Austen Said:

"I am in a very extraordinary situation. I cannot let you continue in your error; and yet, perhaps, since my manners gave such an impression, I have as much reason to be ashamed of confessing that I never have been at all attached to the person we are speaking of, as it might be natural for a woman to feel in confessing exactly the reverse.—But I never have."

she must say more before she were entitled to his clemency; but it was a hard case to be obliged still to lower herself in his opinion.

"I have very little to say for my own conduct.—I was tempted by his attentions, and allowed myself to appear pleased.—An old story, probably—a common case—and no more than has happened to hundreds of my sex before; and yet it may not be the more excusable in one who sets up as I do for Understanding. Many circumstances assisted the temptation. He was the son of Mr. Weston —he was continually here —I always found him very pleasant—and, in short, for

"let me swell out the causes ever so ingeniously, they all centre in this at last— my vanity was flattered, and I allowed his attentions. Latterly, however— for some time, indeed —I have had no idea of their meaning any thing.—I thought them a habit, a trick, nothing that called for seriousness on my side. He has imposed on me, but he has not injured me. I have never been attached to him. And now I can tolerably comprehend his behaviour. He never wished to attach me. It was merely a blind to conceal his real situation with another.—It was his object to blind all about him; and no one, I am sure, could be more effectually blinded than myself—except that I was not blinded— that it was my good fortune— that, in short, I was somehow or other safe from him."

"I have no doubt of their being happy together,"

"I believe them to be very mutually and very sincerely attached."

"You speak as if you envied him."

she would speak of something totally different— the children in Brunswick Square;

"Oh! then, don't speak it, don't speak it,"

"Take a little time, consider, do not commit yourself."

He was wishing to confide in her— perhaps to consult her;—cost her what it would, she would listen. She might assist his resolution, or reconcile him to it; she might give just praise to Harriet, or, by representing to him his own independence, relieve him from that state of indecision, which must be more intolerable than any alternative to such a mind as his.—

"No,"—

"I should like to take another turn. Mr. Perry is not gone."

"I stopped you ungraciously, just now, Mr. Knightley, and, I am afraid, gave you pain.—But if you have any wish to speak openly to me as a friend, or to ask my opinion of any thing that you may have in contemplation—as a friend, indeed, you may command me.—I will hear whatever you like. I will tell you exactly what I think."

to see that Harriet's hopes had been entirely groundless, a mistake, a delusion, as complete a delusion as any of her own— that Harriet was nothing; that she was every thing herself; that what she had been saying relative to Harriet had been all taken as the language of her own feelings; and that her agitation, her doubts, her reluctance, her discouragement, had been all received as discouragement from herself.—

to rejoice that Harriet's secret had not escaped her, and to resolve that it need not, and should not.—

It was all the service she could now render her poor friend; for as to any of that heroism of sentiment which might have prompted her to entreat him to transfer his affection from herself to Harriet, as infinitely the most worthy of the two—or even the more simple sublimity of resolving to refuse him at once and for ever, without vouchsafing any motive, because he could not marry them both, Emma had it not.

She had led her friend astray, and it would be a reproach to her for ever;

how often it had been collected!—and how often had her eyes fallen on the same shrubs in the lawn, and observed the same beautiful effect of the western sun!

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.

She hardly knew yet what Mr. Knightley would ask;

never quitting her father.—

While he lived, it must be only an engagement; but

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?—

she would still avoid a meeting with her, and communicate all that need be told by letter;

it would be inexpressibly desirable to have her removed just now for a time from Highbury, and—

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.—

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 every thing was due; a separation for the present; an averting of the evil day, when they must all be together again.

she wanted no explanations, she wanted only to have her thoughts to herself—and as for understanding any thing he wrote, she was sure she was incapable of it.—It must be waded through, however.

I owed Mrs. Elton gratitude for her attentions to Miss Fairfax.—

the child of good fortune.

he had been wrong, yet he had been less wrong than she had supposed—and he had suffered, and was very sorry—and he was so grateful to Mrs. Weston, and so much in love with Miss Fairfax, and she was so happy herself, that there was no being severe; and could he have entered the room, she must have shaken hands with him as heartily as ever.

Mrs. Weston's wishing it to be communicated; especially to one, who, like Mr. Knightley, had seen so much to blame in his conduct.

But that would not do. Mr. Weston was to call in the evening, and she must return it by him.

"Not at all. I should wish it."

"And I have not forgotten,"

"how sure you were that

You pass it over very handsomely—but you were perfectly right."

it,

"You had better go on,"

Her own behaviour had been so very improper!

"Nay, nay, read on.—You will find how very much he suffers."

"She had engaged

and, by the bye, I wonder how Mrs. Elton bears the disappointment?"

"I wish you would read it with a kinder spirit towards him."

The child of good fortune!

"You do not appear so well satisfied with his letter as I am; but still you must, at least I hope you must, think the better of him for it. I hope it does him some service with you."

"While her dear father lived, any change of condition must be impossible for her. She could never quit him."