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

shrunk from anything so hasty, and she would have felt every scruple of mine with multiplied strength and refinement.⁠—But I had no choice. The hasty engagement she had entered into with that woman⁠—Here, my dear madam, I was obliged to leave off abruptly, to recollect and compose myself.⁠—I have been walking over the country, and am now, I hope, rational enough to make the rest of my letter what it ought to be.⁠—It is, in fact, a most mortifying retrospect for me. I behaved shamefully. And here I can admit, that my manners to Miss W., in being unpleasant to Miss F., were highly blameable. She disapproved them, which ought to have been enough.⁠—My plea of concealing the truth she did not think sufficient.⁠—She was displeased; I thought unreasonably so: I thought her, on a thousand occasions, unnecessarily scrupulous and cautious: I thought her even cold. But she was always right. If I had followed her judgment, and subdued my spirits to the level of what she deemed proper, I should have escaped the greatest unhappiness I have ever known.⁠—We quarrelled.⁠—Do you remember the morning spent at Donwell?⁠—There every little dissatisfaction that had occurred before came to a crisis. I was late; I met her walking home by herself, and wanted to walk with her, but she would not suffer it. She absolutely refused to allow me, which I then thought most unreasonable. Now, however, I see nothing in it but a very natural and consistent degree of discretion. While I, to blind the world to our engagement, was behaving one hour with objectionable particularity to another woman, was she to be consenting the next to a proposal which might have made every previous caution useless?⁠—Had we been met walking together between Donwell and Highbury, the truth must have been suspected.⁠—I was mad enough, however, to resent.⁠—I doubted her affection. I doubted it more the next day on Box Hill; when, provoked by such conduct on my side, such shameful, insolent neglect of her, and such apparent devotion to Miss W., as it would have been impossible for any woman of sense to endure, she spoke her resentment in a form of words perfectly intelligible to me.⁠—In short, my dear madam, it was a quarrel blameless on her side, abominable on mine; and I returned the same evening to Richmond, though I might have stayed with you till the next morning, merely because I would be as angry with her as possible. Even then, I was not such a fool as not to mean to be reconciled in time; but I was the injured person, injured by her coldness, and I went away determined that she should make the first advances.⁠—I shall always congratulate myself that you were not of the Box Hill party. Had you witnessed my behaviour there, I can hardly suppose you would ever have thought well of me again. Its effect upon her appears in the immediate resolution it produced: as soon as she found I was really gone from Randalls, she closed with the offer of that officious Mrs. Elton; the whole system of whose treatment of her, by the by, has ever filled me with indignation and hatred. I must not quarrel with a spirit of forbearance which has been so richly extended towards myself; but, otherwise, I should loudly protest against the share of it which that woman has known.⁠—‘Jane,’ indeed!⁠—You will observe that I have not yet indulged myself in calling her by that name, even to you. Think, then, what I must have endured in hearing it bandied between the Eltons with all the vulgarity of needless repetition, and all the insolence of imaginary superiority. Have patience with me, I shall soon have done.⁠—She closed with this offer, resolving to break with me entirely, and wrote the next day to tell me that we never were to meet again.⁠—She felt the engagement to be a source of repentance and misery to each: she dissolved it.⁠—This letter reached me on the very morning of my poor aunt’s death. I answered it within an hour; but from the confusion of my mind, and the multiplicity of business falling on me at once, my answer, instead of being sent with all the many other letters of that day, was locked up in my writing-desk; and I, trusting that I had written enough, though but a few lines, to satisfy her, remained without any uneasiness.⁠—I was rather disappointed that I did not hear from her again speedily; but I made excuses for her, and was too busy, and⁠—may I add?⁠—too cheerful in my views to be captious.⁠—We removed to Windsor; and two days afterwards I received a parcel from her, my own letters all returned!⁠—and a few lines at the same time by the post, stating her extreme surprise at not having had the smallest reply to her last; and adding, that as silence on such a point could not be misconstrued, and as it must be equally desirable to both to have every subordinate arrangement concluded as soon as possible, she now sent me, by a safe conveyance, all my letters, and requested, that if I could not directly command hers, so as to send them to Highbury within a week, I would forward them after that period to her at⁠—: in short, the full direction to Mr. Smallridge’s, near Bristol, stared me in the face. I knew the name, the place, I knew all about it, and instantly saw what she had been doing. It was perfectly accordant with that resolution of character which I knew her to possess; and the secrecy she had maintained, as to any such design in her former letter, was equally descriptive of its anxious delicacy. For the world would not she have seemed to threaten me.⁠—Imagine the shock; imagine how, till I had actually detected my own blunder, I raved at the blunders of the post.⁠—What was to be done?⁠—One thing only.⁠—I must speak to my