Austen Said:

"Emma, you have been no friend to Harriet Smith."—

She was afraid she had done her nothing but disservice.—It was true that she had not to charge herself, in this instance as in the former, with being the sole and original author of the mischief; with having suggested such feelings as might otherwise never have entered Harriet's imagination; for Harriet had acknowledged her admiration and preference of Frank Churchill before she had ever given her a hint on the subject; but she felt completely guilty of having encouraged what she might have repressed. She might have prevented the indulgence and increase of such sentiments. Her influence would have been enough.

And now she was very conscious that she ought to have prevented them.—She felt that

she had been risking her friend's happiness on most insufficient grounds. Common sense would have directed her to tell Harriet, that she must not allow herself to think of him, and that there were five hundred chances to one against his ever caring for her.—

"But, with common sense,"

she added,

"I am afraid I have had little to do."

She was extremely angry with herself. If she could not have been angry with Frank Churchill too, it would have been dreadful.—As for Jane Fairfax, she might at least relieve her feelings from any present solicitude on her account.

Harriet would be anxiety enough; she need no longer be unhappy about Jane, whose troubles and whose ill-health having, of course, the same origin, must be equally under cure.—

Her days of insignificance and evil were over.—She would soon be well, and happy, and prosperous.—

Emma could now imagine

why her own attentions had been slighted.

This discovery laid many smaller matters open.

No doubt it had been from jealousy.—In Jane's eyes she had been a rival; and well might any thing she could offer of assistance or regard be repulsed. An airing in the Hartfield carriage would have been the rack, and arrowroot from the Hartfield storeroom must have been poison.

She understood it all; and as far as her mind could disengage itself from the injustice and selfishness of angry feelings,

she acknowledged that

Jane Fairfax would have neither elevation nor happiness beyond her desert. But poor Harriet was such an engrossing charge!

There was little sympathy to be spared for any body else.

Emma was sadly fearful that

this second disappointment would be more severe than the first. Considering the very superior claims of the object, it ought; and judging by its apparently stronger effect on Harriet's mind, producing reserve and self-command, it would.—She must communicate the painful truth, however, and as soon as possible.

An injunction of secresy had been among Mr. Weston's parting words.

"For the present, the whole affair was to be completely a secret. Mr. Churchill had made a point of it, as a token of respect to the wife he had so very recently lost; and every body admitted it to be no more than due decorum."—

Emma had promised; but still Harriet must be excepted. It was her superior duty.

In spite of her vexation,

she could not help

feeling it almost ridiculous, that she should have the very same distressing and delicate office to perform by Harriet, which Mrs. Weston had just gone through by herself. The intelligence, which had been so anxiously announced to her, she was now to be anxiously announcing to another.

Her heart beat quick on hearing Harriet's footstep and voice;

so,

she supposed,

had poor Mrs. Weston felt when she was approaching Randalls. Could the event of the disclosure bear an equal resemblance!—But of that, unfortunately, there could be no chance.

"Well, Miss Woodhouse!"

cried Harriet, coming eagerly into the room—

"is not this the oddest news that ever was?"

"What news do you mean?"

replied Emma, unable to guess, by look or voice, whether Harriet could indeed have received any hint.

"About Jane Fairfax. Did you ever hear any thing so strange? Oh!—you need not be afraid of owning it to me, for Mr. Weston has told me himself. I met him just now.

He told me

it was to be a great secret;

and, therefore, I should not think of mentioning it to any body but you, but he said you knew it."

"What did Mr. Weston tell you?"—

said Emma, still perplexed.

"Oh!

he told me all about it; that

Jane Fairfax and Mr. Frank Churchill are to be married, and

that

they have been privately engaged to one another this long while.

How very odd!"

It was, indeed, so odd; Harriet's behaviour was so extremely odd, that Emma did not know how to understand it. Her character appeared absolutely changed. She seemed to propose shewing no agitation, or disappointment, or peculiar concern in the discovery. Emma looked at her, quite unable to speak.

"Had you any idea,"

cried Harriet,