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what Shangri- la is. Paradise. LARRY Yeah, we've all seen the movie. And your point is? Shelly whirls around, yells: SHELLY You don't fuck with paradise! All'a ya! NICKY Hey, Jesus, c'mon, Shelly. We're not trying to fuck with it. We're trying to make it better. SHELLY How... how, Nicky, could it be any better? Right now it's perfect. It's the last of its kind. It's pure... and this. (points to the model; weary) ...this is just... it's a mockery. An insult. Trying to make something of it that it isn't. LARRY What are you talking about? It's right outta the movie? SHELLY Whose talking about a fuckin' movie? This ain't a fuckin' movie. This is my life. This is my house of worship. You people are shittin' on all that's sacred to me. A tense silence ensues. Nicky, Larry and Marty exchange looks. SHELLY (tired laugh) I got just one question? Where you gonna be when they decide to change it back? When the people, they come looking for the real Vegas, from before all this Epcott Center bullshit. Who's gonna it give it to them? You guys? I don't think so. You know who? The same fucks who started this shit in the first place. It's all gonna come full circle and bite you in the ass. Mark my words. Shelly falls silent. Massages his forehead. Shit, that wasn't the way to handle it. Nicky gets up from the sofa, walks over to Shelly, places a hand on his shoulder. Shelly flinches, but doesn't pull away. NICKY You make some good points, Shelly. Maybe it'll swing back the other way, who knows? But the smart money suggests we roll the dice. I'm not gonna bullshit you; naturally there's gonna be a lot of restructuring in the months to come, but I want you to know, you'll always have a place with us. SHELLY Where's that? Behind the bar? MARTY (laughs) Behind the bar, that's a good one. NICKY I think you should take some time and think things through. All this, it's a lot to digest, y'know. MARTY Speaking of things to digest, I'm starving. How's that buffet they got in the Valley of the Blue Moon? You recommend their prime rib, Shell? Shelly stares right through Marty. Choke and die on it, motherfucker. SHELLY It's food. NICKY Hey, my arteries can use a workout. Lead us to the trough, Shell. Shelly nods at Nicky, then shifts his gaze to Larry. Larry's all smiles. He steps forward to join them, his hand dropping down and caressing the surface of Shelly's desk behind him. A subtle gesture not lost on Shelly. Shelly mentally unloads a full chamber into Larry's chest. Returns the smile. INT. CASINO - CRAPS TABLES - NIGHT As Shelly and the group pass a hot craps table, Nicky is drawn to it. NICKY Wait up a second... MARTY I thought we were gonna eat? Only now do we see Bernie has arrived to cool the table of its hot shooter -- A LOUD, pudgy, overdressed SUBURBANITE. Shelly eyes Bernie. SHELLY Maybe we wanna play over there. Less crowded. NICKY Nah, let's play here. This is my lucky table. I always play here. (to the others) Go on ahead. I know where to find you guys. Shelly signals Bernie to back off. Bernie steps back. Shelly, Larry and Marty head for the restaurant. Nicky quickly slaps down some green. The stickman slides the dice over to the suburbanite who is shooting. He scuttles the dice. They bounce up over the rail and spike Nicky on the forehead before dropping back on the felt. The players chuckle. STICKMAN Out! Seven, line away seven... Nicky rubs his forehead, glares at the suburbanite. He fires back. SUBURBANITE C"mon, pops! What the hell? I coulda paid my mortgage with the money I just lost. Nicky says nothing. The table is quickly cleared by the dealers. The stickman skips the next shooter and feeds the dice to Nicky. SHOOTER Hey? I'm supposed to be next... NICKY File a grievance, shithead. Suburbanite is still fuming over his loss. Nicky places a couple hundred on the passline. STICKMAN We're coming out. Crap Eleven, any seven. Nicky throws in some chips to the center. NICKY Hundred dollar big red. Suburbanite watches as Nicky runs through a lengthy pre-shot routine. Lots of hand jive and cuff shooting. SUBURBANITE Hurry it up, gramps. Your soup's getting cold. Nicky throws. STICKMAN Crap, Ace Deuce. Line down. The croupiers takes down the pass line. SUBURBANITE Hey, Busketti, maybe you should try shuffleboard. Nicky is fed the dice again. Same routine. Nicky just fires an incendiary look back at the suburbanite. SUBURBANITE Uncle Palsy? Shake'em this direction. Nicky throws. STICKMAN Four, hard four. The point is four. The players make their bets. SUBURBANITE Good now throw it before you fucking keel over and die, old man. Nicky slowly starts his routine defiantly. SUBURBANITE Happy birthday to me. Happy Birthday to me... Jesus, fuck, I'm another year older already. Nicky throws. STICKMAN OUT! Seven! Line away. Nicky claps his hands dealer style -- for effect -- and with a gentlemanly smile steps back from the table. Nicky's chips are quickly swept up by the croupier. SUBURBANITE Don't take it so hard, pops. Everybody craps out. Nicky locks eyes with the suburbanite. Then flashes a smile that suggests he's going to brush it off. He turns away from the table... SUBURBANITE Now go change your fucking Depends. Nicky makes like it's all in good jest. Yeah, that's real cute. He heads around the table to the suburbanite, holds out his hand as if to say: Hey, no hard feelings. The suburbanite shrugs. What the fuck? I was just playing with you, pops. He reaches for Nicky's hand... when Nicky suddenly headbutts him. Before anyone can react, Nicky starts laying into the suburbanite. The man goes down and. Nicky continues pummeling him... NICKY Who's laughing now, huh? ya fuckin! prick! C'mon, crack wise again... Ya fuckin' smooth as a Ken doll, no- dick, suburbanite scum. How's that for a game?! Shelly alerted to the fracas, rushes back to the table. He takes immediate control of the situation. Snaps his fingers at security. The suburbanite is whisked away with a pocketful of comps and a bruised ego. Shelly takes Nicky aside, attempts to calm him. Nicky keeps railing at Shelly: NICKY That ain't right, Shelly! Guy fucks up my game like that. Who the fuck does he think he is? SHELLY You're right. He's just a piece of shit. Forget about him. NICKY I thought this joint had more class. Used to be, we wouldn't even let bums like that in... Nicky catches himself. He looks at Shelly for a beat. There's an unspoken understanding between them. "The good old days." We see Bernie in the b.g., looking more than a bit shocked. INT. THE MAKAWAO BAR AND GRILL - NIGHT Bernie seated with Natalie. BERNIE This town... You know, Natalie, all I want to do is go some place where I can tell day from night. Where they got clocks on the wall. I can't breathe around here no more. Four days and I'm gone. I'm not even sure I can hold out that long. NATALIE (a beat) So where does that leave us? BERNIE A week ago, I didn't remember what it was like to have a woman's hands on me. I'm still pinching myself, expecting to wake-up from... (just blurts it out) Come with me, Natalie. I want you to come with me. NATALIE God, Bernie, that's... BERNIE I'm sorry. I didn't mean to spring that on you. NATALIE Bernie... I want to be with you. I do. But I don't know if I can leave with you. Bernie's look: Why? NATALIE I was working on a compatibility chart for the two of us. And it looks good, really, it does. BERNIE So, what's the problem? NATALIE That's with us here. In Vegas. Bernie's expression: Oh. NATALIE Maybe I was being presumptuous, 'cause I knew you were leaving... and I tried working it in different ways... It wasn't good, Bernie. I got scared. But that's just for now, for the immediate future. Once the planets realign, maybe a year from now... BERNIE Natalie... I can't... Not another year. Not another week. A somber mood falls on the table. Bernie reaches for Natalie's hand. Instead, he knocks the salt over. It spills out in front of them. BERNIE I think... we probably shouldn't see each other anymore. NATALIE Why, Bernie? We only got a couple days left together. Why not make the most of them? BERNIE (a long beat) Because if I spend one more night in your arms, I'm not going anywhere. NATALIE And that's so bad? Bernie just stares at her, shrouded in sadness. Natalie stubs out her cigarette, rises. NATALIE Take care, Bernie. Bernie casts his eyes to the mound of spilled salt in front of him. Nods. A few beats later he raises his head... BERNIE Natalie, don't... Gone. A WAITRESS appears. WAITRESS (O.S.) Get you another? BERNIE (nods) I think you better bring me the bottle. Please. INT. SHANGRI-LA HOTEL AND CASINO/BAR - NIGHT Once again, we see Bernie's feet limp across the casino floor. He walks up to the bar, asks for a cup of coffee. Doris brings it over. Short on the cream again. He just sips it black. Gloom and doom features. Life sucks. His master's VOICE sounds over the intercom: VOICE (V.O.) Chang, party of fifteen, your table is ready, Chang party of fifteen. Bernie looks to Doris. Sighs. Only three more days. INT. CASINO FLOOR - CRAPS TABLES - NIGHT He heads for the crap tables, the sound of raucous CHEERING becomes audible. A large crowd starting to gather. Bernie noodles his way to the front of the crowd. As soon as he gets a look at the heavy hitter at the table, he tenses up. Oh shit. It's MIKEY. With Charlene. Charlene is making one hell of a racket. Playing up her extremely maternal state. Just then Natalie sidles up to Bernie with the Chivas Regal. Without thinking about it, he grabs the glass off the tray, downs it in a single gulp. CHARLENE (clutching her tummy) Come on, Mikey. This is our future. Don't blow it. Mikey throws down a bet for the dealer. MIKEY Put this on the line for the boys. The stickman thanks him as they place the bet. Mikey throws down more money. We can see Mikey has bets all over the table. MIKEY With shoes! STICKMAN Dealer's got shoes. Hands high, the dice are out! The point is nine. CHARLENE Come on all you's. Put a good thought in for our baby! As everyone dotes over Charlene, Mikey quickly swaps the dice before anyone can see. He throws. STICKMAN Six the hard way! Mikey is paid nine thousand by the croupier, as is Charlene. Bernie stands frozen. He doesn't bother trying to get any closer to the table. He knows it'll do no good. CHARLENE Oh my god, I just felt him kick! He knows. He knows you're all pulling for him. God bless you all. Natalie looks over at Charlene. Their eyes meet for a second. It's as though Natalie knows it's a scam and Charlene's acknowledging it. Mikey throws again. STICKMAN Six the hard way! Look out, we got a shooter! Another nine grand. Mikey's rail is nearly full. Charlene hops around awkwardly causing more distraction. Bernie is really sweating it out now. Then Shelly arrives. Larry is hot on his tail. SHELLY How much? BERNIE Eighteen thousand since I stepped up. I'm sorry, Shelly, I guess I've been hit and miss lately. Shelly's expression tells us he isn't so sure. Something definitely isn't kosher. As Charlene chatters on, Mikey switches the dice back. Shelly makes him. SHELLY (sotto) Fucking amateurs... Mikey throws... STICKMAN Seven out! Line away. The players and crowd, though disappointed, applaud Mikey's achievement. MIKEY (bowing) I thank you. My wife thanks you. My unborn child thanks you. Mikey moves his rail of chips to the felt. MIKEY Color me up will ya? Larry notices Shelly slipping on a pair of leather gloves. LARRY You've gotta be kidding me. (off Shelly's steely glare) That's not how I propose we handle it. We'll turn the matter over to the authorities. They'll be blacklisted, their credit ruined... SHELLY (gets in Larry's face) And then we'll give 'em both a lollipop for the ride home. Come watch and learn, Harvard. A little lesson on how to protect your investment -- the old school way. Shelly walks over to Mikey and Charlene, Larry lingering behind him. SHELLY Hey, that was some run you had back there. MIKEY Uh, thanks. Just lucky I guess. Mikey steals a tense glance at Charlene. She starts to fidget nervously. SHELLY Why don't we go do this in my office? I don't like to hand out all this amount of cash on the floor. Security (Tony and Lou) corrals the couple. Leads them away. Bernie watches as they pass by. Mikey looks into Bernie's eyes. They both know he's been made. Natalie doesn't say anything, just looks at Bernie. INT. CASINO RECEIVING AREA - NIGHT Slot machines everywhere -- some on the way out, some on the way in. Crates of casino supplies. Bernie rushes in with Natalie behind him. Heading for an aural beacon of BLOWS landing on flesh... GRUNTING, PLEADING... ...arriving to find Tony and Lou kicking the shit out of Mikey on the floor. Charlene lies clutching her belly a few feet away. Shelly swings a baseball bat, warming up for some blood sport. Larry watches from the sidelines -- at once appalled and enthralled. CHARLENE Oh my God... I can feel the contractions coming on... Bernie rushes over to Shelly... BERNIE Shelly, stop them! Don't do this! SHELLY Get lost, Bernie, this got nothing to do with you. BERNIE It's got everything to do with me. He's my son. Everyone stops dead. Freeze frame. Shelly gets a weird look in his eye. A fuse has just been lit... SHELLY What did you say? BERNIE I said, he's my -- SHELLY Who? This little prick? Shelly smashes Mikey across the shoulder with the bat. AARRRGGGGHHH!!! Shelly raises the bat to cream Mikey again... Bernie grabs Shelly's arm. Shelly shoves him back. Raises the bat again... MIKEY Pop, help me... BERNIE Shelly, don't you fucking do it! Shelly freezes. He lowers the bat, throws it aside. Grabs Bernie by his collar... SHELLY Were you in on this? Jesus, you better come clean with me. BERNIE NO! God, no! I didn't know nothing about it. Shelly releases Bernie. There's a strange look in Shelly's eye. We see the wheels turning... SHELLY How much you think their lives are worth, Bernie? Myself, I don't think they're worth piss. But, hey, it ain't my kid... Bernie sees where Shelly's going with this. We can almost hear the cell door slamming in his head. SHELLY Let me see: they were up almost a hundred and fifty grand. That's 150 G's someone's gonna have to account for. What do you say, Bernie, seventy- five grand a piece? Bernie glances over at Natalie. She has tears in her eyes. He looks to Shelly pleadingly. Please don't do this... SHELLY Hey, I know you don't have that kind of cash. But, since you're a friend of the house, I'm willing to front you. BERNIE Shelly, they didn't get away with the money... You didn't lose anything... Shelly glances over at Lou, nods. Lou kicks Mikey in the face. His nose snaps like a twig. BERNIE Oh Jesus... Yes! All right. It's on me. 150 G's. Charlene clutches her belly, moans... CHARLENE Oh god, oh god... you gotta get me to the hospital... contractions... BERNIE Shelly, please help her. That's my grandson... SHELLY Hey, why don't we all break out the champagne? Lootz is about to become a granddaddy. (walks over to her) How you doin' there, sweetheart? Must hurt like crap, huh? CHARLENE (nods) Hurts so bad... SHELLY Yeah? Suddenly Shelly kicks Charlene in the belly! WHAM! She screeches out. NATALIE Oh God... BERNIE Jesus NOOOOO!!! Even Shelly's goons can't believe what they've just witnessed. Larry is aghast. Bernie rushes Shelly, starts raining blows on him. Shelly swats him off. He drops down next to the squirming girl, rips her sweater and blouse up over her stomach... ...to reveal a mound of fake padding. He tears the padding away from her, throws it at Bernie. SHELLY Here! It's a fuckin' boy. Anyone got a cigar? The muscle start laughing it up. Relief. Larry emits a nervous giggle. Natalie's jaw hits the floor. Bernie takes a step back. He's about to go into serious shock. Charlene curls over, sobbing. SHELLY (to Bernie) You sure you still want to be good for it? Because if you want to change your mind, I don't blame you. Bernie looks over at Mikey. He stares up at his father, trembling. MIKEY I'll make it up to you, Pop, I swear... Bernie holds his son's gaze for a beat. He's almost tempted to... He just shrugs and nods at Shelly. BERNIE It's on me. SHELLY (shakes his head) That's the worst fucking call you ever made in your life. ON NATALIE at that moment. We can tell she agrees with Shelly... but thinks all the more of Bernie for it. That might even be love in her eyes. Shelly snatches his baseball bat up off the floor. Walks over to Mikey, and brings it down full force, pulverizing Mikey's left kneecap. Oh man, the scream... BERNIE What are you doing?! I thought we had -- SHELLY 150 G's buys their lives. This is just a little slap on the wrist to remember me by. Natalie turns her head. She's about to throw up. Larry watches, unflinchingly. Charlene is making with some serious pleading now. CHARLENE Oh god... it wasn't my idea. Shelly steps up to Charlene, tapping the base of the bat in the palm of his hand. He smiles reassuringly at her. SHELLY You know, motherhood is a beautiful thing. This... you made a mockery out of it. Maybe you'll get to experience it for real one day. CHARLENE (nods, sobbing) I want... to be a mother... please don't hurt me... SHELLY I'm not going to hurt you. Shelly turns his back on her. Charlene starts sobbing relief. They're not going to hurt her. It's going to be all right. Wrong. Shelly throws the bat to Lou. The heavy steps up to the plate (as we RACK FOCUS to Shelly walking away) -- CRUNCH!!! followed by the girl's SHRIEKS. Natalie buries her head in Bernie's shoulder. SHELLY (to Tony and Lou) Get 'em outta here. You ever see them in this joint again, kill 'em. SHELLY (to Bernie and Natalie) You two, you're still on shift. Shelly catches Larry's eye: I hope you were taking notes. INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT Bernie's seated on the edge of his bed, drowning his sorrows with a bottle of gin. Moonlight paints him in jail bars of shadow. Natalie lingers in the b.g. BERNIE I did this to myself. I planted the seed. When Angela took off with Mikey, I didn't... I never made an effort to get back in his life. I figured, the kid don't need a loser for a father. Now it's all come full circle. I give him the money, I open the door to all this... I musta had it coming. Payback. Natalie's hand lowers the needle onto the Sinatra record. "Nice 'n' Easy" starts up. She walks over to Bernie, takes the bottle away. Helps him to his feet. He gives himself over to her reassuring embrace. Natalie raises Bernie's face to her's. NATALIE Bernie, it's a big world out there. If you just took off -- if we took off. Bernie shakes his head. It's too late for that now. DISSOLVE TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - LATER - NIGHT Natalie staring up at the ceiling, Bernie nuzzled against her. Her features appear softer than ever. Luminous in the moonlight. Realization moist in her eyes. NATALIE You awake, Bernie? He grunts something inaudible. NATALIE I -- think I love you. Bernie tenses up. Huh? NATALIE No, I don't think. I'm pretty certain of it. Bernie raises his head, not quite sure he heard her right. Natalie sits up, hugs her knees. Bernie finds himself staring at her back. NATALIE You blind-sided me, Bernie Lootz. I never saw this coming. You shouldn't do that to a girl. Bernie reaches out, caresses her back. She emits a shiver... NATALIE There's still things you don't know... should know... I don't want to ruin it... Bernie pulls Natalie back toward him. BERNIE It won't make any difference, Natalie. Whatever you come clean about, I'm not gonna feel any different about you. I'd say the words, but with my luck... NATALIE Say 'em anyway. To hell with rotten luck. That's overs. BERNIE (a beat) I love you, Natalie. Natalie smothers her lips against Bernie's. He enshrouds her in his arms. Fade out... INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - DAY Fade into SOFT FOCUS. Slowing taking form... A CAT'S FACE seen in extreme close-up. WIDER -- to reveal the cat resting on Bernie's chest. She MEOWS as he stirs awake. He's stunned to see her there. BERNIE Trixie? The cat jumps off his chest and slinks over to her empty food bowl. Meows again. Bernie breaks into a wide smile. BERNIE Trix. You came back. Bernie shields his eyes from the bright sunlight streaming in through the blinds. Huh? This is a first for him. He's never gotten direct sunlight in his room before. What's the deal? Did the world just turn on its axis? He glances over his shoulder... No Natalie. Just her impression in the sheets. And a note on her pillow. For a moment his heart stops. He conjures up the worst. Grabs up the note, unfolds it. We see a lipstick kiss and the words: HAVE A SPECTACULAR DAY! Bernie lets out a joyful whoop! Leaps out of bed... SMASH CUT TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - CONTINUOUS - DAY CLOSE-UP: Trixie eating some tuna out of her bowl. We hear the record player needle drop on "Luck Be A Lady." Cut to: Bernie's feet gliding around the room... PAN UP to Bernie dancing with himself. He's positively aglow. He snatches up a salt shaker and sings along with Sinatra. It's true -- love makes the world go around. It obviously also gives life to dead plants, as evidenced by the small bulb that has sprung up overnight above his radiator. But we won't dwell on that. INT. SHANGRI-LA HOTEL AND CASINO - DAY Bernie struts into the casino a changed man (still to the tune of "Luck Be a Lady"). Even his limp seems less pronounced as he greets fellow workers as they pass. He catches a glimpse of himself in a wall mirror. Maybe for the first time, he likes what he sees. In the reflection he notices Natalie smiling at him. He meets her eyes. She averts them quickly, keeps walking. INT. SHELLY'S OFFICE - THAT MOMENT Shelly watches Bernie from the video monitor. He appears less than delighted over Bernie's sunny disposition. He picks up the phone, dials. SHELLY (into phone) Yeah, it's me. Get Bernie over to crap table six. INT. CASINO FLOOR - NIGHT Per usual, Bernie walks up to the bar, asks for a cup of coffee. Doris slides it over. BERNIE (looking around) Got any cre -- Before he can answer, Doris hands him a container of cream. A full container. Taken aback, he starts pouring it into his cup, when he hears a VOICE over the intercom: VOICE (V.O.) Lovett, party of six, your table is ready, Lovett, party of six. Bernie looks to Doris. BERNIE Duty calls. INT. CASINO - MONTAGE - MOMENTS LATER A -- Bernie arrives at a hundred dollar blackjack table just in time for the dealer to bust out. The crowd goes crazy! B -- Bernie takes a break by leaning up against the side of a slot machine. Suddenly, the woman playing it hits a jackpot. C -- Everywhere he seems to go, people continue to win. D -- Bernie, despite the spooky irony, can't help but smile as mountains of chips pile up on the tables. Shelly appears behind him. Not a happy camper. He gestures Bernie to follow him. INT. CASINO SLOTS AREA - NIGHT They head over to a section of slots. As they pass one of those huge million dollar slots, the FLOOR MANAGER cuts in front of them. FLOOR MANAGER Hey, Shelly, check it out. The new Mega-Million. I call her Marnie, 'cause she's one frigid broad. Sure, once in a while she'll flash you a bit of tit, but your chances of hitting a home run -- one in twenty million. Here, give her a shot... He hands Shelly a cup of quarters, takes off. Shelly looks to Bernie. He's trying to keep a lid on his anger. SHELLY (feeding Marnie quarters) You wanna tell me what's going on out there? BERNIE I don't know... Shelly pulls the lever. SHELLY What do you mean... Marnie immediately spits out a small jackpot. SHELLY (reacts with surprise) What do you mean, you don't know? We're down almost a mil out there. Doesn't seem strange to you? BERNIE (shrugs) Guess I'm having an off day. SHELLY You don't have off days, Lootz. You're shitty luck incarnate. What's wrong? You coming down with something? You've got this look about you... Shelly starts feeding Marnie again. BERNIE Nothing's wrong. Fact is, I've never felt better. SHELLY What's that supposed to mean? BERNIE She loves me, Shelly. She told me last night. Natalie. On the mention of Natalie's name, we hear a shrieking SIREN, followed by a deafening toll of slot bells. Shelly's just landed the million dollar jackpot. Shelly stares at the slot in surprise -- then looks over at Bernie. Realization hits hard. Fuck! The floor manager staggers over. His expression is priceless. FLOOR MANAGER Sweet Jesus... you popped her cherries. SEVERAL CASINO WORKERS have gathered to witness the deflowering of Marnie. They gaze reverently upon her, as if witnessing the "Close Encounters" mothership for the first time. Shelly drags Bernie out of earshot. SHELLY Natalie? She told you, she loves you? Bernie nods, a huge grin wrenching his cheeks apart. He's about to go helium on us. INT. CASINO FLOOR - NIGHT Natalie's serving drinks to a table of high rollers, when Tony and Lou appear behind her... INT. SHELLY'S OFFICE - NIGHT The door to Shelly's office slams behind Natalie. Shelly glares at her from behind his desk. We see him thumbing his steel abacus. The beads drifting toward the center. Natalie shakily lights up a cigarette. SHELLY Put that fucking thing out! Natalie, startled, drops her cigarettes. She kneels to gather them up. NATALIE Sorry. SHELLY You should be. You've gone and fucked it up big time. I paid you to be his cooze companion, not his fucking true love. But, no, you had to go and get all profound on the poor schmuck. (mimics female voice) "I love you, Bernie." You know what you've gone and done, sweetheart? Those four little words of endearment have already cost this casino a million and counting today. NATALIE I don't understand... SHELLY (jumps to his feet) Lady luck. You never heard'a lady luck?! That's what's goin' on out there. Lootz is Kryptonite on a stick. He should have 'em throwing ice cubes out there, but instead I got a fuckin' meltdown on my hands. Shelly walks around his desk to Natalie. SHELLY OK, here's what's gonna happen. You're outta his life by the time he gets home. Don't even tell him to his face, just leave a note. I'll make some calls, situate you at another joint. NATALIE I can't do that. SHELLY (right in her face) Excuse me? NATALIE It wasn't an act. I meant it. I love him. SHELLY (close to losing it) What's there to fuckin' love? He's a loser. Always has been, always will be. NATALIE I thought you were his friend... SHELLY And I thought you were a smart cookie when I picked you out. You do not want to fuck me over, darlin'. I'll see to it that your next John's a rattlesnake out in the desert. Now get the fuck outta here. Natalie rushes from the office in tears. Shelly closes his eyes for a moment -- gotta keep it together. INT. SHANGRI-LA CASINO - NIGHT Bernie approaches some cocktail waitresses about to go off duty. BERNIE Hi. Any of you seen Natalie around? I'm supposed to give her a ride home. COCKTAIL WAITRESS #1 I think she left already. She wasn't feelin' too good. We been covering for her. Off Bernie's expression: Oh... EXT. LUCKY STAR MOTEL - NIGHT Bernie's Buick pulls into the lot. He parks, heads for his room. INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT Bernie enters. Flips on the light. No Natalie. BERNIE (calls to the bathroom) Natalie? You in there? No answer. He heads over. Finds it empty. Concern spreads across his features. He glances around the room. Notices the closet wide open. Natalie's clothes missing. BERNIE (sotto) Natalie. That's when he catches sight of the note taped to the dresser mirror. He rushes over, rips it off. I'M SORRY BERNIE. I GUESS IT JUST WASN'T IN THE CARDS FOR US. TAKE CARE, NATALIE. Bernie slumps to the floor in disbelief. Starts to tremble. Then rocks back and forth, wracked by stifled sobs. Christ, make it stop hurting... DISSOLVE TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - LATER Bernie seated at the foot of the bed, drinking bourbon from

sidelines

How many times the word 'sidelines' appears in the text?

