was, Miss Woodhouse?)--for presently she came forward--came
quite up to me, and asked me how I did, and seemed ready to shake hands,
if I would. She did not do any of it in the same way that she used; I
could see she was altered; but, however, she seemed to _try_ to be very
friendly, and we shook hands, and stood talking some time; but I know no
more what I said--I was in such a tremble!--I remember she said she
was sorry we never met now; which I thought almost too kind! Dear, Miss
Woodhouse, I was absolutely miserable! By that time, it was beginning to
hold up, and I was determined that nothing should stop me from getting
away--and then--only think!--I found he was coming up towards me
too--slowly you know, and as if he did not quite know what to do; and
so he came and spoke, and I answered--and I stood for a minute, feeling
dreadfully, you know, one can't tell how; and then I took courage, and
said it did not rain, and I must go; and so off I set; and I had not got
three yards from the door, when he came after me, only to say, if I was
going to Hartfield, he thought I had much better go round by Mr. Cole's
stables, for I should find the near way quite floated by this rain. Oh!
dear, I thought it would have been the death of me! So I said, I was
very much obliged to him: you know I could not do less; and then he went
back to Elizabeth, and I came round by the stables--I believe I did--but
I hardly knew where I was, or any thing about it. Oh! Miss Woodhouse,
I would rather done any thing than have it happen: and yet, you know,
there was a sort of satisfaction in seeing him behave so pleasantly and
so kindly. And Elizabeth, too. Oh! Miss Woodhouse, do talk to me and
make me comfortable again."

Very sincerely did Emma wish to do so; but it was not immediately in
her power. She was obliged to stop and think. She was not thoroughly
comfortable herself. The young man's conduct, and his sister's, seemed
the result of real feeling, and she could not but pity them. As Harriet
described it, there had been an interesting mixture of wounded affection
and genuine delicacy in their behaviour. But she had believed them to be
well-meaning, worthy people before; and what difference did this make
in the evils of the connexion? It was folly to be disturbed by it. Of
course, he must be sorry to lose her--they must be all sorry. Ambition,
as well as love, had probably been mortified. They might all have hoped
to rise by Harriet's acquain