an Anne Cox should be.”
“She said he was very agreeable the day he dined there. He sat by her at dinner.Miss Nash thinks either of the Coxes would be very glad to marry him.”
“Very likely.—I think they are, without exception, the most vulgar girls in Highbury.”
Harriet had business at Ford’s.—Emma thought it most prudent to go with her.Another accidental meeting with the Martins was possible, and in her present state, would be dangerous.
Harriet, tempted by every thing and swayed by half a word, was always very long at a purchase;and while she was still hanging over muslins and changing her mind,Emma went to the door for amusement.—Much could not be hoped from the traffic of even the busiest part of Highbury;—Mr. Perry walking hastily by, Mr. William Cox letting himself in at the office-door, Mr.Cole’s carriage-horses returning from exercise, or a stray letter-boy on an obstinate mule,were the liveliest objects she could presume to expect;and when her eyes fell only on the butcher with his tray,a tidy old woman travelling homewards from shop with her full basket,two curs quarrelling over a dirty bone,and a string of dawdling children round the baker’s little bow-window eyeing the gingerbread,she knew she had no reason to complain, and was amused enough;quite enough still to stand at the door. A mind lively and at ease, can do with seeing nothing,and can see nothing that does not answer.
She looked down the Randalls road. The scene enlarged; two persons appeared; Mrs.Weston and her son-in-law; they were walking into Highbury;—to Hartfield of course.They were stopping, however, in the first place at Mrs. Bates’s;whose house was a little nearer Randalls than Ford’s; and had all but knocked,when Emma caught their eye.—Immediately they crossed the road and came forward to her;and the agreeableness of yesterday’s engagement seemed to give fresh pleasure to the present meeting.Mrs. Weston informed her that she was going to call on the Bateses, in order to hear the new instrument.
“For my companion tells me,” said she, “that I absolutely promised Miss Bates last night,that I would come this morning. I was not aware of it myself.I did not know that I had fixed a day, but as he says I did, I am going now.”
“And while Mrs. Weston pays her visit, I may be allowed, I hope,” said Frank Churchill,“to join your party and wait for her at Hartfield—if you are going home.”
Mrs. Weston was disappointed.
“I thought you meant to go with me. They would be very much pleased.”
“Me!I should be quite in the way. But, perhaps—I may be equally in the way here.Miss Woodhouse looks as if she did not want me. My aunt always sends me off when she is shopping.She says I fidget her to death; and Miss Woodhouse looks as if she could almost say the same. What am I to do?”
“I am here on no business of my own,” said Emma; “I am only waiting for my friend.She will probably have soon done, and then we shall go home. But you had better go with Mrs. Weston and hear the instrument.”
“Well—if you advise it.—But (with a smile) if Colonel Campbell should have employed a careless friend,and if it should prove to have an indifferent tone—what shall I say?I shall be no support to Mrs. Weston. She might do very well by herself.A disagreeable truth would be palatable through her lips,but I am the wretchedest being in the world at a civil falsehood.”
“I do not believe any such thing,” replied Emma.—“I am persuaded that you can be as insincere as your neighbours,when it is necessary; but there is no reason to suppose the instrument is indifferent.Quite otherwise indeed, if I understood Miss Fairfax’s opinion last night.”
“Do come with me,” said Mrs. Weston, “if it be not very disagreeable to you.It need not detain us long. We will go to Hartfield afterwards. We will follow them to Hartfield.I really wish you to call with me. It will be felt so great an attention!and I always thought you meant it.”
He could say no more; and with the hope of Hartfield to reward him, returned with Mrs.Weston to Mrs. Bates’s door. Emma watched them in,and then joined Harriet at the interesting counter,—trying, with all the force of her own mind,to convince her that if she wanted plain muslin it was of no use to look at figured;and that a blue ribbon, be it ever so beautiful, would still never match her yellow pattern.At last it was all settled, even to the destination of the parcel.
“Should I send it to Mrs. Goddard’s, ma’am?” asked Mrs. Ford.—“Yes—no—yes, to Mrs. Goddard’s. Only my pattern gown is at Hartfield. No,you shall send it to Hartfield, if you please. But then, Mrs.Goddard will want to see it.—And I could take the pattern gown home any day.But I shall want the ribbon directly—so it had better go to Hartfield—at least the ribbon.You could make it into two parcels, Mrs. Ford, could not you?”
