“May I, indeed?—Then I will speak the truth, and nothing suits me so well. I met her frequently at Weymouth. I had known the Campbells a little in town; and at Weymouth we were very much in the same set. Colonel Campbell is a very agreeable man, and Mrs. Campbell a friendly, warmhearted woman. I like them all.”
“You know Miss Fairfax’s situation in life, I conclude; what she is destined to be?”
“Yes—(rather hesitatingly)—I believe I do.”
“You get upon delicate subjects, Emma,” said Mrs. Weston smiling; “remember that I am here.— Mr. Frank Churchill hardly knows what to say when you speak of Miss Fairfax’s situation in life. I will move a little farther off.”
“I certainly do forget to think of her ,” said Emma, “as having ever been anything but my friend and my dearest friend.”
He looked as if he fully understood and honoured such a sentiment.
When the gloves were bought, and they had quitted the shop again, “Did you ever hear the young lady we were speaking of, play?” said Frank Churchill.
“Ever hear her!” repeated Emma. “You forget how much she belongs to Highbury. I have heard her every year of our lives since we both began. She plays charmingly.”
“You think so, do you?—I wanted the opinion of someone who could really judge. She appeared to me to play well, that is, with considerable taste, but I know nothing of the matter myself.—I am excessively fond of music, but without the smallest skill or right of judging of anybody’s performance.—I have been used to hear hers admired; and I remember one proof of her being thought to play well:—a man, a very musical