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Jane had been on her way out to get the mail for about ten minutes, which was about what she counted on when arranging her plans. By no means would she have wished her aunt other than she was – all goodness and kind interest and humility, with a good word for everyone and a sharp one never – and though sometimes wearying, Jane would not have complained of the need to make allowances for Aunt Bates's style of clinging conversation.
At times, though, the subjects she chose were a trial to Jane, as at this moment, when Jane had tied on her bonnet and was moving to the door, scrupling to give her aunt a positive reminder that she had announced her intention to go.
"And so we are actually expecting Mr. Frank Churchill shortly, who is accounted a most charming young man. Of course you would know all about that, dear Jane, having seen him. He has always been supposed to come visit his father, especially since he married dear Mrs. Weston, but somehow or other this is the first time it has happened, if it should happen. For he has been expected often, without being able to come. We are all most anxious to see him. I do not mind telling you, Jane, though I would not repeat it to anyone else, that Mr. Weston let drop just a hint – just a few words – that he and Mrs. Weston have a wish that – it is perhaps impertinent to think of it, but I do believe it so eligible a match – dear Miss Woodhouse only too deserving – but, however, forget that I have said anything, for the young people have not even met, and it might all come to nothing."
Jane found this difficult to hear. She was only too aware of doing wrong by listening to such gossip, without letting her aunt in the secret of her engagement to that same Frank Churchill – and she was pained, too, by the awareness that Miss Woodhouse of Hartfield was a far more eligible party than Miss Fairfax, belonging only to her grandmother and aunt. She could not avoid a blush of consciousness and vexation, told her aunt that she was grown too warm and required fresh air, and was down the stairs and out into the street as soon as she could judge it decent.
It was no wonder that Mr. and Mrs. Weston should plan such a match for their son. Frank had had a hint of it, or thought so, in his father's letter upon his marriage, and his vanity had been flattered by this proposed connection for him. "Though I have not laid eyes on the young lady – she does not go from home, I understand – I dare say she is very full of her own self-importance, and not half so handsome as reputation would have her." Then, remembering that Jane had met Miss Woodhouse, he had questioned her on the subject.
Jane had been uneasy and uncertain what she must and could say. She felt now, looking back over the conversation, that she had said too much, as she was often drawn out to do by Frank Churchill's easy, open manners and eager way of listening. She had admitted that Miss Woodhouse was extremely handsome, that she had lively and agreeable manners, that she was just what a young heiress ought to be. It had been only a part of her opinion – she had always been in some awe of Emma Woodhouse, while feeling that it was impossible, owing to the inequality of their positions, for her to make the first plain overture of friendship – but she must have said too much or else said something amiss, for Frank had smiled, and shaken his head with a mockery of grimness, and said that a quiet, steady temper and a pair of gray eyes would always be what pleased him best in a woman, be she an heiress or a pauper. She had liked to hear it. She liked everything he said, when she was with him. On sober reflection she had doubted whether it had been right of him to communicate the contents of the letter, which was private and must have given her pain to hear, however convinced she was of his regard. Still, she thought him good at heart, and she had engaged herself to him under that belief.
It had been a blow to hear him spoken of in Highbury, and only when she had reached the post office and taken his latest letter to an empty walk to peruse it, did she understand a part of what had been troubling her. He wrote eagerly of visiting his father at last, of seeing her even half as much as he could wish – "Highbury has never had such charm for me nor sounded so much like home before there was a Miss Fairfax there to draw me." – this was very bad, too bad to be flattering to the Miss Fairfax who was seen as a greater inducement than his own connections, to whom he owed duty and affection. Jane could only soothe herself by saying that he must know very well he had been neglecting his duty to Mrs. Weston and to his father, and be too ashamed to own it to her.
She read and reread the letter, and each time there was something new in it to disappoint and vex her – he was glad of an excuse to visit, which would mean the two of them would never be suspected – he looked forward to playing a great joke on them all – he acknowledged this last was wrong and that Miss Fairfax must quarrel with him, but he was a sad, wayward fellow, as she knew, and he planned to submit to her correction at that unknown but, he hoped, not too distant day when their destinies must become one.