what Shangri- la is. Paradise. LARRY Yeah, we've all seen the movie. And your point is? Shelly whirls around, yells: SHELLY You don't fuck with paradise! All'a ya! NICKY Hey, Jesus, c'mon, Shelly. We're not trying to fuck with it. We're trying to make it better. SHELLY How... how, Nicky, could it be any better? Right now it's perfect. It's the last of its kind. It's pure... and this. (points to the model; weary) ...this is just... it's a mockery. An insult. Trying to make something of it that it isn't. LARRY What are you talking about? It's right outta the movie? SHELLY Whose talking about a fuckin' movie? This ain't a fuckin' movie. This is my life. This is my house of worship. You people are shittin' on all that's sacred to me. A tense silence ensues. Nicky, Larry and Marty exchange looks. SHELLY (tired laugh) I got just one question? Where you gonna be when they decide to change it back? When the people, they come looking for the real Vegas, from before all this Epcott Center bullshit. Who's gonna it give it to them? You guys? I don't think so. You know who? The same fucks who started this shit in the first place. It's all gonna come full circle and bite you in the ass. Mark my words. Shelly falls silent. Massages his forehead. Shit, that wasn't the way to handle it. Nicky gets up from the sofa, walks over to Shelly, places a hand on his shoulder. Shelly flinches, but doesn't pull away. NICKY You make some good points, Shelly. Maybe it'll swing back the other way, who knows? But the smart money suggests we roll the dice. I'm not gonna bullshit you; naturally there's gonna be a lot of restructuring in the months to come, but I want you to know, you'll always have a place with us. SHELLY Where's that? Behind the bar? MARTY (laughs) Behind the bar, that's a good one. NICKY I think you should take some time and think things through. All this, it's a lot to digest, y'know. MARTY Speaking of things to digest, I'm starving. How's that buffet they got in the Valley of the Blue Moon? You recommend their prime rib, Shell? Shelly stares right through Marty. Choke and die on it, motherfucker. SHELLY It's food. NICKY Hey, my arteries can use a workout. Lead us to the trough, Shell. Shelly nods at Nicky, then shifts his gaze to Larry. Larry's all smiles. He steps forward to join them, his hand dropping down and caressing the surface of Shelly's desk behind him. A subtle gesture not lost on Shelly. Shelly mentally unloads a full chamber into Larry's chest. Returns the smile. INT. CASINO - CRAPS TABLES - NIGHT As Shelly and the group pass a hot craps table, Nicky is drawn to it. NICKY Wait up a second... MARTY I thought we were gonna eat? Only now do we see Bernie has arrived to cool the table of its hot shooter -- A LOUD, pudgy, overdressed SUBURBANITE. Shelly eyes Bernie. SHELLY Maybe we wanna play over there. Less crowded. NICKY Nah, let's play here. This is my lucky table. I always play here. (to the others) Go on ahead. I know where to find you guys. Shelly signals Bernie to back off. Bernie steps back. Shelly, Larry and Marty head for the restaurant. Nicky quickly slaps down some green. The stickman slides the dice over to the suburbanite who is shooting. He scuttles the dice. They bounce up over the rail and spike Nicky on the forehead before dropping back on the felt. The players chuckle. STICKMAN Out! Seven, line away seven... Nicky rubs his forehead, glares at the suburbanite. He fires back. SUBURBANITE C"mon, pops! What the hell? I coulda paid my mortgage with the money I just lost. Nicky says nothing. The table is quickly cleared by the dealers. The stickman skips the next shooter and feeds the dice to Nicky. SHOOTER Hey? I'm supposed to be next... NICKY File a grievance, shithead. Suburbanite is still fuming over his loss. Nicky places a couple hundred on the passline. STICKMAN We're coming out. Crap Eleven, any seven. Nicky throws in some chips to the center. NICKY Hundred dollar big red. Suburbanite watches as Nicky runs through a lengthy pre-shot routine. Lots of hand jive and cuff shooting. SUBURBANITE Hurry it up, gramps. Your soup's getting cold. Nicky throws. STICKMAN Crap, Ace Deuce. Line down. The croupiers takes down the pass line. SUBURBANITE Hey, Busketti, maybe you should try shuffleboard. Nicky is fed the dice again. Same routine. Nicky just fires an incendiary look back at the suburbanite. SUBURBANITE Uncle Palsy? Shake'em this direction. Nicky throws. STICKMAN Four, hard four. The point is four. The players make their bets. SUBURBANITE Good now throw it before you fucking keel over and die, old man. Nicky slowly starts his routine defiantly. SUBURBANITE Happy birthday to me. Happy Birthday to me... Jesus, fuck, I'm another year older already. Nicky throws. STICKMAN OUT! Seven! Line away. Nicky claps his hands dealer style -- for effect -- and with a gentlemanly smile steps back from the table. Nicky's chips are quickly swept up by the croupier. SUBURBANITE Don't take it so hard, pops. Everybody craps out. Nicky locks eyes with the suburbanite. Then flashes a smile that suggests he's going to brush it off. He turns away from the table... SUBURBANITE Now go change your fucking Depends. Nicky makes like it's all in good jest. Yeah, that's real cute. He heads around the table to the suburbanite, holds out his hand as if to say: Hey, no hard feelings. The suburbanite shrugs. What the fuck? I was just playing with you, pops. He reaches for Nicky's hand... when Nicky suddenly headbutts him. Before anyone can react, Nicky starts laying into the suburbanite. The man goes down and. Nicky continues pummeling him... NICKY Who's laughing now, huh? ya fuckin! prick! C'mon, crack wise again... Ya fuckin' smooth as a Ken doll, no- dick, suburbanite scum. How's that for a game?! Shelly alerted to the fracas, rushes back to the table. He takes immediate control of the situation. Snaps his fingers at security. The suburbanite is whisked away with a pocketful of comps and a bruised ego. Shelly takes Nicky aside, attempts to calm him. Nicky keeps railing at Shelly: NICKY That ain't right, Shelly! Guy fucks up my game like that. Who the fuck does he think he is? SHELLY You're right. He's just a piece of shit. Forget about him. NICKY I thought this joint had more class. Used to be, we wouldn't even let bums like that in... Nicky catches himself. He looks at Shelly for a beat. There's an unspoken understanding between them. "The good old days." We see Bernie in the b.g., looking more than a bit shocked. INT. THE MAKAWAO BAR AND GRILL - NIGHT Bernie seated with Natalie. BERNIE This town... You know, Natalie, all I want to do is go some place where I can tell day from night. Where they got clocks on the wall. I can't breathe around here no more. Four days and I'm gone. I'm not even sure I can hold out that long. NATALIE (a beat) So where does that leave us? BERNIE A week ago, I didn't remember what it was like to have a woman's hands on me. I'm still pinching myself, expecting to wake-up from... (just blurts it out) Come with me, Natalie. I want you to come with me. NATALIE God, Bernie, that's... BERNIE I'm sorry. I didn't mean to spring that on you. NATALIE Bernie... I want to be with you. I do. But I don't know if I can leave with you. Bernie's look: Why? NATALIE I was working on a compatibility chart for the two of us. And it looks good, really, it does. BERNIE So, what's the problem? NATALIE That's with us here. In Vegas. Bernie's expression: Oh. NATALIE Maybe I was being presumptuous, 'cause I knew you were leaving... and I tried working it in different ways... It wasn't good, Bernie. I got scared. But that's just for now, for the immediate future. Once the planets realign, maybe a year from now... BERNIE Natalie... I can't... Not another year. Not another week. A somber mood falls on the table. Bernie reaches for Natalie's hand. Instead, he knocks the salt over. It spills out in front of them. BERNIE I think... we probably shouldn't see each other anymore. NATALIE Why, Bernie? We only got a couple days left together. Why not make the most of them? BERNIE (a long beat) Because if I spend one more night in your arms, I'm not going anywhere. NATALIE And that's so bad? Bernie just stares at her, shrouded in sadness. Natalie stubs out her cigarette, rises. NATALIE Take care, Bernie. Bernie casts his eyes to the mound of spilled salt in front of him. Nods. A few beats later he raises his head... BERNIE Natalie, don't... Gone. A WAITRESS appears. WAITRESS (O.S.) Get you another? BERNIE (nods) I think you better bring me the bottle. Please. INT. SHANGRI-LA HOTEL AND CASINO/BAR - NIGHT Once again, we see Bernie's feet limp across the casino floor. He walks up to the bar, asks for a cup of coffee. Doris brings it over. Short on the cream again. He just sips it black. Gloom and doom features. Life sucks. His master's VOICE sounds over the intercom: VOICE (V.O.) Chang, party of fifteen, your table is ready, Chang party of fifteen. Bernie looks to Doris. Sighs. Only three more days. INT. CASINO FLOOR - CRAPS TABLES - NIGHT He heads for the crap tables, the sound of raucous CHEERING becomes audible. A large crowd starting to gather. Bernie noodles his way to the front of the crowd. As soon as he gets a look at the heavy hitter at the table, he tenses up. Oh shit. It's MIKEY. With Charlene. Charlene is making one hell of a racket. Playing up her extremely maternal state. Just then Natalie sidles up to Bernie with the Chivas Regal. Without thinking about it, he grabs the glass off the tray, downs it in a single gulp. CHARLENE (clutching her tummy) Come on, Mikey. This is our future. Don't blow it. Mikey throws down a bet for the dealer. MIKEY Put this on the line for the boys. The stickman thanks him as they place the bet. Mikey throws down more money. We can see Mikey has bets all over the table. MIKEY With shoes! STICKMAN Dealer's got shoes. Hands high, the dice are out! The point is nine. CHARLENE Come on all you's. Put a good thought in for our baby! As everyone dotes over Charlene, Mikey quickly swaps the dice before anyone can see. He throws. STICKMAN Six the hard way! Mikey is paid nine thousand by the croupier, as is Charlene. Bernie stands frozen. He doesn't bother trying to get any closer to the table. He knows it'll do no good. CHARLENE Oh my god, I just felt him kick! He knows. He knows you're all pulling for him. God bless you all. Natalie looks over at Charlene. Their eyes meet for a second. It's as though Natalie knows it's a scam and Charlene's acknowledging it. Mikey throws again. STICKMAN Six the hard way! Look out, we got a shooter! Another nine grand. Mikey's rail is nearly full. Charlene hops around awkwardly causing more distraction. Bernie is really sweating it out now. Then Shelly arrives. Larry is hot on his tail. SHELLY How much? BERNIE Eighteen thousand since I stepped up. I'm sorry, Shelly, I guess I've been hit and miss lately. Shelly's expression tells us he isn't so sure. Something definitely isn't kosher. As Charlene chatters on, Mikey switches the dice back. Shelly makes him. SHELLY (sotto) Fucking amateurs... Mikey throws... STICKMAN Seven out! Line away. The players and crowd, though disappointed, applaud Mikey's achievement. MIKEY (bowing) I thank you. My wife thanks you. My unborn child thanks you. Mikey moves his rail of chips to the felt. MIKEY Color me up will ya? Larry notices Shelly slipping on a pair of leather gloves. LARRY You've gotta be kidding me. (off Shelly's steely glare) That's not how I propose we handle it. We'll turn the matter over to the authorities. They'll be blacklisted, their credit ruined... SHELLY (gets in Larry's face) And then we'll give 'em both a lollipop for the ride home. Come watch and learn, Harvard. A little lesson on how to protect your investment -- the old school way. Shelly walks over to Mikey and Charlene, Larry lingering behind him. SHELLY Hey, that was some run you had back there. MIKEY Uh, thanks. Just lucky I guess. Mikey steals a tense glance at Charlene. She starts to fidget nervously. SHELLY Why don't we go do this in my office? I don't like to hand out all this amount of cash on the floor. Security (Tony and Lou) corrals the couple. Leads them away. Bernie watches as they pass by. Mikey looks into Bernie's eyes. They both know he's been made. Natalie doesn't say anything, just looks at Bernie. INT. CASINO RECEIVING AREA - NIGHT Slot machines everywhere -- some on the way out, some on the way in. Crates of casino supplies. Bernie rushes in with Natalie behind him. Heading for an aural beacon of BLOWS landing on flesh... GRUNTING, PLEADING... ...arriving to find Tony and Lou kicking the shit out of Mikey on the floor. Charlene lies clutching her belly a few feet away. Shelly swings a baseball bat, warming up for some blood sport. Larry watches from the sidelines -- at once appalled and enthralled. CHARLENE Oh my God... I can feel the contractions coming on... Bernie rushes over to Shelly... BERNIE Shelly, stop them! Don't do this! SHELLY Get lost, Bernie, this got nothing to do with you. BERNIE It's got everything to do with me. He's my son. Everyone stops dead. Freeze frame. Shelly gets a weird look in his eye. A fuse has just been lit... SHELLY What did you say? BERNIE I said, he's my -- SHELLY Who? This little prick? Shelly smashes Mikey across the shoulder with the bat. AARRRGGGGHHH!!! Shelly raises the bat to cream Mikey again... Bernie grabs Shelly's arm. Shelly shoves him back. Raises the bat again... MIKEY Pop, help me... BERNIE Shelly, don't you fucking do it! Shelly freezes. He lowers the bat, throws it aside. Grabs Bernie by his collar... SHELLY Were you in on this? Jesus, you better come clean with me. BERNIE NO! God, no! I didn't know nothing about it. Shelly releases Bernie. There's a strange look in Shelly's eye. We see the wheels turning... SHELLY How much you think their lives are worth, Bernie? Myself, I don't think they're worth piss. But, hey, it ain't my kid... Bernie sees where Shelly's going with this. We can almost hear the cell door slamming in his head. SHELLY Let me see: they were up almost a hundred and fifty grand. That's 150 G's someone's gonna have to account for. What do you say, Bernie, seventy- five grand a piece? Bernie glances over at Natalie. She has tears in her eyes. He looks to Shelly pleadingly. Please don't do this... SHELLY Hey, I know you don't have that kind of cash. But, since you're a friend of the house, I'm willing to front you. BERNIE Shelly, they didn't get away with the money... You didn't lose anything... Shelly glances over at Lou, nods. Lou kicks Mikey in the face. His nose snaps like a twig. BERNIE Oh Jesus... Yes! All right. It's on me. 150 G's. Charlene clutches her belly, moans... CHARLENE Oh god, oh god... you gotta get me to the hospital... contractions... BERNIE Shelly, please help her. That's my grandson... SHELLY Hey, why don't we all break out the champagne? Lootz is about to become a granddaddy. (walks over to her) How you doin' there, sweetheart? Must hurt like crap, huh? CHARLENE (nods) Hurts so bad... SHELLY Yeah? Suddenly Shelly kicks Charlene in the belly! WHAM! She screeches out. NATALIE Oh God... BERNIE Jesus NOOOOO!!! Even Shelly's goons can't believe what they've just witnessed. Larry is aghast. Bernie rushes Shelly, starts raining blows on him. Shelly swats him off. He drops down next to the squirming girl, rips her sweater and blouse up over her stomach... ...to reveal a mound of fake padding. He tears the padding away from her, throws it at Bernie. SHELLY Here! It's a fuckin' boy. Anyone got a cigar? The muscle start laughing it up. Relief. Larry emits a nervous giggle. Natalie's jaw hits the floor. Bernie takes a step back. He's about to go into serious shock. Charlene curls over, sobbing. SHELLY (to Bernie) You sure you still want to be good for it? Because if you want to change your mind, I don't blame you. Bernie looks over at Mikey. He stares up at his father, trembling. MIKEY I'll make it up to you, Pop, I swear... Bernie holds his son's gaze for a beat. He's almost tempted to... He just shrugs and nods at Shelly. BERNIE It's on me. SHELLY (shakes his head) That's the worst fucking call you ever made in your life. ON NATALIE at that moment. We can tell she agrees with Shelly... but thinks all the more of Bernie for it. That might even be love in her eyes. Shelly snatches his baseball bat up off the floor. Walks over to Mikey, and brings it down full force, pulverizing Mikey's left kneecap. Oh man, the scream... BERNIE What are you doing?! I thought we had -- SHELLY 150 G's buys their lives. This is just a little slap on the wrist to remember me by. Natalie turns her head. She's about to throw up. Larry watches, unflinchingly. Charlene is making with some serious pleading now. CHARLENE Oh god... it wasn't my idea. Shelly steps up to Charlene, tapping the base of the bat in the palm of his hand. He smiles reassuringly at her. SHELLY You know, motherhood is a beautiful thing. This... you made a mockery out of it. Maybe you'll get to experience it for real one day. CHARLENE (nods, sobbing) I want... to be a mother... please don't hurt me... SHELLY I'm not going to hurt you. Shelly turns his back on her. Charlene starts sobbing relief. They're not going to hurt her. It's going to be all right. Wrong. Shelly throws the bat to Lou. The heavy steps up to the plate (as we RACK FOCUS to Shelly walking away) -- CRUNCH!!! followed by the girl's SHRIEKS. Natalie buries her head in Bernie's shoulder. SHELLY (to Tony and Lou) Get 'em outta here. You ever see them in this joint again, kill 'em. SHELLY (to Bernie and Natalie) You two, you're still on shift. Shelly catches Larry's eye: I hope you were taking notes. INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT Bernie's seated on the edge of his bed, drowning his sorrows with a bottle of gin. Moonlight paints him in jail bars of shadow. Natalie lingers in the b.g. BERNIE I did this to myself. I planted the seed. When Angela took off with Mikey, I didn't... I never made an effort to get back in his life. I figured, the kid don't need a loser for a father. Now it's all come full circle. I give him the money, I open the door to all this... I musta had it coming. Payback. Natalie's hand lowers the needle onto the Sinatra record. "Nice 'n' Easy" starts up. She walks over to Bernie, takes the bottle away. Helps him to his feet. He gives himself over to her reassuring embrace. Natalie raises Bernie's face to her's. NATALIE Bernie, it's a big world out there. If you just took off -- if we took off. Bernie shakes his head. It's too late for that now. DISSOLVE TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - LATER - NIGHT Natalie staring up at the ceiling, Bernie nuzzled against her. Her features appear softer than ever. Luminous in the moonlight. Realization moist in her eyes. NATALIE You awake, Bernie? He grunts something inaudible. NATALIE I -- think I love you. Bernie tenses up. Huh? NATALIE No, I don't think. I'm pretty certain of it. Bernie raises his head, not quite sure he heard her right. Natalie sits up, hugs her knees. Bernie finds himself staring at her back. NATALIE You blind-sided me, Bernie Lootz. I never saw this coming. You shouldn't do that to a girl. Bernie reaches out, caresses her back. She emits a shiver... NATALIE There's still things you don't know... should know... I don't want to ruin it... Bernie pulls Natalie back toward him. BERNIE It won't make any difference, Natalie. Whatever you come clean about, I'm not gonna feel any different about you. I'd say the words, but with my luck... NATALIE Say 'em anyway. To hell with rotten luck. That's overs. BERNIE (a beat) I love you, Natalie. Natalie smothers her lips against Bernie's. He enshrouds her in his arms. Fade out... INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - DAY Fade into SOFT FOCUS. Slowing taking form... A CAT'S FACE seen in extreme close-up. WIDER -- to reveal the cat resting on Bernie's chest. She MEOWS as he stirs awake. He's stunned to see her there. BERNIE Trixie? The cat jumps off his chest and slinks over to her empty food bowl. Meows again. Bernie breaks into a wide smile. BERNIE Trix. You came back. Bernie shields his eyes from the bright sunlight streaming in through the blinds. Huh? This is a first for him. He's never gotten direct sunlight in his room before. What's the deal? Did the world just turn on its axis? He glances over his shoulder... No Natalie. Just her impression in the sheets. And a note on her pillow. For a moment his heart stops. He conjures up the worst. Grabs up the note, unfolds it. We see a lipstick kiss and the words: HAVE A SPECTACULAR DAY! Bernie lets out a joyful whoop! Leaps out of bed... SMASH CUT TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - CONTINUOUS - DAY CLOSE-UP: Trixie eating some tuna out of her bowl. We hear the record player needle drop on "Luck Be A Lady." Cut to: Bernie's feet gliding around the room... PAN UP to Bernie dancing with himself. He's positively aglow. He snatches up a salt shaker and sings along with Sinatra. It's true -- love makes the world go around. It obviously also gives life to dead plants, as evidenced by the small bulb that has sprung up overnight above his radiator. But we won't dwell on that. INT. SHANGRI-LA HOTEL AND CASINO - DAY Bernie struts into the casino a changed man (still to the tune of "Luck Be a Lady"). Even his limp seems less pronounced as he greets fellow workers as they pass. He catches a glimpse of himself in a wall mirror. Maybe for the first time, he likes what he sees. In the reflection he notices Natalie smiling at him. He meets her eyes. She averts them quickly, keeps walking. INT. SHELLY'S OFFICE - THAT MOMENT Shelly watches Bernie from the video monitor. He appears less than delighted over Bernie's sunny disposition. He picks up the phone, dials. SHELLY (into phone) Yeah, it's me. Get Bernie over to crap table six. INT. CASINO FLOOR - NIGHT Per usual, Bernie walks up to the bar, asks for a cup of coffee. Doris slides it over. BERNIE (looking around) Got any cre -- Before he can answer, Doris hands him a container of cream. A full container. Taken aback, he starts pouring it into his cup, when he hears a VOICE over the intercom: VOICE (V.O.) Lovett, party of six, your table is ready, Lovett, party of six. Bernie looks to Doris. BERNIE Duty calls. INT. CASINO - MONTAGE - MOMENTS LATER A -- Bernie arrives at a hundred dollar blackjack table just in time for the dealer to bust out. The crowd goes crazy! B -- Bernie takes a break by leaning up against the side of a slot machine. Suddenly, the woman playing it hits a jackpot. C -- Everywhere he seems to go, people continue to win. D -- Bernie, despite the spooky irony, can't help but smile as mountains of chips pile up on the tables. Shelly appears behind him. Not a happy camper. He gestures Bernie to follow him. INT. CASINO SLOTS AREA - NIGHT They head over to a section of slots. As they pass one of those huge million dollar slots, the FLOOR MANAGER cuts in front of them. FLOOR MANAGER Hey, Shelly, check it out. The new Mega-Million. I call her Marnie, 'cause she's one frigid broad. Sure, once in a while she'll flash you a bit of tit, but your chances of hitting a home run -- one in twenty million. Here, give her a shot... He hands Shelly a cup of quarters, takes off. Shelly looks to Bernie. He's trying to keep a lid on his anger. SHELLY (feeding Marnie quarters) You wanna tell me what's going on out there? BERNIE I don't know... Shelly pulls the lever. SHELLY What do you mean... Marnie immediately spits out a small jackpot. SHELLY (reacts with surprise) What do you mean, you don't know? We're down almost a mil out there. Doesn't seem strange to you? BERNIE (shrugs) Guess I'm having an off day. SHELLY You don't have off days, Lootz. You're shitty luck incarnate. What's wrong? You coming down with something? You've got this look about you... Shelly starts feeding Marnie again. BERNIE Nothing's wrong. Fact is, I've never felt better. SHELLY What's that supposed to mean? BERNIE She loves me, Shelly. She told me last night. Natalie. On the mention of Natalie's name, we hear a shrieking SIREN, followed by a deafening toll of slot bells. Shelly's just landed the million dollar jackpot. Shelly stares at the slot in surprise -- then looks over at Bernie. Realization hits hard. Fuck! The floor manager staggers over. His expression is priceless. FLOOR MANAGER Sweet Jesus... you popped her cherries. SEVERAL CASINO WORKERS have gathered to witness the deflowering of Marnie. They gaze reverently upon her, as if witnessing the "Close Encounters" mothership for the first time. Shelly drags Bernie out of earshot. SHELLY Natalie? She told you, she loves you? Bernie nods, a huge grin wrenching his cheeks apart. He's about to go helium on us. INT. CASINO FLOOR - NIGHT Natalie's serving drinks to a table of high rollers, when Tony and Lou appear behind her... INT. SHELLY'S OFFICE - NIGHT The door to Shelly's office slams behind Natalie. Shelly glares at her from behind his desk. We see him thumbing his steel abacus. The beads drifting toward the center. Natalie shakily lights up a cigarette. SHELLY Put that fucking thing out! Natalie, startled, drops her cigarettes. She kneels to gather them up. NATALIE Sorry. SHELLY You should be. You've gone and fucked it up big time. I paid you to be his cooze companion, not his fucking true love. But, no, you had to go and get all profound on the poor schmuck. (mimics female voice) "I love you, Bernie." You know what you've gone and done, sweetheart? Those four little words of endearment have already cost this casino a million and counting today. NATALIE I don't understand... SHELLY (jumps to his feet) Lady luck. You never heard'a lady luck?! That's what's goin' on out there. Lootz is Kryptonite on a stick. He should have 'em throwing ice cubes out there, but instead I got a fuckin' meltdown on my hands. Shelly walks around his desk to Natalie. SHELLY OK, here's what's gonna happen. You're outta his life by the time he gets home. Don't even tell him to his face, just leave a note. I'll make some calls, situate you at another joint. NATALIE I can't do that. SHELLY (right in her face) Excuse me? NATALIE It wasn't an act. I meant it. I love him. SHELLY (close to losing it) What's there to fuckin' love? He's a loser. Always has been, always will be. NATALIE I thought you were his friend... SHELLY And I thought you were a smart cookie when I picked you out. You do not want to fuck me over, darlin'. I'll see to it that your next John's a rattlesnake out in the desert. Now get the fuck outta here. Natalie rushes from the office in tears. Shelly closes his eyes for a moment -- gotta keep it together. INT. SHANGRI-LA CASINO - NIGHT Bernie approaches some cocktail waitresses about to go off duty. BERNIE Hi. Any of you seen Natalie around? I'm supposed to give her a ride home. COCKTAIL WAITRESS #1 I think she left already. She wasn't feelin' too good. We been covering for her. Off Bernie's expression: Oh... EXT. LUCKY STAR MOTEL - NIGHT Bernie's Buick pulls into the lot. He parks, heads for his room. INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT Bernie enters. Flips on the light. No Natalie. BERNIE (calls to the bathroom) Natalie? You in there? No answer. He heads over. Finds it empty. Concern spreads across his features. He glances around the room. Notices the closet wide open. Natalie's clothes missing. BERNIE (sotto) Natalie. That's when he catches sight of the note taped to the dresser mirror. He rushes over, rips it off. I'M SORRY BERNIE. I GUESS IT JUST WASN'T IN THE CARDS FOR US. TAKE CARE, NATALIE. Bernie slumps to the floor in disbelief. Starts to tremble. Then rocks back and forth, wracked by stifled sobs. Christ, make it stop hurting... DISSOLVE TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - LATER Bernie seated at the foot of the bed, drinking bourbon from

play

How many times the word 'play' appears in the text?

what Shangri- la is. Paradise. LARRY Yeah, we've all seen the movie. And your point is? Shelly whirls around, yells: SHELLY You don't fuck with paradise! All'a ya! NICKY Hey, Jesus, c'mon, Shelly. We're not trying to fuck with it. We're trying to make it better. SHELLY How... how, Nicky, could it be any better? Right now it's perfect. It's the last of its kind. It's pure... and this. (points to the model; weary) ...this is just... it's a mockery. An insult. Trying to make something of it that it isn't. LARRY What are you talking about? It's right outta the movie? SHELLY Whose talking about a fuckin' movie? This ain't a fuckin' movie. This is my life. This is my house of worship. You people are shittin' on all that's sacred to me. A tense silence ensues. Nicky, Larry and Marty exchange looks. SHELLY (tired laugh) I got just one question? Where you gonna be when they decide to change it back? When the people, they come looking for the real Vegas, from before all this Epcott Center bullshit. Who's gonna it give it to them? You guys? I don't think so. You know who? The same fucks who started this shit in the first place. It's all gonna come full circle and bite you in the ass. Mark my words. Shelly falls silent. Massages his forehead. Shit, that wasn't the way to handle it. Nicky gets up from the sofa, walks over to Shelly, places a hand on his shoulder. Shelly flinches, but doesn't pull away. NICKY You make some good points, Shelly. Maybe it'll swing back the other way, who knows? But the smart money suggests we roll the dice. I'm not gonna bullshit you; naturally there's gonna be a lot of restructuring in the months to come, but I want you to know, you'll always have a place with us. SHELLY Where's that? Behind the bar? MARTY (laughs) Behind the bar, that's a good one. NICKY I think you should take some time and think things through. All this, it's a lot to digest, y'know. MARTY Speaking of things to digest, I'm starving. How's that buffet they got in the Valley of the Blue Moon? You recommend their prime rib, Shell? Shelly stares right through Marty. Choke and die on it, motherfucker. SHELLY It's food. NICKY Hey, my arteries can use a workout. Lead us to the trough, Shell. Shelly nods at Nicky, then shifts his gaze to Larry. Larry's all smiles. He steps forward to join them, his hand dropping down and caressing the surface of Shelly's desk behind him. A subtle gesture not lost on Shelly. Shelly mentally unloads a full chamber into Larry's chest. Returns the smile. INT. CASINO - CRAPS TABLES - NIGHT As Shelly and the group pass a hot craps table, Nicky is drawn to it. NICKY Wait up a second... MARTY I thought we were gonna eat? Only now do we see Bernie has arrived to cool the table of its hot shooter -- A LOUD, pudgy, overdressed SUBURBANITE. Shelly eyes Bernie. SHELLY Maybe we wanna play over there. Less crowded. NICKY Nah, let's play here. This is my lucky table. I always play here. (to the others) Go on ahead. I know where to find you guys. Shelly signals Bernie to back off. Bernie steps back. Shelly, Larry and Marty head for the restaurant. Nicky quickly slaps down some green. The stickman slides the dice over to the suburbanite who is shooting. He scuttles the dice. They bounce up over the rail and spike Nicky on the forehead before dropping back on the felt. The players chuckle. STICKMAN Out! Seven, line away seven... Nicky rubs his forehead, glares at the suburbanite. He fires back. SUBURBANITE C"mon, pops! What the hell? I coulda paid my mortgage with the money I just lost. Nicky says nothing. The table is quickly cleared by the dealers. The stickman skips the next shooter and feeds the dice to Nicky. SHOOTER Hey? I'm supposed to be next... NICKY File a grievance, shithead. Suburbanite is still fuming over his loss. Nicky places a couple hundred on the passline. STICKMAN We're coming out. Crap Eleven, any seven. Nicky throws in some chips to the center. NICKY Hundred dollar big red. Suburbanite watches as Nicky runs through a lengthy pre-shot routine. Lots of hand jive and cuff shooting. SUBURBANITE Hurry it up, gramps. Your soup's getting cold. Nicky throws. STICKMAN Crap, Ace Deuce. Line down. The croupiers takes down the pass line. SUBURBANITE Hey, Busketti, maybe you should try shuffleboard. Nicky is fed the dice again. Same routine. Nicky just fires an incendiary look back at the suburbanite. SUBURBANITE Uncle Palsy? Shake'em this direction. Nicky throws. STICKMAN Four, hard four. The point is four. The players make their bets. SUBURBANITE Good now throw it before you fucking keel over and die, old man. Nicky slowly starts his routine defiantly. SUBURBANITE Happy birthday to me. Happy Birthday to me... Jesus, fuck, I'm another year older already. Nicky throws. STICKMAN OUT! Seven! Line away. Nicky claps his hands dealer style -- for effect -- and with a gentlemanly smile steps back from the table. Nicky's chips are quickly swept up by the croupier. SUBURBANITE Don't take it so hard, pops. Everybody craps out. Nicky locks eyes with the suburbanite. Then flashes a smile that suggests he's going to brush it off. He turns away from the table... SUBURBANITE Now go change your fucking Depends. Nicky makes like it's all in good jest. Yeah, that's real cute. He heads around the table to the suburbanite, holds out his hand as if to say: Hey, no hard feelings. The suburbanite shrugs. What the fuck? I was just playing with you, pops. He reaches for Nicky's hand... when Nicky suddenly headbutts him. Before anyone can react, Nicky starts laying into the suburbanite. The man goes down and. Nicky continues pummeling him... NICKY Who's laughing now, huh? ya fuckin! prick! C'mon, crack wise again... Ya fuckin' smooth as a Ken doll, no- dick, suburbanite scum. How's that for a game?! Shelly alerted to the fracas, rushes back to the table. He takes immediate control of the situation. Snaps his fingers at security. The suburbanite is whisked away with a pocketful of comps and a bruised ego. Shelly takes Nicky aside, attempts to calm him. Nicky keeps railing at Shelly: NICKY That ain't right, Shelly! Guy fucks up my game like that. Who the fuck does he think he is? SHELLY You're right. He's just a piece of shit. Forget about him. NICKY I thought this joint had more class. Used to be, we wouldn't even let bums like that in... Nicky catches himself. He looks at Shelly for a beat. There's an unspoken understanding between them. "The good old days." We see Bernie in the b.g., looking more than a bit shocked. INT. THE MAKAWAO BAR AND GRILL - NIGHT Bernie seated with Natalie. BERNIE This town... You know, Natalie, all I want to do is go some place where I can tell day from night. Where they got clocks on the wall. I can't breathe around here no more. Four days and I'm gone. I'm not even sure I can hold out that long. NATALIE (a beat) So where does that leave us? BERNIE A week ago, I didn't remember what it was like to have a woman's hands on me. I'm still pinching myself, expecting to wake-up from... (just blurts it out) Come with me, Natalie. I want you to come with me. NATALIE God, Bernie, that's... BERNIE I'm sorry. I didn't mean to spring that on you. NATALIE Bernie... I want to be with you. I do. But I don't know if I can leave with you. Bernie's look: Why? NATALIE I was working on a compatibility chart for the two of us. And it looks good, really, it does. BERNIE So, what's the problem? NATALIE That's with us here. In Vegas. Bernie's expression: Oh. NATALIE Maybe I was being presumptuous, 'cause I knew you were leaving... and I tried working it in different ways... It wasn't good, Bernie. I got scared. But that's just for now, for the immediate future. Once the planets realign, maybe a year from now... BERNIE Natalie... I can't... Not another year. Not another week. A somber mood falls on the table. Bernie reaches for Natalie's hand. Instead, he knocks the salt over. It spills out in front of them. BERNIE I think... we probably shouldn't see each other anymore. NATALIE Why, Bernie? We only got a couple days left together. Why not make the most of them? BERNIE (a long beat) Because if I spend one more night in your arms, I'm not going anywhere. NATALIE And that's so bad? Bernie just stares at her, shrouded in sadness. Natalie stubs out her cigarette, rises. NATALIE Take care, Bernie. Bernie casts his eyes to the mound of spilled salt in front of him. Nods. A few beats later he raises his head... BERNIE Natalie, don't... Gone. A WAITRESS appears. WAITRESS (O.S.) Get you another? BERNIE (nods) I think you better bring me the bottle. Please. INT. SHANGRI-LA HOTEL AND CASINO/BAR - NIGHT Once again, we see Bernie's feet limp across the casino floor. He walks up to the bar, asks for a cup of coffee. Doris brings it over. Short on the cream again. He just sips it black. Gloom and doom features. Life sucks. His master's VOICE sounds over the intercom: VOICE (V.O.) Chang, party of fifteen, your table is ready, Chang party of fifteen. Bernie looks to Doris. Sighs. Only three more days. INT. CASINO FLOOR - CRAPS TABLES - NIGHT He heads for the crap tables, the sound of raucous CHEERING becomes audible. A large crowd starting to gather. Bernie noodles his way to the front of the crowd. As soon as he gets a look at the heavy hitter at the table, he tenses up. Oh shit. It's MIKEY. With Charlene. Charlene is making one hell of a racket. Playing up her extremely maternal state. Just then Natalie sidles up to Bernie with the Chivas Regal. Without thinking about it, he grabs the glass off the tray, downs it in a single gulp. CHARLENE (clutching her tummy) Come on, Mikey. This is our future. Don't blow it. Mikey throws down a bet for the dealer. MIKEY Put this on the line for the boys. The stickman thanks him as they place the bet. Mikey throws down more money. We can see Mikey has bets all over the table. MIKEY With shoes! STICKMAN Dealer's got shoes. Hands high, the dice are out! The point is nine. CHARLENE Come on all you's. Put a good thought in for our baby! As everyone dotes over Charlene, Mikey quickly swaps the dice before anyone can see. He throws. STICKMAN Six the hard way! Mikey is paid nine thousand by the croupier, as is Charlene. Bernie stands frozen. He doesn't bother trying to get any closer to the table. He knows it'll do no good. CHARLENE Oh my god, I just felt him kick! He knows. He knows you're all pulling for him. God bless you all. Natalie looks over at Charlene. Their eyes meet for a second. It's as though Natalie knows it's a scam and Charlene's acknowledging it. Mikey throws again. STICKMAN Six the hard way! Look out, we got a shooter! Another nine grand. Mikey's rail is nearly full. Charlene hops around awkwardly causing more distraction. Bernie is really sweating it out now. Then Shelly arrives. Larry is hot on his tail. SHELLY How much? BERNIE Eighteen thousand since I stepped up. I'm sorry, Shelly, I guess I've been hit and miss lately. Shelly's expression tells us he isn't so sure. Something definitely isn't kosher. As Charlene chatters on, Mikey switches the dice back. Shelly makes him. SHELLY (sotto) Fucking amateurs... Mikey throws... STICKMAN Seven out! Line away. The players and crowd, though disappointed, applaud Mikey's achievement. MIKEY (bowing) I thank you. My wife thanks you. My unborn child thanks you. Mikey moves his rail of chips to the felt. MIKEY Color me up will ya? Larry notices Shelly slipping on a pair of leather gloves. LARRY You've gotta be kidding me. (off Shelly's steely glare) That's not how I propose we handle it. We'll turn the matter over to the authorities. They'll be blacklisted, their credit ruined... SHELLY (gets in Larry's face) And then we'll give 'em both a lollipop for the ride home. Come watch and learn, Harvard. A little lesson on how to protect your investment -- the old school way. Shelly walks over to Mikey and Charlene, Larry lingering behind him. SHELLY Hey, that was some run you had back there. MIKEY Uh, thanks. Just lucky I guess. Mikey steals a tense glance at Charlene. She starts to fidget nervously. SHELLY Why don't we go do this in my office? I don't like to hand out all this amount of cash on the floor. Security (Tony and Lou) corrals the couple. Leads them away. Bernie watches as they pass by. Mikey looks into Bernie's eyes. They both know he's been made. Natalie doesn't say anything, just looks at Bernie. INT. CASINO RECEIVING AREA - NIGHT Slot machines everywhere -- some on the way out, some on the way in. Crates of casino supplies. Bernie rushes in with Natalie behind him. Heading for an aural beacon of BLOWS landing on flesh... GRUNTING, PLEADING... ...arriving to find Tony and Lou kicking the shit out of Mikey on the floor. Charlene lies clutching her belly a few feet away. Shelly swings a baseball bat, warming up for some blood sport. Larry watches from the sidelines -- at once appalled and enthralled. CHARLENE Oh my God... I can feel the contractions coming on... Bernie rushes over to Shelly... BERNIE Shelly, stop them! Don't do this! SHELLY Get lost, Bernie, this got nothing to do with you. BERNIE It's got everything to do with me. He's my son. Everyone stops dead. Freeze frame. Shelly gets a weird look in his eye. A fuse has just been lit... SHELLY What did you say? BERNIE I said, he's my -- SHELLY Who? This little prick? Shelly smashes Mikey across the shoulder with the bat. AARRRGGGGHHH!!! Shelly raises the bat to cream Mikey again... Bernie grabs Shelly's arm. Shelly shoves him back. Raises the bat again... MIKEY Pop, help me... BERNIE Shelly, don't you fucking do it! Shelly freezes. He lowers the bat, throws it aside. Grabs Bernie by his collar... SHELLY Were you in on this? Jesus, you better come clean with me. BERNIE NO! God, no! I didn't know nothing about it. Shelly releases Bernie. There's a strange look in Shelly's eye. We see the wheels turning... SHELLY How much you think their lives are worth, Bernie? Myself, I don't think they're worth piss. But, hey, it ain't my kid... Bernie sees where Shelly's going with this. We can almost hear the cell door slamming in his head. SHELLY Let me see: they were up almost a hundred and fifty grand. That's 150 G's someone's gonna have to account for. What do you say, Bernie, seventy- five grand a piece? Bernie glances over at Natalie. She has tears in her eyes. He looks to Shelly pleadingly. Please don't do this... SHELLY Hey, I know you don't have that kind of cash. But, since you're a friend of the house, I'm willing to front you. BERNIE Shelly, they didn't get away with the money... You didn't lose anything... Shelly glances over at Lou, nods. Lou kicks Mikey in the face. His nose snaps like a twig. BERNIE Oh Jesus... Yes! All right. It's on me. 150 G's. Charlene clutches her belly, moans... CHARLENE Oh god, oh god... you gotta get me to the hospital... contractions... BERNIE Shelly, please help her. That's my grandson... SHELLY Hey, why don't we all break out the champagne? Lootz is about to become a granddaddy. (walks over to her) How you doin' there, sweetheart? Must hurt like crap, huh? CHARLENE (nods) Hurts so bad... SHELLY Yeah? Suddenly Shelly kicks Charlene in the belly! WHAM! She screeches out. NATALIE Oh God... BERNIE Jesus NOOOOO!!! Even Shelly's goons can't believe what they've just witnessed. Larry is aghast. Bernie rushes Shelly, starts raining blows on him. Shelly swats him off. He drops down next to the squirming girl, rips her sweater and blouse up over her stomach... ...to reveal a mound of fake padding. He tears the padding away from her, throws it at Bernie. SHELLY Here! It's a fuckin' boy. Anyone got a cigar? The muscle start laughing it up. Relief. Larry emits a nervous giggle. Natalie's jaw hits the floor. Bernie takes a step back. He's about to go into serious shock. Charlene curls over, sobbing. SHELLY (to Bernie) You sure you still want to be good for it? Because if you want to change your mind, I don't blame you. Bernie looks over at Mikey. He stares up at his father, trembling. MIKEY I'll make it up to you, Pop, I swear... Bernie holds his son's gaze for a beat. He's almost tempted to... He just shrugs and nods at Shelly. BERNIE It's on me. SHELLY (shakes his head) That's the worst fucking call you ever made in your life. ON NATALIE at that moment. We can tell she agrees with Shelly... but thinks all the more of Bernie for it. That might even be love in her eyes. Shelly snatches his baseball bat up off the floor. Walks over to Mikey, and brings it down full force, pulverizing Mikey's left kneecap. Oh man, the scream... BERNIE What are you doing?! I thought we had -- SHELLY 150 G's buys their lives. This is just a little slap on the wrist to remember me by. Natalie turns her head. She's about to throw up. Larry watches, unflinchingly. Charlene is making with some serious pleading now. CHARLENE Oh god... it wasn't my idea. Shelly steps up to Charlene, tapping the base of the bat in the palm of his hand. He smiles reassuringly at her. SHELLY You know, motherhood is a beautiful thing. This... you made a mockery out of it. Maybe you'll get to experience it for real one day. CHARLENE (nods, sobbing) I want... to be a mother... please don't hurt me... SHELLY I'm not going to hurt you. Shelly turns his back on her. Charlene starts sobbing relief. They're not going to hurt her. It's going to be all right. Wrong. Shelly throws the bat to Lou. The heavy steps up to the plate (as we RACK FOCUS to Shelly walking away) -- CRUNCH!!! followed by the girl's SHRIEKS. Natalie buries her head in Bernie's shoulder. SHELLY (to Tony and Lou) Get 'em outta here. You ever see them in this joint again, kill 'em. SHELLY (to Bernie and Natalie) You two, you're still on shift. Shelly catches Larry's eye: I hope you were taking notes. INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT Bernie's seated on the edge of his bed, drowning his sorrows with a bottle of gin. Moonlight paints him in jail bars of shadow. Natalie lingers in the b.g. BERNIE I did this to myself. I planted the seed. When Angela took off with Mikey, I didn't... I never made an effort to get back in his life. I figured, the kid don't need a loser for a father. Now it's all come full circle. I give him the money, I open the door to all this... I musta had it coming. Payback. Natalie's hand lowers the needle onto the Sinatra record. "Nice 'n' Easy" starts up. She walks over to Bernie, takes the bottle away. Helps him to his feet. He gives himself over to her reassuring embrace. Natalie raises Bernie's face to her's. NATALIE Bernie, it's a big world out there. If you just took off -- if we took off. Bernie shakes his head. It's too late for that now. DISSOLVE TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - LATER - NIGHT Natalie staring up at the ceiling, Bernie nuzzled against her. Her features appear softer than ever. Luminous in the moonlight. Realization moist in her eyes. NATALIE You awake, Bernie? He grunts something inaudible. NATALIE I -- think I love you. Bernie tenses up. Huh? NATALIE No, I don't think. I'm pretty certain of it. Bernie raises his head, not quite sure he heard her right. Natalie sits up, hugs her knees. Bernie finds himself staring at her back. NATALIE You blind-sided me, Bernie Lootz. I never saw this coming. You shouldn't do that to a girl. Bernie reaches out, caresses her back. She emits a shiver... NATALIE There's still things you don't know... should know... I don't want to ruin it... Bernie pulls Natalie back toward him. BERNIE It won't make any difference, Natalie. Whatever you come clean about, I'm not gonna feel any different about you. I'd say the words, but with my luck... NATALIE Say 'em anyway. To hell with rotten luck. That's overs. BERNIE (a beat) I love you, Natalie. Natalie smothers her lips against Bernie's. He enshrouds her in his arms. Fade out... INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - DAY Fade into SOFT FOCUS. Slowing taking form... A CAT'S FACE seen in extreme close-up. WIDER -- to reveal the cat resting on Bernie's chest. She MEOWS as he stirs awake. He's stunned to see her there. BERNIE Trixie? The cat jumps off his chest and slinks over to her empty food bowl. Meows again. Bernie breaks into a wide smile. BERNIE Trix. You came back. Bernie shields his eyes from the bright sunlight streaming in through the blinds. Huh? This is a first for him. He's never gotten direct sunlight in his room before. What's the deal? Did the world just turn on its axis? He glances over his shoulder... No Natalie. Just her impression in the sheets. And a note on her pillow. For a moment his heart stops. He conjures up the worst. Grabs up the note, unfolds it. We see a lipstick kiss and the words: HAVE A SPECTACULAR DAY! Bernie lets out a joyful whoop! Leaps out of bed... SMASH CUT TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - CONTINUOUS - DAY CLOSE-UP: Trixie eating some tuna out of her bowl. We hear the record player needle drop on "Luck Be A Lady." Cut to: Bernie's feet gliding around the room... PAN UP to Bernie dancing with himself. He's positively aglow. He snatches up a salt shaker and sings along with Sinatra. It's true -- love makes the world go around. It obviously also gives life to dead plants, as evidenced by the small bulb that has sprung up overnight above his radiator. But we won't dwell on that. INT. SHANGRI-LA HOTEL AND CASINO - DAY Bernie struts into the casino a changed man (still to the tune of "Luck Be a Lady"). Even his limp seems less pronounced as he greets fellow workers as they pass. He catches a glimpse of himself in a wall mirror. Maybe for the first time, he likes what he sees. In the reflection he notices Natalie smiling at him. He meets her eyes. She averts them quickly, keeps walking. INT. SHELLY'S OFFICE - THAT MOMENT Shelly watches Bernie from the video monitor. He appears less than delighted over Bernie's sunny disposition. He picks up the phone, dials. SHELLY (into phone) Yeah, it's me. Get Bernie over to crap table six. INT. CASINO FLOOR - NIGHT Per usual, Bernie walks up to the bar, asks for a cup of coffee. Doris slides it over. BERNIE (looking around) Got any cre -- Before he can answer, Doris hands him a container of cream. A full container. Taken aback, he starts pouring it into his cup, when he hears a VOICE over the intercom: VOICE (V.O.) Lovett, party of six, your table is ready, Lovett, party of six. Bernie looks to Doris. BERNIE Duty calls. INT. CASINO - MONTAGE - MOMENTS LATER A -- Bernie arrives at a hundred dollar blackjack table just in time for the dealer to bust out. The crowd goes crazy! B -- Bernie takes a break by leaning up against the side of a slot machine. Suddenly, the woman playing it hits a jackpot. C -- Everywhere he seems to go, people continue to win. D -- Bernie, despite the spooky irony, can't help but smile as mountains of chips pile up on the tables. Shelly appears behind him. Not a happy camper. He gestures Bernie to follow him. INT. CASINO SLOTS AREA - NIGHT They head over to a section of slots. As they pass one of those huge million dollar slots, the FLOOR MANAGER cuts in front of them. FLOOR MANAGER Hey, Shelly, check it out. The new Mega-Million. I call her Marnie, 'cause she's one frigid broad. Sure, once in a while she'll flash you a bit of tit, but your chances of hitting a home run -- one in twenty million. Here, give her a shot... He hands Shelly a cup of quarters, takes off. Shelly looks to Bernie. He's trying to keep a lid on his anger. SHELLY (feeding Marnie quarters) You wanna tell me what's going on out there? BERNIE I don't know... Shelly pulls the lever. SHELLY What do you mean... Marnie immediately spits out a small jackpot. SHELLY (reacts with surprise) What do you mean, you don't know? We're down almost a mil out there. Doesn't seem strange to you? BERNIE (shrugs) Guess I'm having an off day. SHELLY You don't have off days, Lootz. You're shitty luck incarnate. What's wrong? You coming down with something? You've got this look about you... Shelly starts feeding Marnie again. BERNIE Nothing's wrong. Fact is, I've never felt better. SHELLY What's that supposed to mean? BERNIE She loves me, Shelly. She told me last night. Natalie. On the mention of Natalie's name, we hear a shrieking SIREN, followed by a deafening toll of slot bells. Shelly's just landed the million dollar jackpot. Shelly stares at the slot in surprise -- then looks over at Bernie. Realization hits hard. Fuck! The floor manager staggers over. His expression is priceless. FLOOR MANAGER Sweet Jesus... you popped her cherries. SEVERAL CASINO WORKERS have gathered to witness the deflowering of Marnie. They gaze reverently upon her, as if witnessing the "Close Encounters" mothership for the first time. Shelly drags Bernie out of earshot. SHELLY Natalie? She told you, she loves you? Bernie nods, a huge grin wrenching his cheeks apart. He's about to go helium on us. INT. CASINO FLOOR - NIGHT Natalie's serving drinks to a table of high rollers, when Tony and Lou appear behind her... INT. SHELLY'S OFFICE - NIGHT The door to Shelly's office slams behind Natalie. Shelly glares at her from behind his desk. We see him thumbing his steel abacus. The beads drifting toward the center. Natalie shakily lights up a cigarette. SHELLY Put that fucking thing out! Natalie, startled, drops her cigarettes. She kneels to gather them up. NATALIE Sorry. SHELLY You should be. You've gone and fucked it up big time. I paid you to be his cooze companion, not his fucking true love. But, no, you had to go and get all profound on the poor schmuck. (mimics female voice) "I love you, Bernie." You know what you've gone and done, sweetheart? Those four little words of endearment have already cost this casino a million and counting today. NATALIE I don't understand... SHELLY (jumps to his feet) Lady luck. You never heard'a lady luck?! That's what's goin' on out there. Lootz is Kryptonite on a stick. He should have 'em throwing ice cubes out there, but instead I got a fuckin' meltdown on my hands. Shelly walks around his desk to Natalie. SHELLY OK, here's what's gonna happen. You're outta his life by the time he gets home. Don't even tell him to his face, just leave a note. I'll make some calls, situate you at another joint. NATALIE I can't do that. SHELLY (right in her face) Excuse me? NATALIE It wasn't an act. I meant it. I love him. SHELLY (close to losing it) What's there to fuckin' love? He's a loser. Always has been, always will be. NATALIE I thought you were his friend... SHELLY And I thought you were a smart cookie when I picked you out. You do not want to fuck me over, darlin'. I'll see to it that your next John's a rattlesnake out in the desert. Now get the fuck outta here. Natalie rushes from the office in tears. Shelly closes his eyes for a moment -- gotta keep it together. INT. SHANGRI-LA CASINO - NIGHT Bernie approaches some cocktail waitresses about to go off duty. BERNIE Hi. Any of you seen Natalie around? I'm supposed to give her a ride home. COCKTAIL WAITRESS #1 I think she left already. She wasn't feelin' too good. We been covering for her. Off Bernie's expression: Oh... EXT. LUCKY STAR MOTEL - NIGHT Bernie's Buick pulls into the lot. He parks, heads for his room. INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT Bernie enters. Flips on the light. No Natalie. BERNIE (calls to the bathroom) Natalie? You in there? No answer. He heads over. Finds it empty. Concern spreads across his features. He glances around the room. Notices the closet wide open. Natalie's clothes missing. BERNIE (sotto) Natalie. That's when he catches sight of the note taped to the dresser mirror. He rushes over, rips it off. I'M SORRY BERNIE. I GUESS IT JUST WASN'T IN THE CARDS FOR US. TAKE CARE, NATALIE. Bernie slumps to the floor in disbelief. Starts to tremble. Then rocks back and forth, wracked by stifled sobs. Christ, make it stop hurting... DISSOLVE TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - LATER Bernie seated at the foot of the bed, drinking bourbon from

adroit

How many times the word 'adroit' appears in the text?

