A glance or two between him and his wife,convinced him that all was as right as this speech proclaimed;and its happy effect on his spirits was immediate.His air and voice recovered their usual briskness:he shook her heartily and gratefully by the hand,and entered on the subject in a manner to prove,that he now only wanted time and persuasion to think the engagement no very bad thing. His companions suggested only what could palliate imprudence, or smooth objections; and by the time they had talked it all over together, and he had talked it all over again with Emma, in their walk back to Hartfield, he was become perfectly reconciled, and not far from thinking it the very best thing that Frank could possibly have done.
CHAPTER XI
“Harriet, poor Harriet!”—Those were the words;in them lay the tormenting ideas which Emma could not get rid of,and which constituted the real misery of the business to her.Frank Churchill had behaved very ill by herself—very ill in many ways,—but it was not so much _his_ behaviour as her _own_,which made her so angry with him.It was the scrape which he had drawn her into on Harriet’s account,that gave the deepest hue to his offence.—Poor Harriet!to be a second time the dupe of her misconceptions and flattery.Mr. Knightley had spoken prophetically,when he once said, “Emma,you have been no friend to Harriet Smith.”—She was afraid she had done her nothing but disservice.—It was true that she had not to charge herself, in this instance as in the former, with being the sole and original author of the mischief; with having suggested such feelings as might otherwise never have entered Harriet’s imagination; for Harriet had acknowledged her admiration and preference of Frank Churchill before she had ever given her a hint on the subject; but she felt completely guilty of having encouraged what she might have repressed. She might have prevented the indulgence and increase of such sentiments. Her influence would have been enough. And now she was very conscious that she ought to have prevented them.—She felt that she had been risking her friend’s happiness on most insufficient grounds. Common sense would have directed her to tell Harriet, that she must not allow herself to think of him, and that there were five hundred chances to one against his ever caring for her.—“But, with common sense,” she added, “I am afraid I have had little to do.”
She was extremely angry with herself.If she could not have been angry with Frank Churchill too,it would have been dreadful.—As for Jane Fairfax,she might at least relieve her feelings from any present solicitude on her account. Harriet would be anxiety enough; she need no longer be unhappy about Jane, whose troubles and whose ill-health having, of course, the same origin, must be equally under cure.—Her days of insignificance and evil were over.—She would soon be well, and happy, and prosperous.—Emma could now imagine why her own attentions had been slighted. This discovery laid many smaller matters open. No doubt it had been from jealousy.—In Jane’s eyes she had been a rival; and well might any thing she could offer of assistance or regard be repulsed. An airing in the Hartfield carriage would have been the rack, and arrowroot from the Hartfield storeroom must have been poison. She understood it all; and as far as her mind could disengage itself from the injustice and selfishness of angry feelings, she acknowledged that Jane Fairfax would have neither elevation nor happiness beyond her desert. But poor Harriet was such an engrossing charge!There was little sympathy to be spared for any body else.Emma was sadly fearful that this second disappointment would be more severe than the first. Considering the very superior claims of the object, it ought; and judging by its apparently stronger effect on Harriet’s mind, producing reserve and self-command, it would.—She must communicate the painful truth, however, and as soon as possible. An injunction of secresy had been among Mr. Weston’s parting words. “For the present, the whole affair was to be completely a secret. Mr. Churchill had made a point of it, as a token of respect to the wife he had so very recently lost; and every body admitted it to be no more than due decorum.”—Emma had promised; but still Harriet must be excepted. It was her superior duty.
In spite of her vexation,she could not help feeling it almost ridiculous,that she should have the very same distressing and delicate office to perform by Harriet, which Mrs. Weston had just gone through by herself. The intelligence, which had been so anxiously announced to her, she was now to be anxiously announcing to another. Her heart beat quick on hearing Harriet’s footstep and voice; so, she supposed, had poor Mrs. Weston felt when _she_ was approaching Randalls. Could the event of the disclosure bear an equal resemblance!—But of that, unfortunately, there could be no chance.
“Well, Miss Woodhouse!” cried Harriet, coming eagerly into the room—“is not this the oddest news that ever was?”
“What news do you mean?” replied Emma, unable to guess, by look or voice,whether Harriet could indeed have received any hint.
“About Jane Fairfax.Did you ever hear any thing so strange?Oh!—you need not be afraid of owning it to me, for Mr.Weston has told me himself. I met him just now.He told me it was to be a great secret; and, therefore,I should not think of mentioning it to any body but you,but he said you knew it.”
“What did Mr. Weston tell you?”—said Emma, still perplexed.
“Oh!he told me all about it; that Jane Fairfax and Mr.Frank Churchill are to be married,and that they have been privately engaged to one another this long while. How very odd!”
It was, indeed, so odd;Harriet’s behaviour was so extremely odd,that Emma did not know how to understand it.Her character appeared absolutely changed.She seemed to propose shewing no agitation,or disappointment, or peculiar concern in the discovery.Emma looked at her, quite unable to speak.
“Had you any idea,” cried Harriet,“of his being in love with her?—You, perhaps, might.—You (blushing as she spoke) who can see into every body’s heart; but nobody else—”
“Upon my word,” said Emma,“I begin to doubt my having any such talent.Can you seriously ask me, Harriet,whether I imagined him attached to another woman at the very time that I was—tacitly, if not openly—encouraging you to give way to your own feelings?—I never had the slightest suspicion,till within the last hour, of Mr.Frank Churchill’s having the least regard for Jane Fairfax.You may be very sure that if I had,I should have cautioned you accordingly.”
“Me!” cried Harriet, colouring, and astonished.“Why should you caution me?—You do not think I care about Mr. Frank Churchill.”
“I am delighted to hear you speak so stoutly on the subject,” replied Emma, smiling;“but you do not mean to deny that there was a time—and not very distant either—when you gave me reason to understand that you did care about him?”
“Him!—never, never. Dear Miss Woodhouse,how could you so mistake me?” turning away distressed.
“Harriet!” cried Emma, after a moment’s pause—“What do you mean?—Good Heaven!what do you mean?—Mistake you!—Am I to suppose then?—”
She could not speak another word.—Her voice was lost;and she sat down, waiting in great terror till Harriet should answer.
Harriet, who was standing at some distance,and with face turned from her,did not immediately say any thing;and when she did speak,it was in a voice nearly as agitated as Emma’s.