“It is not worth while, Harriet, to give Mrs. Ford the trouble of two parcels.”
“No more it is.”
“No trouble in the world, ma’am,” said the obliging Mrs. Ford.
“Oh!but indeed I would much rather have it only in one. Then, if you please,you shall send it all to Mrs. Goddard’s—I do not know—No, I think, Miss Woodhouse,I may just as well have it sent to Hartfield, and take it home with me at night. What do you advise?”
“That you do not give another half-second to the subject. To Hartfield, if you please, Mrs. Ford.”
“Aye, that will be much best,” said Harriet, quite satisfied,“I should not at all like to have it sent to Mrs. Goddard’s.”
Voices approached the shop—or rather one voice and two ladies: Mrs.Weston and Miss Bates met them at the door.
“My dear Miss Woodhouse,” said the latter,“I am just run across to entreat the favour of you to come and sit down with us a little while,and give us your opinion of our new instrument; you and Miss Smith. How do you do, Miss Smith?—Very well I thank you.—And I begged Mrs. Weston to come with me, that I might be sure of succeeding.”
“I hope Mrs. Bates and Miss Fairfax are—”
“Very well, I am much obliged to you. My mother is delightfully well;and Jane caught no cold last night. How is Mr. Woodhouse?—I am so glad to hear such a good account. Mrs. Weston told me you were here.—Oh!then, said I, I must run across, I am sure Miss Woodhouse will allow me just to run across and entreat her to come in;my mother will be so very happy to see her—and now we are such a nice party,she cannot refuse.—‘Aye, pray do,’ said Mr. Frank Churchill,‘Miss Woodhouse’s opinion of the instrument will be worth having.’—But, said I,I shall be more sure of succeeding if one of you will go with me.—‘Oh,’ said he,‘wait half a minute, till I have finished my job;’—For, would you believe it, Miss Woodhouse,there he is, in the most obliging manner in the world,fastening in the rivet of my mother’s spectacles.—The rivet came out, you know, this morning.—So very obliging!—For my mother had no use of her spectacles—could not put them on. And, by the bye,every body ought to have two pair of spectacles; they should indeed. Jane said so.I meant to take them over to John Saunders the first thing I did,but something or other hindered me all the morning; first one thing, then another,there is no saying what, you know. At one time Patty came to say she thought the kitchen chimney wanted sweeping.Oh, said I, Patty do not come with your bad news to me.Here is the rivet of your mistress’s spectacles out. Then the baked apples came home, Mrs.Wallis sent them by her boy; they are extremely civil and obliging to us, the Wallises,always—I have heard some people say that Mrs. Wallis can be uncivil and give a very rude answer,but we have never known any thing but the greatest attention from them.And it cannot be for the value of our custom now, for what is our consumption of bread, you know?Only three of us.—besides dear Jane at present—and she really eats nothing—makes such a shocking breakfast,you would be quite frightened if you saw it.I dare not let my mother know how little she eats—so I say one thing and then I say another,and it passes off. But about the middle of the day she gets hungry,and there is nothing she likes so well as these baked apples, and they are extremely wholesome,for I took the opportunity the other day of asking Mr. Perry; I happened to meet him in the street.Not that I had any doubt before—I have so often heard Mr. Woodhouse recommend a baked apple.I believe it is the only way that Mr. Woodhouse thinks the fruit thoroughly wholesome.We have apple-dumplings, however, very often. Patty makes an excellent apple-dumpling. Well, Mrs.Weston, you have prevailed, I hope, and these ladies will oblige us.”
Emma would be “very happy to wait on Mrs. Bates, &c.,” and they did at last move out of the shop,with no farther delay from Miss Bates than,
“How do you do, Mrs. Ford?I beg your pardon. I did not see you before.I hear you have a charming collection of new ribbons from town. Jane came back delighted yesterday.Thank ye, the gloves do very well—only a little too large about the wrist; but Jane is taking them in.”
“What was I talking of?” said she, beginning again when they were all in the street.
