Emma Jane Austen (13 inch ebook reader TXT) 📖

it would be to have Jane Fairfax walking home again, late at night, and cold as the nights are now. And as I looked at her, though I never saw her appear to more advantage, it struck me that she was heated, and would therefore be particularly liable to take cold. Poor girl! I could not bear the idea of it; so, as soon as Mr. Weston came into the room, and I could get at him, I spoke to him about the carriage. You may guess how readily he came into my wishes; and having his approbation, I made my way directly to Miss Bates, to assure her that the carriage would be at her service before it took us home; for I thought it would be making her comfortable at once. Good soul! she was as grateful as possible, you may be sure. ‘Nobody was ever so fortunate as herself!’⁠—but with many, many thanks⁠—‘there was no occasion to trouble us, for Mr. Knightley’s carriage had brought, and was to take them home again.’ I was quite surprised;⁠—very glad, I am sure; but really quite surprised. Such a very kind attention⁠—and so thoughtful an attention!⁠—the sort of thing that so few men would think of. And, in short, from knowing his usual ways, I am very much inclined to think that it was for their accommodation the carriage was used at all. I do suspect he would not have had a pair of horses for himself, and that it was only as an excuse for assisting them.”

“Very likely,” said Emma⁠—“nothing more likely. I know no man more likely than Mr. Knightley to do the sort of thing⁠—to do anything really good-natured, useful, considerate, or benevolent. He is not a gallant man, but he is a very humane one; and this, considering Jane Fairfax’s ill-health, would appear a case of humanity to him;⁠—and for an act of unostentatious kindness, there is nobody whom I would fix on more than on Mr. Knightley. I know he had horses today⁠—for we arrived together; and I laughed at him about it, but he said not a word that could betray.”

“Well,” said Mrs. Weston, smiling, “you give him credit for more simple, disinterested benevolence in this instance than I do; for while Miss Bates was speaking, a suspicion darted into my head, and I have never been able to get it out again. The more I think of it, the more probable it appears. In short, I have made a match between Mr. Knightley and Jane Fairfax. See the consequence of keeping you company!⁠—What do you say to it?”

“Mr. Knightley and Jane Fairfax!” exclaimed Emma. “Dear Mrs. Weston, how could you think of such a thing?⁠—Mr. Knightley!⁠—Mr. Knightley must not marry!⁠—You would not have little Henry cut out from Donwell?⁠—Oh! no, no, Henry must have Donwell. I cannot at all consent to Mr. Knightley’s marrying; and I am sure it is not at all likely. I am amazed that you should think of such a thing.”

“My dear Emma, I have told you what led me to think of it. I do not want the match⁠—I do not want to injure dear little Henry⁠—but the idea has been given me by circumstances; and if Mr. Knightley really wished to marry, you would not have him refrain on Henry’s account, a boy of six years old, who knows nothing of the matter?”

“Yes, I would. I could not bear to have Henry supplanted.⁠—Mr. Knightley marry!⁠—No, I have never had such an idea, and I cannot adopt it now. And Jane Fairfax, too, of all women!”

“Nay, she has always been a first favourite with him, as you very well know.”

“But the imprudence of such a match!”

“I am not speaking of its prudence; merely its probability.”

“I see no probability in it, unless you have any better foundation than what you mention. His good-nature, his humanity, as I tell you, would be quite enough to account for the horses. He has a great regard for the Bateses, you know, independent of Jane Fairfax⁠—and is always glad to show them attention. My dear Mrs. Weston, do not take to matchmaking. You do it very ill. Jane Fairfax mistress of the Abbey!⁠—Oh! no, no;⁠—every feeling revolts. For his own sake, I would not have him do so mad a thing.”

“Imprudent, if you please⁠—but not mad. Excepting inequality of fortune, and perhaps a little disparity of age, I can see nothing unsuitable.”

“But Mr. Knightley does not want to marry. I am sure he has not the least idea of it. Do not put it into his head. Why should he marry?⁠—He is as happy as possible by himself; with his farm, and his sheep, and his library, and all the parish to manage; and he is extremely fond of his brother’s children. He has no occasion to marry, either to fill up his time or his heart.”

“My dear Emma, as long as he thinks so, it is so; but if he really loves Jane Fairfax⁠—”

“Nonsense! He does not care about Jane Fairfax. In the way of love, I am sure he does not. He would do any good to her, or her family; but⁠—”

“Well,” said Mrs. Weston, laughing, “perhaps the greatest good he could do them, would be to give Jane such a respectable home.”

“If it would be good to her, I am sure it would be evil to himself; a very shameful and degrading connection. How would he bear to have Miss Bates belonging to him?⁠—To have her haunting the Abbey, and thanking him all day long for his great kindness in marrying Jane?⁠—‘So very kind and obliging!⁠—But he always had been such a very kind neighbour!’ And then fly off, through half a sentence, to her mother’s old petticoat. ‘Not that it was such a very old petticoat either⁠—for still it would last a great while⁠—and, indeed, she must thankfully say that their petticoats were all very strong.’ ”

“For shame, Emma! Do not mimic her. You divert me against my conscience. And, upon my word, I do not think Mr. Knightley would be much disturbed by Miss Bates. Little