The child to be born at Randalls must be a tie there
even dearer than herself; and Mrs. Weston’s
heart and time would be occupied by it. They
should lose her; and, probably, in great measure,
her husband also.—Frank Churchill would
return among them no more; and Miss Fairfax, it was
reasonable to suppose, would soon cease to belong
to Highbury. They would be married, and settled
either at or near Enscombe. All that were good
would be withdrawn; and if to these losses, the loss
of Donwell were to be added, what would remain of
cheerful or of rational society within their reach?
Mr. Knightley to be no longer coming there for his
evening comfort!— No longer walking in
at all hours, as if ever willing to change his own
home for their’s!—How was it to be
endured? And if he were to be lost to them for
Harriet’s sake; if he were to be thought of
hereafter, as finding in Harriet’s society all
that he wanted; if Harriet were to be the chosen,
the first, the dearest, the friend, the wife to whom
he looked for all the best blessings of existence;
what could be increasing Emma’s wretchedness
but the reflection never far distant from her mind,
that it had been all her own work?
When it came to such a pitch as this, she was not
able to refrain from a start, or a heavy sigh, or
even from walking about the room for a few seconds—and
the only source whence any thing like consolation
or composure could be drawn, was in the resolution
of her own better conduct, and the hope that, however
inferior in spirit and gaiety might be the following
and every future winter of her life to the past, it
would yet find her more rational, more acquainted
with herself, and leave her less to regret when it
were gone.
CHAPTER XIII
The weather continued much the same all the following
morning; and the same loneliness, and the same melancholy,
seemed to reign at Hartfield—but in the
afternoon it cleared; the wind changed into a softer
quarter; the clouds were carried off; the sun appeared;
it was summer again. With all the eagerness
which such a transition gives, Emma resolved to be
out of doors as soon as possible. Never had
the exquisite sight, smell, sensation of nature, tranquil,
warm, and brilliant after a storm, been more attractive
to her. She longed for the serenity they might
gradually introduce; and on Mr. Perry’s coming
in soon after dinner, with a disengaged hour to give
her father, she lost no time ill hurrying into the
shrubbery.—There, with spirits freshened,
and thoughts a little relieved, she had taken a few
turns, when she saw Mr. Knightley passing through
the garden door, and coming towards her.—It
was the first intimation of his being returned from
London. She had been thinking of him the moment
before, as unquestionably sixteen miles distant.—There
was time only for the quickest arrangement of mind.
She must be collected and calm. In half a minute
they were together. The “How d’ye
