At this moment they were approaching Ford’s,and he hastily exclaimed, “Ha!this must be the very shop that every body attends every day of their lives,as my father informs me. He comes to Highbury himself,he says, six days out of the seven,and has always business at Ford’s.If it be not inconvenient to you, pray let us go in,that I may prove myself to belong to the place,to be a true citizen of Highbury.I must buy something at Ford’s.It will be taking out my freedom.—I dare say they sell gloves. ”
“Oh!yes, gloves and every thing.I do admire your patriotism.You will be adored in Highbury.You were very popular before you came,because you were Mr.Weston’s son—but lay out half a guinea at Ford’s,and your popularity will stand upon your own virtues.”
They went in; and while the sleek,well-tied parcels of “Men’s Beavers” and “York Tan” were bringing down and displaying on the counter, he said—“But I beg your pardon, Miss Woodhouse, you were speaking to me, you were saying something at the very moment of this burst of my _amor_ _patriae_. Do not let me lose it. I assure you the utmost stretch of public fame would not make me amends for the loss of any happiness in private life.”
“I merely asked, whether you had known much of Miss Fairfax and her party at Weymouth.”
“And now that I understand your question,I must pronounce it to be a very unfair one.It is always the lady’s right to decide on the degree of acquaintance.Miss Fairfax must already have given her account.—I shall not commit myself by claiming more than she may chuse to allow.”
“Upon my word!you answer as discreetly as she could do herself.But her account of every thing leaves so much to be guessed,she is so very reserved,so very unwilling to give the least information about any body,that I really think you may say what you like of your acquaintance with her. ”
“May I, indeed?—Then I will speak the truth,and nothing suits me so well.I met her frequently at Weymouth.I had known the Campbells a little in town;and at Weymouth we were very much in the same set.Colonel Campbell is a very agreeable man, and Mrs.Campbell a friendly, warm-hearted woman. I like them all.”
“You know Miss Fairfax’s situation in life, I conclude;what she is destined to be?”
“Yes—(rather hesitatingly)—I believe I do.”
“You get upon delicate subjects, Emma,” said Mrs.Weston smiling; “remember that I am here.—Mr.Frank Churchill hardly knows what to say when you speak of Miss Fairfax’s situation in life. I will move a little farther off.”
“I certainly do forget to think of _her_,” said Emma,“as having ever been any thing but my friend and my dearest friend. ”
He looked as if he fully understood and honoured such a sentiment.
When the gloves were bought,and they had quitted the shop again,“Did you ever hear the young lady we were speaking of, play?” said Frank Churchill.
“Ever hear her!” repeated Emma. “You forget how much she belongs to Highbury.I have heard her every year of our lives since we both began.She plays charmingly.”
“You think so, do you?—I wanted the opinion of some one who could really judge.She appeared to me to play well, that is,with considerable taste,but I know nothing of the matter myself.—I am excessively fond of music,but without the smallest skill or right of judging of any body’s performance.—I have been used to hear her’s admired; and I remember one proof of her being thought to play well:—a man, a very musical man, and in love with another woman—engaged to her—on the point of marriage—would yet never ask that other woman to sit down to the instrument, if the lady in question could sit down instead—never seemed to like to hear one if he could hear the other. That, I thought, in a man of known musical talent, was some proof.”
“Proof indeed!” said Emma, highly amused.—“Mr. Dixon is very musical, is he?We shall know more about them all, in half an hour,from you, than Miss Fairfax would have vouchsafed in half a year. ”
“Yes, Mr. Dixon and Miss Campbell were the persons;and I thought it a very strong proof.”
“Certainly—very strong it was; to own the truth,a great deal stronger than,if _I_ had been Miss Campbell,would have been at all agreeable to me.I could not excuse a man’s having more music than love—more ear than eye—a more acute sensibility to fine sounds than to my feelings. How did Miss Campbell appear to like it?”
“It was her very particular friend, you know.”
“Poor comfort!” said Emma, laughing.“One would rather have a stranger preferred than one’s very particular friend—with a stranger it might not recur again—but the misery of having a very particular friend always at hand, to do every thing better than one does oneself!—Poor Mrs. Dixon!Well, I am glad she is gone to settle in Ireland.”
“You are right. It was not very flattering to Miss Campbell;but she really did not seem to feel it.”
“So much the better—or so much the worse:—I do not know which.But be it sweetness or be it stupidity in her—quickness of friendship,or dulness of feeling—there was one person, I think,who must have felt it: Miss Fairfax herself.She must have felt the improper and dangerous distinction. ”
“As to that—I do not—”
“Oh!do not imagine that I expect an account of Miss Fairfax’s sensations from you,or from any body else.They are known to no human being, I guess, but herself.But if she continued to play whenever she was asked by Mr.Dixon, one may guess what one chuses.”
“There appeared such a perfectly good understanding among them all—” he began rather quickly, but checking himself, added, “however, it is impossible for me to say on what terms they really were—how it might all be behind the scenes. I can only say that there was smoothness outwardly. But you, who have known Miss Fairfax from a child, must be a better judge of her character, and of how she is likely to conduct herself in critical situations, than I can be.”
“I have known her from a child, undoubtedly;we have been children and women together;and it is natural to suppose that we should be intimate,—that we should have taken to each other whenever she visited her friends.But we never did. I hardly know how it has happened;a little, perhaps, from that wickedness on my side which was prone to take disgust towards a girl so idolized and so cried up as she always was, by her aunt and grandmother, and all their set. And then, her reserve—I never could attach myself to any one so completely reserved.”
“It is a most repulsive quality, indeed,” said he.“Oftentimes very convenient, no doubt,but never pleasing. There is safety in reserve,but no attraction. One cannot love a reserved person.”
“Not till the reserve ceases towards oneself;and then the attraction may be the greater.But I must be more in want of a friend,or an agreeable companion, than I have yet been,to take the trouble of conquering any body’s reserve to procure one.Intimacy between Miss Fairfax and me is quite out of the question.I have no reason to think ill of her—not the least—except that such extreme and perpetual cautiousness of word and manner, such a dread of giving a distinct idea about any body, is apt to suggest suspicions of there being something to conceal.”