Emma wondered on what, of all the medley, she would fix.
“I declare I cannot recollect what I was talking of.—Oh!my mother’s spectacles. So very obliging of Mr. Frank Churchill!‘Oh!’ said he, ‘I do think I can fasten the rivet; I like a job of this kind excessively.’—Which you know shewed him to be so very.... Indeed I must say that,much as I had heard of him before and much as I had expected, he very far exceeds any thing....I do congratulate you, Mrs. Weston, most warmly. He seems every thing the fondest parent could.... ‘Oh!’ said he, ‘I can fasten the rivet. I like a job of that sort excessively.’ I never shall forget his manner. And when I brought out the baked apples from the closet,and hoped our friends would be so very obliging as to take some, ‘Oh!’ said he directly, ‘there is nothing in the way of fruit half so good,and these are the finest-looking home-baked apples I ever saw in my life.’ That, you know,was so very.... And I am sure, by his manner, it was no compliment.Indeed they are very delightful apples, and Mrs.Wallis does them full justice—only we do not have them baked more than twice, and Mr.Woodhouse made us promise to have them done three times—but Miss Woodhouse will be so good as not to mention it.The apples themselves are the very finest sort for baking, beyond a doubt;all from Donwell—some of Mr. Knightley’s most liberal supply. He sends us a sack every year;and certainly there never was such a keeping apple anywhere as one of his trees—I believe there is two of them.My mother says the orchard was always famous in her younger days.But I was really quite shocked the other day—for Mr. Knightley called one morning,and Jane was eating these apples, and we talked about them and said how much she enjoyed them,and he asked whether we were not got to the end of our stock. ‘I am sure you must be,’ said he,‘and I will send you another supply; for I have a great many more than I can ever use.William Larkins let me keep a larger quantity than usual this year. I will send you some more,before they get good for nothing.’ So I begged he would not—for really as to ours being gone,I could not absolutely say that we had a great many left—it was but half a dozen indeed;but they should be all kept for Jane; and I could not at all bear that he should be sending us more,so liberal as he had been already; and Jane said the same. And when he was gone,she almost quarrelled with me—No, I should not say quarrelled,for we never had a quarrel in our lives;but she was quite distressed that I had owned the apples were so nearly gone;she wished I had made him believe we had a great many left. Oh, said I, my dear,I did say as much as I could. However, the very same evening William Larkins came over with a large basket of apples,the same sort of apples, a bushel at least, and I was very much obliged,and went down and spoke to William Larkins and said every thing, as you may suppose.William Larkins is such an old acquaintance!I am always glad to see him. But, however, I found afterwards from Patty,that William said it was all the apples of _that_ sort his master had;he had brought them all—and now his master had not one left to bake or boil.William did not seem to mind it himself, he was so pleased to think his master had sold so many;for William, you know, thinks more of his master’s profit than any thing; but Mrs. Hodges, he said,was quite displeased at their being all sent away.She could not bear that her master should not be able to have another apple-tart this spring.He told Patty this, but bid her not mind it, and be sure not to say any thing to us about it,for Mrs. Hodges _would_ be cross sometimes, and as long as so many sacks were sold,it did not signify who ate the remainder. And so Patty told me, and I was excessively shocked indeed!I would not have Mr. Knightley know any thing about it for the world!He would be so very.... I wanted to keep it from Jane’s knowledge; but, unluckily, I had mentioned it before I was aware.”
Miss Bates had just done as Patty opened the door;and her visitors walked upstairs without having any regular narration to attend to,pursued only by the sounds of her desultory good-will.
“Pray take care, Mrs. Weston, there is a step at the turning. Pray take care, Miss Woodhouse,ours is rather a dark staircase—rather darker and narrower than one could wish. Miss Smith,pray take care. Miss Woodhouse, I am quite concerned, I am sure you hit your foot. Miss Smith, the step at the turning.”
CHAPTER X
The appearance of the little sitting-room as they entered, was tranquillity itself; Mrs. Bates,deprived of her usual employment, slumbering on one side of the fire, Frank Churchill,at a table near her, most deedily occupied about her spectacles, and Jane Fairfax,standing with her back to them, intent on her pianoforte.
