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EMMA — Volume Three
by Jane Austen
CHAPTER V
In this state of schemes, and hopes, and connivance1, June opened upon Hartfield. To Highbury in general it brought no material change. The Eltons were still talking of a visit from the Sucklings, and of the use to be made of their barouche–landau; and Jane Fairfax was still at her grandmother's; and as the return of the Campbells from Ireland was again delayed, and August, instead of Midsummer, fixed2 for it, she was likely to remain there full two months longer, provided at least she were able to defeat Mrs. Elton's activity in her service, and save herself from being hurried into a delightful3 situation against her will.
Mr. Knightley, who, for some reason best known to himself, had certainly taken an early dislike to Frank Churchill, was only growing to dislike him more. He began to suspect him of some double dealing4 in his pursuit of Emma. That Emma was his object appeared indisputable. Every thing declared it; his own attentions, his father's hints, his mother–in–law's guarded silence; it was all in unison5; words, conduct, discretion6, and indiscretion, told the same story. But while so many were devoting him to Emma, and Emma herself making him over to Harriet, Mr. Knightley began to suspect him of some inclination7 to trifle with Jane Fairfax. He could not understand it; but there were symptoms of intelligence between them—he thought so at least—symptoms of admiration8 on his side, which, having once observed, he could not persuade himself to think entirely9 void of meaning, however he might wish to escape any of Emma's errors of imagination. She was not present when the suspicion first arose. He was dining with the Randalls family, and Jane, at the Eltons'; and he had seen a look, more than a single look, at Miss Fairfax, which, from the admirer of Miss Woodhouse, seemed somewhat out of place. When he was again in their company, he could not help remembering what he had seen; nor could he avoid observations which, unless it were like Cowper and his fire at twilight10,
"Myself creating what I saw,"
brought him yet stronger suspicion of there being a something of private liking11, of private understanding even, between Frank Churchill and Jane.
He had walked up one day after dinner, as he very often did, to spend his evening at Hartfield. Emma and Harriet were going to walk; he joined them; and, on returning, they fell in with a larger party, who, like themselves, judged it wisest to take their exercise early, as the weather threatened rain; Mr. and Mrs. Weston and their son, Miss Bates and her niece, who had accidentally met. They all united; and, on reaching Hartfield gates, Emma, who knew it was exactly the sort of visiting that would be welcome to her father, pressed them all to go in and drink tea with him. The Randalls party agreed to it immediately; and after a pretty long speech from Miss Bates, which few persons listened to, she also found it possible to accept dear Miss Woodhouse's most obliging invitation.
As they were turning into the grounds, Mr. Perry passed by on horseback. The gentlemen spoke12 of his horse.
"By the bye," said Frank Churchill to Mrs. Weston presently, "what became of Mr. Perry's plan of setting up his carriage?"
Mrs. Weston looked surprized, and said, "I did not know that he ever had any such plan."
"Me! impossible!"
"Indeed you did. I remember it perfectly14. You mentioned it as what was certainly to be very soon. Mrs. Perry had told somebody, and was extremely happy about it. It was owing to her persuasion15, as she thought his being out in bad weather did him a great deal of harm. You must remember it now?"
"Upon my word I never heard of it till this moment."
"Never! really, never!—Bless me! how could it be?—Then I must have dreamt it—but I was completely persuaded—Miss Smith, you walk as if you were tired. You will not be sorry to find yourself at home."
"What is this?—What is this?" cried Mr. Weston, "about Perry and a carriage? Is Perry going to set up his carriage, Frank? I am glad he can afford it. You had it from himself, had you?"
"No, sir," replied his son, laughing, "I seem to have had it from nobody.—Very odd!—I really was persuaded of Mrs. Weston's having mentioned it in one of her letters to Enscombe, many weeks ago, with all these particulars—but as she declares she never heard a syllable16 of it before, of course it must have been a dream. I am a great dreamer. I dream of every body at Highbury when I am away—and when I have gone through my particular friends, then I begin dreaming of Mr. and Mrs. Perry."
