 no real
affection either in his language or manners. Sighs and fine words had been given
in abundance; but she could hardly devise any set of expressions, or fancy any
tone of voice, less allied with real love. She need not trouble herself to pity
him. He only wanted to aggrandize and enrich himself; and if Miss Woodhouse of
Hartfield, the heiress of thirty thousand pounds, were not quite so easily
obtained as he had fancied, he would soon try for Miss Somebody else with
twenty, or with ten.
    But - that he should talk of encouragement, should consider her as aware of
his views, accepting his attentions, meaning (in short), to marry him! - should
suppose himself her equal in connection or mind! - look down upon her friend, so
well understanding the gradations of rank below him, and be so blind to what
rose above, as to fancy himself shewing no presumption in addressing her! - It
was most provoking.
    Perhaps it was not fair to expect him to feel how very much he was her
inferior in talent, and all the elegancies of mind. The very want of such
equality might prevent his perception of it; but he must know that in fortune
and consequence she was greatly his superior. He must know that the Woodhouses
had been settled for several generations at Hartfield, the younger branch of a
very ancient family - and that the Eltons were nobody. The landed property of
Hartfield certainly was inconsiderable, being but a sort of notch in the Donwell
Abbey estate, to which all the rest of Highbury belonged; but their fortune,
from other sources, was such as to make them scarcely secondary to Donwell Abbey
itself, in every other kind of consequence; and the Woodhouses had long held a
high place in the consideration of the neighbourhood which Mr. Elton had first
entered not two years ago, to make his way as he could, without any alliances
but in trade, or any thing to recommend him to notice but his situation and his
civility. - But he had fancied her in love with him; that evidently must have
been his dependence; and after raving a little about the seeming incongruity of
gentle manners and a conceited head, Emma was obliged in common honesty to stop
and admit that her own behaviour to him had been so complaisant and obliging, so
full of courtesy and attention, as (supposing her real motive unperceived) might
warrant a man of ordinary observation and delicacy, like Mr. Elton, in fancying
himself a very decided favourite. If she had so misinterpreted his feelings, she
had little right to wonder that
