“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 shew them attention. My dear Mrs. Weston, do not take to match-making. 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 connexion. 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 things do not irritate him. She might talk on; and if he wanted to say any thing himself, he would only talk louder, and drown her voice. But the question is not, whether it would be a bad connexion for him, but whether he wishes it; and I think he does. I have heard him speak, and so must you, so very highly of Jane Fairfax! The interest he takes in her– his anxiety about her health–his concern that she should have no happier prospect! I have heard him express himself so warmly on those points!–Such an admirer of her performance on the pianoforte, and of her voice! I have heard him say that he could listen to her for ever. Oh! and I had almost forgotten one idea that occurred to me–this pianoforte that has been sent here by somebody– though we have all been so well satisfied to consider it a present from the Campbells, may it not be from Mr. Knightley? I cannot help suspecting him. I think he is just the person to do it, even without being in love.”