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Updated: July 9, 2025
"Yes, simpleton as I was! but I am quite ashamed of it now, and wish I could forget as easily as I can burn them. It was very wrong of me, you know, to keep any remembrances, after he was married. I knew it was but had not resolution enough to part with them." "But, Harriet, is it necessary to burn the court-plaister?
Aye, I remember it all now; all, except your saving this relic I knew nothing of that till this moment but the cutting the finger, and my recommending court-plaister, and saying I had none about me! Oh! my sins, my sins! And I had plenty all the while in my pocket! One of my senseless tricks! I deserve to be under a continual blush all the rest of my life.
And secretly she added to herself, "Lord bless me! when should I ever have thought of putting by in cotton a piece of court-plaister that Frank Churchill had been pulling about! I never was equal to this."
Aye, I remember it all now; all, except your saving this relic I knew nothing of that till this moment but the cutting the finger, and my recommending court-plaister, and saying I had none about me! Oh! my sins, my sins! And I had plenty all the while in my pocket! One of my senseless tricks! I deserve to be under a continual blush all the rest of my life.
I should not have thought it possible you could forget what passed in this very room about court-plaister, one of the very last times we ever met in it! It was but a very few days before I had my sore throat just before Mr. and Mrs. John Knightley came I think the very evening. Do not you remember his cutting his finger with your new penknife, and your recommending court-plaister?
Only yesterday he gives a duck down to cut the leaf of his book just at an awk'ard moment, and of course in goes the point of the scissors." "Serve him right!" said cook. "And what do you think he said?" "Oh, don't ask me." "Nothing; and I dabbed the place and put a bit o' black court-plaister on his ear, and I don't hardly believe he even knew of it." "I'm not surprised," said cook indignantly.
Within abundance of silver paper was a pretty little Tunbridge-ware box, which Harriet opened: it was well lined with the softest cotton; but, excepting the cotton, Emma saw only a small piece of court-plaister. "Now," said Harriet, "you must recollect." "No, indeed I do not." "Dear me!
"Yes, simpleton as I was! but I am quite ashamed of it now, and wish I could forget as easily as I can burn them. It was very wrong of me, you know, to keep any remembrances, after he was married. I knew it was but had not resolution enough to part with them." "But, Harriet, is it necessary to burn the court-plaister?
I have not a word to say for the bit of old pencil, but the court-plaister might be useful." "I shall be happier to burn it," replied Harriet. "It has a disagreeable look to me. I must get rid of every thing. There it goes, and there is an end, thank Heaven! of Mr. Elton." "And when," thought Emma, "will there be a beginning of Mr. Churchill?"
I should not have thought it possible you could forget what passed in this very room about court-plaister, one of the very last times we ever met in it! It was but a very few days before I had my sore throat just before Mr. and Mrs. John Knightley came I think the very evening. Do not you remember his cutting his finger with your new penknife, and your recommending court-plaister?
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