what Shangri- la is. Paradise. LARRY Yeah, we've all seen the movie. And your point is? Shelly whirls around, yells: SHELLY You don't fuck with paradise! All'a ya! NICKY Hey, Jesus, c'mon, Shelly. We're not trying to fuck with it. We're trying to make it better. SHELLY How... how, Nicky, could it be any better? Right now it's perfect. It's the last of its kind. It's pure... and this. (points to the model; weary) ...this is just... it's a mockery. An insult. Trying to make something of it that it isn't. LARRY What are you talking about? It's right outta the movie? SHELLY Whose talking about a fuckin' movie? This ain't a fuckin' movie. This is my life. This is my house of worship. You people are shittin' on all that's sacred to me. A tense silence ensues. Nicky, Larry and Marty exchange looks. SHELLY (tired laugh) I got just one question? Where you gonna be when they decide to change it back? When the people, they come looking for the real Vegas, from before all this Epcott Center bullshit. Who's gonna it give it to them? You guys? I don't think so. You know who? The same fucks who started this shit in the first place. It's all gonna come full circle and bite you in the ass. Mark my words. Shelly falls silent. Massages his forehead. Shit, that wasn't the way to handle it. Nicky gets up from the sofa, walks over to Shelly, places a hand on his shoulder. Shelly flinches, but doesn't pull away. NICKY You make some good points, Shelly. Maybe it'll swing back the other way, who knows? But the smart money suggests we roll the dice. I'm not gonna bullshit you; naturally there's gonna be a lot of restructuring in the months to come, but I want you to know, you'll always have a place with us. SHELLY Where's that? Behind the bar? MARTY (laughs) Behind the bar, that's a good one. NICKY I think you should take some time and think things through. All this, it's a lot to digest, y'know. MARTY Speaking of things to digest, I'm starving. How's that buffet they got in the Valley of the Blue Moon? You recommend their prime rib, Shell? Shelly stares right through Marty. Choke and die on it, motherfucker. SHELLY It's food. NICKY Hey, my arteries can use a workout. Lead us to the trough, Shell. Shelly nods at Nicky, then shifts his gaze to Larry. Larry's all smiles. He steps forward to join them, his hand dropping down and caressing the surface of Shelly's desk behind him. A subtle gesture not lost on Shelly. Shelly mentally unloads a full chamber into Larry's chest. Returns the smile. INT. CASINO - CRAPS TABLES - NIGHT As Shelly and the group pass a hot craps table, Nicky is drawn to it. NICKY Wait up a second... MARTY I thought we were gonna eat? Only now do we see Bernie has arrived to cool the table of its hot shooter -- A LOUD, pudgy, overdressed SUBURBANITE. Shelly eyes Bernie. SHELLY Maybe we wanna play over there. Less crowded. NICKY Nah, let's play here. This is my lucky table. I always play here. (to the others) Go on ahead. I know where to find you guys. Shelly signals Bernie to back off. Bernie steps back. Shelly, Larry and Marty head for the restaurant. Nicky quickly slaps down some green. The stickman slides the dice over to the suburbanite who is shooting. He scuttles the dice. They bounce up over the rail and spike Nicky on the forehead before dropping back on the felt. The players chuckle. STICKMAN Out! Seven, line away seven... Nicky rubs his forehead, glares at the suburbanite. He fires back. SUBURBANITE C"mon, pops! What the hell? I coulda paid my mortgage with the money I just lost. Nicky says nothing. The table is quickly cleared by the dealers. The stickman skips the next shooter and feeds the dice to Nicky. SHOOTER Hey? I'm supposed to be next... NICKY File a grievance, shithead. Suburbanite is still fuming over his loss. Nicky places a couple hundred on the passline. STICKMAN We're coming out. Crap Eleven, any seven. Nicky throws in some chips to the center. NICKY Hundred dollar big red. Suburbanite watches as Nicky runs through a lengthy pre-shot routine. Lots of hand jive and cuff shooting. SUBURBANITE Hurry it up, gramps. Your soup's getting cold. Nicky throws. STICKMAN Crap, Ace Deuce. Line down. The croupiers takes down the pass line. SUBURBANITE Hey, Busketti, maybe you should try shuffleboard. Nicky is fed the dice again. Same routine. Nicky just fires an incendiary look back at the suburbanite. SUBURBANITE Uncle Palsy? Shake'em this direction. Nicky throws. STICKMAN Four, hard four. The point is four. The players make their bets. SUBURBANITE Good now throw it before you fucking keel over and die, old man. Nicky slowly starts his routine defiantly. SUBURBANITE Happy birthday to me. Happy Birthday to me... Jesus, fuck, I'm another year older already. Nicky throws. STICKMAN OUT! Seven! Line away. Nicky claps his hands dealer style -- for effect -- and with a gentlemanly smile steps back from the table. Nicky's chips are quickly swept up by the croupier. SUBURBANITE Don't take it so hard, pops. Everybody craps out. Nicky locks eyes with the suburbanite. Then flashes a smile that suggests he's going to brush it off. He turns away from the table... SUBURBANITE Now go change your fucking Depends. Nicky makes like it's all in good jest. Yeah, that's real cute. He heads around the table to the suburbanite, holds out his hand as if to say: Hey, no hard feelings. The suburbanite shrugs. What the fuck? I was just playing with you, pops. He reaches for Nicky's hand... when Nicky suddenly headbutts him. Before anyone can react, Nicky starts laying into the suburbanite. The man goes down and. Nicky continues pummeling him... NICKY Who's laughing now, huh? ya fuckin! prick! C'mon, crack wise again... Ya fuckin' smooth as a Ken doll, no- dick, suburbanite scum. How's that for a game?! Shelly alerted to the fracas, rushes back to the table. He takes immediate control of the situation. Snaps his fingers at security. The suburbanite is whisked away with a pocketful of comps and a bruised ego. Shelly takes Nicky aside, attempts to calm him. Nicky keeps railing at Shelly: NICKY That ain't right, Shelly! Guy fucks up my game like that. Who the fuck does he think he is? SHELLY You're right. He's just a piece of shit. Forget about him. NICKY I thought this joint had more class. Used to be, we wouldn't even let bums like that in... Nicky catches himself. He looks at Shelly for a beat. There's an unspoken understanding between them. "The good old days." We see Bernie in the b.g., looking more than a bit shocked. INT. THE MAKAWAO BAR AND GRILL - NIGHT Bernie seated with Natalie. BERNIE This town... You know, Natalie, all I want to do is go some place where I can tell day from night. Where they got clocks on the wall. I can't breathe around here no more. Four days and I'm gone. I'm not even sure I can hold out that long. NATALIE (a beat) So where does that leave us? BERNIE A week ago, I didn't remember what it was like to have a woman's hands on me. I'm still pinching myself, expecting to wake-up from... (just blurts it out) Come with me, Natalie. I want you to come with me. NATALIE God, Bernie, that's... BERNIE I'm sorry. I didn't mean to spring that on you. NATALIE Bernie... I want to be with you. I do. But I don't know if I can leave with you. Bernie's look: Why? NATALIE I was working on a compatibility chart for the two of us. And it looks good, really, it does. BERNIE So, what's the problem? NATALIE That's with us here. In Vegas. Bernie's expression: Oh. NATALIE Maybe I was being presumptuous, 'cause I knew you were leaving... and I tried working it in different ways... It wasn't good, Bernie. I got scared. But that's just for now, for the immediate future. Once the planets realign, maybe a year from now... BERNIE Natalie... I can't... Not another year. Not another week. A somber mood falls on the table. Bernie reaches for Natalie's hand. Instead, he knocks the salt over. It spills out in front of them. BERNIE I think... we probably shouldn't see each other anymore. NATALIE Why, Bernie? We only got a couple days left together. Why not make the most of them? BERNIE (a long beat) Because if I spend one more night in your arms, I'm not going anywhere. NATALIE And that's so bad? Bernie just stares at her, shrouded in sadness. Natalie stubs out her cigarette, rises. NATALIE Take care, Bernie. Bernie casts his eyes to the mound of spilled salt in front of him. Nods. A few beats later he raises his head... BERNIE Natalie, don't... Gone. A WAITRESS appears. WAITRESS (O.S.) Get you another? BERNIE (nods) I think you better bring me the bottle. Please. INT. SHANGRI-LA HOTEL AND CASINO/BAR - NIGHT Once again, we see Bernie's feet limp across the casino floor. He walks up to the bar, asks for a cup of coffee. Doris brings it over. Short on the cream again. He just sips it black. Gloom and doom features. Life sucks. His master's VOICE sounds over the intercom: VOICE (V.O.) Chang, party of fifteen, your table is ready, Chang party of fifteen. Bernie looks to Doris. Sighs. Only three more days. INT. CASINO FLOOR - CRAPS TABLES - NIGHT He heads for the crap tables, the sound of raucous CHEERING becomes audible. A large crowd starting to gather. Bernie noodles his way to the front of the crowd. As soon as he gets a look at the heavy hitter at the table, he tenses up. Oh shit. It's MIKEY. With Charlene. Charlene is making one hell of a racket. Playing up her extremely maternal state. Just then Natalie sidles up to Bernie with the Chivas Regal. Without thinking about it, he grabs the glass off the tray, downs it in a single gulp. CHARLENE (clutching her tummy) Come on, Mikey. This is our future. Don't blow it. Mikey throws down a bet for the dealer. MIKEY Put this on the line for the boys. The stickman thanks him as they place the bet. Mikey throws down more money. We can see Mikey has bets all over the table. MIKEY With shoes! STICKMAN Dealer's got shoes. Hands high, the dice are out! The point is nine. CHARLENE Come on all you's. Put a good thought in for our baby! As everyone dotes over Charlene, Mikey quickly swaps the dice before anyone can see. He throws. STICKMAN Six the hard way! Mikey is paid nine thousand by the croupier, as is Charlene. Bernie stands frozen. He doesn't bother trying to get any closer to the table. He knows it'll do no good. CHARLENE Oh my god, I just felt him kick! He knows. He knows you're all pulling for him. God bless you all. Natalie looks over at Charlene. Their eyes meet for a second. It's as though Natalie knows it's a scam and Charlene's acknowledging it. Mikey throws again. STICKMAN Six the hard way! Look out, we got a shooter! Another nine grand. Mikey's rail is nearly full. Charlene hops around awkwardly causing more distraction. Bernie is really sweating it out now. Then Shelly arrives. Larry is hot on his tail. SHELLY How much? BERNIE Eighteen thousand since I stepped up. I'm sorry, Shelly, I guess I've been hit and miss lately. Shelly's expression tells us he isn't so sure. Something definitely isn't kosher. As Charlene chatters on, Mikey switches the dice back. Shelly makes him. SHELLY (sotto) Fucking amateurs... Mikey throws... STICKMAN Seven out! Line away. The players and crowd, though disappointed, applaud Mikey's achievement. MIKEY (bowing) I thank you. My wife thanks you. My unborn child thanks you. Mikey moves his rail of chips to the felt. MIKEY Color me up will ya? Larry notices Shelly slipping on a pair of leather gloves. LARRY You've gotta be kidding me. (off Shelly's steely glare) That's not how I propose we handle it. We'll turn the matter over to the authorities. They'll be blacklisted, their credit ruined... SHELLY (gets in Larry's face) And then we'll give 'em both a lollipop for the ride home. Come watch and learn, Harvard. A little lesson on how to protect your investment -- the old school way. Shelly walks over to Mikey and Charlene, Larry lingering behind him. SHELLY Hey, that was some run you had back there. MIKEY Uh, thanks. Just lucky I guess. Mikey steals a tense glance at Charlene. She starts to fidget nervously. SHELLY Why don't we go do this in my office? I don't like to hand out all this amount of cash on the floor. Security (Tony and Lou) corrals the couple. Leads them away. Bernie watches as they pass by. Mikey looks into Bernie's eyes. They both know he's been made. Natalie doesn't say anything, just looks at Bernie. INT. CASINO RECEIVING AREA - NIGHT Slot machines everywhere -- some on the way out, some on the way in. Crates of casino supplies. Bernie rushes in with Natalie behind him. Heading for an aural beacon of BLOWS landing on flesh... GRUNTING, PLEADING... ...arriving to find Tony and Lou kicking the shit out of Mikey on the floor. Charlene lies clutching her belly a few feet away. Shelly swings a baseball bat, warming up for some blood sport. Larry watches from the sidelines -- at once appalled and enthralled. CHARLENE Oh my God... I can feel the contractions coming on... Bernie rushes over to Shelly... BERNIE Shelly, stop them! Don't do this! SHELLY Get lost, Bernie, this got nothing to do with you. BERNIE It's got everything to do with me. He's my son. Everyone stops dead. Freeze frame. Shelly gets a weird look in his eye. A fuse has just been lit... SHELLY What did you say? BERNIE I said, he's my -- SHELLY Who? This little prick? Shelly smashes Mikey across the shoulder with the bat. AARRRGGGGHHH!!! Shelly raises the bat to cream Mikey again... Bernie grabs Shelly's arm. Shelly shoves him back. Raises the bat again... MIKEY Pop, help me... BERNIE Shelly, don't you fucking do it! Shelly freezes. He lowers the bat, throws it aside. Grabs Bernie by his collar... SHELLY Were you in on this? Jesus, you better come clean with me. BERNIE NO! God, no! I didn't know nothing about it. Shelly releases Bernie. There's a strange look in Shelly's eye. We see the wheels turning... SHELLY How much you think their lives are worth, Bernie? Myself, I don't think they're worth piss. But, hey, it ain't my kid... Bernie sees where Shelly's going with this. We can almost hear the cell door slamming in his head. SHELLY Let me see: they were up almost a hundred and fifty grand. That's 150 G's someone's gonna have to account for. What do you say, Bernie, seventy- five grand a piece? Bernie glances over at Natalie. She has tears in her eyes. He looks to Shelly pleadingly. Please don't do this... SHELLY Hey, I know you don't have that kind of cash. But, since you're a friend of the house, I'm willing to front you. BERNIE Shelly, they didn't get away with the money... You didn't lose anything... Shelly glances over at Lou, nods. Lou kicks Mikey in the face. His nose snaps like a twig. BERNIE Oh Jesus... Yes! All right. It's on me. 150 G's. Charlene clutches her belly, moans... CHARLENE Oh god, oh god... you gotta get me to the hospital... contractions... BERNIE Shelly, please help her. That's my grandson... SHELLY Hey, why don't we all break out the champagne? Lootz is about to become a granddaddy. (walks over to her) How you doin' there, sweetheart? Must hurt like crap, huh? CHARLENE (nods) Hurts so bad... SHELLY Yeah? Suddenly Shelly kicks Charlene in the belly! WHAM! She screeches out. NATALIE Oh God... BERNIE Jesus NOOOOO!!! Even Shelly's goons can't believe what they've just witnessed. Larry is aghast. Bernie rushes Shelly, starts raining blows on him. Shelly swats him off. He drops down next to the squirming girl, rips her sweater and blouse up over her stomach... ...to reveal a mound of fake padding. He tears the padding away from her, throws it at Bernie. SHELLY Here! It's a fuckin' boy. Anyone got a cigar? The muscle start laughing it up. Relief. Larry emits a nervous giggle. Natalie's jaw hits the floor. Bernie takes a step back. He's about to go into serious shock. Charlene curls over, sobbing. SHELLY (to Bernie) You sure you still want to be good for it? Because if you want to change your mind, I don't blame you. Bernie looks over at Mikey. He stares up at his father, trembling. MIKEY I'll make it up to you, Pop, I swear... Bernie holds his son's gaze for a beat. He's almost tempted to... He just shrugs and nods at Shelly. BERNIE It's on me. SHELLY (shakes his head) That's the worst fucking call you ever made in your life. ON NATALIE at that moment. We can tell she agrees with Shelly... but thinks all the more of Bernie for it. That might even be love in her eyes. Shelly snatches his baseball bat up off the floor. Walks over to Mikey, and brings it down full force, pulverizing Mikey's left kneecap. Oh man, the scream... BERNIE What are you doing?! I thought we had -- SHELLY 150 G's buys their lives. This is just a little slap on the wrist to remember me by. Natalie turns her head. She's about to throw up. Larry watches, unflinchingly. Charlene is making with some serious pleading now. CHARLENE Oh god... it wasn't my idea. Shelly steps up to Charlene, tapping the base of the bat in the palm of his hand. He smiles reassuringly at her. SHELLY You know, motherhood is a beautiful thing. This... you made a mockery out of it. Maybe you'll get to experience it for real one day. CHARLENE (nods, sobbing) I want... to be a mother... please don't hurt me... SHELLY I'm not going to hurt you. Shelly turns his back on her. Charlene starts sobbing relief. They're not going to hurt her. It's going to be all right. Wrong. Shelly throws the bat to Lou. The heavy steps up to the plate (as we RACK FOCUS to Shelly walking away) -- CRUNCH!!! followed by the girl's SHRIEKS. Natalie buries her head in Bernie's shoulder. SHELLY (to Tony and Lou) Get 'em outta here. You ever see them in this joint again, kill 'em. SHELLY (to Bernie and Natalie) You two, you're still on shift. Shelly catches Larry's eye: I hope you were taking notes. INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT Bernie's seated on the edge of his bed, drowning his sorrows with a bottle of gin. Moonlight paints him in jail bars of shadow. Natalie lingers in the b.g. BERNIE I did this to myself. I planted the seed. When Angela took off with Mikey, I didn't... I never made an effort to get back in his life. I figured, the kid don't need a loser for a father. Now it's all come full circle. I give him the money, I open the door to all this... I musta had it coming. Payback. Natalie's hand lowers the needle onto the Sinatra record. "Nice 'n' Easy" starts up. She walks over to Bernie, takes the bottle away. Helps him to his feet. He gives himself over to her reassuring embrace. Natalie raises Bernie's face to her's. NATALIE Bernie, it's a big world out there. If you just took off -- if we took off. Bernie shakes his head. It's too late for that now. DISSOLVE TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - LATER - NIGHT Natalie staring up at the ceiling, Bernie nuzzled against her. Her features appear softer than ever. Luminous in the moonlight. Realization moist in her eyes. NATALIE You awake, Bernie? He grunts something inaudible. NATALIE I -- think I love you. Bernie tenses up. Huh? NATALIE No, I don't think. I'm pretty certain of it. Bernie raises his head, not quite sure he heard her right. Natalie sits up, hugs her knees. Bernie finds himself staring at her back. NATALIE You blind-sided me, Bernie Lootz. I never saw this coming. You shouldn't do that to a girl. Bernie reaches out, caresses her back. She emits a shiver... NATALIE There's still things you don't know... should know... I don't want to ruin it... Bernie pulls Natalie back toward him. BERNIE It won't make any difference, Natalie. Whatever you come clean about, I'm not gonna feel any different about you. I'd say the words, but with my luck... NATALIE Say 'em anyway. To hell with rotten luck. That's overs. BERNIE (a beat) I love you, Natalie. Natalie smothers her lips against Bernie's. He enshrouds her in his arms. Fade out... INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - DAY Fade into SOFT FOCUS. Slowing taking form... A CAT'S FACE seen in extreme close-up. WIDER -- to reveal the cat resting on Bernie's chest. She MEOWS as he stirs awake. He's stunned to see her there. BERNIE Trixie? The cat jumps off his chest and slinks over to her empty food bowl. Meows again. Bernie breaks into a wide smile. BERNIE Trix. You came back. Bernie shields his eyes from the bright sunlight streaming in through the blinds. Huh? This is a first for him. He's never gotten direct sunlight in his room before. What's the deal? Did the world just turn on its axis? He glances over his shoulder... No Natalie. Just her impression in the sheets. And a note on her pillow. For a moment his heart stops. He conjures up the worst. Grabs up the note, unfolds it. We see a lipstick kiss and the words: HAVE A SPECTACULAR DAY! Bernie lets out a joyful whoop! Leaps out of bed... SMASH CUT TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - CONTINUOUS - DAY CLOSE-UP: Trixie eating some tuna out of her bowl. We hear the record player needle drop on "Luck Be A Lady." Cut to: Bernie's feet gliding around the room... PAN UP to Bernie dancing with himself. He's positively aglow. He snatches up a salt shaker and sings along with Sinatra. It's true -- love makes the world go around. It obviously also gives life to dead plants, as evidenced by the small bulb that has sprung up overnight above his radiator. But we won't dwell on that. INT. SHANGRI-LA HOTEL AND CASINO - DAY Bernie struts into the casino a changed man (still to the tune of "Luck Be a Lady"). Even his limp seems less pronounced as he greets fellow workers as they pass. He catches a glimpse of himself in a wall mirror. Maybe for the first time, he likes what he sees. In the reflection he notices Natalie smiling at him. He meets her eyes. She averts them quickly, keeps walking. INT. SHELLY'S OFFICE - THAT MOMENT Shelly watches Bernie from the video monitor. He appears less than delighted over Bernie's sunny disposition. He picks up the phone, dials. SHELLY (into phone) Yeah, it's me. Get Bernie over to crap table six. INT. CASINO FLOOR - NIGHT Per usual, Bernie walks up to the bar, asks for a cup of coffee. Doris slides it over. BERNIE (looking around) Got any cre -- Before he can answer, Doris hands him a container of cream. A full container. Taken aback, he starts pouring it into his cup, when he hears a VOICE over the intercom: VOICE (V.O.) Lovett, party of six, your table is ready, Lovett, party of six. Bernie looks to Doris. BERNIE Duty calls. INT. CASINO - MONTAGE - MOMENTS LATER A -- Bernie arrives at a hundred dollar blackjack table just in time for the dealer to bust out. The crowd goes crazy! B -- Bernie takes a break by leaning up against the side of a slot machine. Suddenly, the woman playing it hits a jackpot. C -- Everywhere he seems to go, people continue to win. D -- Bernie, despite the spooky irony, can't help but smile as mountains of chips pile up on the tables. Shelly appears behind him. Not a happy camper. He gestures Bernie to follow him. INT. CASINO SLOTS AREA - NIGHT They head over to a section of slots. As they pass one of those huge million dollar slots, the FLOOR MANAGER cuts in front of them. FLOOR MANAGER Hey, Shelly, check it out. The new Mega-Million. I call her Marnie, 'cause she's one frigid broad. Sure, once in a while she'll flash you a bit of tit, but your chances of hitting a home run -- one in twenty million. Here, give her a shot... He hands Shelly a cup of quarters, takes off. Shelly looks to Bernie. He's trying to keep a lid on his anger. SHELLY (feeding Marnie quarters) You wanna tell me what's going on out there? BERNIE I don't know... Shelly pulls the lever. SHELLY What do you mean... Marnie immediately spits out a small jackpot. SHELLY (reacts with surprise) What do you mean, you don't know? We're down almost a mil out there. Doesn't seem strange to you? BERNIE (shrugs) Guess I'm having an off day. SHELLY You don't have off days, Lootz. You're shitty luck incarnate. What's wrong? You coming down with something? You've got this look about you... Shelly starts feeding Marnie again. BERNIE Nothing's wrong. Fact is, I've never felt better. SHELLY What's that supposed to mean? BERNIE She loves me, Shelly. She told me last night. Natalie. On the mention of Natalie's name, we hear a shrieking SIREN, followed by a deafening toll of slot bells. Shelly's just landed the million dollar jackpot. Shelly stares at the slot in surprise -- then looks over at Bernie. Realization hits hard. Fuck! The floor manager staggers over. His expression is priceless. FLOOR MANAGER Sweet Jesus... you popped her cherries. SEVERAL CASINO WORKERS have gathered to witness the deflowering of Marnie. They gaze reverently upon her, as if witnessing the "Close Encounters" mothership for the first time. Shelly drags Bernie out of earshot. SHELLY Natalie? She told you, she loves you? Bernie nods, a huge grin wrenching his cheeks apart. He's about to go helium on us. INT. CASINO FLOOR - NIGHT Natalie's serving drinks to a table of high rollers, when Tony and Lou appear behind her... INT. SHELLY'S OFFICE - NIGHT The door to Shelly's office slams behind Natalie. Shelly glares at her from behind his desk. We see him thumbing his steel abacus. The beads drifting toward the center. Natalie shakily lights up a cigarette. SHELLY Put that fucking thing out! Natalie, startled, drops her cigarettes. She kneels to gather them up. NATALIE Sorry. SHELLY You should be. You've gone and fucked it up big time. I paid you to be his cooze companion, not his fucking true love. But, no, you had to go and get all profound on the poor schmuck. (mimics female voice) "I love you, Bernie." You know what you've gone and done, sweetheart? Those four little words of endearment have already cost this casino a million and counting today. NATALIE I don't understand... SHELLY (jumps to his feet) Lady luck. You never heard'a lady luck?! That's what's goin' on out there. Lootz is Kryptonite on a stick. He should have 'em throwing ice cubes out there, but instead I got a fuckin' meltdown on my hands. Shelly walks around his desk to Natalie. SHELLY OK, here's what's gonna happen. You're outta his life by the time he gets home. Don't even tell him to his face, just leave a note. I'll make some calls, situate you at another joint. NATALIE I can't do that. SHELLY (right in her face) Excuse me? NATALIE It wasn't an act. I meant it. I love him. SHELLY (close to losing it) What's there to fuckin' love? He's a loser. Always has been, always will be. NATALIE I thought you were his friend... SHELLY And I thought you were a smart cookie when I picked you out. You do not want to fuck me over, darlin'. I'll see to it that your next John's a rattlesnake out in the desert. Now get the fuck outta here. Natalie rushes from the office in tears. Shelly closes his eyes for a moment -- gotta keep it together. INT. SHANGRI-LA CASINO - NIGHT Bernie approaches some cocktail waitresses about to go off duty. BERNIE Hi. Any of you seen Natalie around? I'm supposed to give her a ride home. COCKTAIL WAITRESS #1 I think she left already. She wasn't feelin' too good. We been covering for her. Off Bernie's expression: Oh... EXT. LUCKY STAR MOTEL - NIGHT Bernie's Buick pulls into the lot. He parks, heads for his room. INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT Bernie enters. Flips on the light. No Natalie. BERNIE (calls to the bathroom) Natalie? You in there? No answer. He heads over. Finds it empty. Concern spreads across his features. He glances around the room. Notices the closet wide open. Natalie's clothes missing. BERNIE (sotto) Natalie. That's when he catches sight of the note taped to the dresser mirror. He rushes over, rips it off. I'M SORRY BERNIE. I GUESS IT JUST WASN'T IN THE CARDS FOR US. TAKE CARE, NATALIE. Bernie slumps to the floor in disbelief. Starts to tremble. Then rocks back and forth, wracked by stifled sobs. Christ, make it stop hurting... DISSOLVE TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - LATER Bernie seated at the foot of the bed, drinking bourbon from

converse

How many times the word 'converse' appears in the text?

