“My Emma, he means no such thing. He only means⁠—”

“He and I should differ very little in our estimation of the two,” interrupted she, with a sort of serious smile⁠—“much less, perhaps, than he is aware of, if we could enter without ceremony or reserve on the subject.”

“Emma, my dear Emma⁠—”

“Oh!” she cried with more thorough gaiety, “if you fancy your brother does not do me justice, only wait till my dear father is in the secret, and hear his opinion. Depend upon it, he will be much farther from doing you justice. He will think all the happiness, all the advantage, on your side of the question; all the merit on mine. I wish I may not sink into ‘poor Emma’ with him at once.⁠—His tender compassion towards oppressed worth can go no farther.”