It was not the first time Jane had doubted the wisdom of the engagement, nor the second, but as she put away the letter and continued her brisk, solitary walk, she seriously wondered for the first time whether she had not better write to him and put an end to it. A future correcting a man who had not resolve enough to obey his own conscience without being hounded by his wife was, she reflected in a burst on diseased imagination, no rosy prospect, and she had much better toil joylessly for those who cared nothing for her than become a nuisance to one who professed to cherish her above all else.
Had she reached her grandmother's home in this frame of mind and sat down to reread his previous letters before writing a response – called to mind the image of his warm smiles and playful manners – excused any errors of judgment as overflow of high spirits – it is likely that Jane's mood would have softened towards Frank Churchill. But before that could happen, she saw coming up the lane towards her the last person she wished to meet – Miss Woodhouse, that dear, only too deserving Miss Woodhouse, coming towards her with an eager smile.
So far they had met only once since Jane had been in Highbury. It had been a meeting to make Jane ashamed of any indiscretion she had shown in speaking of Miss Woodhouse as she had to Frank Churchill: Jane had been welcomed, her musicianship had been solicited and praised, everything had been done to honor her, and the Miss Woodhouse who had seemed during their previous meetings to have some secret dislike towards her had looked at her with warm approval.
Despite Jane's distress, they met now with a perfect cordiality, with inquiries on both sides about each lady's respective family, and Miss Woodhouse confessed that Miss Fairfax was the very person she had hoped to encounter today.
"For if there is anything I can do that will make your stay in Highbury more enjoyable," said Miss Woodhouse, "I hope you will let me know at once. It is a great strain, to be capable of doing much but to have no notion of what might be wanted." There was a hint of laughter about her manner, though whether it were insincerity or simply her reigning mood Jane constrained herself not to guess.
Jane hastened to assure her that she lacked for nothing – that exertion on her behalf would be wasted. She was conscious of being perhaps too warm in her refusal of any service of Miss Woodhouse's, and could not stop herself from knowing that it was jealousy, jealousy even of the idea that Frank had been marked out by his relations as Miss Woodhouse's property, that made her so averse to asking anything of Miss Woodhouse.
"Indeed you think too little of your claims, Miss Fairfax," said Miss Woodhouse, with a return of stiffness. "There is no one in the neighborhood of Highbury who does not consider everything possible due to you. But perhaps you merely hesitate to confide in me."
Jane felt the sting of this too keenly for her natural reticence to hold her back. Temporizing, she asked if Miss Woodhouse was free to accompany her back to her grandmother's house. "There is one matter in which you might... But it would be presuming upon too little acquaintance."
Had she only noted it, Jane might have recognized an echo of her own stung consciousness in Miss Woodhouse as she accepted the proposal readily.
Gathering courage, Jane began, "What I would ask you is advice. I can ask no one – I have done the best that I could on my own but feel that my judgment has not served me as it ought. In short I wonder if you would permit..."
"My dear Miss Fairfax, you must and shall make free to ask any advice I could possibly give. It is a favorite pastime of mine, the giving of advice, and you would be indulging me by supplying the opportunity." Her smile of encouragement was, so far as Jane could judge, entirely sincere.
"I will take you at your word, Miss Woodhouse. The subject I would speak to you about is marriage. What do you think of marriage?"
Miss Woodhouse laughed a little. Seeing however that Jane was quite serious, and for the moment would come no closer to her subject, thus began: "Well! That is not advice you are asking, but an explanation of my views, and I will not be so fanciful as to assume you ask them with the intention of moving from the general to the specific." There was, however, a lingering curious look at Jane that gave the lie to her words and made Jane doubt herself. Before she could settle on beating a retreat however Miss Woodhouse was going on: "I believe marriage is one of the best things a woman can do for herself, if she finds a suitable object. I do not advocate it for every woman, of course. I should not like to marry myself – oh, you need not look like that, Miss Fairfax, I am quite well aware of how such a pronouncement is usually taken, but I assure you I have thought as deeply on the subject as any other. My position is such that I will never require a husband to give me either fortune or consequence, and so my only motive for marriage can be love. I do not think I am of a disposition to love. At least I have yet to hear of the man who would tempt me sufficiently to overcome my scruples. But here I am running on about myself when it is advice for yourself that you want. Miss Fairfax, you see you will have to give my thoughts a more direct course, for they do run on sadly selfish channels left to themselves."