what Shangri- la is. Paradise. LARRY Yeah, we've all seen the movie. And your point is? Shelly whirls around, yells: SHELLY You don't fuck with paradise! All'a ya! NICKY Hey, Jesus, c'mon, Shelly. We're not trying to fuck with it. We're trying to make it better. SHELLY How... how, Nicky, could it be any better? Right now it's perfect. It's the last of its kind. It's pure... and this. (points to the model; weary) ...this is just... it's a mockery. An insult. Trying to make something of it that it isn't. LARRY What are you talking about? It's right outta the movie? SHELLY Whose talking about a fuckin' movie? This ain't a fuckin' movie. This is my life. This is my house of worship. You people are shittin' on all that's sacred to me. A tense silence ensues. Nicky, Larry and Marty exchange looks. SHELLY (tired laugh) I got just one question? Where you gonna be when they decide to change it back? When the people, they come looking for the real Vegas, from before all this Epcott Center bullshit. Who's gonna it give it to them? You guys? I don't think so. You know who? The same fucks who started this shit in the first place. It's all gonna come full circle and bite you in the ass. Mark my words. Shelly falls silent. Massages his forehead. Shit, that wasn't the way to handle it. Nicky gets up from the sofa, walks over to Shelly, places a hand on his shoulder. Shelly flinches, but doesn't pull away. NICKY You make some good points, Shelly. Maybe it'll swing back the other way, who knows? But the smart money suggests we roll the dice. I'm not gonna bullshit you; naturally there's gonna be a lot of restructuring in the months to come, but I want you to know, you'll always have a place with us. SHELLY Where's that? Behind the bar? MARTY (laughs) Behind the bar, that's a good one. NICKY I think you should take some time and think things through. All this, it's a lot to digest, y'know. MARTY Speaking of things to digest, I'm starving. How's that buffet they got in the Valley of the Blue Moon? You recommend their prime rib, Shell? Shelly stares right through Marty. Choke and die on it, motherfucker. SHELLY It's food. NICKY Hey, my arteries can use a workout. Lead us to the trough, Shell. Shelly nods at Nicky, then shifts his gaze to Larry. Larry's all smiles. He steps forward to join them, his hand dropping down and caressing the surface of Shelly's desk behind him. A subtle gesture not lost on Shelly. Shelly mentally unloads a full chamber into Larry's chest. Returns the smile. INT. CASINO - CRAPS TABLES - NIGHT As Shelly and the group pass a hot craps table, Nicky is drawn to it. NICKY Wait up a second... MARTY I thought we were gonna eat? Only now do we see Bernie has arrived to cool the table of its hot shooter -- A LOUD, pudgy, overdressed SUBURBANITE. Shelly eyes Bernie. SHELLY Maybe we wanna play over there. Less crowded. NICKY Nah, let's play here. This is my lucky table. I always play here. (to the others) Go on ahead. I know where to find you guys. Shelly signals Bernie to back off. Bernie steps back. Shelly, Larry and Marty head for the restaurant. Nicky quickly slaps down some green. The stickman slides the dice over to the suburbanite who is shooting. He scuttles the dice. They bounce up over the rail and spike Nicky on the forehead before dropping back on the felt. The players chuckle. STICKMAN Out! Seven, line away seven... Nicky rubs his forehead, glares at the suburbanite. He fires back. SUBURBANITE C"mon, pops! What the hell? I coulda paid my mortgage with the money I just lost. Nicky says nothing. The table is quickly cleared by the dealers. The stickman skips the next shooter and feeds the dice to Nicky. SHOOTER Hey? I'm supposed to be next... NICKY File a grievance, shithead. Suburbanite is still fuming over his loss. Nicky places a couple hundred on the passline. STICKMAN We're coming out. Crap Eleven, any seven. Nicky throws in some chips to the center. NICKY Hundred dollar big red. Suburbanite watches as Nicky runs through a lengthy pre-shot routine. Lots of hand jive and cuff shooting. SUBURBANITE Hurry it up, gramps. Your soup's getting cold. Nicky throws. STICKMAN Crap, Ace Deuce. Line down. The croupiers takes down the pass line. SUBURBANITE Hey, Busketti, maybe you should try shuffleboard. Nicky is fed the dice again. Same routine. Nicky just fires an incendiary look back at the suburbanite. SUBURBANITE Uncle Palsy? Shake'em this direction. Nicky throws. STICKMAN Four, hard four. The point is four. The players make their bets. SUBURBANITE Good now throw it before you fucking keel over and die, old man. Nicky slowly starts his routine defiantly. SUBURBANITE Happy birthday to me. Happy Birthday to me... Jesus, fuck, I'm another year older already. Nicky throws. STICKMAN OUT! Seven! Line away. Nicky claps his hands dealer style -- for effect -- and with a gentlemanly smile steps back from the table. Nicky's chips are quickly swept up by the croupier. SUBURBANITE Don't take it so hard, pops. Everybody craps out. Nicky locks eyes with the suburbanite. Then flashes a smile that suggests he's going to brush it off. He turns away from the table... SUBURBANITE Now go change your fucking Depends. Nicky makes like it's all in good jest. Yeah, that's real cute. He heads around the table to the suburbanite, holds out his hand as if to say: Hey, no hard feelings. The suburbanite shrugs. What the fuck? I was just playing with you, pops. He reaches for Nicky's hand... when Nicky suddenly headbutts him. Before anyone can react, Nicky starts laying into the suburbanite. The man goes down and. Nicky continues pummeling him... NICKY Who's laughing now, huh? ya fuckin! prick! C'mon, crack wise again... Ya fuckin' smooth as a Ken doll, no- dick, suburbanite scum. How's that for a game?! Shelly alerted to the fracas, rushes back to the table. He takes immediate control of the situation. Snaps his fingers at security. The suburbanite is whisked away with a pocketful of comps and a bruised ego. Shelly takes Nicky aside, attempts to calm him. Nicky keeps railing at Shelly: NICKY That ain't right, Shelly! Guy fucks up my game like that. Who the fuck does he think he is? SHELLY You're right. He's just a piece of shit. Forget about him. NICKY I thought this joint had more class. Used to be, we wouldn't even let bums like that in... Nicky catches himself. He looks at Shelly for a beat. There's an unspoken understanding between them. "The good old days." We see Bernie in the b.g., looking more than a bit shocked. INT. THE MAKAWAO BAR AND GRILL - NIGHT Bernie seated with Natalie. BERNIE This town... You know, Natalie, all I want to do is go some place where I can tell day from night. Where they got clocks on the wall. I can't breathe around here no more. Four days and I'm gone. I'm not even sure I can hold out that long. NATALIE (a beat) So where does that leave us? BERNIE A week ago, I didn't remember what it was like to have a woman's hands on me. I'm still pinching myself, expecting to wake-up from... (just blurts it out) Come with me, Natalie. I want you to come with me. NATALIE God, Bernie, that's... BERNIE I'm sorry. I didn't mean to spring that on you. NATALIE Bernie... I want to be with you. I do. But I don't know if I can leave with you. Bernie's look: Why? NATALIE I was working on a compatibility chart for the two of us. And it looks good, really, it does. BERNIE So, what's the problem? NATALIE That's with us here. In Vegas. Bernie's expression: Oh. NATALIE Maybe I was being presumptuous, 'cause I knew you were leaving... and I tried working it in different ways... It wasn't good, Bernie. I got scared. But that's just for now, for the immediate future. Once the planets realign, maybe a year from now... BERNIE Natalie... I can't... Not another year. Not another week. A somber mood falls on the table. Bernie reaches for Natalie's hand. Instead, he knocks the salt over. It spills out in front of them. BERNIE I think... we probably shouldn't see each other anymore. NATALIE Why, Bernie? We only got a couple days left together. Why not make the most of them? BERNIE (a long beat) Because if I spend one more night in your arms, I'm not going anywhere. NATALIE And that's so bad? Bernie just stares at her, shrouded in sadness. Natalie stubs out her cigarette, rises. NATALIE Take care, Bernie. Bernie casts his eyes to the mound of spilled salt in front of him. Nods. A few beats later he raises his head... BERNIE Natalie, don't... Gone. A WAITRESS appears. WAITRESS (O.S.) Get you another? BERNIE (nods) I think you better bring me the bottle. Please. INT. SHANGRI-LA HOTEL AND CASINO/BAR - NIGHT Once again, we see Bernie's feet limp across the casino floor. He walks up to the bar, asks for a cup of coffee. Doris brings it over. Short on the cream again. He just sips it black. Gloom and doom features. Life sucks. His master's VOICE sounds over the intercom: VOICE (V.O.) Chang, party of fifteen, your table is ready, Chang party of fifteen. Bernie looks to Doris. Sighs. Only three more days. INT. CASINO FLOOR - CRAPS TABLES - NIGHT He heads for the crap tables, the sound of raucous CHEERING becomes audible. A large crowd starting to gather. Bernie noodles his way to the front of the crowd. As soon as he gets a look at the heavy hitter at the table, he tenses up. Oh shit. It's MIKEY. With Charlene. Charlene is making one hell of a racket. Playing up her extremely maternal state. Just then Natalie sidles up to Bernie with the Chivas Regal. Without thinking about it, he grabs the glass off the tray, downs it in a single gulp. CHARLENE (clutching her tummy) Come on, Mikey. This is our future. Don't blow it. Mikey throws down a bet for the dealer. MIKEY Put this on the line for the boys. The stickman thanks him as they place the bet. Mikey throws down more money. We can see Mikey has bets all over the table. MIKEY With shoes! STICKMAN Dealer's got shoes. Hands high, the dice are out! The point is nine. CHARLENE Come on all you's. Put a good thought in for our baby! As everyone dotes over Charlene, Mikey quickly swaps the dice before anyone can see. He throws. STICKMAN Six the hard way! Mikey is paid nine thousand by the croupier, as is Charlene. Bernie stands frozen. He doesn't bother trying to get any closer to the table. He knows it'll do no good. CHARLENE Oh my god, I just felt him kick! He knows. He knows you're all pulling for him. God bless you all. Natalie looks over at Charlene. Their eyes meet for a second. It's as though Natalie knows it's a scam and Charlene's acknowledging it. Mikey throws again. STICKMAN Six the hard way! Look out, we got a shooter! Another nine grand. Mikey's rail is nearly full. Charlene hops around awkwardly causing more distraction. Bernie is really sweating it out now. Then Shelly arrives. Larry is hot on his tail. SHELLY How much? BERNIE Eighteen thousand since I stepped up. I'm sorry, Shelly, I guess I've been hit and miss lately. Shelly's expression tells us he isn't so sure. Something definitely isn't kosher. As Charlene chatters on, Mikey switches the dice back. Shelly makes him. SHELLY (sotto) Fucking amateurs... Mikey throws... STICKMAN Seven out! Line away. The players and crowd, though disappointed, applaud Mikey's achievement. MIKEY (bowing) I thank you. My wife thanks you. My unborn child thanks you. Mikey moves his rail of chips to the felt. MIKEY Color me up will ya? Larry notices Shelly slipping on a pair of leather gloves. LARRY You've gotta be kidding me. (off Shelly's steely glare) That's not how I propose we handle it. We'll turn the matter over to the authorities. They'll be blacklisted, their credit ruined... SHELLY (gets in Larry's face) And then we'll give 'em both a lollipop for the ride home. Come watch and learn, Harvard. A little lesson on how to protect your investment -- the old school way. Shelly walks over to Mikey and Charlene, Larry lingering behind him. SHELLY Hey, that was some run you had back there. MIKEY Uh, thanks. Just lucky I guess. Mikey steals a tense glance at Charlene. She starts to fidget nervously. SHELLY Why don't we go do this in my office? I don't like to hand out all this amount of cash on the floor. Security (Tony and Lou) corrals the couple. Leads them away. Bernie watches as they pass by. Mikey looks into Bernie's eyes. They both know he's been made. Natalie doesn't say anything, just looks at Bernie. INT. CASINO RECEIVING AREA - NIGHT Slot machines everywhere -- some on the way out, some on the way in. Crates of casino supplies. Bernie rushes in with Natalie behind him. Heading for an aural beacon of BLOWS landing on flesh... GRUNTING, PLEADING... ...arriving to find Tony and Lou kicking the shit out of Mikey on the floor. Charlene lies clutching her belly a few feet away. Shelly swings a baseball bat, warming up for some blood sport. Larry watches from the sidelines -- at once appalled and enthralled. CHARLENE Oh my God... I can feel the contractions coming on... Bernie rushes over to Shelly... BERNIE Shelly, stop them! Don't do this! SHELLY Get lost, Bernie, this got nothing to do with you. BERNIE It's got everything to do with me. He's my son. Everyone stops dead. Freeze frame. Shelly gets a weird look in his eye. A fuse has just been lit... SHELLY What did you say? BERNIE I said, he's my -- SHELLY Who? This little prick? Shelly smashes Mikey across the shoulder with the bat. AARRRGGGGHHH!!! Shelly raises the bat to cream Mikey again... Bernie grabs Shelly's arm. Shelly shoves him back. Raises the bat again... MIKEY Pop, help me... BERNIE Shelly, don't you fucking do it! Shelly freezes. He lowers the bat, throws it aside. Grabs Bernie by his collar... SHELLY Were you in on this? Jesus, you better come clean with me. BERNIE NO! God, no! I didn't know nothing about it. Shelly releases Bernie. There's a strange look in Shelly's eye. We see the wheels turning... SHELLY How much you think their lives are worth, Bernie? Myself, I don't think they're worth piss. But, hey, it ain't my kid... Bernie sees where Shelly's going with this. We can almost hear the cell door slamming in his head. SHELLY Let me see: they were up almost a hundred and fifty grand. That's 150 G's someone's gonna have to account for. What do you say, Bernie, seventy- five grand a piece? Bernie glances over at Natalie. She has tears in her eyes. He looks to Shelly pleadingly. Please don't do this... SHELLY Hey, I know you don't have that kind of cash. But, since you're a friend of the house, I'm willing to front you. BERNIE Shelly, they didn't get away with the money... You didn't lose anything... Shelly glances over at Lou, nods. Lou kicks Mikey in the face. His nose snaps like a twig. BERNIE Oh Jesus... Yes! All right. It's on me. 150 G's. Charlene clutches her belly, moans... CHARLENE Oh god, oh god... you gotta get me to the hospital... contractions... BERNIE Shelly, please help her. That's my grandson... SHELLY Hey, why don't we all break out the champagne? Lootz is about to become a granddaddy. (walks over to her) How you doin' there, sweetheart? Must hurt like crap, huh? CHARLENE (nods) Hurts so bad... SHELLY Yeah? Suddenly Shelly kicks Charlene in the belly! WHAM! She screeches out. NATALIE Oh God... BERNIE Jesus NOOOOO!!! Even Shelly's goons can't believe what they've just witnessed. Larry is aghast. Bernie rushes Shelly, starts raining blows on him. Shelly swats him off. He drops down next to the squirming girl, rips her sweater and blouse up over her stomach... ...to reveal a mound of fake padding. He tears the padding away from her, throws it at Bernie. SHELLY Here! It's a fuckin' boy. Anyone got a cigar? The muscle start laughing it up. Relief. Larry emits a nervous giggle. Natalie's jaw hits the floor. Bernie takes a step back. He's about to go into serious shock. Charlene curls over, sobbing. SHELLY (to Bernie) You sure you still want to be good for it? Because if you want to change your mind, I don't blame you. Bernie looks over at Mikey. He stares up at his father, trembling. MIKEY I'll make it up to you, Pop, I swear... Bernie holds his son's gaze for a beat. He's almost tempted to... He just shrugs and nods at Shelly. BERNIE It's on me. SHELLY (shakes his head) That's the worst fucking call you ever made in your life. ON NATALIE at that moment. We can tell she agrees with Shelly... but thinks all the more of Bernie for it. That might even be love in her eyes. Shelly snatches his baseball bat up off the floor. Walks over to Mikey, and brings it down full force, pulverizing Mikey's left kneecap. Oh man, the scream... BERNIE What are you doing?! I thought we had -- SHELLY 150 G's buys their lives. This is just a little slap on the wrist to remember me by. Natalie turns her head. She's about to throw up. Larry watches, unflinchingly. Charlene is making with some serious pleading now. CHARLENE Oh god... it wasn't my idea. Shelly steps up to Charlene, tapping the base of the bat in the palm of his hand. He smiles reassuringly at her. SHELLY You know, motherhood is a beautiful thing. This... you made a mockery out of it. Maybe you'll get to experience it for real one day. CHARLENE (nods, sobbing) I want... to be a mother... please don't hurt me... SHELLY I'm not going to hurt you. Shelly turns his back on her. Charlene starts sobbing relief. They're not going to hurt her. It's going to be all right. Wrong. Shelly throws the bat to Lou. The heavy steps up to the plate (as we RACK FOCUS to Shelly walking away) -- CRUNCH!!! followed by the girl's SHRIEKS. Natalie buries her head in Bernie's shoulder. SHELLY (to Tony and Lou) Get 'em outta here. You ever see them in this joint again, kill 'em. SHELLY (to Bernie and Natalie) You two, you're still on shift. Shelly catches Larry's eye: I hope you were taking notes. INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT Bernie's seated on the edge of his bed, drowning his sorrows with a bottle of gin. Moonlight paints him in jail bars of shadow. Natalie lingers in the b.g. BERNIE I did this to myself. I planted the seed. When Angela took off with Mikey, I didn't... I never made an effort to get back in his life. I figured, the kid don't need a loser for a father. Now it's all come full circle. I give him the money, I open the door to all this... I musta had it coming. Payback. Natalie's hand lowers the needle onto the Sinatra record. "Nice 'n' Easy" starts up. She walks over to Bernie, takes the bottle away. Helps him to his feet. He gives himself over to her reassuring embrace. Natalie raises Bernie's face to her's. NATALIE Bernie, it's a big world out there. If you just took off -- if we took off. Bernie shakes his head. It's too late for that now. DISSOLVE TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - LATER - NIGHT Natalie staring up at the ceiling, Bernie nuzzled against her. Her features appear softer than ever. Luminous in the moonlight. Realization moist in her eyes. NATALIE You awake, Bernie? He grunts something inaudible. NATALIE I -- think I love you. Bernie tenses up. Huh? NATALIE No, I don't think. I'm pretty certain of it. Bernie raises his head, not quite sure he heard her right. Natalie sits up, hugs her knees. Bernie finds himself staring at her back. NATALIE You blind-sided me, Bernie Lootz. I never saw this coming. You shouldn't do that to a girl. Bernie reaches out, caresses her back. She emits a shiver... NATALIE There's still things you don't know... should know... I don't want to ruin it... Bernie pulls Natalie back toward him. BERNIE It won't make any difference, Natalie. Whatever you come clean about, I'm not gonna feel any different about you. I'd say the words, but with my luck... NATALIE Say 'em anyway. To hell with rotten luck. That's overs. BERNIE (a beat) I love you, Natalie. Natalie smothers her lips against Bernie's. He enshrouds her in his arms. Fade out... INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - DAY Fade into SOFT FOCUS. Slowing taking form... A CAT'S FACE seen in extreme close-up. WIDER -- to reveal the cat resting on Bernie's chest. She MEOWS as he stirs awake. He's stunned to see her there. BERNIE Trixie? The cat jumps off his chest and slinks over to her empty food bowl. Meows again. Bernie breaks into a wide smile. BERNIE Trix. You came back. Bernie shields his eyes from the bright sunlight streaming in through the blinds. Huh? This is a first for him. He's never gotten direct sunlight in his room before. What's the deal? Did the world just turn on its axis? He glances over his shoulder... No Natalie. Just her impression in the sheets. And a note on her pillow. For a moment his heart stops. He conjures up the worst. Grabs up the note, unfolds it. We see a lipstick kiss and the words: HAVE A SPECTACULAR DAY! Bernie lets out a joyful whoop! Leaps out of bed... SMASH CUT TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - CONTINUOUS - DAY CLOSE-UP: Trixie eating some tuna out of her bowl. We hear the record player needle drop on "Luck Be A Lady." Cut to: Bernie's feet gliding around the room... PAN UP to Bernie dancing with himself. He's positively aglow. He snatches up a salt shaker and sings along with Sinatra. It's true -- love makes the world go around. It obviously also gives life to dead plants, as evidenced by the small bulb that has sprung up overnight above his radiator. But we won't dwell on that. INT. SHANGRI-LA HOTEL AND CASINO - DAY Bernie struts into the casino a changed man (still to the tune of "Luck Be a Lady"). Even his limp seems less pronounced as he greets fellow workers as they pass. He catches a glimpse of himself in a wall mirror. Maybe for the first time, he likes what he sees. In the reflection he notices Natalie smiling at him. He meets her eyes. She averts them quickly, keeps walking. INT. SHELLY'S OFFICE - THAT MOMENT Shelly watches Bernie from the video monitor. He appears less than delighted over Bernie's sunny disposition. He picks up the phone, dials. SHELLY (into phone) Yeah, it's me. Get Bernie over to crap table six. INT. CASINO FLOOR - NIGHT Per usual, Bernie walks up to the bar, asks for a cup of coffee. Doris slides it over. BERNIE (looking around) Got any cre -- Before he can answer, Doris hands him a container of cream. A full container. Taken aback, he starts pouring it into his cup, when he hears a VOICE over the intercom: VOICE (V.O.) Lovett, party of six, your table is ready, Lovett, party of six. Bernie looks to Doris. BERNIE Duty calls. INT. CASINO - MONTAGE - MOMENTS LATER A -- Bernie arrives at a hundred dollar blackjack table just in time for the dealer to bust out. The crowd goes crazy! B -- Bernie takes a break by leaning up against the side of a slot machine. Suddenly, the woman playing it hits a jackpot. C -- Everywhere he seems to go, people continue to win. D -- Bernie, despite the spooky irony, can't help but smile as mountains of chips pile up on the tables. Shelly appears behind him. Not a happy camper. He gestures Bernie to follow him. INT. CASINO SLOTS AREA - NIGHT They head over to a section of slots. As they pass one of those huge million dollar slots, the FLOOR MANAGER cuts in front of them. FLOOR MANAGER Hey, Shelly, check it out. The new Mega-Million. I call her Marnie, 'cause she's one frigid broad. Sure, once in a while she'll flash you a bit of tit, but your chances of hitting a home run -- one in twenty million. Here, give her a shot... He hands Shelly a cup of quarters, takes off. Shelly looks to Bernie. He's trying to keep a lid on his anger. SHELLY (feeding Marnie quarters) You wanna tell me what's going on out there? BERNIE I don't know... Shelly pulls the lever. SHELLY What do you mean... Marnie immediately spits out a small jackpot. SHELLY (reacts with surprise) What do you mean, you don't know? We're down almost a mil out there. Doesn't seem strange to you? BERNIE (shrugs) Guess I'm having an off day. SHELLY You don't have off days, Lootz. You're shitty luck incarnate. What's wrong? You coming down with something? You've got this look about you... Shelly starts feeding Marnie again. BERNIE Nothing's wrong. Fact is, I've never felt better. SHELLY What's that supposed to mean? BERNIE She loves me, Shelly. She told me last night. Natalie. On the mention of Natalie's name, we hear a shrieking SIREN, followed by a deafening toll of slot bells. Shelly's just landed the million dollar jackpot. Shelly stares at the slot in surprise -- then looks over at Bernie. Realization hits hard. Fuck! The floor manager staggers over. His expression is priceless. FLOOR MANAGER Sweet Jesus... you popped her cherries. SEVERAL CASINO WORKERS have gathered to witness the deflowering of Marnie. They gaze reverently upon her, as if witnessing the "Close Encounters" mothership for the first time. Shelly drags Bernie out of earshot. SHELLY Natalie? She told you, she loves you? Bernie nods, a huge grin wrenching his cheeks apart. He's about to go helium on us. INT. CASINO FLOOR - NIGHT Natalie's serving drinks to a table of high rollers, when Tony and Lou appear behind her... INT. SHELLY'S OFFICE - NIGHT The door to Shelly's office slams behind Natalie. Shelly glares at her from behind his desk. We see him thumbing his steel abacus. The beads drifting toward the center. Natalie shakily lights up a cigarette. SHELLY Put that fucking thing out! Natalie, startled, drops her cigarettes. She kneels to gather them up. NATALIE Sorry. SHELLY You should be. You've gone and fucked it up big time. I paid you to be his cooze companion, not his fucking true love. But, no, you had to go and get all profound on the poor schmuck. (mimics female voice) "I love you, Bernie." You know what you've gone and done, sweetheart? Those four little words of endearment have already cost this casino a million and counting today. NATALIE I don't understand... SHELLY (jumps to his feet) Lady luck. You never heard'a lady luck?! That's what's goin' on out there. Lootz is Kryptonite on a stick. He should have 'em throwing ice cubes out there, but instead I got a fuckin' meltdown on my hands. Shelly walks around his desk to Natalie. SHELLY OK, here's what's gonna happen. You're outta his life by the time he gets home. Don't even tell him to his face, just leave a note. I'll make some calls, situate you at another joint. NATALIE I can't do that. SHELLY (right in her face) Excuse me? NATALIE It wasn't an act. I meant it. I love him. SHELLY (close to losing it) What's there to fuckin' love? He's a loser. Always has been, always will be. NATALIE I thought you were his friend... SHELLY And I thought you were a smart cookie when I picked you out. You do not want to fuck me over, darlin'. I'll see to it that your next John's a rattlesnake out in the desert. Now get the fuck outta here. Natalie rushes from the office in tears. Shelly closes his eyes for a moment -- gotta keep it together. INT. SHANGRI-LA CASINO - NIGHT Bernie approaches some cocktail waitresses about to go off duty. BERNIE Hi. Any of you seen Natalie around? I'm supposed to give her a ride home. COCKTAIL WAITRESS #1 I think she left already. She wasn't feelin' too good. We been covering for her. Off Bernie's expression: Oh... EXT. LUCKY STAR MOTEL - NIGHT Bernie's Buick pulls into the lot. He parks, heads for his room. INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT Bernie enters. Flips on the light. No Natalie. BERNIE (calls to the bathroom) Natalie? You in there? No answer. He heads over. Finds it empty. Concern spreads across his features. He glances around the room. Notices the closet wide open. Natalie's clothes missing. BERNIE (sotto) Natalie. That's when he catches sight of the note taped to the dresser mirror. He rushes over, rips it off. I'M SORRY BERNIE. I GUESS IT JUST WASN'T IN THE CARDS FOR US. TAKE CARE, NATALIE. Bernie slumps to the floor in disbelief. Starts to tremble. Then rocks back and forth, wracked by stifled sobs. Christ, make it stop hurting... DISSOLVE TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - LATER Bernie seated at the foot of the bed, drinking bourbon from

four

How many times the word 'four' appears in the text?

what Shangri- la is. Paradise. LARRY Yeah, we've all seen the movie. And your point is? Shelly whirls around, yells: SHELLY You don't fuck with paradise! All'a ya! NICKY Hey, Jesus, c'mon, Shelly. We're not trying to fuck with it. We're trying to make it better. SHELLY How... how, Nicky, could it be any better? Right now it's perfect. It's the last of its kind. It's pure... and this. (points to the model; weary) ...this is just... it's a mockery. An insult. Trying to make something of it that it isn't. LARRY What are you talking about? It's right outta the movie? SHELLY Whose talking about a fuckin' movie? This ain't a fuckin' movie. This is my life. This is my house of worship. You people are shittin' on all that's sacred to me. A tense silence ensues. Nicky, Larry and Marty exchange looks. SHELLY (tired laugh) I got just one question? Where you gonna be when they decide to change it back? When the people, they come looking for the real Vegas, from before all this Epcott Center bullshit. Who's gonna it give it to them? You guys? I don't think so. You know who? The same fucks who started this shit in the first place. It's all gonna come full circle and bite you in the ass. Mark my words. Shelly falls silent. Massages his forehead. Shit, that wasn't the way to handle it. Nicky gets up from the sofa, walks over to Shelly, places a hand on his shoulder. Shelly flinches, but doesn't pull away. NICKY You make some good points, Shelly. Maybe it'll swing back the other way, who knows? But the smart money suggests we roll the dice. I'm not gonna bullshit you; naturally there's gonna be a lot of restructuring in the months to come, but I want you to know, you'll always have a place with us. SHELLY Where's that? Behind the bar? MARTY (laughs) Behind the bar, that's a good one. NICKY I think you should take some time and think things through. All this, it's a lot to digest, y'know. MARTY Speaking of things to digest, I'm starving. How's that buffet they got in the Valley of the Blue Moon? You recommend their prime rib, Shell? Shelly stares right through Marty. Choke and die on it, motherfucker. SHELLY It's food. NICKY Hey, my arteries can use a workout. Lead us to the trough, Shell. Shelly nods at Nicky, then shifts his gaze to Larry. Larry's all smiles. He steps forward to join them, his hand dropping down and caressing the surface of Shelly's desk behind him. A subtle gesture not lost on Shelly. Shelly mentally unloads a full chamber into Larry's chest. Returns the smile. INT. CASINO - CRAPS TABLES - NIGHT As Shelly and the group pass a hot craps table, Nicky is drawn to it. NICKY Wait up a second... MARTY I thought we were gonna eat? Only now do we see Bernie has arrived to cool the table of its hot shooter -- A LOUD, pudgy, overdressed SUBURBANITE. Shelly eyes Bernie. SHELLY Maybe we wanna play over there. Less crowded. NICKY Nah, let's play here. This is my lucky table. I always play here. (to the others) Go on ahead. I know where to find you guys. Shelly signals Bernie to back off. Bernie steps back. Shelly, Larry and Marty head for the restaurant. Nicky quickly slaps down some green. The stickman slides the dice over to the suburbanite who is shooting. He scuttles the dice. They bounce up over the rail and spike Nicky on the forehead before dropping back on the felt. The players chuckle. STICKMAN Out! Seven, line away seven... Nicky rubs his forehead, glares at the suburbanite. He fires back. SUBURBANITE C"mon, pops! What the hell? I coulda paid my mortgage with the money I just lost. Nicky says nothing. The table is quickly cleared by the dealers. The stickman skips the next shooter and feeds the dice to Nicky. SHOOTER Hey? I'm supposed to be next... NICKY File a grievance, shithead. Suburbanite is still fuming over his loss. Nicky places a couple hundred on the passline. STICKMAN We're coming out. Crap Eleven, any seven. Nicky throws in some chips to the center. NICKY Hundred dollar big red. Suburbanite watches as Nicky runs through a lengthy pre-shot routine. Lots of hand jive and cuff shooting. SUBURBANITE Hurry it up, gramps. Your soup's getting cold. Nicky throws. STICKMAN Crap, Ace Deuce. Line down. The croupiers takes down the pass line. SUBURBANITE Hey, Busketti, maybe you should try shuffleboard. Nicky is fed the dice again. Same routine. Nicky just fires an incendiary look back at the suburbanite. SUBURBANITE Uncle Palsy? Shake'em this direction. Nicky throws. STICKMAN Four, hard four. The point is four. The players make their bets. SUBURBANITE Good now throw it before you fucking keel over and die, old man. Nicky slowly starts his routine defiantly. SUBURBANITE Happy birthday to me. Happy Birthday to me... Jesus, fuck, I'm another year older already. Nicky throws. STICKMAN OUT! Seven! Line away. Nicky claps his hands dealer style -- for effect -- and with a gentlemanly smile steps back from the table. Nicky's chips are quickly swept up by the croupier. SUBURBANITE Don't take it so hard, pops. Everybody craps out. Nicky locks eyes with the suburbanite. Then flashes a smile that suggests he's going to brush it off. He turns away from the table... SUBURBANITE Now go change your fucking Depends. Nicky makes like it's all in good jest. Yeah, that's real cute. He heads around the table to the suburbanite, holds out his hand as if to say: Hey, no hard feelings. The suburbanite shrugs. What the fuck? I was just playing with you, pops. He reaches for Nicky's hand... when Nicky suddenly headbutts him. Before anyone can react, Nicky starts laying into the suburbanite. The man goes down and. Nicky continues pummeling him... NICKY Who's laughing now, huh? ya fuckin! prick! C'mon, crack wise again... Ya fuckin' smooth as a Ken doll, no- dick, suburbanite scum. How's that for a game?! Shelly alerted to the fracas, rushes back to the table. He takes immediate control of the situation. Snaps his fingers at security. The suburbanite is whisked away with a pocketful of comps and a bruised ego. Shelly takes Nicky aside, attempts to calm him. Nicky keeps railing at Shelly: NICKY That ain't right, Shelly! Guy fucks up my game like that. Who the fuck does he think he is? SHELLY You're right. He's just a piece of shit. Forget about him. NICKY I thought this joint had more class. Used to be, we wouldn't even let bums like that in... Nicky catches himself. He looks at Shelly for a beat. There's an unspoken understanding between them. "The good old days." We see Bernie in the b.g., looking more than a bit shocked. INT. THE MAKAWAO BAR AND GRILL - NIGHT Bernie seated with Natalie. BERNIE This town... You know, Natalie, all I want to do is go some place where I can tell day from night. Where they got clocks on the wall. I can't breathe around here no more. Four days and I'm gone. I'm not even sure I can hold out that long. NATALIE (a beat) So where does that leave us? BERNIE A week ago, I didn't remember what it was like to have a woman's hands on me. I'm still pinching myself, expecting to wake-up from... (just blurts it out) Come with me, Natalie. I want you to come with me. NATALIE God, Bernie, that's... BERNIE I'm sorry. I didn't mean to spring that on you. NATALIE Bernie... I want to be with you. I do. But I don't know if I can leave with you. Bernie's look: Why? NATALIE I was working on a compatibility chart for the two of us. And it looks good, really, it does. BERNIE So, what's the problem? NATALIE That's with us here. In Vegas. Bernie's expression: Oh. NATALIE Maybe I was being presumptuous, 'cause I knew you were leaving... and I tried working it in different ways... It wasn't good, Bernie. I got scared. But that's just for now, for the immediate future. Once the planets realign, maybe a year from now... BERNIE Natalie... I can't... Not another year. Not another week. A somber mood falls on the table. Bernie reaches for Natalie's hand. Instead, he knocks the salt over. It spills out in front of them. BERNIE I think... we probably shouldn't see each other anymore. NATALIE Why, Bernie? We only got a couple days left together. Why not make the most of them? BERNIE (a long beat) Because if I spend one more night in your arms, I'm not going anywhere. NATALIE And that's so bad? Bernie just stares at her, shrouded in sadness. Natalie stubs out her cigarette, rises. NATALIE Take care, Bernie. Bernie casts his eyes to the mound of spilled salt in front of him. Nods. A few beats later he raises his head... BERNIE Natalie, don't... Gone. A WAITRESS appears. WAITRESS (O.S.) Get you another? BERNIE (nods) I think you better bring me the bottle. Please. INT. SHANGRI-LA HOTEL AND CASINO/BAR - NIGHT Once again, we see Bernie's feet limp across the casino floor. He walks up to the bar, asks for a cup of coffee. Doris brings it over. Short on the cream again. He just sips it black. Gloom and doom features. Life sucks. His master's VOICE sounds over the intercom: VOICE (V.O.) Chang, party of fifteen, your table is ready, Chang party of fifteen. Bernie looks to Doris. Sighs. Only three more days. INT. CASINO FLOOR - CRAPS TABLES - NIGHT He heads for the crap tables, the sound of raucous CHEERING becomes audible. A large crowd starting to gather. Bernie noodles his way to the front of the crowd. As soon as he gets a look at the heavy hitter at the table, he tenses up. Oh shit. It's MIKEY. With Charlene. Charlene is making one hell of a racket. Playing up her extremely maternal state. Just then Natalie sidles up to Bernie with the Chivas Regal. Without thinking about it, he grabs the glass off the tray, downs it in a single gulp. CHARLENE (clutching her tummy) Come on, Mikey. This is our future. Don't blow it. Mikey throws down a bet for the dealer. MIKEY Put this on the line for the boys. The stickman thanks him as they place the bet. Mikey throws down more money. We can see Mikey has bets all over the table. MIKEY With shoes! STICKMAN Dealer's got shoes. Hands high, the dice are out! The point is nine. CHARLENE Come on all you's. Put a good thought in for our baby! As everyone dotes over Charlene, Mikey quickly swaps the dice before anyone can see. He throws. STICKMAN Six the hard way! Mikey is paid nine thousand by the croupier, as is Charlene. Bernie stands frozen. He doesn't bother trying to get any closer to the table. He knows it'll do no good. CHARLENE Oh my god, I just felt him kick! He knows. He knows you're all pulling for him. God bless you all. Natalie looks over at Charlene. Their eyes meet for a second. It's as though Natalie knows it's a scam and Charlene's acknowledging it. Mikey throws again. STICKMAN Six the hard way! Look out, we got a shooter! Another nine grand. Mikey's rail is nearly full. Charlene hops around awkwardly causing more distraction. Bernie is really sweating it out now. Then Shelly arrives. Larry is hot on his tail. SHELLY How much? BERNIE Eighteen thousand since I stepped up. I'm sorry, Shelly, I guess I've been hit and miss lately. Shelly's expression tells us he isn't so sure. Something definitely isn't kosher. As Charlene chatters on, Mikey switches the dice back. Shelly makes him. SHELLY (sotto) Fucking amateurs... Mikey throws... STICKMAN Seven out! Line away. The players and crowd, though disappointed, applaud Mikey's achievement. MIKEY (bowing) I thank you. My wife thanks you. My unborn child thanks you. Mikey moves his rail of chips to the felt. MIKEY Color me up will ya? Larry notices Shelly slipping on a pair of leather gloves. LARRY You've gotta be kidding me. (off Shelly's steely glare) That's not how I propose we handle it. We'll turn the matter over to the authorities. They'll be blacklisted, their credit ruined... SHELLY (gets in Larry's face) And then we'll give 'em both a lollipop for the ride home. Come watch and learn, Harvard. A little lesson on how to protect your investment -- the old school way. Shelly walks over to Mikey and Charlene, Larry lingering behind him. SHELLY Hey, that was some run you had back there. MIKEY Uh, thanks. Just lucky I guess. Mikey steals a tense glance at Charlene. She starts to fidget nervously. SHELLY Why don't we go do this in my office? I don't like to hand out all this amount of cash on the floor. Security (Tony and Lou) corrals the couple. Leads them away. Bernie watches as they pass by. Mikey looks into Bernie's eyes. They both know he's been made. Natalie doesn't say anything, just looks at Bernie. INT. CASINO RECEIVING AREA - NIGHT Slot machines everywhere -- some on the way out, some on the way in. Crates of casino supplies. Bernie rushes in with Natalie behind him. Heading for an aural beacon of BLOWS landing on flesh... GRUNTING, PLEADING... ...arriving to find Tony and Lou kicking the shit out of Mikey on the floor. Charlene lies clutching her belly a few feet away. Shelly swings a baseball bat, warming up for some blood sport. Larry watches from the sidelines -- at once appalled and enthralled. CHARLENE Oh my God... I can feel the contractions coming on... Bernie rushes over to Shelly... BERNIE Shelly, stop them! Don't do this! SHELLY Get lost, Bernie, this got nothing to do with you. BERNIE It's got everything to do with me. He's my son. Everyone stops dead. Freeze frame. Shelly gets a weird look in his eye. A fuse has just been lit... SHELLY What did you say? BERNIE I said, he's my -- SHELLY Who? This little prick? Shelly smashes Mikey across the shoulder with the bat. AARRRGGGGHHH!!! Shelly raises the bat to cream Mikey again... Bernie grabs Shelly's arm. Shelly shoves him back. Raises the bat again... MIKEY Pop, help me... BERNIE Shelly, don't you fucking do it! Shelly freezes. He lowers the bat, throws it aside. Grabs Bernie by his collar... SHELLY Were you in on this? Jesus, you better come clean with me. BERNIE NO! God, no! I didn't know nothing about it. Shelly releases Bernie. There's a strange look in Shelly's eye. We see the wheels turning... SHELLY How much you think their lives are worth, Bernie? Myself, I don't think they're worth piss. But, hey, it ain't my kid... Bernie sees where Shelly's going with this. We can almost hear the cell door slamming in his head. SHELLY Let me see: they were up almost a hundred and fifty grand. That's 150 G's someone's gonna have to account for. What do you say, Bernie, seventy- five grand a piece? Bernie glances over at Natalie. She has tears in her eyes. He looks to Shelly pleadingly. Please don't do this... SHELLY Hey, I know you don't have that kind of cash. But, since you're a friend of the house, I'm willing to front you. BERNIE Shelly, they didn't get away with the money... You didn't lose anything... Shelly glances over at Lou, nods. Lou kicks Mikey in the face. His nose snaps like a twig. BERNIE Oh Jesus... Yes! All right. It's on me. 150 G's. Charlene clutches her belly, moans... CHARLENE Oh god, oh god... you gotta get me to the hospital... contractions... BERNIE Shelly, please help her. That's my grandson... SHELLY Hey, why don't we all break out the champagne? Lootz is about to become a granddaddy. (walks over to her) How you doin' there, sweetheart? Must hurt like crap, huh? CHARLENE (nods) Hurts so bad... SHELLY Yeah? Suddenly Shelly kicks Charlene in the belly! WHAM! She screeches out. NATALIE Oh God... BERNIE Jesus NOOOOO!!! Even Shelly's goons can't believe what they've just witnessed. Larry is aghast. Bernie rushes Shelly, starts raining blows on him. Shelly swats him off. He drops down next to the squirming girl, rips her sweater and blouse up over her stomach... ...to reveal a mound of fake padding. He tears the padding away from her, throws it at Bernie. SHELLY Here! It's a fuckin' boy. Anyone got a cigar? The muscle start laughing it up. Relief. Larry emits a nervous giggle. Natalie's jaw hits the floor. Bernie takes a step back. He's about to go into serious shock. Charlene curls over, sobbing. SHELLY (to Bernie) You sure you still want to be good for it? Because if you want to change your mind, I don't blame you. Bernie looks over at Mikey. He stares up at his father, trembling. MIKEY I'll make it up to you, Pop, I swear... Bernie holds his son's gaze for a beat. He's almost tempted to... He just shrugs and nods at Shelly. BERNIE It's on me. SHELLY (shakes his head) That's the worst fucking call you ever made in your life. ON NATALIE at that moment. We can tell she agrees with Shelly... but thinks all the more of Bernie for it. That might even be love in her eyes. Shelly snatches his baseball bat up off the floor. Walks over to Mikey, and brings it down full force, pulverizing Mikey's left kneecap. Oh man, the scream... BERNIE What are you doing?! I thought we had -- SHELLY 150 G's buys their lives. This is just a little slap on the wrist to remember me by. Natalie turns her head. She's about to throw up. Larry watches, unflinchingly. Charlene is making with some serious pleading now. CHARLENE Oh god... it wasn't my idea. Shelly steps up to Charlene, tapping the base of the bat in the palm of his hand. He smiles reassuringly at her. SHELLY You know, motherhood is a beautiful thing. This... you made a mockery out of it. Maybe you'll get to experience it for real one day. CHARLENE (nods, sobbing) I want... to be a mother... please don't hurt me... SHELLY I'm not going to hurt you. Shelly turns his back on her. Charlene starts sobbing relief. They're not going to hurt her. It's going to be all right. Wrong. Shelly throws the bat to Lou. The heavy steps up to the plate (as we RACK FOCUS to Shelly walking away) -- CRUNCH!!! followed by the girl's SHRIEKS. Natalie buries her head in Bernie's shoulder. SHELLY (to Tony and Lou) Get 'em outta here. You ever see them in this joint again, kill 'em. SHELLY (to Bernie and Natalie) You two, you're still on shift. Shelly catches Larry's eye: I hope you were taking notes. INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT Bernie's seated on the edge of his bed, drowning his sorrows with a bottle of gin. Moonlight paints him in jail bars of shadow. Natalie lingers in the b.g. BERNIE I did this to myself. I planted the seed. When Angela took off with Mikey, I didn't... I never made an effort to get back in his life. I figured, the kid don't need a loser for a father. Now it's all come full circle. I give him the money, I open the door to all this... I musta had it coming. Payback. Natalie's hand lowers the needle onto the Sinatra record. "Nice 'n' Easy" starts up. She walks over to Bernie, takes the bottle away. Helps him to his feet. He gives himself over to her reassuring embrace. Natalie raises Bernie's face to her's. NATALIE Bernie, it's a big world out there. If you just took off -- if we took off. Bernie shakes his head. It's too late for that now. DISSOLVE TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - LATER - NIGHT Natalie staring up at the ceiling, Bernie nuzzled against her. Her features appear softer than ever. Luminous in the moonlight. Realization moist in her eyes. NATALIE You awake, Bernie? He grunts something inaudible. NATALIE I -- think I love you. Bernie tenses up. Huh? NATALIE No, I don't think. I'm pretty certain of it. Bernie raises his head, not quite sure he heard her right. Natalie sits up, hugs her knees. Bernie finds himself staring at her back. NATALIE You blind-sided me, Bernie Lootz. I never saw this coming. You shouldn't do that to a girl. Bernie reaches out, caresses her back. She emits a shiver... NATALIE There's still things you don't know... should know... I don't want to ruin it... Bernie pulls Natalie back toward him. BERNIE It won't make any difference, Natalie. Whatever you come clean about, I'm not gonna feel any different about you. I'd say the words, but with my luck... NATALIE Say 'em anyway. To hell with rotten luck. That's overs. BERNIE (a beat) I love you, Natalie. Natalie smothers her lips against Bernie's. He enshrouds her in his arms. Fade out... INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - DAY Fade into SOFT FOCUS. Slowing taking form... A CAT'S FACE seen in extreme close-up. WIDER -- to reveal the cat resting on Bernie's chest. She MEOWS as he stirs awake. He's stunned to see her there. BERNIE Trixie? The cat jumps off his chest and slinks over to her empty food bowl. Meows again. Bernie breaks into a wide smile. BERNIE Trix. You came back. Bernie shields his eyes from the bright sunlight streaming in through the blinds. Huh? This is a first for him. He's never gotten direct sunlight in his room before. What's the deal? Did the world just turn on its axis? He glances over his shoulder... No Natalie. Just her impression in the sheets. And a note on her pillow. For a moment his heart stops. He conjures up the worst. Grabs up the note, unfolds it. We see a lipstick kiss and the words: HAVE A SPECTACULAR DAY! Bernie lets out a joyful whoop! Leaps out of bed... SMASH CUT TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - CONTINUOUS - DAY CLOSE-UP: Trixie eating some tuna out of her bowl. We hear the record player needle drop on "Luck Be A Lady." Cut to: Bernie's feet gliding around the room... PAN UP to Bernie dancing with himself. He's positively aglow. He snatches up a salt shaker and sings along with Sinatra. It's true -- love makes the world go around. It obviously also gives life to dead plants, as evidenced by the small bulb that has sprung up overnight above his radiator. But we won't dwell on that. INT. SHANGRI-LA HOTEL AND CASINO - DAY Bernie struts into the casino a changed man (still to the tune of "Luck Be a Lady"). Even his limp seems less pronounced as he greets fellow workers as they pass. He catches a glimpse of himself in a wall mirror. Maybe for the first time, he likes what he sees. In the reflection he notices Natalie smiling at him. He meets her eyes. She averts them quickly, keeps walking. INT. SHELLY'S OFFICE - THAT MOMENT Shelly watches Bernie from the video monitor. He appears less than delighted over Bernie's sunny disposition. He picks up the phone, dials. SHELLY (into phone) Yeah, it's me. Get Bernie over to crap table six. INT. CASINO FLOOR - NIGHT Per usual, Bernie walks up to the bar, asks for a cup of coffee. Doris slides it over. BERNIE (looking around) Got any cre -- Before he can answer, Doris hands him a container of cream. A full container. Taken aback, he starts pouring it into his cup, when he hears a VOICE over the intercom: VOICE (V.O.) Lovett, party of six, your table is ready, Lovett, party of six. Bernie looks to Doris. BERNIE Duty calls. INT. CASINO - MONTAGE - MOMENTS LATER A -- Bernie arrives at a hundred dollar blackjack table just in time for the dealer to bust out. The crowd goes crazy! B -- Bernie takes a break by leaning up against the side of a slot machine. Suddenly, the woman playing it hits a jackpot. C -- Everywhere he seems to go, people continue to win. D -- Bernie, despite the spooky irony, can't help but smile as mountains of chips pile up on the tables. Shelly appears behind him. Not a happy camper. He gestures Bernie to follow him. INT. CASINO SLOTS AREA - NIGHT They head over to a section of slots. As they pass one of those huge million dollar slots, the FLOOR MANAGER cuts in front of them. FLOOR MANAGER Hey, Shelly, check it out. The new Mega-Million. I call her Marnie, 'cause she's one frigid broad. Sure, once in a while she'll flash you a bit of tit, but your chances of hitting a home run -- one in twenty million. Here, give her a shot... He hands Shelly a cup of quarters, takes off. Shelly looks to Bernie. He's trying to keep a lid on his anger. SHELLY (feeding Marnie quarters) You wanna tell me what's going on out there? BERNIE I don't know... Shelly pulls the lever. SHELLY What do you mean... Marnie immediately spits out a small jackpot. SHELLY (reacts with surprise) What do you mean, you don't know? We're down almost a mil out there. Doesn't seem strange to you? BERNIE (shrugs) Guess I'm having an off day. SHELLY You don't have off days, Lootz. You're shitty luck incarnate. What's wrong? You coming down with something? You've got this look about you... Shelly starts feeding Marnie again. BERNIE Nothing's wrong. Fact is, I've never felt better. SHELLY What's that supposed to mean? BERNIE She loves me, Shelly. She told me last night. Natalie. On the mention of Natalie's name, we hear a shrieking SIREN, followed by a deafening toll of slot bells. Shelly's just landed the million dollar jackpot. Shelly stares at the slot in surprise -- then looks over at Bernie. Realization hits hard. Fuck! The floor manager staggers over. His expression is priceless. FLOOR MANAGER Sweet Jesus... you popped her cherries. SEVERAL CASINO WORKERS have gathered to witness the deflowering of Marnie. They gaze reverently upon her, as if witnessing the "Close Encounters" mothership for the first time. Shelly drags Bernie out of earshot. SHELLY Natalie? She told you, she loves you? Bernie nods, a huge grin wrenching his cheeks apart. He's about to go helium on us. INT. CASINO FLOOR - NIGHT Natalie's serving drinks to a table of high rollers, when Tony and Lou appear behind her... INT. SHELLY'S OFFICE - NIGHT The door to Shelly's office slams behind Natalie. Shelly glares at her from behind his desk. We see him thumbing his steel abacus. The beads drifting toward the center. Natalie shakily lights up a cigarette. SHELLY Put that fucking thing out! Natalie, startled, drops her cigarettes. She kneels to gather them up. NATALIE Sorry. SHELLY You should be. You've gone and fucked it up big time. I paid you to be his cooze companion, not his fucking true love. But, no, you had to go and get all profound on the poor schmuck. (mimics female voice) "I love you, Bernie." You know what you've gone and done, sweetheart? Those four little words of endearment have already cost this casino a million and counting today. NATALIE I don't understand... SHELLY (jumps to his feet) Lady luck. You never heard'a lady luck?! That's what's goin' on out there. Lootz is Kryptonite on a stick. He should have 'em throwing ice cubes out there, but instead I got a fuckin' meltdown on my hands. Shelly walks around his desk to Natalie. SHELLY OK, here's what's gonna happen. You're outta his life by the time he gets home. Don't even tell him to his face, just leave a note. I'll make some calls, situate you at another joint. NATALIE I can't do that. SHELLY (right in her face) Excuse me? NATALIE It wasn't an act. I meant it. I love him. SHELLY (close to losing it) What's there to fuckin' love? He's a loser. Always has been, always will be. NATALIE I thought you were his friend... SHELLY And I thought you were a smart cookie when I picked you out. You do not want to fuck me over, darlin'. I'll see to it that your next John's a rattlesnake out in the desert. Now get the fuck outta here. Natalie rushes from the office in tears. Shelly closes his eyes for a moment -- gotta keep it together. INT. SHANGRI-LA CASINO - NIGHT Bernie approaches some cocktail waitresses about to go off duty. BERNIE Hi. Any of you seen Natalie around? I'm supposed to give her a ride home. COCKTAIL WAITRESS #1 I think she left already. She wasn't feelin' too good. We been covering for her. Off Bernie's expression: Oh... EXT. LUCKY STAR MOTEL - NIGHT Bernie's Buick pulls into the lot. He parks, heads for his room. INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT Bernie enters. Flips on the light. No Natalie. BERNIE (calls to the bathroom) Natalie? You in there? No answer. He heads over. Finds it empty. Concern spreads across his features. He glances around the room. Notices the closet wide open. Natalie's clothes missing. BERNIE (sotto) Natalie. That's when he catches sight of the note taped to the dresser mirror. He rushes over, rips it off. I'M SORRY BERNIE. I GUESS IT JUST WASN'T IN THE CARDS FOR US. TAKE CARE, NATALIE. Bernie slumps to the floor in disbelief. Starts to tremble. Then rocks back and forth, wracked by stifled sobs. Christ, make it stop hurting... DISSOLVE TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - LATER Bernie seated at the foot of the bed, drinking bourbon from

