He is undoubtedly very much in love - every thing denotes it - very much in
love indeed! - and when he comes again, if his affection continue, I must be on
my guard not to encourage it. - It would be most inexcusable to do otherwise, as
my own mind is quite made up. Not that I imagine he can think I have been
encouraging him hitherto. No, if he had believed me at all to share his
feelings, he would not have been so wretched. Could he have thought himself
encouraged, his looks and language at parting would have been different. -
Still, however, I must be on my guard. This is in the supposition of his
attachment continuing what it now is; but I do not know that I expect it will; I
do not look upon him to be quite the sort of man - I do not altogether build
upon his steadiness or constancy. - His feelings are warm, but I can imagine
them rather changeable. - Every consideration of the subject, in short, makes me
thankful that my happiness is not more deeply involved. - I shall do very well
again after a little while - and then, it will be a good thing over; for they
say every body is in love once in their lives, and I shall have been let off
easily.«
    When his letter to Mrs. Weston arrived, Emma had the perusal of it; and she
read it with a degree of pleasure and admiration which made her at first shake
her head over her own sensations, and think she had undervalued their strength.
It was a long, well-written letter, giving the particulars of his journey and of
his feelings, expressing all the affection, gratitude, and respect which was
natural and honourable, and describing every thing exterior and local that could
be supposed attractive, with spirit and precision. No suspicious flourishes now
of apology or concern; it was the language of real feeling towards Mrs. Weston;
and the transition from Highbury to Enscombe, the contrast between the places in
some of the first blessings of social life was just enough touched on to shew
how keenly it was felt, and how much more might have been said but for the
restraints of propriety. - The charm of her own name was not wanting. Miss
Woodhouse appeared more than once, and never without a something of pleasing
connection, either a compliment to her taste, or a remembrance of what she had
said; and in the very last time of its meeting her eye, unadorned as it was by
any such broad wreath of gallantry, she