Busy as he was, however, the young man was yet able to shew a most happy countenance on seeing Emma again.
“This is a pleasure,” said he, in rather a low voice,“coming at least ten minutes earlier than I had calculated. You find me trying to be useful; tell me if you think I shall succeed.”
“What!” said Mrs. Weston, “have not you finished it yet?you would not earn a very good livelihood as a working silversmith at this rate.”
“I have not been working uninterruptedly,” he replied,“I have been assisting Miss Fairfax in trying to make her instrument stand steadily,it was not quite firm; an unevenness in the floor, I believe.You see we have been wedging one leg with paper. This was very kind of you to be persuaded to come.I was almost afraid you would be hurrying home.”
He contrived that she should be seated by him;and was sufficiently employed in looking out the best baked apple for her,and trying to make her help or advise him in his work,till Jane Fairfax was quite ready to sit down to the pianoforte again.That she was not immediately ready, Emma did suspect to arise from the state of her nerves;she had not yet possessed the instrument long enough to touch it without emotion;she must reason herself into the power of performance; and Emma could not but pity such feelings,whatever their origin, and could not but resolve never to expose them to her neighbour again.
At last Jane began, and though the first bars were feebly given,the powers of the instrument were gradually done full justice to. Mrs.Weston had been delighted before, and was delighted again; Emma joined her in all her praise;and the pianoforte, with every proper discrimination,was pronounced to be altogether of the highest promise.
“Whoever Colonel Campbell might employ,” said Frank Churchill, with a smile at Emma,“the person has not chosen ill. I heard a good deal of Colonel Campbell’s taste at Weymouth;and the softness of the upper notes I am sure is exactly what he and _all_ _that_ _party_ would particularly prize.I dare say, Miss Fairfax, that he either gave his friend very minute directions,or wrote to Broadwood himself. Do not you think so?”
Jane did not look round. She was not obliged to hear. Mrs.Weston had been speaking to her at the same moment.
“It is not fair,” said Emma, in a whisper; “mine was a random guess. Do not distress her.”
He shook his head with a smile, and looked as if he had very little doubt and very little mercy. Soon afterwards he began again,
“How much your friends in Ireland must be enjoying your pleasure on this occasion, Miss Fairfax.I dare say they often think of you, and wonder which will be the day,the precise day of the instrument’s coming to hand.Do you imagine Colonel Campbell knows the business to be going forward just at this time?—Do you imagine it to be the consequence of an immediate commission from him,or that he may have sent only a general direction, an order indefinite as to time,to depend upon contingencies and conveniences?”
He paused. She could not but hear; she could not avoid answering,
“Till I have a letter from Colonel Campbell,” said she, in a voice of forced calmness,“I can imagine nothing with any confidence. It must be all conjecture.”
“Conjecture—aye, sometimes one conjectures right, and sometimes one conjectures wrong.I wish I could conjecture how soon I shall make this rivet quite firm. What nonsense one talks,Miss Woodhouse, when hard at work, if one talks at all;—your real workmen, I suppose,hold their tongues; but we gentlemen labourers if we get hold of a word—Miss Fairfax said something about conjecturing.There, it is done. I have the pleasure, madam, (to Mrs. Bates,) of restoring your spectacles, healed for the present.”
He was very warmly thanked both by mother and daughter; to escape a little from the latter,he went to the pianoforte, and begged Miss Fairfax, who was still sitting at it, to play something more.
“If you are very kind,” said he, “it will be one of the waltzes we danced last night;—let me live them over again. You did not enjoy them as I did; you appeared tired the whole time.I believe you were glad we danced no longer;but I would have given worlds—all the worlds one ever has to give—for another half-hour.”
She played.
“What felicity it is to hear a tune again which _has_ made one happy!—If I mistake not that was danced at Weymouth.”
She looked up at him for a moment, coloured deeply, and played something else.He took some music from a chair near the pianoforte, and turning to Emma, said,
“Here is something quite new to me. Do you know it?—Cramer.—And here are a new set of Irish melodies. That, from such a quarter, one might expect.This was all sent with the instrument. Very thoughtful of Colonel Campbell, was not it?—He knew Miss Fairfax could have no music here. I honour that part of the attention particularly;it shews it to have been so thoroughly from the heart. Nothing hastily done; nothing incomplete.True affection only could have prompted it.”