She had not altogether mistaken Jane's first movement in response to her pronouncement that she would not like to marry – Jane had heard more than one such pronouncement in her life; she had heard a few from Miss Campbell over the years, and that had all been overturned once she had met Mr. Dixon. However there was, despite the playfulness of Miss Woodhouse's manner, a sort of calm sincerity in it that convinced Jane more than a more solemn way of speaking would have. She felt an influx of warm friendship towards Miss Woodhouse and was ashamed to recognize it as the lifting of jealousy.
Jane hardly knew what reply she made, amidst all this discomfiting swirl of emotion, but as the ladies approached the Bates's house she discovered that Miss Woodhouse had invited her to spend the morning with her at Hartfield the following day – "I suppose I may leave Harriet to fend for herself so long." – to give her time to compose her thoughts. She further discovered that she had accepted the invitation with every appearance of eagerness.
Miss Woodhouse parted from Jane with a wish to be quickly reunited, and, "I am so sorry I cannot come up to see Mrs. and Miss Bates, but I have already been out too long, and my father will be missing me. Do pass on my best wishes, and remember that you are engaged to come see me tomorrow, as soon as ever you have finished breakfast."
So conscious was Jane of the novelty of this event – actually invited to Hartfield for a tête-à-tête with Miss Woodhouse! Miss Woodhouse's own intimate friend to be put off for the purpose! – that she forgot to think for some time of Frank Churchill and his irksome letter. Yet she had as good as engaged to tell all the truth about their relationship to that same Miss Woodhouse, and it came to her only now that Miss Woodhouse's connection to the Westons must make the disclosure a painful one, even allowing that the lady had no views on Frank.
On serious reflection Jane could not think it a bad thing, however awkward the disclosure promised to be, whatever the flustered and unworthy feelings that had led her on. She was grateful for Miss Woodhouse's making the overture. Befriended, she now found how deeply she had been longing for a friend in her distress. Now that Miss Woodhouse had opened the way, Jane could think of no one so eligible to be that friend.
So it happened that Jane did not give Frank Churchill's past letters the attention she otherwise would have. Her mind was not softened towards him. Freshly conscious of the disgusting jealousy she had already given way to, she schooled herself not to think of him, and came closer than might be supposed to succeeding. She devoted herself to attentions to her aunt and grandmother, and to imagining, though this was a great blank of possibility in her mind, how the interview with Emma Woodhouse would go.
Emma's feelings were in a great uproar not wholly justified by the events that had given rise to it.
She had invited Jane Fairfax to visit her. More, she had invited Miss Fairfax's confidence, just as if she had a right to it and a desire for it. The only thing more surprising was that the cold, reticent Jane Fairfax had not rebuffed her, but had instead opened at least a corner of her mind to Emma.
Not that she had looked cold when Emma had met her. She had been thinking seriously about Jane, after hearing Mr. Knightley's warm approval of the appearance of improving relations between them, along with his hints about how imperfect Emma's past behavior to Jane had been. She had admitted the justice of his accusation, and she had felt more strongly than ever how high Jane's claims were – she had been determined to do her justice.
In this well-disposed frame of mind she had come upon Jane herself, looking peculiarly distressed and unbefriended. That had done the mischief, or the good, if one chose to think of it that way – Emma could not decide whether she regretted or rejoiced in the sudden friendly impulses brought on by Jane's interesting state.
But she was very curious. Clearly there was some matrimonial issue, touching her very closely, that Jane wished to be advised upon. Was she considering accepting a proposal of marriage? If so, who could be the man? Without a doubt Jane was beautiful and accomplished enough to make a speedy conquest, but for all that she had been in Highbury only three days. The only young man whom Emma knew of in connection with Jane was Mr. Dixon, who had married Miss Campbell. Perhaps that was it – perhaps Jane had cause to worry about her friend's happiness in her newly wedded state. Perhaps Jane had discovered some dreadful secret touching Mr. Dixon, which must sink Miss Campbell's hopes forever – perhaps he had even made advances to Jane herself! Certainly that would account for the dread and uncertainty that had clearly been hanging over Jane, and knowing what Emma did of the parties, she could not feel surprise at a man's preferring Miss Fairfax over her less fair friend, even if she must be shocked to think of such a discreditable display of it.
"So now Mr. Knightley will see that I can be as good a friend to Jane Fairfax, as even he could wish," Emma told herself with great satisfaction, all while coming up with wilder and wilder scenarios.