that

How many times the word 'that' appears in the text?

what Shangri- la is. Paradise. LARRY Yeah, we've all seen the movie. And your point is? Shelly whirls around, yells: SHELLY You don't fuck with paradise! All'a ya! NICKY Hey, Jesus, c'mon, Shelly. We're not trying to fuck with it. We're trying to make it better. SHELLY How... how, Nicky, could it be any better? Right now it's perfect. It's the last of its kind. It's pure... and this. (points to the model; weary) ...this is just... it's a mockery. An insult. Trying to make something of it that it isn't. LARRY What are you talking about? It's right outta the movie? SHELLY Whose talking about a fuckin' movie? This ain't a fuckin' movie. This is my life. This is my house of worship. You people are shittin' on all that's sacred to me. A tense silence ensues. Nicky, Larry and Marty exchange looks. SHELLY (tired laugh) I got just one question? Where you gonna be when they decide to change it back? When the people, they come looking for the real Vegas, from before all this Epcott Center bullshit. Who's gonna it give it to them? You guys? I don't think so. You know who? The same fucks who started this shit in the first place. It's all gonna come full circle and bite you in the ass. Mark my words. Shelly falls silent. Massages his forehead. Shit, that wasn't the way to handle it. Nicky gets up from the sofa, walks over to Shelly, places a hand on his shoulder. Shelly flinches, but doesn't pull away. NICKY You make some good points, Shelly. Maybe it'll swing back the other way, who knows? But the smart money suggests we roll the dice. I'm not gonna bullshit you; naturally there's gonna be a lot of restructuring in the months to come, but I want you to know, you'll always have a place with us. SHELLY Where's that? Behind the bar? MARTY (laughs) Behind the bar, that's a good one. NICKY I think you should take some time and think things through. All this, it's a lot to digest, y'know. MARTY Speaking of things to digest, I'm starving. How's that buffet they got in the Valley of the Blue Moon? You recommend their prime rib, Shell? Shelly stares right through Marty. Choke and die on it, motherfucker. SHELLY It's food. NICKY Hey, my arteries can use a workout. Lead us to the trough, Shell. Shelly nods at Nicky, then shifts his gaze to Larry. Larry's all smiles. He steps forward to join them, his hand dropping down and caressing the surface of Shelly's desk behind him. A subtle gesture not lost on Shelly. Shelly mentally unloads a full chamber into Larry's chest. Returns the smile. INT. CASINO - CRAPS TABLES - NIGHT As Shelly and the group pass a hot craps table, Nicky is drawn to it. NICKY Wait up a second... MARTY I thought we were gonna eat? Only now do we see Bernie has arrived to cool the table of its hot shooter -- A LOUD, pudgy, overdressed SUBURBANITE. Shelly eyes Bernie. SHELLY Maybe we wanna play over there. Less crowded. NICKY Nah, let's play here. This is my lucky table. I always play here. (to the others) Go on ahead. I know where to find you guys. Shelly signals Bernie to back off. Bernie steps back. Shelly, Larry and Marty head for the restaurant. Nicky quickly slaps down some green. The stickman slides the dice over to the suburbanite who is shooting. He scuttles the dice. They bounce up over the rail and spike Nicky on the forehead before dropping back on the felt. The players chuckle. STICKMAN Out! Seven, line away seven... Nicky rubs his forehead, glares at the suburbanite. He fires back. SUBURBANITE C"mon, pops! What the hell? I coulda paid my mortgage with the money I just lost. Nicky says nothing. The table is quickly cleared by the dealers. The stickman skips the next shooter and feeds the dice to Nicky. SHOOTER Hey? I'm supposed to be next... NICKY File a grievance, shithead. Suburbanite is still fuming over his loss. Nicky places a couple hundred on the passline. STICKMAN We're coming out. Crap Eleven, any seven. Nicky throws in some chips to the center. NICKY Hundred dollar big red. Suburbanite watches as Nicky runs through a lengthy pre-shot routine. Lots of hand jive and cuff shooting. SUBURBANITE Hurry it up, gramps. Your soup's getting cold. Nicky throws. STICKMAN Crap, Ace Deuce. Line down. The croupiers takes down the pass line. SUBURBANITE Hey, Busketti, maybe you should try shuffleboard. Nicky is fed the dice again. Same routine. Nicky just fires an incendiary look back at the suburbanite. SUBURBANITE Uncle Palsy? Shake'em this direction. Nicky throws. STICKMAN Four, hard four. The point is four. The players make their bets. SUBURBANITE Good now throw it before you fucking keel over and die, old man. Nicky slowly starts his routine defiantly. SUBURBANITE Happy birthday to me. Happy Birthday to me... Jesus, fuck, I'm another year older already. Nicky throws. STICKMAN OUT! Seven! Line away. Nicky claps his hands dealer style -- for effect -- and with a gentlemanly smile steps back from the table. Nicky's chips are quickly swept up by the croupier. SUBURBANITE Don't take it so hard, pops. Everybody craps out. Nicky locks eyes with the suburbanite. Then flashes a smile that suggests he's going to brush it off. He turns away from the table... SUBURBANITE Now go change your fucking Depends. Nicky makes like it's all in good jest. Yeah, that's real cute. He heads around the table to the suburbanite, holds out his hand as if to say: Hey, no hard feelings. The suburbanite shrugs. What the fuck? I was just playing with you, pops. He reaches for Nicky's hand... when Nicky suddenly headbutts him. Before anyone can react, Nicky starts laying into the suburbanite. The man goes down and. Nicky continues pummeling him... NICKY Who's laughing now, huh? ya fuckin! prick! C'mon, crack wise again... Ya fuckin' smooth as a Ken doll, no- dick, suburbanite scum. How's that for a game?! Shelly alerted to the fracas, rushes back to the table. He takes immediate control of the situation. Snaps his fingers at security. The suburbanite is whisked away with a pocketful of comps and a bruised ego. Shelly takes Nicky aside, attempts to calm him. Nicky keeps railing at Shelly: NICKY That ain't right, Shelly! Guy fucks up my game like that. Who the fuck does he think he is? SHELLY You're right. He's just a piece of shit. Forget about him. NICKY I thought this joint had more class. Used to be, we wouldn't even let bums like that in... Nicky catches himself. He looks at Shelly for a beat. There's an unspoken understanding between them. "The good old days." We see Bernie in the b.g., looking more than a bit shocked. INT. THE MAKAWAO BAR AND GRILL - NIGHT Bernie seated with Natalie. BERNIE This town... You know, Natalie, all I want to do is go some place where I can tell day from night. Where they got clocks on the wall. I can't breathe around here no more. Four days and I'm gone. I'm not even sure I can hold out that long. NATALIE (a beat) So where does that leave us? BERNIE A week ago, I didn't remember what it was like to have a woman's hands on me. I'm still pinching myself, expecting to wake-up from... (just blurts it out) Come with me, Natalie. I want you to come with me. NATALIE God, Bernie, that's... BERNIE I'm sorry. I didn't mean to spring that on you. NATALIE Bernie... I want to be with you. I do. But I don't know if I can leave with you. Bernie's look: Why? NATALIE I was working on a compatibility chart for the two of us. And it looks good, really, it does. BERNIE So, what's the problem? NATALIE That's with us here. In Vegas. Bernie's expression: Oh. NATALIE Maybe I was being presumptuous, 'cause I knew you were leaving... and I tried working it in different ways... It wasn't good, Bernie. I got scared. But that's just for now, for the immediate future. Once the planets realign, maybe a year from now... BERNIE Natalie... I can't... Not another year. Not another week. A somber mood falls on the table. Bernie reaches for Natalie's hand. Instead, he knocks the salt over. It spills out in front of them. BERNIE I think... we probably shouldn't see each other anymore. NATALIE Why, Bernie? We only got a couple days left together. Why not make the most of them? BERNIE (a long beat) Because if I spend one more night in your arms, I'm not going anywhere. NATALIE And that's so bad? Bernie just stares at her, shrouded in sadness. Natalie stubs out her cigarette, rises. NATALIE Take care, Bernie. Bernie casts his eyes to the mound of spilled salt in front of him. Nods. A few beats later he raises his head... BERNIE Natalie, don't... Gone. A WAITRESS appears. WAITRESS (O.S.) Get you another? BERNIE (nods) I think you better bring me the bottle. Please. INT. SHANGRI-LA HOTEL AND CASINO/BAR - NIGHT Once again, we see Bernie's feet limp across the casino floor. He walks up to the bar, asks for a cup of coffee. Doris brings it over. Short on the cream again. He just sips it black. Gloom and doom features. Life sucks. His master's VOICE sounds over the intercom: VOICE (V.O.) Chang, party of fifteen, your table is ready, Chang party of fifteen. Bernie looks to Doris. Sighs. Only three more days. INT. CASINO FLOOR - CRAPS TABLES - NIGHT He heads for the crap tables, the sound of raucous CHEERING becomes audible. A large crowd starting to gather. Bernie noodles his way to the front of the crowd. As soon as he gets a look at the heavy hitter at the table, he tenses up. Oh shit. It's MIKEY. With Charlene. Charlene is making one hell of a racket. Playing up her extremely maternal state. Just then Natalie sidles up to Bernie with the Chivas Regal. Without thinking about it, he grabs the glass off the tray, downs it in a single gulp. CHARLENE (clutching her tummy) Come on, Mikey. This is our future. Don't blow it. Mikey throws down a bet for the dealer. MIKEY Put this on the line for the boys. The stickman thanks him as they place the bet. Mikey throws down more money. We can see Mikey has bets all over the table. MIKEY With shoes! STICKMAN Dealer's got shoes. Hands high, the dice are out! The point is nine. CHARLENE Come on all you's. Put a good thought in for our baby! As everyone dotes over Charlene, Mikey quickly swaps the dice before anyone can see. He throws. STICKMAN Six the hard way! Mikey is paid nine thousand by the croupier, as is Charlene. Bernie stands frozen. He doesn't bother trying to get any closer to the table. He knows it'll do no good. CHARLENE Oh my god, I just felt him kick! He knows. He knows you're all pulling for him. God bless you all. Natalie looks over at Charlene. Their eyes meet for a second. It's as though Natalie knows it's a scam and Charlene's acknowledging it. Mikey throws again. STICKMAN Six the hard way! Look out, we got a shooter! Another nine grand. Mikey's rail is nearly full. Charlene hops around awkwardly causing more distraction. Bernie is really sweating it out now. Then Shelly arrives. Larry is hot on his tail. SHELLY How much? BERNIE Eighteen thousand since I stepped up. I'm sorry, Shelly, I guess I've been hit and miss lately. Shelly's expression tells us he isn't so sure. Something definitely isn't kosher. As Charlene chatters on, Mikey switches the dice back. Shelly makes him. SHELLY (sotto) Fucking amateurs... Mikey throws... STICKMAN Seven out! Line away. The players and crowd, though disappointed, applaud Mikey's achievement. MIKEY (bowing) I thank you. My wife thanks you. My unborn child thanks you. Mikey moves his rail of chips to the felt. MIKEY Color me up will ya? Larry notices Shelly slipping on a pair of leather gloves. LARRY You've gotta be kidding me. (off Shelly's steely glare) That's not how I propose we handle it. We'll turn the matter over to the authorities. They'll be blacklisted, their credit ruined... SHELLY (gets in Larry's face) And then we'll give 'em both a lollipop for the ride home. Come watch and learn, Harvard. A little lesson on how to protect your investment -- the old school way. Shelly walks over to Mikey and Charlene, Larry lingering behind him. SHELLY Hey, that was some run you had back there. MIKEY Uh, thanks. Just lucky I guess. Mikey steals a tense glance at Charlene. She starts to fidget nervously. SHELLY Why don't we go do this in my office? I don't like to hand out all this amount of cash on the floor. Security (Tony and Lou) corrals the couple. Leads them away. Bernie watches as they pass by. Mikey looks into Bernie's eyes. They both know he's been made. Natalie doesn't say anything, just looks at Bernie. INT. CASINO RECEIVING AREA - NIGHT Slot machines everywhere -- some on the way out, some on the way in. Crates of casino supplies. Bernie rushes in with Natalie behind him. Heading for an aural beacon of BLOWS landing on flesh... GRUNTING, PLEADING... ...arriving to find Tony and Lou kicking the shit out of Mikey on the floor. Charlene lies clutching her belly a few feet away. Shelly swings a baseball bat, warming up for some blood sport. Larry watches from the sidelines -- at once appalled and enthralled. CHARLENE Oh my God... I can feel the contractions coming on... Bernie rushes over to Shelly... BERNIE Shelly, stop them! Don't do this! SHELLY Get lost, Bernie, this got nothing to do with you. BERNIE It's got everything to do with me. He's my son. Everyone stops dead. Freeze frame. Shelly gets a weird look in his eye. A fuse has just been lit... SHELLY What did you say? BERNIE I said, he's my -- SHELLY Who? This little prick? Shelly smashes Mikey across the shoulder with the bat. AARRRGGGGHHH!!! Shelly raises the bat to cream Mikey again... Bernie grabs Shelly's arm. Shelly shoves him back. Raises the bat again... MIKEY Pop, help me... BERNIE Shelly, don't you fucking do it! Shelly freezes. He lowers the bat, throws it aside. Grabs Bernie by his collar... SHELLY Were you in on this? Jesus, you better come clean with me. BERNIE NO! God, no! I didn't know nothing about it. Shelly releases Bernie. There's a strange look in Shelly's eye. We see the wheels turning... SHELLY How much you think their lives are worth, Bernie? Myself, I don't think they're worth piss. But, hey, it ain't my kid... Bernie sees where Shelly's going with this. We can almost hear the cell door slamming in his head. SHELLY Let me see: they were up almost a hundred and fifty grand. That's 150 G's someone's gonna have to account for. What do you say, Bernie, seventy- five grand a piece? Bernie glances over at Natalie. She has tears in her eyes. He looks to Shelly pleadingly. Please don't do this... SHELLY Hey, I know you don't have that kind of cash. But, since you're a friend of the house, I'm willing to front you. BERNIE Shelly, they didn't get away with the money... You didn't lose anything... Shelly glances over at Lou, nods. Lou kicks Mikey in the face. His nose snaps like a twig. BERNIE Oh Jesus... Yes! All right. It's on me. 150 G's. Charlene clutches her belly, moans... CHARLENE Oh god, oh god... you gotta get me to the hospital... contractions... BERNIE Shelly, please help her. That's my grandson... SHELLY Hey, why don't we all break out the champagne? Lootz is about to become a granddaddy. (walks over to her) How you doin' there, sweetheart? Must hurt like crap, huh? CHARLENE (nods) Hurts so bad... SHELLY Yeah? Suddenly Shelly kicks Charlene in the belly! WHAM! She screeches out. NATALIE Oh God... BERNIE Jesus NOOOOO!!! Even Shelly's goons can't believe what they've just witnessed. Larry is aghast. Bernie rushes Shelly, starts raining blows on him. Shelly swats him off. He drops down next to the squirming girl, rips her sweater and blouse up over her stomach... ...to reveal a mound of fake padding. He tears the padding away from her, throws it at Bernie. SHELLY Here! It's a fuckin' boy. Anyone got a cigar? The muscle start laughing it up. Relief. Larry emits a nervous giggle. Natalie's jaw hits the floor. Bernie takes a step back. He's about to go into serious shock. Charlene curls over, sobbing. SHELLY (to Bernie) You sure you still want to be good for it? Because if you want to change your mind, I don't blame you. Bernie looks over at Mikey. He stares up at his father, trembling. MIKEY I'll make it up to you, Pop, I swear... Bernie holds his son's gaze for a beat. He's almost tempted to... He just shrugs and nods at Shelly. BERNIE It's on me. SHELLY (shakes his head) That's the worst fucking call you ever made in your life. ON NATALIE at that moment. We can tell she agrees with Shelly... but thinks all the more of Bernie for it. That might even be love in her eyes. Shelly snatches his baseball bat up off the floor. Walks over to Mikey, and brings it down full force, pulverizing Mikey's left kneecap. Oh man, the scream... BERNIE What are you doing?! I thought we had -- SHELLY 150 G's buys their lives. This is just a little slap on the wrist to remember me by. Natalie turns her head. She's about to throw up. Larry watches, unflinchingly. Charlene is making with some serious pleading now. CHARLENE Oh god... it wasn't my idea. Shelly steps up to Charlene, tapping the base of the bat in the palm of his hand. He smiles reassuringly at her. SHELLY You know, motherhood is a beautiful thing. This... you made a mockery out of it. Maybe you'll get to experience it for real one day. CHARLENE (nods, sobbing) I want... to be a mother... please don't hurt me... SHELLY I'm not going to hurt you. Shelly turns his back on her. Charlene starts sobbing relief. They're not going to hurt her. It's going to be all right. Wrong. Shelly throws the bat to Lou. The heavy steps up to the plate (as we RACK FOCUS to Shelly walking away) -- CRUNCH!!! followed by the girl's SHRIEKS. Natalie buries her head in Bernie's shoulder. SHELLY (to Tony and Lou) Get 'em outta here. You ever see them in this joint again, kill 'em. SHELLY (to Bernie and Natalie) You two, you're still on shift. Shelly catches Larry's eye: I hope you were taking notes. INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT Bernie's seated on the edge of his bed, drowning his sorrows with a bottle of gin. Moonlight paints him in jail bars of shadow. Natalie lingers in the b.g. BERNIE I did this to myself. I planted the seed. When Angela took off with Mikey, I didn't... I never made an effort to get back in his life. I figured, the kid don't need a loser for a father. Now it's all come full circle. I give him the money, I open the door to all this... I musta had it coming. Payback. Natalie's hand lowers the needle onto the Sinatra record. "Nice 'n' Easy" starts up. She walks over to Bernie, takes the bottle away. Helps him to his feet. He gives himself over to her reassuring embrace. Natalie raises Bernie's face to her's. NATALIE Bernie, it's a big world out there. If you just took off -- if we took off. Bernie shakes his head. It's too late for that now. DISSOLVE TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - LATER - NIGHT Natalie staring up at the ceiling, Bernie nuzzled against her. Her features appear softer than ever. Luminous in the moonlight. Realization moist in her eyes. NATALIE You awake, Bernie? He grunts something inaudible. NATALIE I -- think I love you. Bernie tenses up. Huh? NATALIE No, I don't think. I'm pretty certain of it. Bernie raises his head, not quite sure he heard her right. Natalie sits up, hugs her knees. Bernie finds himself staring at her back. NATALIE You blind-sided me, Bernie Lootz. I never saw this coming. You shouldn't do that to a girl. Bernie reaches out, caresses her back. She emits a shiver... NATALIE There's still things you don't know... should know... I don't want to ruin it... Bernie pulls Natalie back toward him. BERNIE It won't make any difference, Natalie. Whatever you come clean about, I'm not gonna feel any different about you. I'd say the words, but with my luck... NATALIE Say 'em anyway. To hell with rotten luck. That's overs. BERNIE (a beat) I love you, Natalie. Natalie smothers her lips against Bernie's. He enshrouds her in his arms. Fade out... INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - DAY Fade into SOFT FOCUS. Slowing taking form... A CAT'S FACE seen in extreme close-up. WIDER -- to reveal the cat resting on Bernie's chest. She MEOWS as he stirs awake. He's stunned to see her there. BERNIE Trixie? The cat jumps off his chest and slinks over to her empty food bowl. Meows again. Bernie breaks into a wide smile. BERNIE Trix. You came back. Bernie shields his eyes from the bright sunlight streaming in through the blinds. Huh? This is a first for him. He's never gotten direct sunlight in his room before. What's the deal? Did the world just turn on its axis? He glances over his shoulder... No Natalie. Just her impression in the sheets. And a note on her pillow. For a moment his heart stops. He conjures up the worst. Grabs up the note, unfolds it. We see a lipstick kiss and the words: HAVE A SPECTACULAR DAY! Bernie lets out a joyful whoop! Leaps out of bed... SMASH CUT TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - CONTINUOUS - DAY CLOSE-UP: Trixie eating some tuna out of her bowl. We hear the record player needle drop on "Luck Be A Lady." Cut to: Bernie's feet gliding around the room... PAN UP to Bernie dancing with himself. He's positively aglow. He snatches up a salt shaker and sings along with Sinatra. It's true -- love makes the world go around. It obviously also gives life to dead plants, as evidenced by the small bulb that has sprung up overnight above his radiator. But we won't dwell on that. INT. SHANGRI-LA HOTEL AND CASINO - DAY Bernie struts into the casino a changed man (still to the tune of "Luck Be a Lady"). Even his limp seems less pronounced as he greets fellow workers as they pass. He catches a glimpse of himself in a wall mirror. Maybe for the first time, he likes what he sees. In the reflection he notices Natalie smiling at him. He meets her eyes. She averts them quickly, keeps walking. INT. SHELLY'S OFFICE - THAT MOMENT Shelly watches Bernie from the video monitor. He appears less than delighted over Bernie's sunny disposition. He picks up the phone, dials. SHELLY (into phone) Yeah, it's me. Get Bernie over to crap table six. INT. CASINO FLOOR - NIGHT Per usual, Bernie walks up to the bar, asks for a cup of coffee. Doris slides it over. BERNIE (looking around) Got any cre -- Before he can answer, Doris hands him a container of cream. A full container. Taken aback, he starts pouring it into his cup, when he hears a VOICE over the intercom: VOICE (V.O.) Lovett, party of six, your table is ready, Lovett, party of six. Bernie looks to Doris. BERNIE Duty calls. INT. CASINO - MONTAGE - MOMENTS LATER A -- Bernie arrives at a hundred dollar blackjack table just in time for the dealer to bust out. The crowd goes crazy! B -- Bernie takes a break by leaning up against the side of a slot machine. Suddenly, the woman playing it hits a jackpot. C -- Everywhere he seems to go, people continue to win. D -- Bernie, despite the spooky irony, can't help but smile as mountains of chips pile up on the tables. Shelly appears behind him. Not a happy camper. He gestures Bernie to follow him. INT. CASINO SLOTS AREA - NIGHT They head over to a section of slots. As they pass one of those huge million dollar slots, the FLOOR MANAGER cuts in front of them. FLOOR MANAGER Hey, Shelly, check it out. The new Mega-Million. I call her Marnie, 'cause she's one frigid broad. Sure, once in a while she'll flash you a bit of tit, but your chances of hitting a home run -- one in twenty million. Here, give her a shot... He hands Shelly a cup of quarters, takes off. Shelly looks to Bernie. He's trying to keep a lid on his anger. SHELLY (feeding Marnie quarters) You wanna tell me what's going on out there? BERNIE I don't know... Shelly pulls the lever. SHELLY What do you mean... Marnie immediately spits out a small jackpot. SHELLY (reacts with surprise) What do you mean, you don't know? We're down almost a mil out there. Doesn't seem strange to you? BERNIE (shrugs) Guess I'm having an off day. SHELLY You don't have off days, Lootz. You're shitty luck incarnate. What's wrong? You coming down with something? You've got this look about you... Shelly starts feeding Marnie again. BERNIE Nothing's wrong. Fact is, I've never felt better. SHELLY What's that supposed to mean? BERNIE She loves me, Shelly. She told me last night. Natalie. On the mention of Natalie's name, we hear a shrieking SIREN, followed by a deafening toll of slot bells. Shelly's just landed the million dollar jackpot. Shelly stares at the slot in surprise -- then looks over at Bernie. Realization hits hard. Fuck! The floor manager staggers over. His expression is priceless. FLOOR MANAGER Sweet Jesus... you popped her cherries. SEVERAL CASINO WORKERS have gathered to witness the deflowering of Marnie. They gaze reverently upon her, as if witnessing the "Close Encounters" mothership for the first time. Shelly drags Bernie out of earshot. SHELLY Natalie? She told you, she loves you? Bernie nods, a huge grin wrenching his cheeks apart. He's about to go helium on us. INT. CASINO FLOOR - NIGHT Natalie's serving drinks to a table of high rollers, when Tony and Lou appear behind her... INT. SHELLY'S OFFICE - NIGHT The door to Shelly's office slams behind Natalie. Shelly glares at her from behind his desk. We see him thumbing his steel abacus. The beads drifting toward the center. Natalie shakily lights up a cigarette. SHELLY Put that fucking thing out! Natalie, startled, drops her cigarettes. She kneels to gather them up. NATALIE Sorry. SHELLY You should be. You've gone and fucked it up big time. I paid you to be his cooze companion, not his fucking true love. But, no, you had to go and get all profound on the poor schmuck. (mimics female voice) "I love you, Bernie." You know what you've gone and done, sweetheart? Those four little words of endearment have already cost this casino a million and counting today. NATALIE I don't understand... SHELLY (jumps to his feet) Lady luck. You never heard'a lady luck?! That's what's goin' on out there. Lootz is Kryptonite on a stick. He should have 'em throwing ice cubes out there, but instead I got a fuckin' meltdown on my hands. Shelly walks around his desk to Natalie. SHELLY OK, here's what's gonna happen. You're outta his life by the time he gets home. Don't even tell him to his face, just leave a note. I'll make some calls, situate you at another joint. NATALIE I can't do that. SHELLY (right in her face) Excuse me? NATALIE It wasn't an act. I meant it. I love him. SHELLY (close to losing it) What's there to fuckin' love? He's a loser. Always has been, always will be. NATALIE I thought you were his friend... SHELLY And I thought you were a smart cookie when I picked you out. You do not want to fuck me over, darlin'. I'll see to it that your next John's a rattlesnake out in the desert. Now get the fuck outta here. Natalie rushes from the office in tears. Shelly closes his eyes for a moment -- gotta keep it together. INT. SHANGRI-LA CASINO - NIGHT Bernie approaches some cocktail waitresses about to go off duty. BERNIE Hi. Any of you seen Natalie around? I'm supposed to give her a ride home. COCKTAIL WAITRESS #1 I think she left already. She wasn't feelin' too good. We been covering for her. Off Bernie's expression: Oh... EXT. LUCKY STAR MOTEL - NIGHT Bernie's Buick pulls into the lot. He parks, heads for his room. INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT Bernie enters. Flips on the light. No Natalie. BERNIE (calls to the bathroom) Natalie? You in there? No answer. He heads over. Finds it empty. Concern spreads across his features. He glances around the room. Notices the closet wide open. Natalie's clothes missing. BERNIE (sotto) Natalie. That's when he catches sight of the note taped to the dresser mirror. He rushes over, rips it off. I'M SORRY BERNIE. I GUESS IT JUST WASN'T IN THE CARDS FOR US. TAKE CARE, NATALIE. Bernie slumps to the floor in disbelief. Starts to tremble. Then rocks back and forth, wracked by stifled sobs. Christ, make it stop hurting... DISSOLVE TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - LATER Bernie seated at the foot of the bed, drinking bourbon from

aside

How many times the word 'aside' appears in the text?