Emma wished he would be less pointed, yet could not help being amused;and when on glancing her eye towards Jane Fairfax she caught the remains of a smile,when she saw that with all the deep blush of consciousness,there had been a smile of secret delight, she had less scruple in the amusement,and much less compunction with respect to her.—This amiable, upright,perfect Jane Fairfax was apparently cherishing very reprehensible feelings.
He brought all the music to her, and they looked it over together.—Emma took the opportunity of whispering,
“You speak too plain. She must understand you.”
“I hope she does. I would have her understand me. I am not in the least ashamed of my meaning.”
“But really, I am half ashamed, and wish I had never taken up the idea.”
“I am very glad you did, and that you communicated it to me.I have now a key to all her odd looks and ways. Leave shame to her. If she does wrong, she ought to feel it.”
“She is not entirely without it, I think.”
“I do not see much sign of it. She is playing _Robin_ _Adair_ at this moment—_his_ favourite.”
Shortly afterwards Miss Bates, passing near the window, descried Mr. Knightley on horse-back not far off.
“Mr. Knightley I declare!—I must speak to him if possible, just to thank him. I will not open the window here;it would give you all cold; but I can go into my mother’s room you know.I dare say he will come in when he knows who is here. Quite delightful to have you all meet so!—Our little room so honoured!”
She was in the adjoining chamber while she still spoke, and opening the casement there,immediately called Mr. Knightley’s attention,and every syllable of their conversation was as distinctly heard by the others,as if it had passed within the same apartment.
“How d’ ye do?—how d’ye do?—Very well, I thank you. So obliged to you for the carriage last night. We were just in time;my mother just ready for us. Pray come in; do come in. You will find some friends here.”
So began Miss Bates; and Mr. Knightley seemed determined to be heard in his turn,for most resolutely and commandingly did he say,
“How is your niece, Miss Bates?—I want to inquire after you all, but particularly your niece. How is Miss Fairfax?—I hope she caught no cold last night. How is she to-day?Tell me how Miss Fairfax is.”
And Miss Bates was obliged to give a direct answer before he would hear her in any thing else.The listeners were amused; and Mrs. Weston gave Emma a look of particular meaning.But Emma still shook her head in steady scepticism.
“So obliged to you!—so very much obliged to you for the carriage,” resumed Miss Bates.
He cut her short with,
“I am going to Kingston. Can I do any thing for you?”
“Oh!dear, Kingston—are you?—Mrs. Cole was saying the other day she wanted something from Kingston.”
“Mrs. Cole has servants to send. Can I do any thing for _you_?”
“No, I thank you. But do come in. Who do you think is here?—Miss Woodhouse and Miss Smith; so kind as to call to hear the new pianoforte.Do put up your horse at the Crown, and come in.”
“Well,” said he, in a deliberating manner, “for five minutes, perhaps.”
“And here is Mrs. Weston and Mr. Frank Churchill too!—Quite delightful; so many friends!”
“No, not now, I thank you. I could not stay two minutes. I must get on to Kingston as fast as I can. ”
“Oh!do come in. They will be so very happy to see you.”
“No, no; your room is full enough. I will call another day, and hear the pianoforte.”
“Well, I am so sorry!—Oh!Mr. Knightley, what a delightful party last night;how extremely pleasant.—Did you ever see such dancing?—Was not it delightful?—Miss Woodhouse and Mr. Frank Churchill; I never saw any thing equal to it.”
“Oh!very delightful indeed; I can say nothing less, for I suppose Miss Woodhouse and Mr.Frank Churchill are hearing every thing that passes.And (raising his voice still more) I do not see why Miss Fairfax should not be mentioned too.I think Miss Fairfax dances very well; and Mrs. Weston is the very best country-dance player,without exception, in England. Now, if your friends have any gratitude,they will say something pretty loud about you and me in return; but I cannot stay to hear it.”
“Oh!Mr. Knightley, one moment more; something of consequence—so shocked!—Jane and I are both so shocked about the apples!”