When Jane Fairfax actually arrived, however, the two ladies began by sitting for several minutes in polite silence broken only by an occasional conventional phrase. Emma was impatient but virtuously held to not rushing a confidence; generously, she ascribed to Miss Fairfax difficulty in opening the subject, rather than unwillingness to speak.
But at last Emma's patience was at an end, and she said a trifle irritably, "Honored as I am by your company, Miss Fairfax, if we are not to speak to each other I wonder what good your visit could possibly do you, beyond a temporary change of situation."
"Oh, Miss Woodhouse!" Jane burst out, her hands clasping tightly in her lap. "I have such doubts – but you are right. I came to speak, and so I shall. It is only that such near connections of yours are involved, that I hardly dare – "
Emma's mind had run ahead of her, and she broke in eagerly: "Does this concern Mr. Frank Churchill, then? I see it does, by your countenance. Did you learn something to his discredit at Weymouth? I noticed you did not like to give your opinion of him – can it be – ?"
"Miss Woodhouse, please! When you learn all, it will be for you to judge whether it is more to Mr. Churchill's discredit or my own. I cannot say."
Then Emma listened in growing amazement.
Jane Fairfax and Frank Churchill, engaged! Engaged in secret and for many months – and she, who counted herself so penetrating in matters of the human heart, not having the first suspicion of it! But to be sure, Emma consoled herself, had she seen them in company together, she could not have failed to discern their mutual attachment.
But there was yet more to listen to.
"And now I know he is doing wrong," Jane was saying, "coming here only to see me when he has so long been anticipated by his father, and I cannot bear the knowledge that I am leading him into this wrong. Can it be right to keep the engagement? Can whatever hope of future happiness I have justify persevering in a secret that brings me such misery and causes him to go astray? Oh, Miss Woodhouse, I do not mean to burden you. You must think me a fool, but – but – he is so fine a man."
Emma by this time was all aglow with wounded feeling: for good Mr. Weston, for her dear Mrs. Weston, and for poor Jane Fairfax, led on to indiscretion and concealment by an inconsiderate wretch who had behaved towards her as no true gentleman should. She was even prepared to forgive the mildness of Jane's praise – "so fine a man," indeed! – having seen Jane restrain herself from something more ardent.
"Miss Fairfax," she began, when by a removal to the window and the application of a few gentle phrases she had restored her guest to some calm, "dear Miss Fairfax, I will not hear you abuse yourself. If you have done wrong, the fault was not only yours, and you feel it so keenly no one with any goodness in their heart could now blame you. I thank you most heartily for your confidence. You cannot have doubted how much this news would interest and distress me. And I said I would advise you! Oh! he has behaved badly – but I do not know – it does not surprise me in the least that a man may commit an indiscretion for the sake of your love – but whether he may do so without becoming unworthy of it! No, no, Miss Fairfax, you shall have to tell me more – try to give me an idea of Mr. Churchill's character, and the history of your relationship – before I feel myself able to give an opinion."
Miss Fairfax was wanting to speak, and after a few false starts, during which she was too choked with emotion to be intelligible, she began, "Miss Woodhouse, you are too forbearing. It is almost more than I can stand to hear. To say that you do not wonder at his behavior! When from your perspective it must appear – that is, I am sure, after what you said yesterday, that whatever Mr. and Mrs. Weston – that you did not have it in your mind – "
Fortunate for them both that Emma was able to puzzle out the import of this floundering, and to detect with amused irritation the part of Miss Bates in it – "Mr. Weston will tell anyone anything," she thought, "and Miss Bates would not hold her tongue before Jane." – and to meet Jane halfway: "Dear Miss Fairfax – dear Jane, please let us understand each other. I cannot be ignorant of the Westons' wishes concerning myself and Mr. Churchill – but I have never given that more than a passing thought, and now of course it can never be. The man who has behaved as he has may be my friend one day, and I hope he shall, but he is not a man I could ever marry!" Catching herself up, Emma added, "I apologize. I spoke too warmly. I said I could not advise you yet, and please do not take my feelings for a guide. They are biased – the circumstances are quite different – the offense to Mrs. Weston must weigh far more heavily with me – "
Jane was shaking her head. "Please, Miss Woodhouse, you are all goodness, but I can see that your true opinion is that no woman of feeling should continue in an engagement with such a man." She sighed deeply. "You say you will not advise me, so I will not thank you for it, but I – I thank you, most sincerely, for giving me your time. Now I must be alone."
