He was gone long enough to have had a very comfortable meal, and came back all the better - grown quite cool - and, with good manners, like himself - able to draw a chair close to them, take an interest in their employment; and regret, in a reasonable way, that he should be so late. He was not in his best spirits, but seemed trying to improve them; and, at last, made himself talk nonsense very agreeably. They were looking over views in Swisserland.

`As soon as my aunt gets well, I shall go abroad,' said he. `I shall never be easy till I have seen some of these places. You will have my sketches, some time or other, to look at - or my tour to read - or my poem. I shall do something to expose myself.'

`That may be - but not by sketches in Swisserland. You will never go to Swisserland. Your uncle and aunt will never allow you to leave England.'

`They may be induced to go too. A warm climate may be prescribed for her. I have more than half an expectation of our all going abroad. I assure you I have. I feel a strong persuasion, this morning, that I shall soon be abroad. I ought to travel. I am tired of doing nothing. I want a change. I am serious, Miss Woodhouse, whatever your penetrating eyes may fancy - I am sick of England - and would leave it to- morrow, if I could.'

`You are sick of prosperity and indulgence. Cannot you invent a few hardships for yourself, and be contented to stay?'

`I sick of prosperity and indulgence! You are quite mistaken. I do not look upon myself as either prosperous or indulged. I am thwarted in every thing material. I do not consider myself at all a fortunate person.'

`You are not quite so miserable, though, as when you first came. Go and eat and drink a little more, and you will do very well. Another slice of cold meat, another draught of Madeira and water, will make you nearly on a par with the rest of us.'

`No - I shall not stir. I shall sit by you. You are my best cure.'

`We are going to Box Hill to-morrow; - you will join us. It is not Swisserland, but it will be something for a young man so much in want of a change. You will stay, and go with us?'

`No, certainly not; I shall go home in the cool of the evening.'

`But you may come again in the cool of to-morrow morning.'

`No - It will not be worth while. If I come, I shall be cross.'

`Then pray stay at Richmond.'

`But if I do, I shall be crosser still. I can never bear to think of you all there without me.'

`These are difficulties which you must settle for yourself. Chuse your own degree of crossness. I shall press you no more.'

The rest of the party were now returning, and all were soon collected. With some there was great joy at the sight of Frank Churchill; others took it very composedly; but there was a very general distress and disturbance on Miss Fairfax's disappearance being explained. That it was time for every body to go, concluded the subject; and with a short final arrangement for the next day's scheme, they parted. Frank Churchill's little inclination to exclude himself increased so much, that his last words to Emma were,

`Well; - if you wish me to stay and join the party, I will.'