“But you will come again,” said Emma. “This will not be your only visit to Randalls.”

‘Ah!—(shaking his head)—the uncertainty of when I may be able to return!—I shall try for it with a zeal!—It will be the object of all my thoughts and cares! and if my uncle and aunt go to town this spring—but I am afraid—they did not stir last spring—I am afraid it is a custom gone forever.”

“Our poor ball must be quite given up.’

“Ah! that ball!—why did we wait for any thing?—why not seize the pleasure at once?—How often is happiness destroyed by preparation, foolish preparation!—You told us it would be so.—Oh! Miss Woodhouse, why are you always so right?”

“Indeed, I am very sorry to be right in this instance. I would much rather have been merry than wise.”

“If I can come again, we are still to have our ball. My father depends on it. Do not forget your engagement.”

Emma looked graciously.

“Such a fortnight as it has been!” he continued; “every day more precious and more delightful than the day before!—every day making me less fit to bear any other place. Happy those, who can remain at Highbury!”

“As you do us such ample justice now,” said Emma, laughing, “I will venture to ask, whether you did not come a little doubtingly at first? Do not we rather surpass your expectations? I am sure we do. I am sure you did not much expect to like us. You would not have been so long in coming, if you had had a pleasant idea of Highbury.”

He laughing rather consciously; and though denying the sentiment, Emma was convinced that it had been so.

“And you must be off this very morning?”

“Yes; my father is to join me here: we shall

walk back together, and I must be off immediately. I am almost afraid that every moment will bring him.”

“Not five minutes to spare even for your friends Miss Fairfax and Miss Bates? How unlucky! Miss Bates’s powerful, argumentative mind might have strengthened yours.”

“Yes—I have called there; passing the door, I thought it better. It was a right thing to do. I went in for three minutes, and was detained by Miss Bates’s being absent. She was out; and I felt it impossible not to wait till she came in. she is a woman that one may, that one must laugh at; but that one would not wish to slight. It was better to pay my visit, then”—

He hesitated, got up, walked to a window.

“In short,” said he, “perhaps, Miss Woodhouse——-I think you can hardly be quite without suspicion”—

He looked at her, as if wanting to read her thoughts. She hardly knew what to say. It seemed like the fore-runner of something absolutely serious, which she did not wish. Forcing herself to speak, therefore, in the hope of putting it by, she calmly said,

“You were quite in the right; it was most natural to pay your visit, then”—

He was silent. She believed he was looking at her; probably reflecting on what she had said, and trying to understand the manner. She heard him sigh. It was natural for him to feel that he had cause to sigh. He could not believe her to be encouraging him. A few awkard moments passed, and he sat down again; and in a more determined manner said,

“It was something to feel that all the rest of my time might be given to Hartfield. My regard for Hartfield is most warm”—

Vol. iiC