Austen Said:

"I do not know which it ought to be called."

"I am afraid,"

"I am very much afraid, my dear Emma, that you will not smile when you hear it."

"There is one subject,"

"I hope but one, on which we do not think alike."

"Does nothing occur to you?—Do not you recollect?—Harriet Smith."

"Have you heard from her yourself this morning?"

"You have, I believe, and know the whole."

"You are prepared for the worst, I see— and very bad it is. Harriet Smith marries Robert Martin."

"It is so, indeed,"

"I have it from Robert Martin himself. He left me not half an hour ago."

"You like it, my Emma, as little as I feared.—I wish our opinions were the same. But in time they will. Time, you may be sure, will make one or the other of us think differently; and, in the meanwhile, we need not talk much on the subject."

"I mean that he has done it,"

"and been accepted."

"It is a very simple story. He went to town on business three days ago, and I got him to take charge of some papers which I was wanting to send to John.—He delivered these papers to John, at his chambers, and was

asked by him

My friend Robert could not resist. They called for him in their way; were all extremely amused; and my brother asked him to dine with them the next day— which he did —and in the course of that visit (as I understand) he found an opportunity of speaking to Harriet; and certainly did not speak in vain.—She made him, by her acceptance, as happy even as he is deserving. He came down by yesterday's coach, and was with me this morning immediately after breakfast, to report his proceedings, first on my affairs, and then on his own. This is all that I can relate of the how, where, and when. Your friend Harriet will make a much longer history when you see her.—She will give you all the minute particulars, which only woman's language can make interesting.—In our communications we deal only in the great.—However, I must say, that Robert Martin's heart seemed for him, and to me, very overflowing; and that

he did mention,

without its being much to the purpose,

that

"Emma, my love, you said that this circumstance would not now make you unhappy; but I am afraid it gives you more pain than you expected. His situation is an evil—but you must consider it as what satisfies your friend; and I will answer for your thinking better and better of him as you know him more. His good sense and good principles would delight you.—As far as the man is concerned, you could not wish your friend in better hands. His rank in society I would alter if I could, which is saying a great deal I assure you, Emma.—You laugh at me about William Larkins; but I could quite as ill spare Robert Martin."

"You ought to know your friend best,"

"but I should say she was a good-tempered, soft-hearted girl, not likely to be very, very determined against any young man who told her he loved her."

"Do you dare say this?"

"Do you dare to suppose me so great a blockhead, as not to know what a man is talking of?—What do you deserve?"

"I am quite sure,"

"that

he told me

and that there was no obscurity, nothing doubtful, in the words he used; and I think I can give you a proof that it must be so.

He asked my opinion as to

I assured him that I could not.

he said,

"You are materially changed since we talked on this subject before."

"And I am changed also; for I am now very willing to grant you all Harriet's good qualities. I have taken some pains for your sake, and for Robert Martin's sake, (whom I have always had reason to believe as much in love with her as ever,) to get acquainted with her. I have often talked to her a good deal. You must have seen that I did. Sometimes, indeed, I have thought you were half suspecting me of pleading poor Martin's cause, which was never the case; but, from all my observations, I am convinced of her being an artless, amiable girl, with very good notions, very seriously good principles, and placing her happiness in the affections and utility of domestic life.—Much of this, I have no doubt, she may thank you for."

"I have to thank you, Miss Woodhouse, for a very kind forgiving message in one of Mrs. Weston's letters. I hope time has not made you less willing to pardon. I hope you do not retract what you then said."

"Is not she looking well?"

"Better than she ever used to do?—You see how my father and Mrs. Weston doat upon her."

"The shame,"

"is all mine, or ought to be. But is it possible that you had no suspicion?—I mean of late. Early, I know, you had none."

"That appears quite wonderful. I was once very near —and I wish I had— it would have been better. But though I was always doing wrong things, they were very bad wrong things, and such as did me no service.—It would have been a much better transgression had I broken the bond of secrecy and told you every thing."

"I have some hope,"

"of my uncle's being persuaded to pay a visit at Randalls; he wants to be introduced to her. When the Campbells are returned, we shall meet them in London, and continue there, I trust, till we may carry her northward.—But now, I am at such a distance from her— is not it hard, Miss Woodhouse?—Till this morning, we have not once met since the day of reconciliation. Do not you pity me?"

"Ah! by the bye,"

"I hope Mr. Knightley is well?"

"I know you saw my letter, and think you may remember my wish in your favour. Let me return your congratulations.—I assure you that I have heard the news with the warmest interest and satisfaction.—He is a man whom I cannot presume to praise."

"Did you ever see such a skin?—such smoothness! such delicacy!—and yet without being actually fair.—One cannot call her fair. It is a most uncommon complexion, with her dark eye-lashes and hair— a most distinguishing complexion! So peculiarly the lady in it.—Just colour enough for beauty."

"Oh! no— what an impudent dog I was!—How could I dare—"

"Oh! no, no, no— — how can you suspect me of such a thing? I was the most miserable wretch!"

"True, true,"

"No, not true on your side. You can have no superior, but most true on mine.—She is a complete angel. Look at her. Is not she an angel in every gesture? Observe the turn of her throat. Observe her eyes, as she is looking up at my father.—You will be glad to hear