“I know nothing of the large parties of London,
sir—I never dine with any body.”
“Indeed! (in a tone of wonder and pity,) I had
no idea that the law had been so great a slavery.
Well, sir, the time must come when you will be paid
for all this, when you will have little labour and
great enjoyment.”
“My first enjoyment,” replied John Knightley,
as they passed through the sweep-gate, “will
be to find myself safe at Hartfield again.”
Some change of countenance was necessary for each
gentleman as they walked into Mrs. Weston’s
drawing-room;—Mr. Elton must compose his
joyous looks, and Mr. John Knightley disperse his
ill-humour. Mr. Elton must smile less, and Mr.
John Knightley more, to fit them for the place.—Emma
only might be as nature prompted, and shew herself
just as happy as she was. To her it was real
enjoyment to be with the Westons. Mr. Weston
was a great favourite, and there was not a creature
in the world to whom she spoke with such unreserve,
as to his wife; not any one, to whom she related with
such conviction of being listened to and understood,
of being always interesting and always intelligible,
the little affairs, arrangements, perplexities, and
pleasures of her father and herself. She could
tell nothing of Hartfield, in which Mrs. Weston had
not a lively concern; and half an hour’s uninterrupted
communication of all those little matters on which
the daily happiness of private life depends, was one
of the first gratifications of each.
This was a pleasure which perhaps the whole day’s
visit might not afford, which certainly did not belong
to the present half-hour; but the very sight of Mrs.
Weston, her smile, her touch, her voice was grateful
to Emma, and she determined to think as little as
possible of Mr. Elton’s oddities, or of any thing
else unpleasant, and enjoy all that was enjoyable
to the utmost.
The misfortune of Harriet’s cold had been pretty
well gone through before her arrival. Mr. Woodhouse
had been safely seated long enough to give the history
of it, besides all the history of his own and Isabella’s
coming, and of Emma’s being to follow, and had
indeed just got to the end of his satisfaction that
James should come and see his daughter, when the others
appeared, and Mrs. Weston, who had been almost wholly
engrossed by her attentions to him, was able to turn
away and welcome her dear Emma.
Emma’s project of forgetting Mr. Elton for a
while made her rather sorry to find, when they had
all taken their places, that he was close to her.
The difficulty was great of driving his strange insensibility
towards Harriet, from her mind, while he not only sat
at her elbow, but was continually obtruding his happy
countenance on her notice, and solicitously addressing
her upon every occasion. Instead of forgetting
him, his behaviour was such that she could not avoid
the internal suggestion of “Can it really be