At these words Jane stood to go and, when Emma offered her hand, wordlessly pressed it in a clasp that seemed to convey both her gratitude and her agitation. Emma was, for her part, beginning to be less excited now the first shock had passed, and found herself well-satisfied with Jane Fairfax. Such proof of deep emotion, of a decided and upright character, of strong affection, could not fail to charm. And there was also so much of interesting friendship to herself! Emma was wholly pleased, not least by the sparkle that so much emotion brought to Jane's gray eyes.
Before she left, Jane said, "I will not ask any promise, but I hope you will not repeat this to anyone. I will do what I must, and then I hope it may pass quietly."
Emma had already resolved to conceal the whole circumstance from the Westons if possible. There was no reason to sink Frank Churchill in their opinion when nothing open, nothing decided had been done. It was possible that high spirits and strong attachment had overpowered his judgment. She could not be disappointed that her words had evidently decided Jane Fairfax to break off the engagement – there could be no doubt, at least, that the young man was unworthy of her. She therefore readily gave the promise that Jane had not dared to solicit, and their parting, though hasty from Jane's desire for solitude, was a good way more than cordial.
When Emma had had leisure to examine the alteration that only twenty-four hours had made in her feelings towards Jane Fairfax, and to gloat a little at the thought that Mr. Knightley would now have nothing to reproach her with, she began to give serious consideration to the question of who, since Frank did not, might deserve such a gem as Jane Fairfax. The rather interesting conclusion that her first effort of thought came to was that such a man was scarce to be imagined. A pity! But all the more reason to devote greater attention to Jane and find out how best to help her on.
It was a week later that Emma invited Jane to stay at Hartfield for a couple of days.
Much had transpired in the interim to make a such a course of action desirable. It had been a time of stress and acute misery for Jane. Despite being convinced that it was what she ought rightly to do, it took all her resolution to write to Frank ending their engagement. She had put it off until the day following her interview with Miss Woodhouse, in this manner delaying long enough that the letter, penned in a hand far below Jane's usual standard of precision, had only just been sent off when Frank Churchill himself arrived to make the promised visit. It was what Jane had dreaded – she must end everything in person, with Frank having the full advantage of his good looks and his smiles and his arguments to wield to overturn her resolution.
Arranging a private interview between a young gentleman and a young lady with ostensibly only a slight acquaintance was no mean feat, and it could not be managed before Jane had been forced to be in company with him. She never knew how she lived through that meeting. Perhaps it was that she was distracted from her dread of his perceiving her altered manners by her scarcely less anxious observations of Miss Woodhouse, who was naturally of the party. Miss Woodhouse was always most correct in company; no one could have found fault with her treatment of Frank Churchill. But her manner towards him, to anyone who knew her, must appear uncommonly cool – indeed Jane had more than once spotted Mrs. Weston direct a look of puzzlement and concern towards her friend.
However, it had ended, and Frank contrived to see Jane alone on an afternoon when her grandmother and aunt had gone to visit Mrs. Goddard. He laughingly declared that they had outwitted the Highbury gossips so far, and would next have spoken of their attachment – had Jane not instantly made him understand her purpose. He refused at first to believe it – ascribed it to her uncertain health, to the interference of unknown enemies whispering against him, to Jane's too great modesty. Once she had said enough to convince him of her entire sincerity, his manner became quieter. He did not, as she had feared, resort to the cajoling and protestations that had led her to accept him once – the assurance that he would die if she would not love him and other such phrases that it gave her pain not unmixed with pleasure to recall.
At last he had left her, with a few curt phrases that made clear that his vanity was injured as much as his feelings – and Jane had retired to her bed to cry. Her aunt had been most concerned on returning to find her looking so much worse, and Jane had been forced to appear as cheerful as she could for the next few days.
She passed a part of each day with Emma, apologizing for being poor company.
"Oh! it does not signify," Miss Woodhouse had said airily, "for I am so well contented with myself that you have only to sit by and listen to what I say, and not quarrel too much with my pet ideas, and I will be pleased. And by and by, if I grow weary of my own voice, I shall ask you to play for me – indeed you must endeavor to learn my favorite pieces, and play them better than I can to shame me into practicing." Jane had been forced to smile at this display of benevolent selfishness.
