"Good God!" cried Emma, "this has been a most unfortunate--
most deplorable mistake!--What is to be done?"
"You would not have encouraged me, then, if you had understood me?
At least, however, I cannot be worse off than I should have been,
if the other had been the person; and now--it _is_ possible--"
She paused a few moments. Emma could not speak.
"I do not wonder, Miss Woodhouse," she resumed, "that you should feel
a great difference between the two, as to me or as to any body.
You must think one five hundred million times more above me than
the other. But I hope, Miss Woodhouse, that supposing--that if--
strange as it may appear--. But you know they were your own words,
that _more_ wonderful things had happened, matches of _greater_ disparity
had taken place than between Mr. Frank Churchill and me; and, therefore,
it seems as if such a thing even as this, may have occurred before--
and if I should be so fortunate, beyond expression, as to--
if Mr. Knightley should really--if _he_ does not mind the disparity,
I hope, dear Miss Woodhouse, you will not set yourself against it,
and try to put difficulties in the way. But you are too good for that,
I am sure."
|