well as love, had probably been mortified. They might all have hoped to rise by Harriet’s acquaintance: and besides, what was the value of Harriet’s description?—so easily pleased—so little discerning;--what signified her praise?

She exerted herself; and did try to make her comfortable, by considering all that had passed as a mere trifle, and quite unworthy of being dwelt on.

“It might be distressing, for the moment,” said she; “but you seem to have behaved extremely well; and it is over—and may never—can never, as a first meeting, occur again, and therefore you need not think about it.”

Harriet said, “very true;” and she, “would not think about it;” but still she talked of it—still she could talk of nothing else; but Emma, at last, in order to put the Martins out of her head, was obliged to hurry on the news, which she had meant to give with so much tender caution; hardly knowing herself whether to rejoice or be angry, ashamed or only amused, at such a state of mind in poor Harriet—such a conclusion of Mr. Elton’s importance with her.

Mr. Elton’s rights, however, gradually revived. Though she did not feel the first intelligence as she might have done the day before, or an hour before, its interest soon increased; and before their first conversation was over, she had talked herself into all the sensations of curiosity, wonder and regret, pain and pleasure, as to this fortunate Miss Hawkins, which could conduce to place the Martins under proper subordination in her fancy.

Emma learned to be rather glad that there had been such a meeting. It had been serviceable in deadening the first shock, without retaining any influence to alarm. As Harriet now lived, the Martins could not get at her, without seeking her, where hitherto they had wanted either the courage or the


condescension to seek her; for since her refusal of the brother, the sisters had never been at Mrs. Goddard’s; and a twelvemonth might pass without their being thrown together again, with any necessity, or even any power of speech.