“You speak as if you envied him,” exclaims Emma.
“And I do envy him, Emma. In one respect he is the object of my envy.”
Emma can say no more; they seem within half a sentence of Harriet. Emma wishes to change the subject, and speaks of the children in Brunswick Square.
But he is too fast for her. “You will not ask me what is the point of envy. Emma, I must tell you what you will not ask, though I may wish it unsaid the next moment.”
“Oh, then don’t speak of it; don’t speak of it,” she cries impulsively; “take a little time; consider; don’t commit yourself.”
“Thank you!” he said, in a tone of deep mortification.
Emma cannot bear to give him pain. He is wishing, perhaps, to consult her. She may help him; give just praise to Harriet, represent to him his independence.
Emma refuses to go in, and as they take another turn, says hurriedly, “I stopped you ungraciously just now, Mr. Knightley; but if you have any wish to speak to me openly, as a friend, you may command me. I will hear whatever you like, I will tell you exactly what I think.”
“As a friend,” repeats Mr. Knightley. No, he has no wish. But why should he hesitate when he has gone too far for concealment? He accepts her offer as a friend. Will she tell him if he has any chance of ever succeeding? He stops to look the question, and the expression of his eyes overpowers her.
“My dearest Emma, for dearest you will always be to me, whatever the event of this hour’s conversation, tell me at once; say ‘no’ if it is to be said.”