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Updated: July 9, 2025
"And had you really some at hand yourself? I am sure I never suspected it, you did it so naturally." "And so you actually put this piece of court-plaister by for his sake!" said Emma, recovering from her state of shame and feeling divided between wonder and amusement.
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!
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?"
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."
"Here," resumed Harriet, turning to her box again, "here is something still more valuable, I mean that has been more valuable, because this is what did really once belong to him, which the court-plaister never did." Emma was quite eager to see this superior treasure. It was the end of an old pencil, the part without any lead. "This was really his," said Harriet.
"And had you really some at hand yourself? I am sure I never suspected it, you did it so naturally." "And so you actually put this piece of court-plaister by for his sake!" said Emma, recovering from her state of shame and feeling divided between wonder and amusement.
"Here," resumed Harriet, turning to her box again, "here is something still more valuable, I mean that has been more valuable, because this is what did really once belong to him, which the court-plaister never did." Emma was quite eager to see this superior treasure. It was the end of an old pencil, the part without any lead. "This was really his," said Harriet.
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