“What is the matter now?”
“To think of your sending us all your store apples. You said you had a great many,and now you have not one left. We really are so shocked!Mrs. Hodges may well be angry. William Larkins mentioned it here. You should not have done it, indeed you should not. Ah!he is off. He never can bear to be thanked. But I thought he would have staid now,and it would have been a pity not to have mentioned.... Well, (returning to the room,) I have not been able to succeed. Mr. Knightley cannot stop. He is going to Kingston.He asked me if he could do any thing....”
“Yes,” said Jane, “we heard his kind offers, we heard every thing.”
“Oh!yes, my dear, I dare say you might, because you know, the door was open, and the window was open,and Mr. Knightley spoke loud. You must have heard every thing to be sure.‘Can I do any thing for you at Kingston?’ said he; so I just mentioned.... Oh!Miss Woodhouse, must you be going?—You seem but just come—so very obliging of you.”
Emma found it really time to be at home; the visit had already lasted long;and on examining watches, so much of the morning was perceived to be gone, that Mrs.Weston and her companion taking leave also,could allow themselves only to walk with the two young ladies to Hartfield gates, before they set off for Randalls.
CHAPTER XI
It may be possible to do without dancing entirely.Instances have been known of young people passing many, many months successively,without being at any ball of any description, and no material injury accrue either to body or mind;—but when a beginning is made—when the felicities of rapid motion have once been, though slightly,felt—it must be a very heavy set that does not ask for more.
Frank Churchill had danced once at Highbury, and longed to dance again;and the last half-hour of an evening which Mr.Woodhouse was persuaded to spend with his daughter at Randalls,was passed by the two young people in schemes on the subject. Frank’s was the first idea;and his the greatest zeal in pursuing it; for the lady was the best judge of the difficulties,and the most solicitous for accommodation and appearance.But still she had inclination enough for shewing people again how delightfully Mr.Frank Churchill and Miss Woodhouse danced—for doing that in which she need not blush to compare herself with Jane Fairfax—and even for simple dancing itself,without any of the wicked aids of vanity—to assist him first in pacing out the room they were in to see what it could be made to hold—and then in taking the dimensions of the other parlour, in the hope of discovering, in spite of all that Mr. Weston could say of their exactly equal size, that it was a little the largest.
His first proposition and request, that the dance begun at Mr.Cole’s should be finished there—that the same party should be collected,and the same musician engaged, met with the readiest acquiescence. Mr.Weston entered into the idea with thorough enjoyment, and Mrs.Weston most willingly undertook to play as long as they could wish to dance;and the interesting employment had followed, of reckoning up exactly who there would be,and portioning out the indispensable division of space to every couple.
“You and Miss Smith, and Miss Fairfax, will be three, and the two Miss Coxes five,” had been repeated many times over. “And there will be the two Gilberts, young Cox, my father,and myself, besides Mr. Knightley. Yes, that will be quite enough for pleasure. You and Miss Smith,and Miss Fairfax, will be three, and the two Miss Coxes five;and for five couple there will be plenty of room.”
But soon it came to be on one side,
“But will there be good room for five couple?—I really do not think there will.”
On another,
“And after all, five couple are not enough to make it worth while to stand up.Five couple are nothing, when one thinks seriously about it.It will not do to _invite_ five couple. It can be allowable only as the thought of the moment.”
Somebody said that _Miss_ Gilbert was expected at her brother’s, and must be invited with the rest.Somebody else believed _Mrs_. Gilbert would have danced the other evening, if she had been asked.A word was put in for a second young Cox; and at last, Mr.Weston naming one family of cousins who must be included,and another of very old acquaintance who could not be left out,it became a certainty that the five couple would be at least ten,and a very interesting speculation in what possible manner they could be disposed of.
The doors of the two rooms were just opposite each other. “Might not they use both rooms, and dance across the passage?” It seemed the best scheme; and yet it was not so good but that many of them wanted a better.Emma said it would be awkward; Mrs. Weston was in distress about the supper; and Mr.Woodhouse opposed it earnestly, on the score of health. It made him so very unhappy, indeed, that it could not be persevered in.