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Emma
by Jane Austen
VOLUME II
CHAPTER II
Jane Fairfax was an orphan, the only child of Mrs. Bates's youngest
daughter.
The marriage of Lieut. Fairfax of the _______ regiment of infantry,
and Miss Jane Bates, had had its day of fame and pleasure, hope
and interest; but nothing now remained of it, save the melancholy
remembrance of him dying in action abroad--of his widow sinking
under consumption and grief soon afterwards--and this girl.
By birth she belonged to Highbury: and when at three years old,
on losing her mother, she became the property, the charge, the consolation,
the fondling of her grandmother and aunt, there had seemed every
probability of her being permanently fixed there; of her being taught
only what very limited means could command, and growing up with
no advantages of connexion or improvement, to be engrafted on what
nature had given her in a pleasing person, good understanding, and
warm-hearted, well-meaning relations.
But the compassionate feelings of a friend of her father gave a
change to her destiny. This was Colonel Campbell, who had very highly
regarded Fairfax, as an excellent officer and most deserving young
man; and farther, had been indebted to him for such attentions,
during a severe camp-fever, as he believed had saved his life. These
were claims which he did not learn to overlook, though some years
passed away from the death of poor Fairfax, before his own return
to England put any thing in his power. When he did return, he sought
out the child and took notice of her. He was a married man, with
only one living child, a girl, about Jane's age: and Jane became
their guest, paying them long visits and growing a favourite with
all; and before she was nine years old, his daughter's great fondness
for her, and his own wish of being a real friend, united to produce
an offer from Colonel Campbell of undertaking the whole charge of
her education. It was accepted; and from that period Jane had belonged
to Colonel Campbell's family, and had lived with them entirely,
only visiting her grandmother from time to time.
The plan was that she should be brought up for educating others;
the very few hundred pounds which she inherited from her father
making independence impossible. To provide for her otherwise was
out of Colonel Campbell's power; for though his income, by pay and
appointments, was handsome, his fortune was moderate and must be
all his daughter's; but, by giving her an education, he hoped to
be supplying the means of respectable subsistence hereafter.
Such was Jane Fairfax's history. She had fallen into good hands,
known nothing but kindness from the Campbells, and been given an
excellent education. Living constantly with right-minded and well-informed
people, her heart and understanding had received every advantage
of discipline and culture; and Colonel Campbell's residence being
in London, every lighter talent had been done full justice to, by
the attendance of first-rate masters. Her disposition and abilities
were equally worthy of all that friendship could do; and at eighteen
or nineteen she was, as far as such an early age can be qualified
for the care of children, fully competent to the office of instruction
herself; but she was too much beloved to be parted with. Neither
father nor mother could promote, and the daughter could not endure
it. The evil day was put off. It was easy to decide that she was
still too young; and Jane remained with them, sharing, as another
daughter, in all the rational pleasures of an elegant society, and
a judicious mixture of home and amusement, with only the drawback
of the future, the sobering suggestions of her own good understanding
to remind her that all this might soon be over.
The affection of the whole family, the warm attachment of Miss
Campbell in particular, was the more honourable to each party from
the circumstance of Jane's decided superiority both in beauty and
acquirements. That nature had given it in feature could not be unseen
by the young woman, nor could her higher powers of mind be unfelt
by the parents. They continued together with unabated regard however,
till the marriage of Miss Campbell, who by that chance, that luck
which so often defies anticipation in matrimonial affairs, giving
attraction to what is moderate rather than to what is superior,
engaged the affections of Mr. Dixon, a young man, rich and agreeable,
almost as soon as they were acquainted; and was eligibly and happily
settled, while Jane Fairfax had yet her bread to earn.
This event had very lately taken place; too lately for any thing
to be yet attempted by her less fortunate friend towards entering
on her path of duty; though she had now reached the age which her
own judgment had fixed on for beginning. She had long resolved that
one-and-twenty should be the period. With the fortitude of a devoted
novitiate, she had resolved at one-and-twenty to complete the sacrifice,
and retire from all the pleasures of life, of rational intercourse,
equal society, peace and hope, to penance and mortification for
ever.
The good sense of Colonel and Mrs. Campbell could not oppose such
a resolution, though their feelings did. As long as they lived,
no exertions would be necessary, their home might be hers for ever;
and for their own comfort they would have retained her wholly; but
this would be selfishness:--what must be at last, had better be
soon. Perhaps they began to feel it might have been kinder and wiser
to have resisted the temptation of any delay, and spared her from
a taste of such enjoyments of ease and leisure as must now be relinquished.
Still, however, affection was glad to catch at any reasonable excuse
for not hurrying on the wretched moment. She had never been quite
well since the time of their daughter's marriage; and till she should
have completely recovered her usual strength, they must forbid her
engaging in duties, which, so far from being compatible with a weakened
frame and varying spirits, seemed, under the most favourable circumstances,
to require something more than human perfection of body and mind
to be discharged with tolerable comfort.
With regard to her not accompanying them to Ireland, her account
to her aunt contained nothing but truth, though there might be some
truths not told. It was her own choice to give the time of their
absence to Highbury; to spend, perhaps, her last months of perfect
liberty with those kind relations to whom she was so very dear:
and the Campbells, whatever might be their motive or motives, whether
single, or double, or treble, gave the arrangement their ready sanction,
and said, that they depended more on a few months spent in her native
air, for the recovery of her health, than on any thing else. Certain
it was that she was to come; and that Highbury, instead of welcoming
that perfect novelty which had been so long promised it--Mr. Frank
Churchill--must put up for the present with Jane Fairfax, who could
bring only the freshness of a two years' absence.
