Emma

which was the standing apprehension of the family, Mr. Perry was
uneasy about her.  He thought she had undertaken more than she
was equal to, and that she felt it so herself, though she would
not own it.  Her spirits seemed overcome.  Her present home,
he could not but observe, was unfavourable to a nervous disorder:--
confined always to one room;--he could have wished it otherwise--
and her good aunt, though his very old friend, he must acknowledge
to be not the best companion for an invalid of that description.
Her care and attention could not be questioned; they were, in fact,
only too great.  He very much feared that Miss Fairfax derived more
evil than good from them.  Emma listened with the warmest concern;
grieved for her more and more, and looked around eager to discover
some way of being useful.  To take her--be it only an hour
or two--from her aunt, to give her change of air and scene,
and quiet rational conversation, even for an hour or two,
might do her good; and the following morning she wrote again to say,
in the most feeling language she could command, that she would
call for her in the carriage at any hour that Jane would name--
mentioning that she had Mr. Perry's decided opinion, in favour
of such exercise for his patient.  The answer was only in this
short note:

"Miss Fairfax's compliments and thanks, but is quite unequal
to any exercise."

Emma felt that her own note had deserved something better; but it
was impossible to quarrel with words, whose tremulous inequality
shewed indisposition so plainly, and she thought only of how she
might best counteract this unwillingness to be seen or assisted.
In spite of the answer, therefore, she ordered the carriage, and drove
to Mrs. Bates's, in the hope that Jane would be induced to join her--
but it would not do;--Miss Bates came to the carriage door, all gratitude,
and agreeing with her most earnestly in thinking an airing might be of
the greatest service--and every thing that message could do was tried--
but all in vain.  Miss Bates was obliged to return without success;
Jane was quite unpersuadable; the mere proposal of going out
seemed to make her worse.--Emma wished she could have seen her,
and tried her own powers; but, almost before she could hint the wish,
Miss Bates made it appear that she had promised her niece on
no account to let Miss Woodhouse in.  "Indeed, the truth was,
that poor dear Jane could not bear to see any body--any body at all--
Mrs. Elton, indeed, could not be denied--and Mrs. Cole had made
such a point--and Mrs. Perry had said so much--but, except them,
Jane would really see nobody."

Emma did not want to be classed with the Mrs. Eltons, the Mrs. Perrys,
and the Mrs. Coles, who would force themselves anywhere;
neither could she feel any right of preference herself--
she submitted, therefore, and only questioned Miss Bates farther
as to her niece's appetite and diet, which she longed to be able
to assist.  On that subject poor Miss Bates was very unhappy,
and very communicative; Jane would hardly eat any thing:--
Mr. Perry recommended nourishing food; but every thing they could
command (and never had any body such good neighbours) was distasteful.

Emma, on reaching home, called the housekeeper directly, to an
examination of her stores; and some arrowroot of very superior quality
was speedily despatched to Miss Bates with a most friendly note.
In half an hour the arrowroot was returned, with a thousand thanks
from Miss Bates, but "dear Jane would not be satisfied without its
being sent back; it was a thing she could not take--and, moreover,
she insisted on her saying, that she was not at all in want of any thing."

When Emma afterwards heard that Jane Fairfax had been seen wandering
about the meadows, at some distance from Highbury, on the afternoon
of the very day on which she had, under the plea of being unequal
to any exercise, so peremptorily refused to go out with her in
the carriage, she could have no doubt--putting every thing together--
that Jane was resolved to receive no kindness from _her_.  She was sorry,
very sorry.  Her heart was grieved for a state which seemed
but the more pitiable from this sort of irritation of spirits,
inconsistency of action, and inequality of powers; and it mortified
her that she was given so little credit for proper feeling, or esteemed
so little worthy as a friend:  but she had the consolation of knowing
that her intentions were good, and of being able to say to herself,
that could Mr. Knightley have been privy to all her attempts
of assisting Jane Fairfax, could he even have seen into her heart,
he would not, on this occasion, have found any thing to reprove.



CHAPTER X


One morning, about ten days after Mrs. Churchill's decease,
Emma was called downstairs to Mr. Weston, who "could not stay
five minutes, and wanted particularly to speak with her."--
He met her at the parlour-door, and hardly asking her how she did,
in the natural key of his voice, sunk it immediately, to say,
unheard by her father,

"Can you come to Randalls at any time this morning?--Do, if it
be possible.  Mrs. Weston wants to see you.  She must see you."

"Is she unwell?"

"No, no, not at all--only a little agitated.  She would have
ordered the carriage, and come to you, but she must see you _alone_,
and that you know--(nodding towards her father)--Humph!--Can you come?"