The one word I was quite happy to see (applause, applause) was the word 'reflection': "But her mind had never been in such perturbation, and it needed a very strong effort to appear attentive and cheerful till the usual hour of separating allowed her the relief of quiet reflection." (15)

Also: "The hair was curled, and the maid sent away, and Emma sat down to think and be miserable." We're thinking here: :) (16, here and below)

This is the first time we see Emma actually pause and take the time to do a bit of self-reflection, to look at herself, at her actions and take into consideration someone else's feelings.

But then we get a stumble: "...if she were not to feel this disappointment so very much, I am sure I have not an idea of any body else who would be at all desirable for her; -- William Coxe -- Oh! no, I could not endure William Coxe -- a pert young lawyer." Ooops.

She recovers charmingly: "She stopt to blush and laugh at her own relapse, and then resumed a more serious, more dispiriting cogitation upon what had been, and might be, and must be." Charming, though it may be, it's got me rather nervous still.

And she recovers a bit too easily for me: "To youth and natural cheerfulness like Emma's, though under temporary gloom at night, the return of day will hardly fail to bring return of spirits. Emma got up on the morrow more disposed for comfort than she had gone to bed, more ready to see alleviations of the evil before her, and to depend on getting tolerably out of it."

Could this little relapse and the ability of a recovery that really should be of a more lasting intensity be some foreshadowing? I'm worried that this might only be a baby-step. Yeah, personally, I need more proof before bestowing Emma with more than an incremental amount of respect. I'd love to give her my wholehearted admiration but I'm far from being there yet.

But...even a baby step...umhumm, it's a good thing.