“Oh! you are too scrupulous, indeed you are,”
cried Emma warmly, and taking her hand. “You
owe me no apologies; and every body to whom you might
be supposed to owe them, is so perfectly satisfied,
so delighted even—”
“You are very kind, but I know what my manners
were to you.— So cold and artificial!—I
had always a part to act.—It was a life
of deceit!—I know that I must have disgusted
you.”
“Pray say no more. I feel that all the
apologies should be on my side. Let us forgive
each other at once. We must do whatever is to
be done quickest, and I think our feelings will lose
no time there. I hope you have pleasant accounts
from Windsor?”
“Very.”
“And the next news, I suppose, will be, that
we are to lose you— just as I begin to
know you.”
“Oh! as to all that, of course nothing can be
thought of yet. I am here till claimed by Colonel
and Mrs. Campbell.”
“Nothing can be actually settled yet, perhaps,”
replied Emma, smiling—“but, excuse
me, it must be thought of.”
The smile was returned as Jane answered,
“You are very right; it has been thought of.
And I will own to you, (I am sure it will be safe),
that so far as our living with Mr. Churchill at Enscombe,
it is settled. There must be three months, at
least, of deep mourning; but when they are over, I
imagine there will be nothing more to wait for.”
“Thank you, thank you.—This is just
what I wanted to be assured of.— Oh! if
you knew how much I love every thing that is decided
and open!— Good-bye, good-bye.”
Mrs. Weston’s friends were all made happy by
her safety; and if the satisfaction of her well-doing
could be increased to Emma, it was by knowing her
to be the mother of a little girl. She had been
decided in wishing for a Miss Weston. She would
not acknowledge that it was with any view of making
a match for her, hereafter, with either of Isabella’s
sons; but she was convinced that a daughter would
suit both father and mother best. It would be
a great comfort to Mr. Weston, as he grew older—
and even Mr. Weston might be growing older ten years
hence—to have his fireside enlivened by
the sports and the nonsense, the freaks and the fancies
of a child never banished from home; and Mrs. Weston—
no one could doubt that a daughter would be most to
her; and it would be quite a pity that any one who
so well knew how to teach, should not have their powers
in exercise again.
“She has had the advantage, you know, of practising
on me,” she continued—“like
La Baronne d’Almane on La Comtesse d’Ostalis,
in Madame de Genlis’ Adelaide and Theodore, and
we shall now see her own little Adelaide educated
on a more perfect plan.”
“That is,” replied Mr. Knightley, “she
will indulge her even more than she did you, and believe
that she does not indulge her at all. It will
be the only difference.”
