Emma, Jane Austen [best romance novels of all time .TXT] 📗

continued; but when he was gone, she began to be a little tranquillised and subdued⁠—and in the course of the sleepless night, which was the tax for such an evening, she found one or two such very serious points to consider, as made her feel, that even her happiness must have some alloy. Her father⁠—and Harriet. She could not be alone without feeling the full weight of their separate claims; and how to guard the comfort of both to the utmost, was the question. With respect to her father, it was a question soon answered. She hardly knew yet what Mr. Knightley would ask; but a very short parley with her own heart produced the most solemn resolution of never quitting her father.⁠—She even wept over the idea of it, as a sin of thought. While he lived, it must be only an engagement; but she flattered herself, that if divested of the danger of drawing her away, it might become an increase of comfort to him.⁠—How to do her best by Harriet, was of more difficult decision;⁠—how to spare her from any unnecessary pain; how to make her any possible atonement; how to appear least her enemy?⁠—On these subjects, her perplexity and distress were very great⁠—and her mind had to pass again and again through every bitter reproach and sorrowful regret that had ever surrounded it.⁠—She could only resolve at last, that she would still avoid a meeting with her, and communicate all that need be told by letter; that it would be inexpressibly desirable to have her removed just now for a time from Highbury, and⁠—indulging in one scheme more⁠—nearly resolve, that it might be practicable to get an invitation for her to Brunswick Square.⁠—Isabella had been pleased with Harriet; and a few weeks spent in London must give her some amusement.⁠—She did not think it in Harriet’s nature to escape being benefited by novelty and variety, by the streets, the shops, and the children.⁠—At any rate, it would be a proof of attention and kindness in herself, from whom everything was due; a separation for the present; an averting of the evil day, when they must all be together again.

She rose early, and wrote her letter to Harriet; an employment which left her so very serious, so nearly sad, that Mr. Knightley, in walking up to Hartfield to breakfast, did not arrive at all too soon; and half an hour stolen afterwards to go over the same ground again with him, literally and figuratively, was quite necessary to reinstate her in a proper share of the happiness of the evening before.

He had not left her long, by no means long enough for her to have the slightest inclination for thinking of anybody else, when a letter was brought her from Randalls⁠—a very thick letter;⁠—she guessed what it must contain, and deprecated the necessity of reading it.⁠—She was now in perfect charity with Frank Churchill; she wanted no explanations, she wanted only to have her thoughts to herself⁠—and as for understanding anything he wrote, she was sure she was incapable of it.⁠—It must be waded through, however. She opened the packet; it was too surely so;⁠—a note from Mrs. Weston to herself, ushered in the letter from Frank to Mrs. Weston.

“I have the greatest pleasure, my dear Emma, in forwarding to you the enclosed. I know what thorough justice you will do it, and have scarcely a doubt of its happy effect.⁠—I think we shall never materially disagree about the writer again; but I will not delay you by a long preface.⁠—We are quite well.⁠—This letter has been the cure of all the little nervousness I have been feeling lately.⁠—I did not quite like your looks on Tuesday, but it was an ungenial morning; and though you will never own being affected by weather, I think everybody feels a north-east wind.⁠—I felt for your dear father very much in the storm of Tuesday afternoon and yesterday morning, but had the comfort of hearing last night, by Mr. Perry, that it had not made him ill.

“Yours ever, A. W.”

To Mrs. Weston

My Dear Madam,

Windsor⁠—July

“If I made myself intelligible yesterday, this letter will be expected; but expected or not, I know it will be read with candour and indulgence.⁠—You are all goodness, and I believe there will be need of even all your goodness to allow for some parts of my past conduct.⁠—But I have been forgiven by one who had still more to resent. My courage rises while I write. It is very difficult for the prosperous to be humble. I have already met with such success in two applications for pardon, that I may be in danger of thinking myself too sure of yours, and of those among your friends who have had any ground of offence.⁠—You must all endeavour to comprehend the exact nature of my situation when I first arrived at Randalls; you must consider me as having a secret which was to be kept at all hazards. This was the fact. My right to place myself in a situation requiring such concealment, is another question. I shall not discuss it here. For my temptation to think it a right, I refer every caviller to a brick house, sashed windows below, and casements above, in Highbury. I dared not address her openly; my difficulties in the then state of Enscombe must be too well known to require definition; and I was fortunate enough to prevail, before we parted at Weymouth, and to induce the most upright female mind in the creation to stoop in charity to a secret engagement.⁠—Had she refused, I should have gone mad.⁠—But you will be ready to say, what was your hope in doing this?⁠—What did you look forward to?⁠—To anything, everything⁠—to time, chance, circumstance, slow effects, sudden bursts, perseverance and weariness, health and sickness. Every possibility of good was before me, and the first of blessings secured, in obtaining her promises of faith and correspondence. If you need farther explanation,