what Shangri- la is. Paradise. LARRY Yeah, we've all seen the movie. And your point is? Shelly whirls around, yells: SHELLY You don't fuck with paradise! All'a ya! NICKY Hey, Jesus, c'mon, Shelly. We're not trying to fuck with it. We're trying to make it better. SHELLY How... how, Nicky, could it be any better? Right now it's perfect. It's the last of its kind. It's pure... and this. (points to the model; weary) ...this is just... it's a mockery. An insult. Trying to make something of it that it isn't. LARRY What are you talking about? It's right outta the movie? SHELLY Whose talking about a fuckin' movie? This ain't a fuckin' movie. This is my life. This is my house of worship. You people are shittin' on all that's sacred to me. A tense silence ensues. Nicky, Larry and Marty exchange looks. SHELLY (tired laugh) I got just one question? Where you gonna be when they decide to change it back? When the people, they come looking for the real Vegas, from before all this Epcott Center bullshit. Who's gonna it give it to them? You guys? I don't think so. You know who? The same fucks who started this shit in the first place. It's all gonna come full circle and bite you in the ass. Mark my words. Shelly falls silent. Massages his forehead. Shit, that wasn't the way to handle it. Nicky gets up from the sofa, walks over to Shelly, places a hand on his shoulder. Shelly flinches, but doesn't pull away. NICKY You make some good points, Shelly. Maybe it'll swing back the other way, who knows? But the smart money suggests we roll the dice. I'm not gonna bullshit you; naturally there's gonna be a lot of restructuring in the months to come, but I want you to know, you'll always have a place with us. SHELLY Where's that? Behind the bar? MARTY (laughs) Behind the bar, that's a good one. NICKY I think you should take some time and think things through. All this, it's a lot to digest, y'know. MARTY Speaking of things to digest, I'm starving. How's that buffet they got in the Valley of the Blue Moon? You recommend their prime rib, Shell? Shelly stares right through Marty. Choke and die on it, motherfucker. SHELLY It's food. NICKY Hey, my arteries can use a workout. Lead us to the trough, Shell. Shelly nods at Nicky, then shifts his gaze to Larry. Larry's all smiles. He steps forward to join them, his hand dropping down and caressing the surface of Shelly's desk behind him. A subtle gesture not lost on Shelly. Shelly mentally unloads a full chamber into Larry's chest. Returns the smile. INT. CASINO - CRAPS TABLES - NIGHT As Shelly and the group pass a hot craps table, Nicky is drawn to it. NICKY Wait up a second... MARTY I thought we were gonna eat? Only now do we see Bernie has arrived to cool the table of its hot shooter -- A LOUD, pudgy, overdressed SUBURBANITE. Shelly eyes Bernie. SHELLY Maybe we wanna play over there. Less crowded. NICKY Nah, let's play here. This is my lucky table. I always play here. (to the others) Go on ahead. I know where to find you guys. Shelly signals Bernie to back off. Bernie steps back. Shelly, Larry and Marty head for the restaurant. Nicky quickly slaps down some green. The stickman slides the dice over to the suburbanite who is shooting. He scuttles the dice. They bounce up over the rail and spike Nicky on the forehead before dropping back on the felt. The players chuckle. STICKMAN Out! Seven, line away seven... Nicky rubs his forehead, glares at the suburbanite. He fires back. SUBURBANITE C"mon, pops! What the hell? I coulda paid my mortgage with the money I just lost. Nicky says nothing. The table is quickly cleared by the dealers. The stickman skips the next shooter and feeds the dice to Nicky. SHOOTER Hey? I'm supposed to be next... NICKY File a grievance, shithead. Suburbanite is still fuming over his loss. Nicky places a couple hundred on the passline. STICKMAN We're coming out. Crap Eleven, any seven. Nicky throws in some chips to the center. NICKY Hundred dollar big red. Suburbanite watches as Nicky runs through a lengthy pre-shot routine. Lots of hand jive and cuff shooting. SUBURBANITE Hurry it up, gramps. Your soup's getting cold. Nicky throws. STICKMAN Crap, Ace Deuce. Line down. The croupiers takes down the pass line. SUBURBANITE Hey, Busketti, maybe you should try shuffleboard. Nicky is fed the dice again. Same routine. Nicky just fires an incendiary look back at the suburbanite. SUBURBANITE Uncle Palsy? Shake'em this direction. Nicky throws. STICKMAN Four, hard four. The point is four. The players make their bets. SUBURBANITE Good now throw it before you fucking keel over and die, old man. Nicky slowly starts his routine defiantly. SUBURBANITE Happy birthday to me. Happy Birthday to me... Jesus, fuck, I'm another year older already. Nicky throws. STICKMAN OUT! Seven! Line away. Nicky claps his hands dealer style -- for effect -- and with a gentlemanly smile steps back from the table. Nicky's chips are quickly swept up by the croupier. SUBURBANITE Don't take it so hard, pops. Everybody craps out. Nicky locks eyes with the suburbanite. Then flashes a smile that suggests he's going to brush it off. He turns away from the table... SUBURBANITE Now go change your fucking Depends. Nicky makes like it's all in good jest. Yeah, that's real cute. He heads around the table to the suburbanite, holds out his hand as if to say: Hey, no hard feelings. The suburbanite shrugs. What the fuck? I was just playing with you, pops. He reaches for Nicky's hand... when Nicky suddenly headbutts him. Before anyone can react, Nicky starts laying into the suburbanite. The man goes down and. Nicky continues pummeling him... NICKY Who's laughing now, huh? ya fuckin! prick! C'mon, crack wise again... Ya fuckin' smooth as a Ken doll, no- dick, suburbanite scum. How's that for a game?! Shelly alerted to the fracas, rushes back to the table. He takes immediate control of the situation. Snaps his fingers at security. The suburbanite is whisked away with a pocketful of comps and a bruised ego. Shelly takes Nicky aside, attempts to calm him. Nicky keeps railing at Shelly: NICKY That ain't right, Shelly! Guy fucks up my game like that. Who the fuck does he think he is? SHELLY You're right. He's just a piece of shit. Forget about him. NICKY I thought this joint had more class. Used to be, we wouldn't even let bums like that in... Nicky catches himself. He looks at Shelly for a beat. There's an unspoken understanding between them. "The good old days." We see Bernie in the b.g., looking more than a bit shocked. INT. THE MAKAWAO BAR AND GRILL - NIGHT Bernie seated with Natalie. BERNIE This town... You know, Natalie, all I want to do is go some place where I can tell day from night. Where they got clocks on the wall. I can't breathe around here no more. Four days and I'm gone. I'm not even sure I can hold out that long. NATALIE (a beat) So where does that leave us? BERNIE A week ago, I didn't remember what it was like to have a woman's hands on me. I'm still pinching myself, expecting to wake-up from... (just blurts it out) Come with me, Natalie. I want you to come with me. NATALIE God, Bernie, that's... BERNIE I'm sorry. I didn't mean to spring that on you. NATALIE Bernie... I want to be with you. I do. But I don't know if I can leave with you. Bernie's look: Why? NATALIE I was working on a compatibility chart for the two of us. And it looks good, really, it does. BERNIE So, what's the problem? NATALIE That's with us here. In Vegas. Bernie's expression: Oh. NATALIE Maybe I was being presumptuous, 'cause I knew you were leaving... and I tried working it in different ways... It wasn't good, Bernie. I got scared. But that's just for now, for the immediate future. Once the planets realign, maybe a year from now... BERNIE Natalie... I can't... Not another year. Not another week. A somber mood falls on the table. Bernie reaches for Natalie's hand. Instead, he knocks the salt over. It spills out in front of them. BERNIE I think... we probably shouldn't see each other anymore. NATALIE Why, Bernie? We only got a couple days left together. Why not make the most of them? BERNIE (a long beat) Because if I spend one more night in your arms, I'm not going anywhere. NATALIE And that's so bad? Bernie just stares at her, shrouded in sadness. Natalie stubs out her cigarette, rises. NATALIE Take care, Bernie. Bernie casts his eyes to the mound of spilled salt in front of him. Nods. A few beats later he raises his head... BERNIE Natalie, don't... Gone. A WAITRESS appears. WAITRESS (O.S.) Get you another? BERNIE (nods) I think you better bring me the bottle. Please. INT. SHANGRI-LA HOTEL AND CASINO/BAR - NIGHT Once again, we see Bernie's feet limp across the casino floor. He walks up to the bar, asks for a cup of coffee. Doris brings it over. Short on the cream again. He just sips it black. Gloom and doom features. Life sucks. His master's VOICE sounds over the intercom: VOICE (V.O.) Chang, party of fifteen, your table is ready, Chang party of fifteen. Bernie looks to Doris. Sighs. Only three more days. INT. CASINO FLOOR - CRAPS TABLES - NIGHT He heads for the crap tables, the sound of raucous CHEERING becomes audible. A large crowd starting to gather. Bernie noodles his way to the front of the crowd. As soon as he gets a look at the heavy hitter at the table, he tenses up. Oh shit. It's MIKEY. With Charlene. Charlene is making one hell of a racket. Playing up her extremely maternal state. Just then Natalie sidles up to Bernie with the Chivas Regal. Without thinking about it, he grabs the glass off the tray, downs it in a single gulp. CHARLENE (clutching her tummy) Come on, Mikey. This is our future. Don't blow it. Mikey throws down a bet for the dealer. MIKEY Put this on the line for the boys. The stickman thanks him as they place the bet. Mikey throws down more money. We can see Mikey has bets all over the table. MIKEY With shoes! STICKMAN Dealer's got shoes. Hands high, the dice are out! The point is nine. CHARLENE Come on all you's. Put a good thought in for our baby! As everyone dotes over Charlene, Mikey quickly swaps the dice before anyone can see. He throws. STICKMAN Six the hard way! Mikey is paid nine thousand by the croupier, as is Charlene. Bernie stands frozen. He doesn't bother trying to get any closer to the table. He knows it'll do no good. CHARLENE Oh my god, I just felt him kick! He knows. He knows you're all pulling for him. God bless you all. Natalie looks over at Charlene. Their eyes meet for a second. It's as though Natalie knows it's a scam and Charlene's acknowledging it. Mikey throws again. STICKMAN Six the hard way! Look out, we got a shooter! Another nine grand. Mikey's rail is nearly full. Charlene hops around awkwardly causing more distraction. Bernie is really sweating it out now. Then Shelly arrives. Larry is hot on his tail. SHELLY How much? BERNIE Eighteen thousand since I stepped up. I'm sorry, Shelly, I guess I've been hit and miss lately. Shelly's expression tells us he isn't so sure. Something definitely isn't kosher. As Charlene chatters on, Mikey switches the dice back. Shelly makes him. SHELLY (sotto) Fucking amateurs... Mikey throws... STICKMAN Seven out! Line away. The players and crowd, though disappointed, applaud Mikey's achievement. MIKEY (bowing) I thank you. My wife thanks you. My unborn child thanks you. Mikey moves his rail of chips to the felt. MIKEY Color me up will ya? Larry notices Shelly slipping on a pair of leather gloves. LARRY You've gotta be kidding me. (off Shelly's steely glare) That's not how I propose we handle it. We'll turn the matter over to the authorities. They'll be blacklisted, their credit ruined... SHELLY (gets in Larry's face) And then we'll give 'em both a lollipop for the ride home. Come watch and learn, Harvard. A little lesson on how to protect your investment -- the old school way. Shelly walks over to Mikey and Charlene, Larry lingering behind him. SHELLY Hey, that was some run you had back there. MIKEY Uh, thanks. Just lucky I guess. Mikey steals a tense glance at Charlene. She starts to fidget nervously. SHELLY Why don't we go do this in my office? I don't like to hand out all this amount of cash on the floor. Security (Tony and Lou) corrals the couple. Leads them away. Bernie watches as they pass by. Mikey looks into Bernie's eyes. They both know he's been made. Natalie doesn't say anything, just looks at Bernie. INT. CASINO RECEIVING AREA - NIGHT Slot machines everywhere -- some on the way out, some on the way in. Crates of casino supplies. Bernie rushes in with Natalie behind him. Heading for an aural beacon of BLOWS landing on flesh... GRUNTING, PLEADING... ...arriving to find Tony and Lou kicking the shit out of Mikey on the floor. Charlene lies clutching her belly a few feet away. Shelly swings a baseball bat, warming up for some blood sport. Larry watches from the sidelines -- at once appalled and enthralled. CHARLENE Oh my God... I can feel the contractions coming on... Bernie rushes over to Shelly... BERNIE Shelly, stop them! Don't do this! SHELLY Get lost, Bernie, this got nothing to do with you. BERNIE It's got everything to do with me. He's my son. Everyone stops dead. Freeze frame. Shelly gets a weird look in his eye. A fuse has just been lit... SHELLY What did you say? BERNIE I said, he's my -- SHELLY Who? This little prick? Shelly smashes Mikey across the shoulder with the bat. AARRRGGGGHHH!!! Shelly raises the bat to cream Mikey again... Bernie grabs Shelly's arm. Shelly shoves him back. Raises the bat again... MIKEY Pop, help me... BERNIE Shelly, don't you fucking do it! Shelly freezes. He lowers the bat, throws it aside. Grabs Bernie by his collar... SHELLY Were you in on this? Jesus, you better come clean with me. BERNIE NO! God, no! I didn't know nothing about it. Shelly releases Bernie. There's a strange look in Shelly's eye. We see the wheels turning... SHELLY How much you think their lives are worth, Bernie? Myself, I don't think they're worth piss. But, hey, it ain't my kid... Bernie sees where Shelly's going with this. We can almost hear the cell door slamming in his head. SHELLY Let me see: they were up almost a hundred and fifty grand. That's 150 G's someone's gonna have to account for. What do you say, Bernie, seventy- five grand a piece? Bernie glances over at Natalie. She has tears in her eyes. He looks to Shelly pleadingly. Please don't do this... SHELLY Hey, I know you don't have that kind of cash. But, since you're a friend of the house, I'm willing to front you. BERNIE Shelly, they didn't get away with the money... You didn't lose anything... Shelly glances over at Lou, nods. Lou kicks Mikey in the face. His nose snaps like a twig. BERNIE Oh Jesus... Yes! All right. It's on me. 150 G's. Charlene clutches her belly, moans... CHARLENE Oh god, oh god... you gotta get me to the hospital... contractions... BERNIE Shelly, please help her. That's my grandson... SHELLY Hey, why don't we all break out the champagne? Lootz is about to become a granddaddy. (walks over to her) How you doin' there, sweetheart? Must hurt like crap, huh? CHARLENE (nods) Hurts so bad... SHELLY Yeah? Suddenly Shelly kicks Charlene in the belly! WHAM! She screeches out. NATALIE Oh God... BERNIE Jesus NOOOOO!!! Even Shelly's goons can't believe what they've just witnessed. Larry is aghast. Bernie rushes Shelly, starts raining blows on him. Shelly swats him off. He drops down next to the squirming girl, rips her sweater and blouse up over her stomach... ...to reveal a mound of fake padding. He tears the padding away from her, throws it at Bernie. SHELLY Here! It's a fuckin' boy. Anyone got a cigar? The muscle start laughing it up. Relief. Larry emits a nervous giggle. Natalie's jaw hits the floor. Bernie takes a step back. He's about to go into serious shock. Charlene curls over, sobbing. SHELLY (to Bernie) You sure you still want to be good for it? Because if you want to change your mind, I don't blame you. Bernie looks over at Mikey. He stares up at his father, trembling. MIKEY I'll make it up to you, Pop, I swear... Bernie holds his son's gaze for a beat. He's almost tempted to... He just shrugs and nods at Shelly. BERNIE It's on me. SHELLY (shakes his head) That's the worst fucking call you ever made in your life. ON NATALIE at that moment. We can tell she agrees with Shelly... but thinks all the more of Bernie for it. That might even be love in her eyes. Shelly snatches his baseball bat up off the floor. Walks over to Mikey, and brings it down full force, pulverizing Mikey's left kneecap. Oh man, the scream... BERNIE What are you doing?! I thought we had -- SHELLY 150 G's buys their lives. This is just a little slap on the wrist to remember me by. Natalie turns her head. She's about to throw up. Larry watches, unflinchingly. Charlene is making with some serious pleading now. CHARLENE Oh god... it wasn't my idea. Shelly steps up to Charlene, tapping the base of the bat in the palm of his hand. He smiles reassuringly at her. SHELLY You know, motherhood is a beautiful thing. This... you made a mockery out of it. Maybe you'll get to experience it for real one day. CHARLENE (nods, sobbing) I want... to be a mother... please don't hurt me... SHELLY I'm not going to hurt you. Shelly turns his back on her. Charlene starts sobbing relief. They're not going to hurt her. It's going to be all right. Wrong. Shelly throws the bat to Lou. The heavy steps up to the plate (as we RACK FOCUS to Shelly walking away) -- CRUNCH!!! followed by the girl's SHRIEKS. Natalie buries her head in Bernie's shoulder. SHELLY (to Tony and Lou) Get 'em outta here. You ever see them in this joint again, kill 'em. SHELLY (to Bernie and Natalie) You two, you're still on shift. Shelly catches Larry's eye: I hope you were taking notes. INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT Bernie's seated on the edge of his bed, drowning his sorrows with a bottle of gin. Moonlight paints him in jail bars of shadow. Natalie lingers in the b.g. BERNIE I did this to myself. I planted the seed. When Angela took off with Mikey, I didn't... I never made an effort to get back in his life. I figured, the kid don't need a loser for a father. Now it's all come full circle. I give him the money, I open the door to all this... I musta had it coming. Payback. Natalie's hand lowers the needle onto the Sinatra record. "Nice 'n' Easy" starts up. She walks over to Bernie, takes the bottle away. Helps him to his feet. He gives himself over to her reassuring embrace. Natalie raises Bernie's face to her's. NATALIE Bernie, it's a big world out there. If you just took off -- if we took off. Bernie shakes his head. It's too late for that now. DISSOLVE TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - LATER - NIGHT Natalie staring up at the ceiling, Bernie nuzzled against her. Her features appear softer than ever. Luminous in the moonlight. Realization moist in her eyes. NATALIE You awake, Bernie? He grunts something inaudible. NATALIE I -- think I love you. Bernie tenses up. Huh? NATALIE No, I don't think. I'm pretty certain of it. Bernie raises his head, not quite sure he heard her right. Natalie sits up, hugs her knees. Bernie finds himself staring at her back. NATALIE You blind-sided me, Bernie Lootz. I never saw this coming. You shouldn't do that to a girl. Bernie reaches out, caresses her back. She emits a shiver... NATALIE There's still things you don't know... should know... I don't want to ruin it... Bernie pulls Natalie back toward him. BERNIE It won't make any difference, Natalie. Whatever you come clean about, I'm not gonna feel any different about you. I'd say the words, but with my luck... NATALIE Say 'em anyway. To hell with rotten luck. That's overs. BERNIE (a beat) I love you, Natalie. Natalie smothers her lips against Bernie's. He enshrouds her in his arms. Fade out... INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - DAY Fade into SOFT FOCUS. Slowing taking form... A CAT'S FACE seen in extreme close-up. WIDER -- to reveal the cat resting on Bernie's chest. She MEOWS as he stirs awake. He's stunned to see her there. BERNIE Trixie? The cat jumps off his chest and slinks over to her empty food bowl. Meows again. Bernie breaks into a wide smile. BERNIE Trix. You came back. Bernie shields his eyes from the bright sunlight streaming in through the blinds. Huh? This is a first for him. He's never gotten direct sunlight in his room before. What's the deal? Did the world just turn on its axis? He glances over his shoulder... No Natalie. Just her impression in the sheets. And a note on her pillow. For a moment his heart stops. He conjures up the worst. Grabs up the note, unfolds it. We see a lipstick kiss and the words: HAVE A SPECTACULAR DAY! Bernie lets out a joyful whoop! Leaps out of bed... SMASH CUT TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - CONTINUOUS - DAY CLOSE-UP: Trixie eating some tuna out of her bowl. We hear the record player needle drop on "Luck Be A Lady." Cut to: Bernie's feet gliding around the room... PAN UP to Bernie dancing with himself. He's positively aglow. He snatches up a salt shaker and sings along with Sinatra. It's true -- love makes the world go around. It obviously also gives life to dead plants, as evidenced by the small bulb that has sprung up overnight above his radiator. But we won't dwell on that. INT. SHANGRI-LA HOTEL AND CASINO - DAY Bernie struts into the casino a changed man (still to the tune of "Luck Be a Lady"). Even his limp seems less pronounced as he greets fellow workers as they pass. He catches a glimpse of himself in a wall mirror. Maybe for the first time, he likes what he sees. In the reflection he notices Natalie smiling at him. He meets her eyes. She averts them quickly, keeps walking. INT. SHELLY'S OFFICE - THAT MOMENT Shelly watches Bernie from the video monitor. He appears less than delighted over Bernie's sunny disposition. He picks up the phone, dials. SHELLY (into phone) Yeah, it's me. Get Bernie over to crap table six. INT. CASINO FLOOR - NIGHT Per usual, Bernie walks up to the bar, asks for a cup of coffee. Doris slides it over. BERNIE (looking around) Got any cre -- Before he can answer, Doris hands him a container of cream. A full container. Taken aback, he starts pouring it into his cup, when he hears a VOICE over the intercom: VOICE (V.O.) Lovett, party of six, your table is ready, Lovett, party of six. Bernie looks to Doris. BERNIE Duty calls. INT. CASINO - MONTAGE - MOMENTS LATER A -- Bernie arrives at a hundred dollar blackjack table just in time for the dealer to bust out. The crowd goes crazy! B -- Bernie takes a break by leaning up against the side of a slot machine. Suddenly, the woman playing it hits a jackpot. C -- Everywhere he seems to go, people continue to win. D -- Bernie, despite the spooky irony, can't help but smile as mountains of chips pile up on the tables. Shelly appears behind him. Not a happy camper. He gestures Bernie to follow him. INT. CASINO SLOTS AREA - NIGHT They head over to a section of slots. As they pass one of those huge million dollar slots, the FLOOR MANAGER cuts in front of them. FLOOR MANAGER Hey, Shelly, check it out. The new Mega-Million. I call her Marnie, 'cause she's one frigid broad. Sure, once in a while she'll flash you a bit of tit, but your chances of hitting a home run -- one in twenty million. Here, give her a shot... He hands Shelly a cup of quarters, takes off. Shelly looks to Bernie. He's trying to keep a lid on his anger. SHELLY (feeding Marnie quarters) You wanna tell me what's going on out there? BERNIE I don't know... Shelly pulls the lever. SHELLY What do you mean... Marnie immediately spits out a small jackpot. SHELLY (reacts with surprise) What do you mean, you don't know? We're down almost a mil out there. Doesn't seem strange to you? BERNIE (shrugs) Guess I'm having an off day. SHELLY You don't have off days, Lootz. You're shitty luck incarnate. What's wrong? You coming down with something? You've got this look about you... Shelly starts feeding Marnie again. BERNIE Nothing's wrong. Fact is, I've never felt better. SHELLY What's that supposed to mean? BERNIE She loves me, Shelly. She told me last night. Natalie. On the mention of Natalie's name, we hear a shrieking SIREN, followed by a deafening toll of slot bells. Shelly's just landed the million dollar jackpot. Shelly stares at the slot in surprise -- then looks over at Bernie. Realization hits hard. Fuck! The floor manager staggers over. His expression is priceless. FLOOR MANAGER Sweet Jesus... you popped her cherries. SEVERAL CASINO WORKERS have gathered to witness the deflowering of Marnie. They gaze reverently upon her, as if witnessing the "Close Encounters" mothership for the first time. Shelly drags Bernie out of earshot. SHELLY Natalie? She told you, she loves you? Bernie nods, a huge grin wrenching his cheeks apart. He's about to go helium on us. INT. CASINO FLOOR - NIGHT Natalie's serving drinks to a table of high rollers, when Tony and Lou appear behind her... INT. SHELLY'S OFFICE - NIGHT The door to Shelly's office slams behind Natalie. Shelly glares at her from behind his desk. We see him thumbing his steel abacus. The beads drifting toward the center. Natalie shakily lights up a cigarette. SHELLY Put that fucking thing out! Natalie, startled, drops her cigarettes. She kneels to gather them up. NATALIE Sorry. SHELLY You should be. You've gone and fucked it up big time. I paid you to be his cooze companion, not his fucking true love. But, no, you had to go and get all profound on the poor schmuck. (mimics female voice) "I love you, Bernie." You know what you've gone and done, sweetheart? Those four little words of endearment have already cost this casino a million and counting today. NATALIE I don't understand... SHELLY (jumps to his feet) Lady luck. You never heard'a lady luck?! That's what's goin' on out there. Lootz is Kryptonite on a stick. He should have 'em throwing ice cubes out there, but instead I got a fuckin' meltdown on my hands. Shelly walks around his desk to Natalie. SHELLY OK, here's what's gonna happen. You're outta his life by the time he gets home. Don't even tell him to his face, just leave a note. I'll make some calls, situate you at another joint. NATALIE I can't do that. SHELLY (right in her face) Excuse me? NATALIE It wasn't an act. I meant it. I love him. SHELLY (close to losing it) What's there to fuckin' love? He's a loser. Always has been, always will be. NATALIE I thought you were his friend... SHELLY And I thought you were a smart cookie when I picked you out. You do not want to fuck me over, darlin'. I'll see to it that your next John's a rattlesnake out in the desert. Now get the fuck outta here. Natalie rushes from the office in tears. Shelly closes his eyes for a moment -- gotta keep it together. INT. SHANGRI-LA CASINO - NIGHT Bernie approaches some cocktail waitresses about to go off duty. BERNIE Hi. Any of you seen Natalie around? I'm supposed to give her a ride home. COCKTAIL WAITRESS #1 I think she left already. She wasn't feelin' too good. We been covering for her. Off Bernie's expression: Oh... EXT. LUCKY STAR MOTEL - NIGHT Bernie's Buick pulls into the lot. He parks, heads for his room. INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT Bernie enters. Flips on the light. No Natalie. BERNIE (calls to the bathroom) Natalie? You in there? No answer. He heads over. Finds it empty. Concern spreads across his features. He glances around the room. Notices the closet wide open. Natalie's clothes missing. BERNIE (sotto) Natalie. That's when he catches sight of the note taped to the dresser mirror. He rushes over, rips it off. I'M SORRY BERNIE. I GUESS IT JUST WASN'T IN THE CARDS FOR US. TAKE CARE, NATALIE. Bernie slumps to the floor in disbelief. Starts to tremble. Then rocks back and forth, wracked by stifled sobs. Christ, make it stop hurting... DISSOLVE TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - LATER Bernie seated at the foot of the bed, drinking bourbon from

die

How many times the word 'die' appears in the text?

what Shangri- la is. Paradise. LARRY Yeah, we've all seen the movie. And your point is? Shelly whirls around, yells: SHELLY You don't fuck with paradise! All'a ya! NICKY Hey, Jesus, c'mon, Shelly. We're not trying to fuck with it. We're trying to make it better. SHELLY How... how, Nicky, could it be any better? Right now it's perfect. It's the last of its kind. It's pure... and this. (points to the model; weary) ...this is just... it's a mockery. An insult. Trying to make something of it that it isn't. LARRY What are you talking about? It's right outta the movie? SHELLY Whose talking about a fuckin' movie? This ain't a fuckin' movie. This is my life. This is my house of worship. You people are shittin' on all that's sacred to me. A tense silence ensues. Nicky, Larry and Marty exchange looks. SHELLY (tired laugh) I got just one question? Where you gonna be when they decide to change it back? When the people, they come looking for the real Vegas, from before all this Epcott Center bullshit. Who's gonna it give it to them? You guys? I don't think so. You know who? The same fucks who started this shit in the first place. It's all gonna come full circle and bite you in the ass. Mark my words. Shelly falls silent. Massages his forehead. Shit, that wasn't the way to handle it. Nicky gets up from the sofa, walks over to Shelly, places a hand on his shoulder. Shelly flinches, but doesn't pull away. NICKY You make some good points, Shelly. Maybe it'll swing back the other way, who knows? But the smart money suggests we roll the dice. I'm not gonna bullshit you; naturally there's gonna be a lot of restructuring in the months to come, but I want you to know, you'll always have a place with us. SHELLY Where's that? Behind the bar? MARTY (laughs) Behind the bar, that's a good one. NICKY I think you should take some time and think things through. All this, it's a lot to digest, y'know. MARTY Speaking of things to digest, I'm starving. How's that buffet they got in the Valley of the Blue Moon? You recommend their prime rib, Shell? Shelly stares right through Marty. Choke and die on it, motherfucker. SHELLY It's food. NICKY Hey, my arteries can use a workout. Lead us to the trough, Shell. Shelly nods at Nicky, then shifts his gaze to Larry. Larry's all smiles. He steps forward to join them, his hand dropping down and caressing the surface of Shelly's desk behind him. A subtle gesture not lost on Shelly. Shelly mentally unloads a full chamber into Larry's chest. Returns the smile. INT. CASINO - CRAPS TABLES - NIGHT As Shelly and the group pass a hot craps table, Nicky is drawn to it. NICKY Wait up a second... MARTY I thought we were gonna eat? Only now do we see Bernie has arrived to cool the table of its hot shooter -- A LOUD, pudgy, overdressed SUBURBANITE. Shelly eyes Bernie. SHELLY Maybe we wanna play over there. Less crowded. NICKY Nah, let's play here. This is my lucky table. I always play here. (to the others) Go on ahead. I know where to find you guys. Shelly signals Bernie to back off. Bernie steps back. Shelly, Larry and Marty head for the restaurant. Nicky quickly slaps down some green. The stickman slides the dice over to the suburbanite who is shooting. He scuttles the dice. They bounce up over the rail and spike Nicky on the forehead before dropping back on the felt. The players chuckle. STICKMAN Out! Seven, line away seven... Nicky rubs his forehead, glares at the suburbanite. He fires back. SUBURBANITE C"mon, pops! What the hell? I coulda paid my mortgage with the money I just lost. Nicky says nothing. The table is quickly cleared by the dealers. The stickman skips the next shooter and feeds the dice to Nicky. SHOOTER Hey? I'm supposed to be next... NICKY File a grievance, shithead. Suburbanite is still fuming over his loss. Nicky places a couple hundred on the passline. STICKMAN We're coming out. Crap Eleven, any seven. Nicky throws in some chips to the center. NICKY Hundred dollar big red. Suburbanite watches as Nicky runs through a lengthy pre-shot routine. Lots of hand jive and cuff shooting. SUBURBANITE Hurry it up, gramps. Your soup's getting cold. Nicky throws. STICKMAN Crap, Ace Deuce. Line down. The croupiers takes down the pass line. SUBURBANITE Hey, Busketti, maybe you should try shuffleboard. Nicky is fed the dice again. Same routine. Nicky just fires an incendiary look back at the suburbanite. SUBURBANITE Uncle Palsy? Shake'em this direction. Nicky throws. STICKMAN Four, hard four. The point is four. The players make their bets. SUBURBANITE Good now throw it before you fucking keel over and die, old man. Nicky slowly starts his routine defiantly. SUBURBANITE Happy birthday to me. Happy Birthday to me... Jesus, fuck, I'm another year older already. Nicky throws. STICKMAN OUT! Seven! Line away. Nicky claps his hands dealer style -- for effect -- and with a gentlemanly smile steps back from the table. Nicky's chips are quickly swept up by the croupier. SUBURBANITE Don't take it so hard, pops. Everybody craps out. Nicky locks eyes with the suburbanite. Then flashes a smile that suggests he's going to brush it off. He turns away from the table... SUBURBANITE Now go change your fucking Depends. Nicky makes like it's all in good jest. Yeah, that's real cute. He heads around the table to the suburbanite, holds out his hand as if to say: Hey, no hard feelings. The suburbanite shrugs. What the fuck? I was just playing with you, pops. He reaches for Nicky's hand... when Nicky suddenly headbutts him. Before anyone can react, Nicky starts laying into the suburbanite. The man goes down and. Nicky continues pummeling him... NICKY Who's laughing now, huh? ya fuckin! prick! C'mon, crack wise again... Ya fuckin' smooth as a Ken doll, no- dick, suburbanite scum. How's that for a game?! Shelly alerted to the fracas, rushes back to the table. He takes immediate control of the situation. Snaps his fingers at security. The suburbanite is whisked away with a pocketful of comps and a bruised ego. Shelly takes Nicky aside, attempts to calm him. Nicky keeps railing at Shelly: NICKY That ain't right, Shelly! Guy fucks up my game like that. Who the fuck does he think he is? SHELLY You're right. He's just a piece of shit. Forget about him. NICKY I thought this joint had more class. Used to be, we wouldn't even let bums like that in... Nicky catches himself. He looks at Shelly for a beat. There's an unspoken understanding between them. "The good old days." We see Bernie in the b.g., looking more than a bit shocked. INT. THE MAKAWAO BAR AND GRILL - NIGHT Bernie seated with Natalie. BERNIE This town... You know, Natalie, all I want to do is go some place where I can tell day from night. Where they got clocks on the wall. I can't breathe around here no more. Four days and I'm gone. I'm not even sure I can hold out that long. NATALIE (a beat) So where does that leave us? BERNIE A week ago, I didn't remember what it was like to have a woman's hands on me. I'm still pinching myself, expecting to wake-up from... (just blurts it out) Come with me, Natalie. I want you to come with me. NATALIE God, Bernie, that's... BERNIE I'm sorry. I didn't mean to spring that on you. NATALIE Bernie... I want to be with you. I do. But I don't know if I can leave with you. Bernie's look: Why? NATALIE I was working on a compatibility chart for the two of us. And it looks good, really, it does. BERNIE So, what's the problem? NATALIE That's with us here. In Vegas. Bernie's expression: Oh. NATALIE Maybe I was being presumptuous, 'cause I knew you were leaving... and I tried working it in different ways... It wasn't good, Bernie. I got scared. But that's just for now, for the immediate future. Once the planets realign, maybe a year from now... BERNIE Natalie... I can't... Not another year. Not another week. A somber mood falls on the table. Bernie reaches for Natalie's hand. Instead, he knocks the salt over. It spills out in front of them. BERNIE I think... we probably shouldn't see each other anymore. NATALIE Why, Bernie? We only got a couple days left together. Why not make the most of them? BERNIE (a long beat) Because if I spend one more night in your arms, I'm not going anywhere. NATALIE And that's so bad? Bernie just stares at her, shrouded in sadness. Natalie stubs out her cigarette, rises. NATALIE Take care, Bernie. Bernie casts his eyes to the mound of spilled salt in front of him. Nods. A few beats later he raises his head... BERNIE Natalie, don't... Gone. A WAITRESS appears. WAITRESS (O.S.) Get you another? BERNIE (nods) I think you better bring me the bottle. Please. INT. SHANGRI-LA HOTEL AND CASINO/BAR - NIGHT Once again, we see Bernie's feet limp across the casino floor. He walks up to the bar, asks for a cup of coffee. Doris brings it over. Short on the cream again. He just sips it black. Gloom and doom features. Life sucks. His master's VOICE sounds over the intercom: VOICE (V.O.) Chang, party of fifteen, your table is ready, Chang party of fifteen. Bernie looks to Doris. Sighs. Only three more days. INT. CASINO FLOOR - CRAPS TABLES - NIGHT He heads for the crap tables, the sound of raucous CHEERING becomes audible. A large crowd starting to gather. Bernie noodles his way to the front of the crowd. As soon as he gets a look at the heavy hitter at the table, he tenses up. Oh shit. It's MIKEY. With Charlene. Charlene is making one hell of a racket. Playing up her extremely maternal state. Just then Natalie sidles up to Bernie with the Chivas Regal. Without thinking about it, he grabs the glass off the tray, downs it in a single gulp. CHARLENE (clutching her tummy) Come on, Mikey. This is our future. Don't blow it. Mikey throws down a bet for the dealer. MIKEY Put this on the line for the boys. The stickman thanks him as they place the bet. Mikey throws down more money. We can see Mikey has bets all over the table. MIKEY With shoes! STICKMAN Dealer's got shoes. Hands high, the dice are out! The point is nine. CHARLENE Come on all you's. Put a good thought in for our baby! As everyone dotes over Charlene, Mikey quickly swaps the dice before anyone can see. He throws. STICKMAN Six the hard way! Mikey is paid nine thousand by the croupier, as is Charlene. Bernie stands frozen. He doesn't bother trying to get any closer to the table. He knows it'll do no good. CHARLENE Oh my god, I just felt him kick! He knows. He knows you're all pulling for him. God bless you all. Natalie looks over at Charlene. Their eyes meet for a second. It's as though Natalie knows it's a scam and Charlene's acknowledging it. Mikey throws again. STICKMAN Six the hard way! Look out, we got a shooter! Another nine grand. Mikey's rail is nearly full. Charlene hops around awkwardly causing more distraction. Bernie is really sweating it out now. Then Shelly arrives. Larry is hot on his tail. SHELLY How much? BERNIE Eighteen thousand since I stepped up. I'm sorry, Shelly, I guess I've been hit and miss lately. Shelly's expression tells us he isn't so sure. Something definitely isn't kosher. As Charlene chatters on, Mikey switches the dice back. Shelly makes him. SHELLY (sotto) Fucking amateurs... Mikey throws... STICKMAN Seven out! Line away. The players and crowd, though disappointed, applaud Mikey's achievement. MIKEY (bowing) I thank you. My wife thanks you. My unborn child thanks you. Mikey moves his rail of chips to the felt. MIKEY Color me up will ya? Larry notices Shelly slipping on a pair of leather gloves. LARRY You've gotta be kidding me. (off Shelly's steely glare) That's not how I propose we handle it. We'll turn the matter over to the authorities. They'll be blacklisted, their credit ruined... SHELLY (gets in Larry's face) And then we'll give 'em both a lollipop for the ride home. Come watch and learn, Harvard. A little lesson on how to protect your investment -- the old school way. Shelly walks over to Mikey and Charlene, Larry lingering behind him. SHELLY Hey, that was some run you had back there. MIKEY Uh, thanks. Just lucky I guess. Mikey steals a tense glance at Charlene. She starts to fidget nervously. SHELLY Why don't we go do this in my office? I don't like to hand out all this amount of cash on the floor. Security (Tony and Lou) corrals the couple. Leads them away. Bernie watches as they pass by. Mikey looks into Bernie's eyes. They both know he's been made. Natalie doesn't say anything, just looks at Bernie. INT. CASINO RECEIVING AREA - NIGHT Slot machines everywhere -- some on the way out, some on the way in. Crates of casino supplies. Bernie rushes in with Natalie behind him. Heading for an aural beacon of BLOWS landing on flesh... GRUNTING, PLEADING... ...arriving to find Tony and Lou kicking the shit out of Mikey on the floor. Charlene lies clutching her belly a few feet away. Shelly swings a baseball bat, warming up for some blood sport. Larry watches from the sidelines -- at once appalled and enthralled. CHARLENE Oh my God... I can feel the contractions coming on... Bernie rushes over to Shelly... BERNIE Shelly, stop them! Don't do this! SHELLY Get lost, Bernie, this got nothing to do with you. BERNIE It's got everything to do with me. He's my son. Everyone stops dead. Freeze frame. Shelly gets a weird look in his eye. A fuse has just been lit... SHELLY What did you say? BERNIE I said, he's my -- SHELLY Who? This little prick? Shelly smashes Mikey across the shoulder with the bat. AARRRGGGGHHH!!! Shelly raises the bat to cream Mikey again... Bernie grabs Shelly's arm. Shelly shoves him back. Raises the bat again... MIKEY Pop, help me... BERNIE Shelly, don't you fucking do it! Shelly freezes. He lowers the bat, throws it aside. Grabs Bernie by his collar... SHELLY Were you in on this? Jesus, you better come clean with me. BERNIE NO! God, no! I didn't know nothing about it. Shelly releases Bernie. There's a strange look in Shelly's eye. We see the wheels turning... SHELLY How much you think their lives are worth, Bernie? Myself, I don't think they're worth piss. But, hey, it ain't my kid... Bernie sees where Shelly's going with this. We can almost hear the cell door slamming in his head. SHELLY Let me see: they were up almost a hundred and fifty grand. That's 150 G's someone's gonna have to account for. What do you say, Bernie, seventy- five grand a piece? Bernie glances over at Natalie. She has tears in her eyes. He looks to Shelly pleadingly. Please don't do this... SHELLY Hey, I know you don't have that kind of cash. But, since you're a friend of the house, I'm willing to front you. BERNIE Shelly, they didn't get away with the money... You didn't lose anything... Shelly glances over at Lou, nods. Lou kicks Mikey in the face. His nose snaps like a twig. BERNIE Oh Jesus... Yes! All right. It's on me. 150 G's. Charlene clutches her belly, moans... CHARLENE Oh god, oh god... you gotta get me to the hospital... contractions... BERNIE Shelly, please help her. That's my grandson... SHELLY Hey, why don't we all break out the champagne? Lootz is about to become a granddaddy. (walks over to her) How you doin' there, sweetheart? Must hurt like crap, huh? CHARLENE (nods) Hurts so bad... SHELLY Yeah? Suddenly Shelly kicks Charlene in the belly! WHAM! She screeches out. NATALIE Oh God... BERNIE Jesus NOOOOO!!! Even Shelly's goons can't believe what they've just witnessed. Larry is aghast. Bernie rushes Shelly, starts raining blows on him. Shelly swats him off. He drops down next to the squirming girl, rips her sweater and blouse up over her stomach... ...to reveal a mound of fake padding. He tears the padding away from her, throws it at Bernie. SHELLY Here! It's a fuckin' boy. Anyone got a cigar? The muscle start laughing it up. Relief. Larry emits a nervous giggle. Natalie's jaw hits the floor. Bernie takes a step back. He's about to go into serious shock. Charlene curls over, sobbing. SHELLY (to Bernie) You sure you still want to be good for it? Because if you want to change your mind, I don't blame you. Bernie looks over at Mikey. He stares up at his father, trembling. MIKEY I'll make it up to you, Pop, I swear... Bernie holds his son's gaze for a beat. He's almost tempted to... He just shrugs and nods at Shelly. BERNIE It's on me. SHELLY (shakes his head) That's the worst fucking call you ever made in your life. ON NATALIE at that moment. We can tell she agrees with Shelly... but thinks all the more of Bernie for it. That might even be love in her eyes. Shelly snatches his baseball bat up off the floor. Walks over to Mikey, and brings it down full force, pulverizing Mikey's left kneecap. Oh man, the scream... BERNIE What are you doing?! I thought we had -- SHELLY 150 G's buys their lives. This is just a little slap on the wrist to remember me by. Natalie turns her head. She's about to throw up. Larry watches, unflinchingly. Charlene is making with some serious pleading now. CHARLENE Oh god... it wasn't my idea. Shelly steps up to Charlene, tapping the base of the bat in the palm of his hand. He smiles reassuringly at her. SHELLY You know, motherhood is a beautiful thing. This... you made a mockery out of it. Maybe you'll get to experience it for real one day. CHARLENE (nods, sobbing) I want... to be a mother... please don't hurt me... SHELLY I'm not going to hurt you. Shelly turns his back on her. Charlene starts sobbing relief. They're not going to hurt her. It's going to be all right. Wrong. Shelly throws the bat to Lou. The heavy steps up to the plate (as we RACK FOCUS to Shelly walking away) -- CRUNCH!!! followed by the girl's SHRIEKS. Natalie buries her head in Bernie's shoulder. SHELLY (to Tony and Lou) Get 'em outta here. You ever see them in this joint again, kill 'em. SHELLY (to Bernie and Natalie) You two, you're still on shift. Shelly catches Larry's eye: I hope you were taking notes. INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT Bernie's seated on the edge of his bed, drowning his sorrows with a bottle of gin. Moonlight paints him in jail bars of shadow. Natalie lingers in the b.g. BERNIE I did this to myself. I planted the seed. When Angela took off with Mikey, I didn't... I never made an effort to get back in his life. I figured, the kid don't need a loser for a father. Now it's all come full circle. I give him the money, I open the door to all this... I musta had it coming. Payback. Natalie's hand lowers the needle onto the Sinatra record. "Nice 'n' Easy" starts up. She walks over to Bernie, takes the bottle away. Helps him to his feet. He gives himself over to her reassuring embrace. Natalie raises Bernie's face to her's. NATALIE Bernie, it's a big world out there. If you just took off -- if we took off. Bernie shakes his head. It's too late for that now. DISSOLVE TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - LATER - NIGHT Natalie staring up at the ceiling, Bernie nuzzled against her. Her features appear softer than ever. Luminous in the moonlight. Realization moist in her eyes. NATALIE You awake, Bernie? He grunts something inaudible. NATALIE I -- think I love you. Bernie tenses up. Huh? NATALIE No, I don't think. I'm pretty certain of it. Bernie raises his head, not quite sure he heard her right. Natalie sits up, hugs her knees. Bernie finds himself staring at her back. NATALIE You blind-sided me, Bernie Lootz. I never saw this coming. You shouldn't do that to a girl. Bernie reaches out, caresses her back. She emits a shiver... NATALIE There's still things you don't know... should know... I don't want to ruin it... Bernie pulls Natalie back toward him. BERNIE It won't make any difference, Natalie. Whatever you come clean about, I'm not gonna feel any different about you. I'd say the words, but with my luck... NATALIE Say 'em anyway. To hell with rotten luck. That's overs. BERNIE (a beat) I love you, Natalie. Natalie smothers her lips against Bernie's. He enshrouds her in his arms. Fade out... INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - DAY Fade into SOFT FOCUS. Slowing taking form... A CAT'S FACE seen in extreme close-up. WIDER -- to reveal the cat resting on Bernie's chest. She MEOWS as he stirs awake. He's stunned to see her there. BERNIE Trixie? The cat jumps off his chest and slinks over to her empty food bowl. Meows again. Bernie breaks into a wide smile. BERNIE Trix. You came back. Bernie shields his eyes from the bright sunlight streaming in through the blinds. Huh? This is a first for him. He's never gotten direct sunlight in his room before. What's the deal? Did the world just turn on its axis? He glances over his shoulder... No Natalie. Just her impression in the sheets. And a note on her pillow. For a moment his heart stops. He conjures up the worst. Grabs up the note, unfolds it. We see a lipstick kiss and the words: HAVE A SPECTACULAR DAY! Bernie lets out a joyful whoop! Leaps out of bed... SMASH CUT TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - CONTINUOUS - DAY CLOSE-UP: Trixie eating some tuna out of her bowl. We hear the record player needle drop on "Luck Be A Lady." Cut to: Bernie's feet gliding around the room... PAN UP to Bernie dancing with himself. He's positively aglow. He snatches up a salt shaker and sings along with Sinatra. It's true -- love makes the world go around. It obviously also gives life to dead plants, as evidenced by the small bulb that has sprung up overnight above his radiator. But we won't dwell on that. INT. SHANGRI-LA HOTEL AND CASINO - DAY Bernie struts into the casino a changed man (still to the tune of "Luck Be a Lady"). Even his limp seems less pronounced as he greets fellow workers as they pass. He catches a glimpse of himself in a wall mirror. Maybe for the first time, he likes what he sees. In the reflection he notices Natalie smiling at him. He meets her eyes. She averts them quickly, keeps walking. INT. SHELLY'S OFFICE - THAT MOMENT Shelly watches Bernie from the video monitor. He appears less than delighted over Bernie's sunny disposition. He picks up the phone, dials. SHELLY (into phone) Yeah, it's me. Get Bernie over to crap table six. INT. CASINO FLOOR - NIGHT Per usual, Bernie walks up to the bar, asks for a cup of coffee. Doris slides it over. BERNIE (looking around) Got any cre -- Before he can answer, Doris hands him a container of cream. A full container. Taken aback, he starts pouring it into his cup, when he hears a VOICE over the intercom: VOICE (V.O.) Lovett, party of six, your table is ready, Lovett, party of six. Bernie looks to Doris. BERNIE Duty calls. INT. CASINO - MONTAGE - MOMENTS LATER A -- Bernie arrives at a hundred dollar blackjack table just in time for the dealer to bust out. The crowd goes crazy! B -- Bernie takes a break by leaning up against the side of a slot machine. Suddenly, the woman playing it hits a jackpot. C -- Everywhere he seems to go, people continue to win. D -- Bernie, despite the spooky irony, can't help but smile as mountains of chips pile up on the tables. Shelly appears behind him. Not a happy camper. He gestures Bernie to follow him. INT. CASINO SLOTS AREA - NIGHT They head over to a section of slots. As they pass one of those huge million dollar slots, the FLOOR MANAGER cuts in front of them. FLOOR MANAGER Hey, Shelly, check it out. The new Mega-Million. I call her Marnie, 'cause she's one frigid broad. Sure, once in a while she'll flash you a bit of tit, but your chances of hitting a home run -- one in twenty million. Here, give her a shot... He hands Shelly a cup of quarters, takes off. Shelly looks to Bernie. He's trying to keep a lid on his anger. SHELLY (feeding Marnie quarters) You wanna tell me what's going on out there? BERNIE I don't know... Shelly pulls the lever. SHELLY What do you mean... Marnie immediately spits out a small jackpot. SHELLY (reacts with surprise) What do you mean, you don't know? We're down almost a mil out there. Doesn't seem strange to you? BERNIE (shrugs) Guess I'm having an off day. SHELLY You don't have off days, Lootz. You're shitty luck incarnate. What's wrong? You coming down with something? You've got this look about you... Shelly starts feeding Marnie again. BERNIE Nothing's wrong. Fact is, I've never felt better. SHELLY What's that supposed to mean? BERNIE She loves me, Shelly. She told me last night. Natalie. On the mention of Natalie's name, we hear a shrieking SIREN, followed by a deafening toll of slot bells. Shelly's just landed the million dollar jackpot. Shelly stares at the slot in surprise -- then looks over at Bernie. Realization hits hard. Fuck! The floor manager staggers over. His expression is priceless. FLOOR MANAGER Sweet Jesus... you popped her cherries. SEVERAL CASINO WORKERS have gathered to witness the deflowering of Marnie. They gaze reverently upon her, as if witnessing the "Close Encounters" mothership for the first time. Shelly drags Bernie out of earshot. SHELLY Natalie? She told you, she loves you? Bernie nods, a huge grin wrenching his cheeks apart. He's about to go helium on us. INT. CASINO FLOOR - NIGHT Natalie's serving drinks to a table of high rollers, when Tony and Lou appear behind her... INT. SHELLY'S OFFICE - NIGHT The door to Shelly's office slams behind Natalie. Shelly glares at her from behind his desk. We see him thumbing his steel abacus. The beads drifting toward the center. Natalie shakily lights up a cigarette. SHELLY Put that fucking thing out! Natalie, startled, drops her cigarettes. She kneels to gather them up. NATALIE Sorry. SHELLY You should be. You've gone and fucked it up big time. I paid you to be his cooze companion, not his fucking true love. But, no, you had to go and get all profound on the poor schmuck. (mimics female voice) "I love you, Bernie." You know what you've gone and done, sweetheart? Those four little words of endearment have already cost this casino a million and counting today. NATALIE I don't understand... SHELLY (jumps to his feet) Lady luck. You never heard'a lady luck?! That's what's goin' on out there. Lootz is Kryptonite on a stick. He should have 'em throwing ice cubes out there, but instead I got a fuckin' meltdown on my hands. Shelly walks around his desk to Natalie. SHELLY OK, here's what's gonna happen. You're outta his life by the time he gets home. Don't even tell him to his face, just leave a note. I'll make some calls, situate you at another joint. NATALIE I can't do that. SHELLY (right in her face) Excuse me? NATALIE It wasn't an act. I meant it. I love him. SHELLY (close to losing it) What's there to fuckin' love? He's a loser. Always has been, always will be. NATALIE I thought you were his friend... SHELLY And I thought you were a smart cookie when I picked you out. You do not want to fuck me over, darlin'. I'll see to it that your next John's a rattlesnake out in the desert. Now get the fuck outta here. Natalie rushes from the office in tears. Shelly closes his eyes for a moment -- gotta keep it together. INT. SHANGRI-LA CASINO - NIGHT Bernie approaches some cocktail waitresses about to go off duty. BERNIE Hi. Any of you seen Natalie around? I'm supposed to give her a ride home. COCKTAIL WAITRESS #1 I think she left already. She wasn't feelin' too good. We been covering for her. Off Bernie's expression: Oh... EXT. LUCKY STAR MOTEL - NIGHT Bernie's Buick pulls into the lot. He parks, heads for his room. INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT Bernie enters. Flips on the light. No Natalie. BERNIE (calls to the bathroom) Natalie? You in there? No answer. He heads over. Finds it empty. Concern spreads across his features. He glances around the room. Notices the closet wide open. Natalie's clothes missing. BERNIE (sotto) Natalie. That's when he catches sight of the note taped to the dresser mirror. He rushes over, rips it off. I'M SORRY BERNIE. I GUESS IT JUST WASN'T IN THE CARDS FOR US. TAKE CARE, NATALIE. Bernie slumps to the floor in disbelief. Starts to tremble. Then rocks back and forth, wracked by stifled sobs. Christ, make it stop hurting... DISSOLVE TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - LATER Bernie seated at the foot of the bed, drinking bourbon from