"It is odd though," observed his father, "that you should have had such a regular connected dream about people whom it was not very likely you should be thinking of at Enscombe. Perry's setting up his carriage! and his wife's persuading him to it, out of care for his health—just what will happen, I have no doubt, some time or other; only a little premature17. What an air of probability sometimes runs through a dream! And at others, what a heap of absurdities18 it is! Well, Frank, your dream certainly shews that Highbury is in your thoughts when you are absent. Emma, you are a great dreamer, I think?"
Emma was out of hearing. She had hurried on before her guests to prepare her father for their appearance, and was beyond the reach of Mr. Weston's hint.
"Why, to own the truth," cried Miss Bates, who had been trying in vain to be heard the last two minutes, "if I must speak on this subject, there is no denying that Mr. Frank Churchill might have—I do not mean to say that he did not dream it—I am sure I have sometimes the oddest dreams in the world—but if I am questioned about it, I must acknowledge that there was such an idea last spring; for Mrs. Perry herself mentioned it to my mother, and the Coles knew of it as well as ourselves—but it was quite a secret, known to nobody else, and only thought of about three days. Mrs. Perry was very anxious that he should have a carriage, and came to my mother in great spirits one morning because she thought she had prevailed. Jane, don't you remember grandmama's telling us of it when we got home? I forget where we had been walking to—very likely to Randalls; yes, I think it was to Randalls. Mrs. Perry was always particularly fond of my mother—indeed I do not know who is not—and she had mentioned it to her in confidence; she had no objection to her telling us, of course, but it was not to go beyond: and, from that day to this, I never mentioned it to a soul that I know of. At the same time, I will not positively19 answer for my having never dropt a hint, because I know I do sometimes pop out a thing before I am aware. I am a talker, you know; I am rather a talker; and now and then I have let a thing escape me which I should not. I am not like Jane; I wish I were. I will answer for it she never betrayed the least thing in the world. Where is she?—Oh! just behind. Perfectly remember Mrs. Perry's coming.— Extraordinary dream, indeed!"
They were entering the hall. Mr. Knightley's eyes had preceded Miss Bates's in a glance at Jane. From Frank Churchill's face, where he thought he saw confusion suppressed or laughed away, he had involuntarily turned to hers; but she was indeed behind, and too busy with her shawl. Mr. Weston had walked in. The two other gentlemen waited at the door to let her pass. Mr. Knightley suspected in Frank Churchill the determination of catching20 her eye—he seemed watching her intently—in vain, however, if it were so— Jane passed between them into the hall, and looked at neither.
There was no time for farther remark or explanation. The dream must be borne with, and Mr. Knightley must take his seat with the rest round the large modern circular table which Emma had introduced at Hartfield, and which none but Emma could have had power to place there and persuade her father to use, instead of the small–sized Pembroke, on which two of his daily meals had, for forty years been crowded. Tea passed pleasantly, and nobody seemed in a hurry to move.
"Miss Woodhouse," said Frank Churchill, after examining a table behind him, which he could reach as he sat, "have your nephews taken away their alphabets—their box of letters? It used to stand here. Where is it? This is a sort of dull–looking evening, that ought to be treated rather as winter than summer. We had great amusement with those letters one morning. I want to puzzle you again."
Emma was pleased with the thought; and producing the box, the table was quickly scattered21 over with alphabets, which no one seemed so much disposed to employ as their two selves. They were rapidly forming words for each other, or for any body else who would be puzzled. The quietness of the game made it particularly eligible22 for Mr. Woodhouse, who had often been distressed23 by the more animated24 sort, which Mr. Weston had occasionally introduced, and who now sat happily occupied in lamenting25, with tender melancholy26, over the departure of the "poor little boys," or in fondly pointing out, as he took up any stray letter near him, how beautifully Emma had written it.