Emma was sorry;--to have to pay civilities to a person she did
not like through three long months!--to be always doing more than
she wished, and less than she ought! Why she did not like Jane Fairfax
might be a difficult question to answer; Mr. Knightley had once
told her it was because she saw in her the really accomplished young
woman, which she wanted to be thought herself; and though the accusation
had been eagerly refuted at the time, there were moments of self-examination
in which her conscience could not quite acquit her. But "she
could never get acquainted with her: she did not know how it was,
but there was such coldness and reserve-- such apparent indifference
whether she pleased or not--and then, her aunt was such an eternal
talker!--and she was made such a fuss with by every body!--and it
had been always imagined that they were to be so intimate--because
their ages were the same, every body had supposed they must be so
fond of each other." These were her reasons-- she had no better.
It was a dislike so little just--every imputed fault was so magnified
by fancy, that she never saw Jane Fairfax the first time after any
considerable absence, without feeling that she had injured her;
and now, when the due visit was paid, on her arrival, after a two
years' interval, she was particularly struck with the very appearance
and manners, which for those two whole years she had been depreciating.
Jane Fairfax was very elegant, remarkably elegant; and she had herself
the highest value for elegance. Her height was pretty, just such
as almost every body would think tall, and nobody could think very
tall; her figure particularly graceful; her size a most becoming
medium, between fat and thin, though a slight appearance of ill-health
seemed to point out the likeliest evil of the two. Emma could not
but feel all this; and then, her face--her features-- there was
more beauty in them altogether than she had remembered; it was not
regular, but it was very pleasing beauty. Her eyes, a deep grey,
with dark eye-lashes and eyebrows, had never been denied their praise;
but the skin, which she had been used to cavil at, as wanting colour,
had a clearness and delicacy which really needed no fuller bloom.
It was a style of beauty, of which elegance was the reigning character,
and as such, she must, in honour, by all her principles, admire
it:--elegance, which, whether of person or of mind, she saw so little
in Highbury. There, not to be vulgar, was distinction, and merit.
In short, she sat, during the first visit, looking at Jane Fairfax
with twofold complacency; the sense of pleasure and the sense of
rendering justice, and was determining that she would dislike her
no longer. When she took in her history, indeed, her situation,
as well as her beauty; when she considered what all this elegance
was destined to, what she was going to sink from, how she was going
to live, it seemed impossible to feel any thing but compassion and
respect; especially, if to every well-known particular entitling
her to interest, were added the highly probable circumstance of
an attachment to Mr. Dixon, which she had so naturally started to
herself. In that case, nothing could be more pitiable or more honourable
than the sacrifices she had resolved on. Emma was very willing now
to acquit her of having seduced Mr. Dixon's actions from his wife,
or of any thing mischievous which her imagination had suggested
at first. If it were love, it might be simple, single, successless
love on her side alone. She might have been unconsciously sucking
in the sad poison, while a sharer of his conversation with her friend;
and from the best, the purest of motives, might now be denying herself
this visit to Ireland, and resolving to divide herself effectually
from him and his connexions by soon beginning her career of laborious
duty.
Upon the whole, Emma left her with such softened, charitable feelings,
as made her look around in walking home, and lament that Highbury
afforded no young man worthy of giving her independence; nobody
that she could wish to scheme about for her.
These were charming feelings--but not lasting. Before she had committed
herself by any public profession of eternal friendship for Jane
Fairfax, or done more towards a recantation of past prejudices and
errors, than saying to Mr. Knightley, "She certainly is handsome;
she is better than handsome!" Jane had spent an evening at
Hartfield with her grandmother and aunt, and every thing was relapsing
much into its usual state. Former provocations reappeared. The aunt
was as tiresome as ever; more tiresome, because anxiety for her
health was now added to admiration of her powers; and they had to
listen to the description of exactly how little bread and butter
she ate for breakfast, and how small a slice of mutton for dinner,
as well as to see exhibitions of new caps and new workbags for her
mother and herself; and Jane's offences rose again. They had music;
Emma was obliged to play; and the thanks and praise which necessarily
followed appeared to her an affectation of candour, an air of greatness,
meaning only to shew off in higher style her own very superior performance.
She was, besides, which was the worst of all, so cold, so cautious!
There was no getting at her real opinion. Wrapt up in a cloak of
politeness, she seemed determined to hazard nothing. She was disgustingly,
was suspiciously reserved.
If any thing could be more, where all was most, she was more reserved
on the subject of Weymouth and the Dixons than any thing. She seemed
bent on giving no real insight into Mr. Dixon's character, or her
own value for his company, or opinion of the suitableness of the
match. It was all general approbation and smoothness; nothing delineated
or distinguished. It did her no service however. Her caution was
thrown away. Emma saw its artifice, and returned to her first surmises.
There probably was something more to conceal than her own preference;
Mr. Dixon, perhaps, had been very near changing one friend for the
other, or been fixed only to Miss Campbell, for the sake of the
future twelve thousand pounds.
The like reserve prevailed on other topics. She and Mr. Frank Churchill
had been at Weymouth at the same time. It was known that they were
a little acquainted; but not a syllable of real information could
Emma procure as to what he truly was. "Was he handsome?"--"She
believed he was reckoned a very fine young man." "Was
he agreeable?"-- "He was generally thought so." "Did
he appear a sensible young man; a young man of information?"--"At
a watering-place, or in a common London acquaintance, it was difficult
to decide on such points. Manners were all that could be safely
judged of, under a much longer knowledge than they had yet had of
Mr. Churchill. She believed every body found his manners pleasing."
Emma could not forgive her.
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