once

How many times the word 'once' appears in the text?

what Shangri- la is. Paradise. LARRY Yeah, we've all seen the movie. And your point is? Shelly whirls around, yells: SHELLY You don't fuck with paradise! All'a ya! NICKY Hey, Jesus, c'mon, Shelly. We're not trying to fuck with it. We're trying to make it better. SHELLY How... how, Nicky, could it be any better? Right now it's perfect. It's the last of its kind. It's pure... and this. (points to the model; weary) ...this is just... it's a mockery. An insult. Trying to make something of it that it isn't. LARRY What are you talking about? It's right outta the movie? SHELLY Whose talking about a fuckin' movie? This ain't a fuckin' movie. This is my life. This is my house of worship. You people are shittin' on all that's sacred to me. A tense silence ensues. Nicky, Larry and Marty exchange looks. SHELLY (tired laugh) I got just one question? Where you gonna be when they decide to change it back? When the people, they come looking for the real Vegas, from before all this Epcott Center bullshit. Who's gonna it give it to them? You guys? I don't think so. You know who? The same fucks who started this shit in the first place. It's all gonna come full circle and bite you in the ass. Mark my words. Shelly falls silent. Massages his forehead. Shit, that wasn't the way to handle it. Nicky gets up from the sofa, walks over to Shelly, places a hand on his shoulder. Shelly flinches, but doesn't pull away. NICKY You make some good points, Shelly. Maybe it'll swing back the other way, who knows? But the smart money suggests we roll the dice. I'm not gonna bullshit you; naturally there's gonna be a lot of restructuring in the months to come, but I want you to know, you'll always have a place with us. SHELLY Where's that? Behind the bar? MARTY (laughs) Behind the bar, that's a good one. NICKY I think you should take some time and think things through. All this, it's a lot to digest, y'know. MARTY Speaking of things to digest, I'm starving. How's that buffet they got in the Valley of the Blue Moon? You recommend their prime rib, Shell? Shelly stares right through Marty. Choke and die on it, motherfucker. SHELLY It's food. NICKY Hey, my arteries can use a workout. Lead us to the trough, Shell. Shelly nods at Nicky, then shifts his gaze to Larry. Larry's all smiles. He steps forward to join them, his hand dropping down and caressing the surface of Shelly's desk behind him. A subtle gesture not lost on Shelly. Shelly mentally unloads a full chamber into Larry's chest. Returns the smile. INT. CASINO - CRAPS TABLES - NIGHT As Shelly and the group pass a hot craps table, Nicky is drawn to it. NICKY Wait up a second... MARTY I thought we were gonna eat? Only now do we see Bernie has arrived to cool the table of its hot shooter -- A LOUD, pudgy, overdressed SUBURBANITE. Shelly eyes Bernie. SHELLY Maybe we wanna play over there. Less crowded. NICKY Nah, let's play here. This is my lucky table. I always play here. (to the others) Go on ahead. I know where to find you guys. Shelly signals Bernie to back off. Bernie steps back. Shelly, Larry and Marty head for the restaurant. Nicky quickly slaps down some green. The stickman slides the dice over to the suburbanite who is shooting. He scuttles the dice. They bounce up over the rail and spike Nicky on the forehead before dropping back on the felt. The players chuckle. STICKMAN Out! Seven, line away seven... Nicky rubs his forehead, glares at the suburbanite. He fires back. SUBURBANITE C"mon, pops! What the hell? I coulda paid my mortgage with the money I just lost. Nicky says nothing. The table is quickly cleared by the dealers. The stickman skips the next shooter and feeds the dice to Nicky. SHOOTER Hey? I'm supposed to be next... NICKY File a grievance, shithead. Suburbanite is still fuming over his loss. Nicky places a couple hundred on the passline. STICKMAN We're coming out. Crap Eleven, any seven. Nicky throws in some chips to the center. NICKY Hundred dollar big red. Suburbanite watches as Nicky runs through a lengthy pre-shot routine. Lots of hand jive and cuff shooting. SUBURBANITE Hurry it up, gramps. Your soup's getting cold. Nicky throws. STICKMAN Crap, Ace Deuce. Line down. The croupiers takes down the pass line. SUBURBANITE Hey, Busketti, maybe you should try shuffleboard. Nicky is fed the dice again. Same routine. Nicky just fires an incendiary look back at the suburbanite. SUBURBANITE Uncle Palsy? Shake'em this direction. Nicky throws. STICKMAN Four, hard four. The point is four. The players make their bets. SUBURBANITE Good now throw it before you fucking keel over and die, old man. Nicky slowly starts his routine defiantly. SUBURBANITE Happy birthday to me. Happy Birthday to me... Jesus, fuck, I'm another year older already. Nicky throws. STICKMAN OUT! Seven! Line away. Nicky claps his hands dealer style -- for effect -- and with a gentlemanly smile steps back from the table. Nicky's chips are quickly swept up by the croupier. SUBURBANITE Don't take it so hard, pops. Everybody craps out. Nicky locks eyes with the suburbanite. Then flashes a smile that suggests he's going to brush it off. He turns away from the table... SUBURBANITE Now go change your fucking Depends. Nicky makes like it's all in good jest. Yeah, that's real cute. He heads around the table to the suburbanite, holds out his hand as if to say: Hey, no hard feelings. The suburbanite shrugs. What the fuck? I was just playing with you, pops. He reaches for Nicky's hand... when Nicky suddenly headbutts him. Before anyone can react, Nicky starts laying into the suburbanite. The man goes down and. Nicky continues pummeling him... NICKY Who's laughing now, huh? ya fuckin! prick! C'mon, crack wise again... Ya fuckin' smooth as a Ken doll, no- dick, suburbanite scum. How's that for a game?! Shelly alerted to the fracas, rushes back to the table. He takes immediate control of the situation. Snaps his fingers at security. The suburbanite is whisked away with a pocketful of comps and a bruised ego. Shelly takes Nicky aside, attempts to calm him. Nicky keeps railing at Shelly: NICKY That ain't right, Shelly! Guy fucks up my game like that. Who the fuck does he think he is? SHELLY You're right. He's just a piece of shit. Forget about him. NICKY I thought this joint had more class. Used to be, we wouldn't even let bums like that in... Nicky catches himself. He looks at Shelly for a beat. There's an unspoken understanding between them. "The good old days." We see Bernie in the b.g., looking more than a bit shocked. INT. THE MAKAWAO BAR AND GRILL - NIGHT Bernie seated with Natalie. BERNIE This town... You know, Natalie, all I want to do is go some place where I can tell day from night. Where they got clocks on the wall. I can't breathe around here no more. Four days and I'm gone. I'm not even sure I can hold out that long. NATALIE (a beat) So where does that leave us? BERNIE A week ago, I didn't remember what it was like to have a woman's hands on me. I'm still pinching myself, expecting to wake-up from... (just blurts it out) Come with me, Natalie. I want you to come with me. NATALIE God, Bernie, that's... BERNIE I'm sorry. I didn't mean to spring that on you. NATALIE Bernie... I want to be with you. I do. But I don't know if I can leave with you. Bernie's look: Why? NATALIE I was working on a compatibility chart for the two of us. And it looks good, really, it does. BERNIE So, what's the problem? NATALIE That's with us here. In Vegas. Bernie's expression: Oh. NATALIE Maybe I was being presumptuous, 'cause I knew you were leaving... and I tried working it in different ways... It wasn't good, Bernie. I got scared. But that's just for now, for the immediate future. Once the planets realign, maybe a year from now... BERNIE Natalie... I can't... Not another year. Not another week. A somber mood falls on the table. Bernie reaches for Natalie's hand. Instead, he knocks the salt over. It spills out in front of them. BERNIE I think... we probably shouldn't see each other anymore. NATALIE Why, Bernie? We only got a couple days left together. Why not make the most of them? BERNIE (a long beat) Because if I spend one more night in your arms, I'm not going anywhere. NATALIE And that's so bad? Bernie just stares at her, shrouded in sadness. Natalie stubs out her cigarette, rises. NATALIE Take care, Bernie. Bernie casts his eyes to the mound of spilled salt in front of him. Nods. A few beats later he raises his head... BERNIE Natalie, don't... Gone. A WAITRESS appears. WAITRESS (O.S.) Get you another? BERNIE (nods) I think you better bring me the bottle. Please. INT. SHANGRI-LA HOTEL AND CASINO/BAR - NIGHT Once again, we see Bernie's feet limp across the casino floor. He walks up to the bar, asks for a cup of coffee. Doris brings it over. Short on the cream again. He just sips it black. Gloom and doom features. Life sucks. His master's VOICE sounds over the intercom: VOICE (V.O.) Chang, party of fifteen, your table is ready, Chang party of fifteen. Bernie looks to Doris. Sighs. Only three more days. INT. CASINO FLOOR - CRAPS TABLES - NIGHT He heads for the crap tables, the sound of raucous CHEERING becomes audible. A large crowd starting to gather. Bernie noodles his way to the front of the crowd. As soon as he gets a look at the heavy hitter at the table, he tenses up. Oh shit. It's MIKEY. With Charlene. Charlene is making one hell of a racket. Playing up her extremely maternal state. Just then Natalie sidles up to Bernie with the Chivas Regal. Without thinking about it, he grabs the glass off the tray, downs it in a single gulp. CHARLENE (clutching her tummy) Come on, Mikey. This is our future. Don't blow it. Mikey throws down a bet for the dealer. MIKEY Put this on the line for the boys. The stickman thanks him as they place the bet. Mikey throws down more money. We can see Mikey has bets all over the table. MIKEY With shoes! STICKMAN Dealer's got shoes. Hands high, the dice are out! The point is nine. CHARLENE Come on all you's. Put a good thought in for our baby! As everyone dotes over Charlene, Mikey quickly swaps the dice before anyone can see. He throws. STICKMAN Six the hard way! Mikey is paid nine thousand by the croupier, as is Charlene. Bernie stands frozen. He doesn't bother trying to get any closer to the table. He knows it'll do no good. CHARLENE Oh my god, I just felt him kick! He knows. He knows you're all pulling for him. God bless you all. Natalie looks over at Charlene. Their eyes meet for a second. It's as though Natalie knows it's a scam and Charlene's acknowledging it. Mikey throws again. STICKMAN Six the hard way! Look out, we got a shooter! Another nine grand. Mikey's rail is nearly full. Charlene hops around awkwardly causing more distraction. Bernie is really sweating it out now. Then Shelly arrives. Larry is hot on his tail. SHELLY How much? BERNIE Eighteen thousand since I stepped up. I'm sorry, Shelly, I guess I've been hit and miss lately. Shelly's expression tells us he isn't so sure. Something definitely isn't kosher. As Charlene chatters on, Mikey switches the dice back. Shelly makes him. SHELLY (sotto) Fucking amateurs... Mikey throws... STICKMAN Seven out! Line away. The players and crowd, though disappointed, applaud Mikey's achievement. MIKEY (bowing) I thank you. My wife thanks you. My unborn child thanks you. Mikey moves his rail of chips to the felt. MIKEY Color me up will ya? Larry notices Shelly slipping on a pair of leather gloves. LARRY You've gotta be kidding me. (off Shelly's steely glare) That's not how I propose we handle it. We'll turn the matter over to the authorities. They'll be blacklisted, their credit ruined... SHELLY (gets in Larry's face) And then we'll give 'em both a lollipop for the ride home. Come watch and learn, Harvard. A little lesson on how to protect your investment -- the old school way. Shelly walks over to Mikey and Charlene, Larry lingering behind him. SHELLY Hey, that was some run you had back there. MIKEY Uh, thanks. Just lucky I guess. Mikey steals a tense glance at Charlene. She starts to fidget nervously. SHELLY Why don't we go do this in my office? I don't like to hand out all this amount of cash on the floor. Security (Tony and Lou) corrals the couple. Leads them away. Bernie watches as they pass by. Mikey looks into Bernie's eyes. They both know he's been made. Natalie doesn't say anything, just looks at Bernie. INT. CASINO RECEIVING AREA - NIGHT Slot machines everywhere -- some on the way out, some on the way in. Crates of casino supplies. Bernie rushes in with Natalie behind him. Heading for an aural beacon of BLOWS landing on flesh... GRUNTING, PLEADING... ...arriving to find Tony and Lou kicking the shit out of Mikey on the floor. Charlene lies clutching her belly a few feet away. Shelly swings a baseball bat, warming up for some blood sport. Larry watches from the sidelines -- at once appalled and enthralled. CHARLENE Oh my God... I can feel the contractions coming on... Bernie rushes over to Shelly... BERNIE Shelly, stop them! Don't do this! SHELLY Get lost, Bernie, this got nothing to do with you. BERNIE It's got everything to do with me. He's my son. Everyone stops dead. Freeze frame. Shelly gets a weird look in his eye. A fuse has just been lit... SHELLY What did you say? BERNIE I said, he's my -- SHELLY Who? This little prick? Shelly smashes Mikey across the shoulder with the bat. AARRRGGGGHHH!!! Shelly raises the bat to cream Mikey again... Bernie grabs Shelly's arm. Shelly shoves him back. Raises the bat again... MIKEY Pop, help me... BERNIE Shelly, don't you fucking do it! Shelly freezes. He lowers the bat, throws it aside. Grabs Bernie by his collar... SHELLY Were you in on this? Jesus, you better come clean with me. BERNIE NO! God, no! I didn't know nothing about it. Shelly releases Bernie. There's a strange look in Shelly's eye. We see the wheels turning... SHELLY How much you think their lives are worth, Bernie? Myself, I don't think they're worth piss. But, hey, it ain't my kid... Bernie sees where Shelly's going with this. We can almost hear the cell door slamming in his head. SHELLY Let me see: they were up almost a hundred and fifty grand. That's 150 G's someone's gonna have to account for. What do you say, Bernie, seventy- five grand a piece? Bernie glances over at Natalie. She has tears in her eyes. He looks to Shelly pleadingly. Please don't do this... SHELLY Hey, I know you don't have that kind of cash. But, since you're a friend of the house, I'm willing to front you. BERNIE Shelly, they didn't get away with the money... You didn't lose anything... Shelly glances over at Lou, nods. Lou kicks Mikey in the face. His nose snaps like a twig. BERNIE Oh Jesus... Yes! All right. It's on me. 150 G's. Charlene clutches her belly, moans... CHARLENE Oh god, oh god... you gotta get me to the hospital... contractions... BERNIE Shelly, please help her. That's my grandson... SHELLY Hey, why don't we all break out the champagne? Lootz is about to become a granddaddy. (walks over to her) How you doin' there, sweetheart? Must hurt like crap, huh? CHARLENE (nods) Hurts so bad... SHELLY Yeah? Suddenly Shelly kicks Charlene in the belly! WHAM! She screeches out. NATALIE Oh God... BERNIE Jesus NOOOOO!!! Even Shelly's goons can't believe what they've just witnessed. Larry is aghast. Bernie rushes Shelly, starts raining blows on him. Shelly swats him off. He drops down next to the squirming girl, rips her sweater and blouse up over her stomach... ...to reveal a mound of fake padding. He tears the padding away from her, throws it at Bernie. SHELLY Here! It's a fuckin' boy. Anyone got a cigar? The muscle start laughing it up. Relief. Larry emits a nervous giggle. Natalie's jaw hits the floor. Bernie takes a step back. He's about to go into serious shock. Charlene curls over, sobbing. SHELLY (to Bernie) You sure you still want to be good for it? Because if you want to change your mind, I don't blame you. Bernie looks over at Mikey. He stares up at his father, trembling. MIKEY I'll make it up to you, Pop, I swear... Bernie holds his son's gaze for a beat. He's almost tempted to... He just shrugs and nods at Shelly. BERNIE It's on me. SHELLY (shakes his head) That's the worst fucking call you ever made in your life. ON NATALIE at that moment. We can tell she agrees with Shelly... but thinks all the more of Bernie for it. That might even be love in her eyes. Shelly snatches his baseball bat up off the floor. Walks over to Mikey, and brings it down full force, pulverizing Mikey's left kneecap. Oh man, the scream... BERNIE What are you doing?! I thought we had -- SHELLY 150 G's buys their lives. This is just a little slap on the wrist to remember me by. Natalie turns her head. She's about to throw up. Larry watches, unflinchingly. Charlene is making with some serious pleading now. CHARLENE Oh god... it wasn't my idea. Shelly steps up to Charlene, tapping the base of the bat in the palm of his hand. He smiles reassuringly at her. SHELLY You know, motherhood is a beautiful thing. This... you made a mockery out of it. Maybe you'll get to experience it for real one day. CHARLENE (nods, sobbing) I want... to be a mother... please don't hurt me... SHELLY I'm not going to hurt you. Shelly turns his back on her. Charlene starts sobbing relief. They're not going to hurt her. It's going to be all right. Wrong. Shelly throws the bat to Lou. The heavy steps up to the plate (as we RACK FOCUS to Shelly walking away) -- CRUNCH!!! followed by the girl's SHRIEKS. Natalie buries her head in Bernie's shoulder. SHELLY (to Tony and Lou) Get 'em outta here. You ever see them in this joint again, kill 'em. SHELLY (to Bernie and Natalie) You two, you're still on shift. Shelly catches Larry's eye: I hope you were taking notes. INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT Bernie's seated on the edge of his bed, drowning his sorrows with a bottle of gin. Moonlight paints him in jail bars of shadow. Natalie lingers in the b.g. BERNIE I did this to myself. I planted the seed. When Angela took off with Mikey, I didn't... I never made an effort to get back in his life. I figured, the kid don't need a loser for a father. Now it's all come full circle. I give him the money, I open the door to all this... I musta had it coming. Payback. Natalie's hand lowers the needle onto the Sinatra record. "Nice 'n' Easy" starts up. She walks over to Bernie, takes the bottle away. Helps him to his feet. He gives himself over to her reassuring embrace. Natalie raises Bernie's face to her's. NATALIE Bernie, it's a big world out there. If you just took off -- if we took off. Bernie shakes his head. It's too late for that now. DISSOLVE TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - LATER - NIGHT Natalie staring up at the ceiling, Bernie nuzzled against her. Her features appear softer than ever. Luminous in the moonlight. Realization moist in her eyes. NATALIE You awake, Bernie? He grunts something inaudible. NATALIE I -- think I love you. Bernie tenses up. Huh? NATALIE No, I don't think. I'm pretty certain of it. Bernie raises his head, not quite sure he heard her right. Natalie sits up, hugs her knees. Bernie finds himself staring at her back. NATALIE You blind-sided me, Bernie Lootz. I never saw this coming. You shouldn't do that to a girl. Bernie reaches out, caresses her back. She emits a shiver... NATALIE There's still things you don't know... should know... I don't want to ruin it... Bernie pulls Natalie back toward him. BERNIE It won't make any difference, Natalie. Whatever you come clean about, I'm not gonna feel any different about you. I'd say the words, but with my luck... NATALIE Say 'em anyway. To hell with rotten luck. That's overs. BERNIE (a beat) I love you, Natalie. Natalie smothers her lips against Bernie's. He enshrouds her in his arms. Fade out... INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - DAY Fade into SOFT FOCUS. Slowing taking form... A CAT'S FACE seen in extreme close-up. WIDER -- to reveal the cat resting on Bernie's chest. She MEOWS as he stirs awake. He's stunned to see her there. BERNIE Trixie? The cat jumps off his chest and slinks over to her empty food bowl. Meows again. Bernie breaks into a wide smile. BERNIE Trix. You came back. Bernie shields his eyes from the bright sunlight streaming in through the blinds. Huh? This is a first for him. He's never gotten direct sunlight in his room before. What's the deal? Did the world just turn on its axis? He glances over his shoulder... No Natalie. Just her impression in the sheets. And a note on her pillow. For a moment his heart stops. He conjures up the worst. Grabs up the note, unfolds it. We see a lipstick kiss and the words: HAVE A SPECTACULAR DAY! Bernie lets out a joyful whoop! Leaps out of bed... SMASH CUT TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - CONTINUOUS - DAY CLOSE-UP: Trixie eating some tuna out of her bowl. We hear the record player needle drop on "Luck Be A Lady." Cut to: Bernie's feet gliding around the room... PAN UP to Bernie dancing with himself. He's positively aglow. He snatches up a salt shaker and sings along with Sinatra. It's true -- love makes the world go around. It obviously also gives life to dead plants, as evidenced by the small bulb that has sprung up overnight above his radiator. But we won't dwell on that. INT. SHANGRI-LA HOTEL AND CASINO - DAY Bernie struts into the casino a changed man (still to the tune of "Luck Be a Lady"). Even his limp seems less pronounced as he greets fellow workers as they pass. He catches a glimpse of himself in a wall mirror. Maybe for the first time, he likes what he sees. In the reflection he notices Natalie smiling at him. He meets her eyes. She averts them quickly, keeps walking. INT. SHELLY'S OFFICE - THAT MOMENT Shelly watches Bernie from the video monitor. He appears less than delighted over Bernie's sunny disposition. He picks up the phone, dials. SHELLY (into phone) Yeah, it's me. Get Bernie over to crap table six. INT. CASINO FLOOR - NIGHT Per usual, Bernie walks up to the bar, asks for a cup of coffee. Doris slides it over. BERNIE (looking around) Got any cre -- Before he can answer, Doris hands him a container of cream. A full container. Taken aback, he starts pouring it into his cup, when he hears a VOICE over the intercom: VOICE (V.O.) Lovett, party of six, your table is ready, Lovett, party of six. Bernie looks to Doris. BERNIE Duty calls. INT. CASINO - MONTAGE - MOMENTS LATER A -- Bernie arrives at a hundred dollar blackjack table just in time for the dealer to bust out. The crowd goes crazy! B -- Bernie takes a break by leaning up against the side of a slot machine. Suddenly, the woman playing it hits a jackpot. C -- Everywhere he seems to go, people continue to win. D -- Bernie, despite the spooky irony, can't help but smile as mountains of chips pile up on the tables. Shelly appears behind him. Not a happy camper. He gestures Bernie to follow him. INT. CASINO SLOTS AREA - NIGHT They head over to a section of slots. As they pass one of those huge million dollar slots, the FLOOR MANAGER cuts in front of them. FLOOR MANAGER Hey, Shelly, check it out. The new Mega-Million. I call her Marnie, 'cause she's one frigid broad. Sure, once in a while she'll flash you a bit of tit, but your chances of hitting a home run -- one in twenty million. Here, give her a shot... He hands Shelly a cup of quarters, takes off. Shelly looks to Bernie. He's trying to keep a lid on his anger. SHELLY (feeding Marnie quarters) You wanna tell me what's going on out there? BERNIE I don't know... Shelly pulls the lever. SHELLY What do you mean... Marnie immediately spits out a small jackpot. SHELLY (reacts with surprise) What do you mean, you don't know? We're down almost a mil out there. Doesn't seem strange to you? BERNIE (shrugs) Guess I'm having an off day. SHELLY You don't have off days, Lootz. You're shitty luck incarnate. What's wrong? You coming down with something? You've got this look about you... Shelly starts feeding Marnie again. BERNIE Nothing's wrong. Fact is, I've never felt better. SHELLY What's that supposed to mean? BERNIE She loves me, Shelly. She told me last night. Natalie. On the mention of Natalie's name, we hear a shrieking SIREN, followed by a deafening toll of slot bells. Shelly's just landed the million dollar jackpot. Shelly stares at the slot in surprise -- then looks over at Bernie. Realization hits hard. Fuck! The floor manager staggers over. His expression is priceless. FLOOR MANAGER Sweet Jesus... you popped her cherries. SEVERAL CASINO WORKERS have gathered to witness the deflowering of Marnie. They gaze reverently upon her, as if witnessing the "Close Encounters" mothership for the first time. Shelly drags Bernie out of earshot. SHELLY Natalie? She told you, she loves you? Bernie nods, a huge grin wrenching his cheeks apart. He's about to go helium on us. INT. CASINO FLOOR - NIGHT Natalie's serving drinks to a table of high rollers, when Tony and Lou appear behind her... INT. SHELLY'S OFFICE - NIGHT The door to Shelly's office slams behind Natalie. Shelly glares at her from behind his desk. We see him thumbing his steel abacus. The beads drifting toward the center. Natalie shakily lights up a cigarette. SHELLY Put that fucking thing out! Natalie, startled, drops her cigarettes. She kneels to gather them up. NATALIE Sorry. SHELLY You should be. You've gone and fucked it up big time. I paid you to be his cooze companion, not his fucking true love. But, no, you had to go and get all profound on the poor schmuck. (mimics female voice) "I love you, Bernie." You know what you've gone and done, sweetheart? Those four little words of endearment have already cost this casino a million and counting today. NATALIE I don't understand... SHELLY (jumps to his feet) Lady luck. You never heard'a lady luck?! That's what's goin' on out there. Lootz is Kryptonite on a stick. He should have 'em throwing ice cubes out there, but instead I got a fuckin' meltdown on my hands. Shelly walks around his desk to Natalie. SHELLY OK, here's what's gonna happen. You're outta his life by the time he gets home. Don't even tell him to his face, just leave a note. I'll make some calls, situate you at another joint. NATALIE I can't do that. SHELLY (right in her face) Excuse me? NATALIE It wasn't an act. I meant it. I love him. SHELLY (close to losing it) What's there to fuckin' love? He's a loser. Always has been, always will be. NATALIE I thought you were his friend... SHELLY And I thought you were a smart cookie when I picked you out. You do not want to fuck me over, darlin'. I'll see to it that your next John's a rattlesnake out in the desert. Now get the fuck outta here. Natalie rushes from the office in tears. Shelly closes his eyes for a moment -- gotta keep it together. INT. SHANGRI-LA CASINO - NIGHT Bernie approaches some cocktail waitresses about to go off duty. BERNIE Hi. Any of you seen Natalie around? I'm supposed to give her a ride home. COCKTAIL WAITRESS #1 I think she left already. She wasn't feelin' too good. We been covering for her. Off Bernie's expression: Oh... EXT. LUCKY STAR MOTEL - NIGHT Bernie's Buick pulls into the lot. He parks, heads for his room. INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT Bernie enters. Flips on the light. No Natalie. BERNIE (calls to the bathroom) Natalie? You in there? No answer. He heads over. Finds it empty. Concern spreads across his features. He glances around the room. Notices the closet wide open. Natalie's clothes missing. BERNIE (sotto) Natalie. That's when he catches sight of the note taped to the dresser mirror. He rushes over, rips it off. I'M SORRY BERNIE. I GUESS IT JUST WASN'T IN THE CARDS FOR US. TAKE CARE, NATALIE. Bernie slumps to the floor in disbelief. Starts to tremble. Then rocks back and forth, wracked by stifled sobs. Christ, make it stop hurting... DISSOLVE TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - LATER Bernie seated at the foot of the bed, drinking bourbon from

possessed

How many times the word 'possessed' appears in the text?