Frank Churchill placed a word before Miss Fairfax. She gave a slight glance round the table, and applied27 herself to it. Frank was next to Emma, Jane opposite to them—and Mr. Knightley so placed as to see them all; and it was his object to see as much as he could, with as little apparent observation. The word was discovered, and with a faint smile pushed away. If meant to be immediately mixed with the others, and buried from sight, she should have looked on the table instead of looking just across, for it was not mixed; and Harriet, eager after every fresh word, and finding out none, directly took it up, and fell to work. She was sitting by Mr. Knightley, and turned to him for help. The word was blunder; and as Harriet exultingly28 proclaimed it, there was a blush on Jane's cheek which gave it a meaning not otherwise ostensible29. Mr. Knightley connected it with the dream; but how it could all be, was beyond his comprehension. How the delicacy30, the discretion of his favourite could have been so lain asleep! He feared there must be some decided31 involvement. Disingenuousness32 and double dealing seemed to meet him at every turn. These letters were but the vehicle for gallantry and trick. It was a child's play, chosen to conceal34 a deeper game on Frank Churchill's part.
With great indignation did he continue to observe him; with great alarm and distrust, to observe also his two blinded companions. He saw a short word prepared for Emma, and given to her with a look sly and demure35. He saw that Emma had soon made it out, and found it highly entertaining, though it was something which she judged it proper to appear to censure36; for she said, "Nonsense! for shame!" He heard Frank Churchill next say, with a glance towards Jane, "I will give it to her—shall I?"—and as clearly heard Emma opposing it with eager laughing warmth. "No, no, you must not; you shall not, indeed."
It was done however. This gallant33 young man, who seemed to love without feeling, and to recommend himself without complaisance37, directly handed over the word to Miss Fairfax, and with a particular degree of sedate38 civility entreated39 her to study it. Mr. Knightley's excessive curiosity to know what this word might be, made him seize every possible moment for darting40 his eye towards it, and it was not long before he saw it to be Dixon. Jane Fairfax's perception seemed to accompany his; her comprehension was certainly more equal to the covert41 meaning, the superior intelligence, of those five letters so arranged. She was evidently displeased42; looked up, and seeing herself watched, blushed more deeply than he had ever perceived her, and saying only, "I did not know that proper names were allowed," pushed away the letters with even an angry spirit, and looked resolved to be engaged by no other word that could be offered. Her face was averted43 from those who had made the attack, and turned towards her aunt.
"Aye, very true, my dear," cried the latter, though Jane had not spoken a word—"I was just going to say the same thing. It is time for us to be going indeed. The evening is closing in, and grandmama will be looking for us. My dear sir, you are too obliging. We really must wish you good night."
Jane's alertness in moving, proved her as ready as her aunt had preconceived. She was immediately up, and wanting to quit the table; but so many were also moving, that she could not get away; and Mr. Knightley thought he saw another collection of letters anxiously pushed towards her, and resolutely44 swept away by her unexamined. She was afterwards looking for her shawl—Frank Churchill was looking also—it was growing dusk, and the room was in confusion; and how they parted, Mr. Knightley could not tell.
He remained at Hartfield after all the rest, his thoughts full of what he had seen; so full, that when the candles came to assist his observations, he must—yes, he certainly must, as a friend—an anxious friend—give Emma some hint, ask her some question. He could not see her in a situation of such danger, without trying to preserve her. It was his duty.
"Pray, Emma," said he, "may I ask in what lay the great amusement, the poignant45 sting of the last word given to you and Miss Fairfax? I saw the word, and am curious to know how it could be so very entertaining to the one, and so very distressing46 to the other."
Emma was extremely confused. She could not endure to give him the true explanation; for though her suspicions were by no means removed, she was really ashamed of having ever imparted them.
"The joke," he replied gravely, "seemed confined to you and Mr. Churchill."
He had hoped she would speak again, but she did not. She would rather busy herself about any thing than speak. He sat a little while in doubt. A variety of evils crossed his mind. Interference—fruitless interference. Emma's confusion, and the acknowledged intimacy49, seemed to declare her affection engaged. Yet he would speak. He owed it to her, to risk any thing that might be involved in an unwelcome interference, rather than her welfare; to encounter any thing, rather than the remembrance of neglect in such a cause.
