“That may be—but not by sketches
in Swisserland. You will never go to Swisserland.
Your uncle and aunt will never allow you to leave
England.”
“They may be induced to go too. A warm
climate may be prescribed for her. I have more
than half an expectation of our all going abroad.
I assure you I have. I feel a strong persuasion,
this morning, that I shall soon be abroad. I
ought to travel. I am tired of doing nothing.
I want a change. I am serious, Miss Woodhouse,
whatever your penetrating eyes may fancy—I
am sick of England— and would leave it
to-morrow, if I could.”
“You are sick of prosperity and indulgence.
Cannot you invent a few hardships for yourself, and
be contented to stay?”
“I sick of prosperity and indulgence!
You are quite mistaken. I do not look upon myself
as either prosperous or indulged. I am thwarted
in every thing material. I do not consider myself
at all a fortunate person.”
“You are not quite so miserable, though, as
when you first came. Go and eat and drink a little
more, and you will do very well. Another slice
of cold meat, another draught of Madeira and water,
will make you nearly on a par with the rest of us.”
“No—I shall not stir. I shall
sit by you. You are my best cure.”
“We are going to Box Hill to-morrow;—you
will join us. It is not Swisserland, but it will
be something for a young man so much in want of a
change. You will stay, and go with us?”
“No, certainly not; I shall go home in the cool
of the evening.”
“But you may come again in the cool of to-morrow
morning.”
“No—It will not be worth while.
If I come, I shall be cross.”
“Then pray stay at Richmond.”
“But if I do, I shall be crosser still.
I can never bear to think of you all there without
me.”
“These are difficulties which you must settle
for yourself. Chuse your own degree of crossness.
I shall press you no more.”
The rest of the party were now returning, and all
were soon collected. With some there was great
joy at the sight of Frank Churchill; others took it
very composedly; but there was a very general distress
and disturbance on Miss Fairfax’s disappearance
being explained. That it was time for every body
to go, concluded the subject; and with a short final
arrangement for the next day’s scheme, they parted.
Frank Churchill’s little inclination to exclude
himself increased so much, that his last words to
Emma were,
“Well;—if you wish me to stay
and join the party, I will.”
She smiled her acceptance; and nothing less than a
summons from Richmond was to take him back before
the following evening.