It had not entirely escaped Jane's notice that there was in Miss Woodhouse's character just that sort of playfulness, that true ease of manner, that she had found irresistible in Frank Churchill – a quality, she judged, no less valuable in a friend than in a lover. Miss Woodhouse too had the happy knack of drawing Jane out of herself – though Emma would have said, had anyone only asked, that Jane showed a disposition to be cheered that rewarded one's efforts. They got on better every day, until at last, seeing that Jane still suffered from low spirits, Emma decided that drastic action was needed – Jane must be rescued from the necessity of appearing cheerful before Mrs. and Miss Bates. She must have comfort and tranquility, and rational company. Hartfield, in short, was the only proper place for her. Frank Churchill, cutting short his visit on a plea of indifferent health, had departed. Jane would be in no danger of meeting him.
The invitation was given and accepted. Jane Fairfax came to stay at Hartfield.
Emma had felt during this time a few pangs on Harriet's account – she, who had been a daily visitor at Hartfield for months, to be so neglected! – but it could not easily be helped. Besides, Emma could not help but feel that, while she could not be useful to Jane the way she was to Harriet, there was more lasting satisfaction in the former's company.
Even out of spirits, Miss Fairfax's conversation was varied and intelligent. She had a steady and well-informed mind, and she had traveled as Emma had not; she could be brought, with some encouragement, to speak of the places she had visited, and in doing so prove that her memory was precise and her powers of description vivid. And there was, as Emma had predicted, her music – though somehow Emma found she would far rather listen to Jane and watch her elegant figure seated at the pianoforte than make any serious efforts to improve her own playing.
In all she was inclined to scold herself for being so long put off by Jane's reticence, and to bless the day that had given her an opportunity to break through it.
A visit from Mr. Knightley while Jane was staying at Hartfield added the last piece necessary for Emma's total satisfaction. He was evidently as well-pleased with their friendship as Emma could have hoped. When she accompanied him to the door as he was leaving, he told her with a trace of irony that he was glad she had at last learned to see Jane's merit.
"Oh! I cannot deny that Miss Fairfax's friendship it well worth having – more, that I count myself honored that she has bestowed it upon me. It only pains me that I can think of no action in my power, beyond having her here as often as she could like to come, that I may perform in her service."
"Let that be enough," cried Mr. Knightley. "I warrant Jane Fairfax does not need you to matchmake for her."
"No, indeed!" said Emma. "I would not dream of it."
They parted the best of friends, and Emma returned to Jane with warmer feelings than ever.
"You are looking better, Jane," she said. "I begin to hope I have been a tolerable hostess."
"You have been too kind, Miss Woodhouse," said Jane. "I do feel better – I am almost calm. Please do not imagine that I suffer now."
Emma shook her head gently, for though in better looks Jane still had the appearance of preoccupation and strain in her face and in her manner. Her respect for Jane's evident determination to master herself, however, caused her to make no remark. She had decided that Frank Churchill must be forgotten utterly – his name should not be mentioned in Jane's presence; how fortunate then that Mr. Knightley was not disposed to introduce it. But he had been as right in his inexplicable dislike of Frank Churchill as he had been in his approval of Jane.
Towards the end of Jane's visit, Emma inquired into her plans for the future – was she still planning to seek a situation?
"I must," said Jane, sighing. "It will be harder now than ever to quit Highbury, but what choice have I?"
Emma flattered herself that she guessed at least one added reason for Jane to regret Highbury – the friendship that had grown up between them – and was now turning over a notion that had but recently suggested itself to her. Hartfield was livelier with a companion to share in her interests – her father found Jane good company, frequently remarking how pleasant was her voice and how elegant her ways – why should she not stay? Mrs. and Miss Bates would enjoy it excessively – and somehow even the prospect of Miss Bates' endless prosing gratitude was insufficient to make the idea unpleasant to Emma. Some ills must be borne to possess a greater good – indeed, why should Jane not stay at Hartfield?
But even Emma, quick and decisive as she was, recognized that it was far too soon to raise such a question. Jane would not think of stirring until midsummer – and many things might have happened by then.
So all Emma said was, "I am certain you could regret Highbury no more than we will regret you."
Jane smiled, and looked wistful, and Emma, encouraged, continued to scheme.