Emma

Harriet, it would be advantageous and delightful indeed.

“I must not dwell upon it,” said she.—“I must not think of it. I know
the danger of indulging such speculations. But stranger things have
happened; and when we cease to care for each other as we do now, it
will be the means of confirming us in that sort of true disinterested
friendship which I can already look forward to with pleasure.”

It was well to have a comfort in store on Harriet’s behalf, though it
might be wise to let the fancy touch it seldom; for evil in that
quarter was at hand. As Frank Churchill’s arrival had succeeded Mr.
Elton’s engagement in the conversation of Highbury, as the latest
interest had entirely borne down the first, so now upon Frank
Churchill’s disappearance, Mr. Elton’s concerns were assuming the most
irresistible form.—His wedding-day was named. He would soon be among
them again; Mr. Elton and his bride. There was hardly time to talk over
the first letter from Enscombe before “Mr. Elton and his bride” was in
every body’s mouth, and Frank Churchill was forgotten. Emma grew sick
at the sound. She had had three weeks of happy exemption from Mr.
Elton; and Harriet’s mind, she had been willing to hope, had been