The like reserve prevailed on other topics.
She and Mr. Frank Churchill had been at Weymouth at
the same time. It was known that they were a
little acquainted; but not a syllable of real information
could Emma procure as to what he truly was.
“Was he handsome?”—“She
believed he was reckoned a very fine young man.”
“Was he agreeable?”— “He
was generally thought so.” “Did he
appear a sensible young man; a young man of information?”—“At
a watering-place, or in a common London acquaintance,
it was difficult to decide on such points. Manners
were all that could be safely judged of, under a much
longer knowledge than they had yet had of Mr. Churchill.
She believed every body found his manners pleasing.”
Emma could not forgive her.
CHAPTER III
Emma could not forgive her;—but as neither
provocation nor resentment were discerned by Mr. Knightley,
who had been of the party, and had seen only proper
attention and pleasing behaviour on each side, he
was expressing the next morning, being at Hartfield
again on business with Mr. Woodhouse, his approbation
of the whole; not so openly as he might have done
had her father been out of the room, but speaking
plain enough to be very intelligible to Emma.
He had been used to think her unjust to Jane, and had
now great pleasure in marking an improvement.
“A very pleasant evening,” he began, as
soon as Mr. Woodhouse had been talked into what was
necessary, told that he understood, and the papers
swept away;—“particularly pleasant.
You and Miss Fairfax gave us some very good music.
I do not know a more luxurious state, sir, than sitting
at one’s ease to be entertained a whole evening
by two such young women; sometimes with music and
sometimes with conversation. I am sure Miss Fairfax
must have found the evening pleasant, Emma.
You left nothing undone. I was glad you made
her play so much, for having no instrument at her
grandmother’s, it must have been a real indulgence.”
“I am happy you approved,” said Emma,
smiling; “but I hope I am not often deficient
in what is due to guests at Hartfield.”
“No, my dear,” said her father instantly;
“that I am sure you are not. There
is nobody half so attentive and civil as you are.
If any thing, you are too attentive. The muffin
last night—if it had been handed round
once, I think it would have been enough.”
“No,” said Mr. Knightley, nearly at the
same time; “you are not often deficient; not
often deficient either in manner or comprehension.
I think you understand me, therefore.”
An arch look expressed—“I understand
you well enough;” but she said only, “Miss
Fairfax is reserved.”
“I always told you she was—a little;
but you will soon overcome all that part of her reserve
which ought to be overcome, all that has its foundation
in diffidence. What arises from discretion must
be honoured.”
