This wretched note was the finale of Emma's breakfast. When once it had been read, there was no doing any thing, but lament and exclaim. The loss of the ball-the loss of the young man-and all that the young man might be feeling!-It was too wretched!-Such a delightful evening as it would have been!-Every body so happy! and she and her partner the happiest!-"I said it would be so," was the only consolation.
Her father's feelings were quite distinct. He thought principally of Mrs. Churchill's illness, and wanted to know how she was treated; and as for the ball, it was shocking to have dear Emma disappointed; but they would all be safer at home.
Emma was ready for her visitor some time before he appeared; but if this reflected at all upon his impatience, his sorrowful look and total want of spirits when he did come might redeem him.
He felt the going away almost too much to speak of it. His dejection was most evident. He sat really lost in thought for the first few minutes; and when rousing himself, it was only to say,
"Of all horrid things, leave-taking is the worst."
"But you will come again," said Emma. "This will not be your only visit to Randalls."
"Ah!-(shaking his head)-the uncertainty of when I may be able to return!-I shall try for it with a zeal!-It will be the object of all my thoughts and cares!-and if my uncle and aunt go to town this spring-but I am afraid-they did not stir last spring-I am afraid it is a custom gone for ever."
"Our poor ball must be quite given up."
"Ah! that ball!-why did we wait for any thing?-why not seize the pleasure at once?-How often is happiness destroyed by preparation, foolish preparation!-You told us it would be so.-Oh! Miss Woodhouse, why are you always so right?"
"Indeed, I am very sorry to be right in this instance. I would much rather have been merry than wise."