Emma eBook


Jane’s alertness in moving, proved her as ready as her aunt had preconceived.  She was immediately up, and wanting to quit the table; but so many were also moving, that she could not get away; and Mr. Knightley thought he saw another collection of letters anxiously pushed towards her, and resolutely swept away by her unexamined.  She was afterwards looking for her shawl—­Frank Churchill was looking 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 full of what he had seen; so full, that when the candles came to assist his 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 to preserve 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 very entertaining to the one, and so very distressing to the other.”


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

“The joke,” he replied gravely, “seemed confined to you and Mr. Churchill.”


“My dear Emma,” said he at last, with earnest kindness, “do you think you perfectly understand the degree of acquaintance between the 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?”


“Never, never!” she cried with a most open eagerness—­“Never, for the 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.”

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Emma from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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