“Oh, dear,” cried Harriet, “now I recollect what you mean; but I was thinking of something very different at the time. It was not the gipsies⁠—it was not Mr. Frank Churchill that I meant. No! (with some elevation) I was thinking of a much more precious circumstance⁠—of Mr. Knightley’s coming and asking me to dance, when Mr. Elton would not stand up with me; and when there was no other partner in the room. That was the kind action; that was the noble benevolence and generosity; that was the service which made me begin to feel how superior he was to every other being upon earth.”

“Good God!” cried Emma, “this has been a most unfortunate⁠—most deplorable mistake!⁠—What is to be done?”