“Ah! by the bye,” then sinking his voice, and looking demure for the moment–“I hope Mr. Knightley is well?” He paused.–She coloured and laughed.–“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.”
Emma was delighted, and only wanted him to go on in the same style; but his mind was the next moment in his own concerns and with his own Jane, and his next words were,
“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.”
“I have always admired her complexion,” replied Emma, archly; “but do not I remember the time when you found fault with her for being so pale?– When we first began to talk of her.–Have you quite forgotten?”
“Oh! no–what an impudent dog I was!–How could I dare–”
But he laughed so heartily at the recollection, that Emma could not help saying,
“I do suspect that in the midst of your perplexities at that time, you had very great amusement in tricking us all.–I am sure you had.– I am sure it was a consolation to you.”
“Oh! no, no, no–how can you suspect me of such a thing? I was the most miserable wretch!”
“Not quite so miserable as to be insensible to mirth. I am sure it was a source of high entertainment to you, to feel that you were taking us all in.–Perhaps I am the readier to suspect, because, to tell you the truth, I think it might have been some amusement to myself in the same situation. I think there is a little likeness between us.”
He bowed.
“If not in our dispositions,” she presently added, with a look of true sensibility, “there is a likeness in our destiny; the destiny which bids fair to connect us with two characters so much superior to our own.”
“True, true,” he answered, warmly. “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 (inclining his head, and whispering seriously) that my uncle means to give her all my aunt’s jewels. They are to be new set. I am resolved to have some in an ornament for the head. Will not it be beautiful in her dark hair?”
“Very beautiful, indeed,” replied Emma; and she spoke so kindly, that he gratefully burst out,
“How delighted I am to see you again! and to see you in such excellent looks!–I would not have missed this meeting for the world. I should certainly have called at Hartfield, had you failed to come.”
The others had been talking of the child, Mrs. Weston giving an account of a little alarm she had been under, the evening before, from the infant’s appearing not quite well. She believed she had been foolish, but it had alarmed her, and she had been within half a minute of sending for Mr. Perry. Perhaps she ought to be ashamed, but Mr. Weston had been almost as uneasy as herself.–In ten minutes, however, the child had been perfectly well again. This was her history; and particularly interesting it was to Mr. Woodhouse, who commended her very much for thinking of sending for Perry, and only regretted that she had not done it. “She should always send for Perry, if the child appeared in the slightest degree disordered, were it only for a moment. She could not be too soon alarmed, nor send for Perry too often. It was a pity, perhaps, that he had not come last night; for, though the child seemed well now, very well considering, it would probably have been better if Perry had seen it.”