"My dear Emma," said he at last, with earnest kindness, "do you think you perfectly understand the degree of acquaintance between the gentleman and lady we have been speaking of?"
"Between Mr. Frank Churchill and Miss Fairfax? Oh! yes, perfectly.— Why do you make a doubt of it?"
"Have you never at any time had reason to think that he admired her, or that she admired him?"
"Never, never!" she cried with a most open eagerness—"Never, for the twentieth part of a moment, did such an idea occur to me. And how could it possibly come into your head?"
"I have lately imagined that I saw symptoms of attachment50 between them—certain expressive51 looks, which I did not believe meant to be public."
"Oh! you amuse me excessively. I am delighted to find that you can vouchsafe52 to let your imagination wander—but it will not do—very sorry to check you in your first essay—but indeed it will not do. There is no admiration between them, I do assure you; and the appearances which have caught you, have arisen from some peculiar53 circumstances—feelings rather of a totally different nature—it is impossible exactly to explain:—there is a good deal of nonsense in it—but the part which is capable of being communicated, which is sense, is, that they are as far from any attachment or admiration for one another, as any two beings in the world can be. That is, I presume it to be so on her side, and I can answer for its being so on his. I will answer for the gentleman's indifference54."
She spoke with a confidence which staggered, with a satisfaction which silenced, Mr. Knightley. She was in gay spirits, and would have prolonged the conversation, wanting to hear the particulars of his suspicions, every look described, and all the wheres and hows of a circumstance which highly entertained her: but his gaiety did not meet hers. He found he could not be useful, and his feelings were too much irritated for talking. That he might not be irritated into an absolute fever, by the fire which Mr. Woodhouse's tender habits required almost every evening throughout the year, he soon afterwards took a hasty leave, and walked home to the coolness and solitude55 of Donwell Abbey.
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1
connivance
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| n.纵容；默许 | |
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2
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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3
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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dealing
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| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
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unison
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| n.步调一致，行动一致 | |
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discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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7
inclination
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| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
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8
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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9
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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10
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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11
liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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12
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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13
nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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14
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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15
persuasion
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| n.劝说；说服；持有某种信仰的宗派 | |
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16
syllable
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| n.音节；vt.分音节 | |
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17
premature
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| adj.比预期时间早的；不成熟的，仓促的 | |
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18
absurdities
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| n.极端无理性( absurdity的名词复数 )；荒谬；谬论；荒谬的行为 | |
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19
positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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20
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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21
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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22
eligible
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| adj.有条件被选中的；(尤指婚姻等)合适(意)的 | |
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23
distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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24
animated
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| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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25
lamenting
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| adj.悲伤的，悲哀的v.（为…）哀悼，痛哭，悲伤( lament的现在分词 ) | |
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26
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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27
applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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28
exultingly
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| 兴高采烈地，得意地 | |
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29
ostensible
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| adj.(指理由)表面的，假装的 | |
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30
delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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31
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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32
disingenuousness
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33
gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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34
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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35
demure
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| adj.严肃的；端庄的 | |
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36
censure
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| v./n.责备；非难；责难 | |
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37
complaisance
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| n.彬彬有礼，殷勤，柔顺 | |
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38
sedate
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| adj.沉着的，镇静的，安静的 | |
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39
entreated
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| 恳求，乞求( entreat的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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40
darting
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的现在分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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41
covert
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| adj.隐藏的；暗地里的 | |
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42
displeased
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| a.不快的 | |
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43
averted
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| 防止，避免( avert的过去式和过去分词 )； 转移 | |
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44
resolutely
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| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
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45
poignant
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| adj.令人痛苦的，辛酸的，惨痛的 | |
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46
distressing
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| a.使人痛苦的 | |
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47
embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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48
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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49
intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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50
attachment
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| n.附属物，附件；依恋；依附 | |
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51
expressive
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| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
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52
vouchsafe
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| v.惠予，准许 | |
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53
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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54
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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55
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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