VOLUME II
13. CHAPTER XIII
 (continued)
Poor Harriet was in a flutter of spirits which required all the
 reasonings and soothings and attentions of every kind that Emma
 could give.  Emma felt that she could not do too much for her,
 that Harriet had a right to all her ingenuity and all her patience;
 but it was heavy work to be for ever convincing without producing
 any effect, for ever agreed to, without being able to make their opinions
 the same.  Harriet listened submissively, and said "it was very true--
 it was just as Miss Woodhouse described--it was not worth while to
 think about them--and she would not think about them any longer"
 but no change of subject could avail, and the next half-hour
 saw her as anxious and restless about the Eltons as before.
 At last Emma attacked her on another ground. 
"Your allowing yourself to be so occupied and so unhappy about
 Mr. Elton's marrying, Harriet, is the strongest reproach you can
 make me.  You could not give me a greater reproof for the mistake I
 fell into.  It was all my doing, I know.  I have not forgotten it,
 I assure you.--Deceived myself, I did very miserably deceive you--
 and it will be a painful reflection to me for ever.  Do not imagine
 me in danger of forgetting it." 
Harriet felt this too much to utter more than a few words
 of eager exclamation.  Emma continued, 
"I have not said, exert yourself Harriet for my sake; think less,
 talk less of Mr. Elton for my sake; because for your own sake rather,
 I would wish it to be done, for the sake of what is more important
 than my comfort, a habit of self-command in you, a consideration
 of what is your duty, an attention to propriety, an endeavour
 to avoid the suspicions of others, to save your health and credit,
 and restore your tranquillity.  These are the motives which I
 have been pressing on you.  They are very important--and sorry
 I am that you cannot feel them sufficiently to act upon them.
 My being saved from pain is a very secondary consideration.  I want
 you to save yourself from greater pain.  Perhaps I may sometimes
 have felt that Harriet would not forget what was due--or rather
 what would be kind by me." 
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