Emma: The Wild and Wanton Edition Read Online Free

word ‘success,’ which you quarrel with, I do not know that I am so entirely without any claim to it. You have drawn two pretty pictures; but I think there may be a third — a something between the do-nothing and the do-all. If I had not promoted Mr. Weston’s visits here, and given many little encouragements, and smoothed many little matters, it might not have come to any thing after all. I think you must know Hartfield enough to comprehend that.”
    “A straightforward, open-hearted man like Weston, and a rational, unaffected woman like Miss Taylor, may be safely left to manage their own concerns. You are more likely to have done harm to yourself, than good to them, by interference.” His brows drew together in the typical concerned expression he donned when lecturing Emma. It cast his eyes in a shadow that did not diminish the glow that sprang from their warm depth. Emma looked away, disconcerted.
    “Emma never thinks of herself, if she can do good to others,” rejoined Mr. Woodhouse, understanding but in part. “But, my dear, pray do not make any more matches; they are silly things, and break up one’s family circle grievously.”
    Emma uncrossed her arms and sat up straight, excitement tinting her tone. “Only one more, papa; only for Mr. Elton. Poor Mr. Elton! You like Mr. Elton, papa — I must look about for a wife for him. There is nobody in Highbury who deserves him — and he has been here a whole year, and has fitted up his house so comfortably, that it would be a shame to have him single any longer — and I thought when he was joining their hands to-day, he looked so very much as if he would like to have the same kind office done for him! I think very well of Mr. Elton, and this is the only way I have of doing him a service.”
    “Mr. Elton is a very pretty young man, to be sure, and a very good young man, and I have a great regard for him. But if you want to shew him any attention, my dear, ask him to come and dine with us some day. That will be a much better thing. I dare say Mr. Knightley will be so kind as to meet him.”
    “With a great deal of pleasure, sir, at any time,” said Mr. Knightley, laughing, his eyes crinkling at the corner, his teeth flashing white, “and I agree with you entirely, that it will be a much better thing. Invite him to dinner, Emma, and help him to the best of the fish and the chicken, but leave him to chuse his own wife. Depend upon it, a man of six or seven-and-twenty can take care of himself.”
    Mr. Knightley left the Woodhouses at his first opportunity after dinner. He breathed an uneasy sigh as he mounted his horse and kneed him into a canter toward Donwell Abbey. His mind was a flurry of activity that spurred his body into a flurry of activity as well.
    What, exactly, had Emma been about this evening? Smiling and leaning close and crossing her arms beneath her bosom. Had she taken complete leave of her senses?
    His mind automatically countered, defending her. No, she had behaved in much the same way as she usually did. It had been
Mr. Knightley’s
reaction that had differed from the routine.
    Mr. Knightley groaned as he admitted he had to come to terms with the fact that Emma Woodhouse, his sister-in-law’s younger sister, was no longer a child.
    “Devil take it,” he muttered as he realized it was much, much worse than that. No, he could take Emma growing up. What he could not take, evidently, was her turning into a beautiful woman.
    He should not have touched her; of that he was certain. What kind of fool’s errand had driven him to take her hand? Her slim fingers beneath his hand had almost been his undoing, but that had only been because of what came just prior.
    If her mother had still been living, she would have told Emma that leaning far over when talking to a gentleman was a bad idea. Mr. Knightley had to confess that he had very little idea of what had been said between them while she had leaned close and smiled so prettily at him. No, his