what Shangri- la is. Paradise. LARRY Yeah, we've all seen the movie. And your point is? Shelly whirls around, yells: SHELLY You don't fuck with paradise! All'a ya! NICKY Hey, Jesus, c'mon, Shelly. We're not trying to fuck with it. We're trying to make it better. SHELLY How... how, Nicky, could it be any better? Right now it's perfect. It's the last of its kind. It's pure... and this. (points to the model; weary) ...this is just... it's a mockery. An insult. Trying to make something of it that it isn't. LARRY What are you talking about? It's right outta the movie? SHELLY Whose talking about a fuckin' movie? This ain't a fuckin' movie. This is my life. This is my house of worship. You people are shittin' on all that's sacred to me. A tense silence ensues. Nicky, Larry and Marty exchange looks. SHELLY (tired laugh) I got just one question? Where you gonna be when they decide to change it back? When the people, they come looking for the real Vegas, from before all this Epcott Center bullshit. Who's gonna it give it to them? You guys? I don't think so. You know who? The same fucks who started this shit in the first place. It's all gonna come full circle and bite you in the ass. Mark my words. Shelly falls silent. Massages his forehead. Shit, that wasn't the way to handle it. Nicky gets up from the sofa, walks over to Shelly, places a hand on his shoulder. Shelly flinches, but doesn't pull away. NICKY You make some good points, Shelly. Maybe it'll swing back the other way, who knows? But the smart money suggests we roll the dice. I'm not gonna bullshit you; naturally there's gonna be a lot of restructuring in the months to come, but I want you to know, you'll always have a place with us. SHELLY Where's that? Behind the bar? MARTY (laughs) Behind the bar, that's a good one. NICKY I think you should take some time and think things through. All this, it's a lot to digest, y'know. MARTY Speaking of things to digest, I'm starving. How's that buffet they got in the Valley of the Blue Moon? You recommend their prime rib, Shell? Shelly stares right through Marty. Choke and die on it, motherfucker. SHELLY It's food. NICKY Hey, my arteries can use a workout. Lead us to the trough, Shell. Shelly nods at Nicky, then shifts his gaze to Larry. Larry's all smiles. He steps forward to join them, his hand dropping down and caressing the surface of Shelly's desk behind him. A subtle gesture not lost on Shelly. Shelly mentally unloads a full chamber into Larry's chest. Returns the smile. INT. CASINO - CRAPS TABLES - NIGHT As Shelly and the group pass a hot craps table, Nicky is drawn to it. NICKY Wait up a second... MARTY I thought we were gonna eat? Only now do we see Bernie has arrived to cool the table of its hot shooter -- A LOUD, pudgy, overdressed SUBURBANITE. Shelly eyes Bernie. SHELLY Maybe we wanna play over there. Less crowded. NICKY Nah, let's play here. This is my lucky table. I always play here. (to the others) Go on ahead. I know where to find you guys. Shelly signals Bernie to back off. Bernie steps back. Shelly, Larry and Marty head for the restaurant. Nicky quickly slaps down some green. The stickman slides the dice over to the suburbanite who is shooting. He scuttles the dice. They bounce up over the rail and spike Nicky on the forehead before dropping back on the felt. The players chuckle. STICKMAN Out! Seven, line away seven... Nicky rubs his forehead, glares at the suburbanite. He fires back. SUBURBANITE C"mon, pops! What the hell? I coulda paid my mortgage with the money I just lost. Nicky says nothing. The table is quickly cleared by the dealers. The stickman skips the next shooter and feeds the dice to Nicky. SHOOTER Hey? I'm supposed to be next... NICKY File a grievance, shithead. Suburbanite is still fuming over his loss. Nicky places a couple hundred on the passline. STICKMAN We're coming out. Crap Eleven, any seven. Nicky throws in some chips to the center. NICKY Hundred dollar big red. Suburbanite watches as Nicky runs through a lengthy pre-shot routine. Lots of hand jive and cuff shooting. SUBURBANITE Hurry it up, gramps. Your soup's getting cold. Nicky throws. STICKMAN Crap, Ace Deuce. Line down. The croupiers takes down the pass line. SUBURBANITE Hey, Busketti, maybe you should try shuffleboard. Nicky is fed the dice again. Same routine. Nicky just fires an incendiary look back at the suburbanite. SUBURBANITE Uncle Palsy? Shake'em this direction. Nicky throws. STICKMAN Four, hard four. The point is four. The players make their bets. SUBURBANITE Good now throw it before you fucking keel over and die, old man. Nicky slowly starts his routine defiantly. SUBURBANITE Happy birthday to me. Happy Birthday to me... Jesus, fuck, I'm another year older already. Nicky throws. STICKMAN OUT! Seven! Line away. Nicky claps his hands dealer style -- for effect -- and with a gentlemanly smile steps back from the table. Nicky's chips are quickly swept up by the croupier. SUBURBANITE Don't take it so hard, pops. Everybody craps out. Nicky locks eyes with the suburbanite. Then flashes a smile that suggests he's going to brush it off. He turns away from the table... SUBURBANITE Now go change your fucking Depends. Nicky makes like it's all in good jest. Yeah, that's real cute. He heads around the table to the suburbanite, holds out his hand as if to say: Hey, no hard feelings. The suburbanite shrugs. What the fuck? I was just playing with you, pops. He reaches for Nicky's hand... when Nicky suddenly headbutts him. Before anyone can react, Nicky starts laying into the suburbanite. The man goes down and. Nicky continues pummeling him... NICKY Who's laughing now, huh? ya fuckin! prick! C'mon, crack wise again... Ya fuckin' smooth as a Ken doll, no- dick, suburbanite scum. How's that for a game?! Shelly alerted to the fracas, rushes back to the table. He takes immediate control of the situation. Snaps his fingers at security. The suburbanite is whisked away with a pocketful of comps and a bruised ego. Shelly takes Nicky aside, attempts to calm him. Nicky keeps railing at Shelly: NICKY That ain't right, Shelly! Guy fucks up my game like that. Who the fuck does he think he is? SHELLY You're right. He's just a piece of shit. Forget about him. NICKY I thought this joint had more class. Used to be, we wouldn't even let bums like that in... Nicky catches himself. He looks at Shelly for a beat. There's an unspoken understanding between them. "The good old days." We see Bernie in the b.g., looking more than a bit shocked. INT. THE MAKAWAO BAR AND GRILL - NIGHT Bernie seated with Natalie. BERNIE This town... You know, Natalie, all I want to do is go some place where I can tell day from night. Where they got clocks on the wall. I can't breathe around here no more. Four days and I'm gone. I'm not even sure I can hold out that long. NATALIE (a beat) So where does that leave us? BERNIE A week ago, I didn't remember what it was like to have a woman's hands on me. I'm still pinching myself, expecting to wake-up from... (just blurts it out) Come with me, Natalie. I want you to come with me. NATALIE God, Bernie, that's... BERNIE I'm sorry. I didn't mean to spring that on you. NATALIE Bernie... I want to be with you. I do. But I don't know if I can leave with you. Bernie's look: Why? NATALIE I was working on a compatibility chart for the two of us. And it looks good, really, it does. BERNIE So, what's the problem? NATALIE That's with us here. In Vegas. Bernie's expression: Oh. NATALIE Maybe I was being presumptuous, 'cause I knew you were leaving... and I tried working it in different ways... It wasn't good, Bernie. I got scared. But that's just for now, for the immediate future. Once the planets realign, maybe a year from now... BERNIE Natalie... I can't... Not another year. Not another week. A somber mood falls on the table. Bernie reaches for Natalie's hand. Instead, he knocks the salt over. It spills out in front of them. BERNIE I think... we probably shouldn't see each other anymore. NATALIE Why, Bernie? We only got a couple days left together. Why not make the most of them? BERNIE (a long beat) Because if I spend one more night in your arms, I'm not going anywhere. NATALIE And that's so bad? Bernie just stares at her, shrouded in sadness. Natalie stubs out her cigarette, rises. NATALIE Take care, Bernie. Bernie casts his eyes to the mound of spilled salt in front of him. Nods. A few beats later he raises his head... BERNIE Natalie, don't... Gone. A WAITRESS appears. WAITRESS (O.S.) Get you another? BERNIE (nods) I think you better bring me the bottle. Please. INT. SHANGRI-LA HOTEL AND CASINO/BAR - NIGHT Once again, we see Bernie's feet limp across the casino floor. He walks up to the bar, asks for a cup of coffee. Doris brings it over. Short on the cream again. He just sips it black. Gloom and doom features. Life sucks. His master's VOICE sounds over the intercom: VOICE (V.O.) Chang, party of fifteen, your table is ready, Chang party of fifteen. Bernie looks to Doris. Sighs. Only three more days. INT. CASINO FLOOR - CRAPS TABLES - NIGHT He heads for the crap tables, the sound of raucous CHEERING becomes audible. A large crowd starting to gather. Bernie noodles his way to the front of the crowd. As soon as he gets a look at the heavy hitter at the table, he tenses up. Oh shit. It's MIKEY. With Charlene. Charlene is making one hell of a racket. Playing up her extremely maternal state. Just then Natalie sidles up to Bernie with the Chivas Regal. Without thinking about it, he grabs the glass off the tray, downs it in a single gulp. CHARLENE (clutching her tummy) Come on, Mikey. This is our future. Don't blow it. Mikey throws down a bet for the dealer. MIKEY Put this on the line for the boys. The stickman thanks him as they place the bet. Mikey throws down more money. We can see Mikey has bets all over the table. MIKEY With shoes! STICKMAN Dealer's got shoes. Hands high, the dice are out! The point is nine. CHARLENE Come on all you's. Put a good thought in for our baby! As everyone dotes over Charlene, Mikey quickly swaps the dice before anyone can see. He throws. STICKMAN Six the hard way! Mikey is paid nine thousand by the croupier, as is Charlene. Bernie stands frozen. He doesn't bother trying to get any closer to the table. He knows it'll do no good. CHARLENE Oh my god, I just felt him kick! He knows. He knows you're all pulling for him. God bless you all. Natalie looks over at Charlene. Their eyes meet for a second. It's as though Natalie knows it's a scam and Charlene's acknowledging it. Mikey throws again. STICKMAN Six the hard way! Look out, we got a shooter! Another nine grand. Mikey's rail is nearly full. Charlene hops around awkwardly causing more distraction. Bernie is really sweating it out now. Then Shelly arrives. Larry is hot on his tail. SHELLY How much? BERNIE Eighteen thousand since I stepped up. I'm sorry, Shelly, I guess I've been hit and miss lately. Shelly's expression tells us he isn't so sure. Something definitely isn't kosher. As Charlene chatters on, Mikey switches the dice back. Shelly makes him. SHELLY (sotto) Fucking amateurs... Mikey throws... STICKMAN Seven out! Line away. The players and crowd, though disappointed, applaud Mikey's achievement. MIKEY (bowing) I thank you. My wife thanks you. My unborn child thanks you. Mikey moves his rail of chips to the felt. MIKEY Color me up will ya? Larry notices Shelly slipping on a pair of leather gloves. LARRY You've gotta be kidding me. (off Shelly's steely glare) That's not how I propose we handle it. We'll turn the matter over to the authorities. They'll be blacklisted, their credit ruined... SHELLY (gets in Larry's face) And then we'll give 'em both a lollipop for the ride home. Come watch and learn, Harvard. A little lesson on how to protect your investment -- the old school way. Shelly walks over to Mikey and Charlene, Larry lingering behind him. SHELLY Hey, that was some run you had back there. MIKEY Uh, thanks. Just lucky I guess. Mikey steals a tense glance at Charlene. She starts to fidget nervously. SHELLY Why don't we go do this in my office? I don't like to hand out all this amount of cash on the floor. Security (Tony and Lou) corrals the couple. Leads them away. Bernie watches as they pass by. Mikey looks into Bernie's eyes. They both know he's been made. Natalie doesn't say anything, just looks at Bernie. INT. CASINO RECEIVING AREA - NIGHT Slot machines everywhere -- some on the way out, some on the way in. Crates of casino supplies. Bernie rushes in with Natalie behind him. Heading for an aural beacon of BLOWS landing on flesh... GRUNTING, PLEADING... ...arriving to find Tony and Lou kicking the shit out of Mikey on the floor. Charlene lies clutching her belly a few feet away. Shelly swings a baseball bat, warming up for some blood sport. Larry watches from the sidelines -- at once appalled and enthralled. CHARLENE Oh my God... I can feel the contractions coming on... Bernie rushes over to Shelly... BERNIE Shelly, stop them! Don't do this! SHELLY Get lost, Bernie, this got nothing to do with you. BERNIE It's got everything to do with me. He's my son. Everyone stops dead. Freeze frame. Shelly gets a weird look in his eye. A fuse has just been lit... SHELLY What did you say? BERNIE I said, he's my -- SHELLY Who? This little prick? Shelly smashes Mikey across the shoulder with the bat. AARRRGGGGHHH!!! Shelly raises the bat to cream Mikey again... Bernie grabs Shelly's arm. Shelly shoves him back. Raises the bat again... MIKEY Pop, help me... BERNIE Shelly, don't you fucking do it! Shelly freezes. He lowers the bat, throws it aside. Grabs Bernie by his collar... SHELLY Were you in on this? Jesus, you better come clean with me. BERNIE NO! God, no! I didn't know nothing about it. Shelly releases Bernie. There's a strange look in Shelly's eye. We see the wheels turning... SHELLY How much you think their lives are worth, Bernie? Myself, I don't think they're worth piss. But, hey, it ain't my kid... Bernie sees where Shelly's going with this. We can almost hear the cell door slamming in his head. SHELLY Let me see: they were up almost a hundred and fifty grand. That's 150 G's someone's gonna have to account for. What do you say, Bernie, seventy- five grand a piece? Bernie glances over at Natalie. She has tears in her eyes. He looks to Shelly pleadingly. Please don't do this... SHELLY Hey, I know you don't have that kind of cash. But, since you're a friend of the house, I'm willing to front you. BERNIE Shelly, they didn't get away with the money... You didn't lose anything... Shelly glances over at Lou, nods. Lou kicks Mikey in the face. His nose snaps like a twig. BERNIE Oh Jesus... Yes! All right. It's on me. 150 G's. Charlene clutches her belly, moans... CHARLENE Oh god, oh god... you gotta get me to the hospital... contractions... BERNIE Shelly, please help her. That's my grandson... SHELLY Hey, why don't we all break out the champagne? Lootz is about to become a granddaddy. (walks over to her) How you doin' there, sweetheart? Must hurt like crap, huh? CHARLENE (nods) Hurts so bad... SHELLY Yeah? Suddenly Shelly kicks Charlene in the belly! WHAM! She screeches out. NATALIE Oh God... BERNIE Jesus NOOOOO!!! Even Shelly's goons can't believe what they've just witnessed. Larry is aghast. Bernie rushes Shelly, starts raining blows on him. Shelly swats him off. He drops down next to the squirming girl, rips her sweater and blouse up over her stomach... ...to reveal a mound of fake padding. He tears the padding away from her, throws it at Bernie. SHELLY Here! It's a fuckin' boy. Anyone got a cigar? The muscle start laughing it up. Relief. Larry emits a nervous giggle. Natalie's jaw hits the floor. Bernie takes a step back. He's about to go into serious shock. Charlene curls over, sobbing. SHELLY (to Bernie) You sure you still want to be good for it? Because if you want to change your mind, I don't blame you. Bernie looks over at Mikey. He stares up at his father, trembling. MIKEY I'll make it up to you, Pop, I swear... Bernie holds his son's gaze for a beat. He's almost tempted to... He just shrugs and nods at Shelly. BERNIE It's on me. SHELLY (shakes his head) That's the worst fucking call you ever made in your life. ON NATALIE at that moment. We can tell she agrees with Shelly... but thinks all the more of Bernie for it. That might even be love in her eyes. Shelly snatches his baseball bat up off the floor. Walks over to Mikey, and brings it down full force, pulverizing Mikey's left kneecap. Oh man, the scream... BERNIE What are you doing?! I thought we had -- SHELLY 150 G's buys their lives. This is just a little slap on the wrist to remember me by. Natalie turns her head. She's about to throw up. Larry watches, unflinchingly. Charlene is making with some serious pleading now. CHARLENE Oh god... it wasn't my idea. Shelly steps up to Charlene, tapping the base of the bat in the palm of his hand. He smiles reassuringly at her. SHELLY You know, motherhood is a beautiful thing. This... you made a mockery out of it. Maybe you'll get to experience it for real one day. CHARLENE (nods, sobbing) I want... to be a mother... please don't hurt me... SHELLY I'm not going to hurt you. Shelly turns his back on her. Charlene starts sobbing relief. They're not going to hurt her. It's going to be all right. Wrong. Shelly throws the bat to Lou. The heavy steps up to the plate (as we RACK FOCUS to Shelly walking away) -- CRUNCH!!! followed by the girl's SHRIEKS. Natalie buries her head in Bernie's shoulder. SHELLY (to Tony and Lou) Get 'em outta here. You ever see them in this joint again, kill 'em. SHELLY (to Bernie and Natalie) You two, you're still on shift. Shelly catches Larry's eye: I hope you were taking notes. INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT Bernie's seated on the edge of his bed, drowning his sorrows with a bottle of gin. Moonlight paints him in jail bars of shadow. Natalie lingers in the b.g. BERNIE I did this to myself. I planted the seed. When Angela took off with Mikey, I didn't... I never made an effort to get back in his life. I figured, the kid don't need a loser for a father. Now it's all come full circle. I give him the money, I open the door to all this... I musta had it coming. Payback. Natalie's hand lowers the needle onto the Sinatra record. "Nice 'n' Easy" starts up. She walks over to Bernie, takes the bottle away. Helps him to his feet. He gives himself over to her reassuring embrace. Natalie raises Bernie's face to her's. NATALIE Bernie, it's a big world out there. If you just took off -- if we took off. Bernie shakes his head. It's too late for that now. DISSOLVE TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - LATER - NIGHT Natalie staring up at the ceiling, Bernie nuzzled against her. Her features appear softer than ever. Luminous in the moonlight. Realization moist in her eyes. NATALIE You awake, Bernie? He grunts something inaudible. NATALIE I -- think I love you. Bernie tenses up. Huh? NATALIE No, I don't think. I'm pretty certain of it. Bernie raises his head, not quite sure he heard her right. Natalie sits up, hugs her knees. Bernie finds himself staring at her back. NATALIE You blind-sided me, Bernie Lootz. I never saw this coming. You shouldn't do that to a girl. Bernie reaches out, caresses her back. She emits a shiver... NATALIE There's still things you don't know... should know... I don't want to ruin it... Bernie pulls Natalie back toward him. BERNIE It won't make any difference, Natalie. Whatever you come clean about, I'm not gonna feel any different about you. I'd say the words, but with my luck... NATALIE Say 'em anyway. To hell with rotten luck. That's overs. BERNIE (a beat) I love you, Natalie. Natalie smothers her lips against Bernie's. He enshrouds her in his arms. Fade out... INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - DAY Fade into SOFT FOCUS. Slowing taking form... A CAT'S FACE seen in extreme close-up. WIDER -- to reveal the cat resting on Bernie's chest. She MEOWS as he stirs awake. He's stunned to see her there. BERNIE Trixie? The cat jumps off his chest and slinks over to her empty food bowl. Meows again. Bernie breaks into a wide smile. BERNIE Trix. You came back. Bernie shields his eyes from the bright sunlight streaming in through the blinds. Huh? This is a first for him. He's never gotten direct sunlight in his room before. What's the deal? Did the world just turn on its axis? He glances over his shoulder... No Natalie. Just her impression in the sheets. And a note on her pillow. For a moment his heart stops. He conjures up the worst. Grabs up the note, unfolds it. We see a lipstick kiss and the words: HAVE A SPECTACULAR DAY! Bernie lets out a joyful whoop! Leaps out of bed... SMASH CUT TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - CONTINUOUS - DAY CLOSE-UP: Trixie eating some tuna out of her bowl. We hear the record player needle drop on "Luck Be A Lady." Cut to: Bernie's feet gliding around the room... PAN UP to Bernie dancing with himself. He's positively aglow. He snatches up a salt shaker and sings along with Sinatra. It's true -- love makes the world go around. It obviously also gives life to dead plants, as evidenced by the small bulb that has sprung up overnight above his radiator. But we won't dwell on that. INT. SHANGRI-LA HOTEL AND CASINO - DAY Bernie struts into the casino a changed man (still to the tune of "Luck Be a Lady"). Even his limp seems less pronounced as he greets fellow workers as they pass. He catches a glimpse of himself in a wall mirror. Maybe for the first time, he likes what he sees. In the reflection he notices Natalie smiling at him. He meets her eyes. She averts them quickly, keeps walking. INT. SHELLY'S OFFICE - THAT MOMENT Shelly watches Bernie from the video monitor. He appears less than delighted over Bernie's sunny disposition. He picks up the phone, dials. SHELLY (into phone) Yeah, it's me. Get Bernie over to crap table six. INT. CASINO FLOOR - NIGHT Per usual, Bernie walks up to the bar, asks for a cup of coffee. Doris slides it over. BERNIE (looking around) Got any cre -- Before he can answer, Doris hands him a container of cream. A full container. Taken aback, he starts pouring it into his cup, when he hears a VOICE over the intercom: VOICE (V.O.) Lovett, party of six, your table is ready, Lovett, party of six. Bernie looks to Doris. BERNIE Duty calls. INT. CASINO - MONTAGE - MOMENTS LATER A -- Bernie arrives at a hundred dollar blackjack table just in time for the dealer to bust out. The crowd goes crazy! B -- Bernie takes a break by leaning up against the side of a slot machine. Suddenly, the woman playing it hits a jackpot. C -- Everywhere he seems to go, people continue to win. D -- Bernie, despite the spooky irony, can't help but smile as mountains of chips pile up on the tables. Shelly appears behind him. Not a happy camper. He gestures Bernie to follow him. INT. CASINO SLOTS AREA - NIGHT They head over to a section of slots. As they pass one of those huge million dollar slots, the FLOOR MANAGER cuts in front of them. FLOOR MANAGER Hey, Shelly, check it out. The new Mega-Million. I call her Marnie, 'cause she's one frigid broad. Sure, once in a while she'll flash you a bit of tit, but your chances of hitting a home run -- one in twenty million. Here, give her a shot... He hands Shelly a cup of quarters, takes off. Shelly looks to Bernie. He's trying to keep a lid on his anger. SHELLY (feeding Marnie quarters) You wanna tell me what's going on out there? BERNIE I don't know... Shelly pulls the lever. SHELLY What do you mean... Marnie immediately spits out a small jackpot. SHELLY (reacts with surprise) What do you mean, you don't know? We're down almost a mil out there. Doesn't seem strange to you? BERNIE (shrugs) Guess I'm having an off day. SHELLY You don't have off days, Lootz. You're shitty luck incarnate. What's wrong? You coming down with something? You've got this look about you... Shelly starts feeding Marnie again. BERNIE Nothing's wrong. Fact is, I've never felt better. SHELLY What's that supposed to mean? BERNIE She loves me, Shelly. She told me last night. Natalie. On the mention of Natalie's name, we hear a shrieking SIREN, followed by a deafening toll of slot bells. Shelly's just landed the million dollar jackpot. Shelly stares at the slot in surprise -- then looks over at Bernie. Realization hits hard. Fuck! The floor manager staggers over. His expression is priceless. FLOOR MANAGER Sweet Jesus... you popped her cherries. SEVERAL CASINO WORKERS have gathered to witness the deflowering of Marnie. They gaze reverently upon her, as if witnessing the "Close Encounters" mothership for the first time. Shelly drags Bernie out of earshot. SHELLY Natalie? She told you, she loves you? Bernie nods, a huge grin wrenching his cheeks apart. He's about to go helium on us. INT. CASINO FLOOR - NIGHT Natalie's serving drinks to a table of high rollers, when Tony and Lou appear behind her... INT. SHELLY'S OFFICE - NIGHT The door to Shelly's office slams behind Natalie. Shelly glares at her from behind his desk. We see him thumbing his steel abacus. The beads drifting toward the center. Natalie shakily lights up a cigarette. SHELLY Put that fucking thing out! Natalie, startled, drops her cigarettes. She kneels to gather them up. NATALIE Sorry. SHELLY You should be. You've gone and fucked it up big time. I paid you to be his cooze companion, not his fucking true love. But, no, you had to go and get all profound on the poor schmuck. (mimics female voice) "I love you, Bernie." You know what you've gone and done, sweetheart? Those four little words of endearment have already cost this casino a million and counting today. NATALIE I don't understand... SHELLY (jumps to his feet) Lady luck. You never heard'a lady luck?! That's what's goin' on out there. Lootz is Kryptonite on a stick. He should have 'em throwing ice cubes out there, but instead I got a fuckin' meltdown on my hands. Shelly walks around his desk to Natalie. SHELLY OK, here's what's gonna happen. You're outta his life by the time he gets home. Don't even tell him to his face, just leave a note. I'll make some calls, situate you at another joint. NATALIE I can't do that. SHELLY (right in her face) Excuse me? NATALIE It wasn't an act. I meant it. I love him. SHELLY (close to losing it) What's there to fuckin' love? He's a loser. Always has been, always will be. NATALIE I thought you were his friend... SHELLY And I thought you were a smart cookie when I picked you out. You do not want to fuck me over, darlin'. I'll see to it that your next John's a rattlesnake out in the desert. Now get the fuck outta here. Natalie rushes from the office in tears. Shelly closes his eyes for a moment -- gotta keep it together. INT. SHANGRI-LA CASINO - NIGHT Bernie approaches some cocktail waitresses about to go off duty. BERNIE Hi. Any of you seen Natalie around? I'm supposed to give her a ride home. COCKTAIL WAITRESS #1 I think she left already. She wasn't feelin' too good. We been covering for her. Off Bernie's expression: Oh... EXT. LUCKY STAR MOTEL - NIGHT Bernie's Buick pulls into the lot. He parks, heads for his room. INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT Bernie enters. Flips on the light. No Natalie. BERNIE (calls to the bathroom) Natalie? You in there? No answer. He heads over. Finds it empty. Concern spreads across his features. He glances around the room. Notices the closet wide open. Natalie's clothes missing. BERNIE (sotto) Natalie. That's when he catches sight of the note taped to the dresser mirror. He rushes over, rips it off. I'M SORRY BERNIE. I GUESS IT JUST WASN'T IN THE CARDS FOR US. TAKE CARE, NATALIE. Bernie slumps to the floor in disbelief. Starts to tremble. Then rocks back and forth, wracked by stifled sobs. Christ, make it stop hurting... DISSOLVE TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - LATER Bernie seated at the foot of the bed, drinking bourbon from

fires

How many times the word 'fires' appears in the text?

what Shangri- la is. Paradise. LARRY Yeah, we've all seen the movie. And your point is? Shelly whirls around, yells: SHELLY You don't fuck with paradise! All'a ya! NICKY Hey, Jesus, c'mon, Shelly. We're not trying to fuck with it. We're trying to make it better. SHELLY How... how, Nicky, could it be any better? Right now it's perfect. It's the last of its kind. It's pure... and this. (points to the model; weary) ...this is just... it's a mockery. An insult. Trying to make something of it that it isn't. LARRY What are you talking about? It's right outta the movie? SHELLY Whose talking about a fuckin' movie? This ain't a fuckin' movie. This is my life. This is my house of worship. You people are shittin' on all that's sacred to me. A tense silence ensues. Nicky, Larry and Marty exchange looks. SHELLY (tired laugh) I got just one question? Where you gonna be when they decide to change it back? When the people, they come looking for the real Vegas, from before all this Epcott Center bullshit. Who's gonna it give it to them? You guys? I don't think so. You know who? The same fucks who started this shit in the first place. It's all gonna come full circle and bite you in the ass. Mark my words. Shelly falls silent. Massages his forehead. Shit, that wasn't the way to handle it. Nicky gets up from the sofa, walks over to Shelly, places a hand on his shoulder. Shelly flinches, but doesn't pull away. NICKY You make some good points, Shelly. Maybe it'll swing back the other way, who knows? But the smart money suggests we roll the dice. I'm not gonna bullshit you; naturally there's gonna be a lot of restructuring in the months to come, but I want you to know, you'll always have a place with us. SHELLY Where's that? Behind the bar? MARTY (laughs) Behind the bar, that's a good one. NICKY I think you should take some time and think things through. All this, it's a lot to digest, y'know. MARTY Speaking of things to digest, I'm starving. How's that buffet they got in the Valley of the Blue Moon? You recommend their prime rib, Shell? Shelly stares right through Marty. Choke and die on it, motherfucker. SHELLY It's food. NICKY Hey, my arteries can use a workout. Lead us to the trough, Shell. Shelly nods at Nicky, then shifts his gaze to Larry. Larry's all smiles. He steps forward to join them, his hand dropping down and caressing the surface of Shelly's desk behind him. A subtle gesture not lost on Shelly. Shelly mentally unloads a full chamber into Larry's chest. Returns the smile. INT. CASINO - CRAPS TABLES - NIGHT As Shelly and the group pass a hot craps table, Nicky is drawn to it. NICKY Wait up a second... MARTY I thought we were gonna eat? Only now do we see Bernie has arrived to cool the table of its hot shooter -- A LOUD, pudgy, overdressed SUBURBANITE. Shelly eyes Bernie. SHELLY Maybe we wanna play over there. Less crowded. NICKY Nah, let's play here. This is my lucky table. I always play here. (to the others) Go on ahead. I know where to find you guys. Shelly signals Bernie to back off. Bernie steps back. Shelly, Larry and Marty head for the restaurant. Nicky quickly slaps down some green. The stickman slides the dice over to the suburbanite who is shooting. He scuttles the dice. They bounce up over the rail and spike Nicky on the forehead before dropping back on the felt. The players chuckle. STICKMAN Out! Seven, line away seven... Nicky rubs his forehead, glares at the suburbanite. He fires back. SUBURBANITE C"mon, pops! What the hell? I coulda paid my mortgage with the money I just lost. Nicky says nothing. The table is quickly cleared by the dealers. The stickman skips the next shooter and feeds the dice to Nicky. SHOOTER Hey? I'm supposed to be next... NICKY File a grievance, shithead. Suburbanite is still fuming over his loss. Nicky places a couple hundred on the passline. STICKMAN We're coming out. Crap Eleven, any seven. Nicky throws in some chips to the center. NICKY Hundred dollar big red. Suburbanite watches as Nicky runs through a lengthy pre-shot routine. Lots of hand jive and cuff shooting. SUBURBANITE Hurry it up, gramps. Your soup's getting cold. Nicky throws. STICKMAN Crap, Ace Deuce. Line down. The croupiers takes down the pass line. SUBURBANITE Hey, Busketti, maybe you should try shuffleboard. Nicky is fed the dice again. Same routine. Nicky just fires an incendiary look back at the suburbanite. SUBURBANITE Uncle Palsy? Shake'em this direction. Nicky throws. STICKMAN Four, hard four. The point is four. The players make their bets. SUBURBANITE Good now throw it before you fucking keel over and die, old man. Nicky slowly starts his routine defiantly. SUBURBANITE Happy birthday to me. Happy Birthday to me... Jesus, fuck, I'm another year older already. Nicky throws. STICKMAN OUT! Seven! Line away. Nicky claps his hands dealer style -- for effect -- and with a gentlemanly smile steps back from the table. Nicky's chips are quickly swept up by the croupier. SUBURBANITE Don't take it so hard, pops. Everybody craps out. Nicky locks eyes with the suburbanite. Then flashes a smile that suggests he's going to brush it off. He turns away from the table... SUBURBANITE Now go change your fucking Depends. Nicky makes like it's all in good jest. Yeah, that's real cute. He heads around the table to the suburbanite, holds out his hand as if to say: Hey, no hard feelings. The suburbanite shrugs. What the fuck? I was just playing with you, pops. He reaches for Nicky's hand... when Nicky suddenly headbutts him. Before anyone can react, Nicky starts laying into the suburbanite. The man goes down and. Nicky continues pummeling him... NICKY Who's laughing now, huh? ya fuckin! prick! C'mon, crack wise again... Ya fuckin' smooth as a Ken doll, no- dick, suburbanite scum. How's that for a game?! Shelly alerted to the fracas, rushes back to the table. He takes immediate control of the situation. Snaps his fingers at security. The suburbanite is whisked away with a pocketful of comps and a bruised ego. Shelly takes Nicky aside, attempts to calm him. Nicky keeps railing at Shelly: NICKY That ain't right, Shelly! Guy fucks up my game like that. Who the fuck does he think he is? SHELLY You're right. He's just a piece of shit. Forget about him. NICKY I thought this joint had more class. Used to be, we wouldn't even let bums like that in... Nicky catches himself. He looks at Shelly for a beat. There's an unspoken understanding between them. "The good old days." We see Bernie in the b.g., looking more than a bit shocked. INT. THE MAKAWAO BAR AND GRILL - NIGHT Bernie seated with Natalie. BERNIE This town... You know, Natalie, all I want to do is go some place where I can tell day from night. Where they got clocks on the wall. I can't breathe around here no more. Four days and I'm gone. I'm not even sure I can hold out that long. NATALIE (a beat) So where does that leave us? BERNIE A week ago, I didn't remember what it was like to have a woman's hands on me. I'm still pinching myself, expecting to wake-up from... (just blurts it out) Come with me, Natalie. I want you to come with me. NATALIE God, Bernie, that's... BERNIE I'm sorry. I didn't mean to spring that on you. NATALIE Bernie... I want to be with you. I do. But I don't know if I can leave with you. Bernie's look: Why? NATALIE I was working on a compatibility chart for the two of us. And it looks good, really, it does. BERNIE So, what's the problem? NATALIE That's with us here. In Vegas. Bernie's expression: Oh. NATALIE Maybe I was being presumptuous, 'cause I knew you were leaving... and I tried working it in different ways... It wasn't good, Bernie. I got scared. But that's just for now, for the immediate future. Once the planets realign, maybe a year from now... BERNIE Natalie... I can't... Not another year. Not another week. A somber mood falls on the table. Bernie reaches for Natalie's hand. Instead, he knocks the salt over. It spills out in front of them. BERNIE I think... we probably shouldn't see each other anymore. NATALIE Why, Bernie? We only got a couple days left together. Why not make the most of them? BERNIE (a long beat) Because if I spend one more night in your arms, I'm not going anywhere. NATALIE And that's so bad? Bernie just stares at her, shrouded in sadness. Natalie stubs out her cigarette, rises. NATALIE Take care, Bernie. Bernie casts his eyes to the mound of spilled salt in front of him. Nods. A few beats later he raises his head... BERNIE Natalie, don't... Gone. A WAITRESS appears. WAITRESS (O.S.) Get you another? BERNIE (nods) I think you better bring me the bottle. Please. INT. SHANGRI-LA HOTEL AND CASINO/BAR - NIGHT Once again, we see Bernie's feet limp across the casino floor. He walks up to the bar, asks for a cup of coffee. Doris brings it over. Short on the cream again. He just sips it black. Gloom and doom features. Life sucks. His master's VOICE sounds over the intercom: VOICE (V.O.) Chang, party of fifteen, your table is ready, Chang party of fifteen. Bernie looks to Doris. Sighs. Only three more days. INT. CASINO FLOOR - CRAPS TABLES - NIGHT He heads for the crap tables, the sound of raucous CHEERING becomes audible. A large crowd starting to gather. Bernie noodles his way to the front of the crowd. As soon as he gets a look at the heavy hitter at the table, he tenses up. Oh shit. It's MIKEY. With Charlene. Charlene is making one hell of a racket. Playing up her extremely maternal state. Just then Natalie sidles up to Bernie with the Chivas Regal. Without thinking about it, he grabs the glass off the tray, downs it in a single gulp. CHARLENE (clutching her tummy) Come on, Mikey. This is our future. Don't blow it. Mikey throws down a bet for the dealer. MIKEY Put this on the line for the boys. The stickman thanks him as they place the bet. Mikey throws down more money. We can see Mikey has bets all over the table. MIKEY With shoes! STICKMAN Dealer's got shoes. Hands high, the dice are out! The point is nine. CHARLENE Come on all you's. Put a good thought in for our baby! As everyone dotes over Charlene, Mikey quickly swaps the dice before anyone can see. He throws. STICKMAN Six the hard way! Mikey is paid nine thousand by the croupier, as is Charlene. Bernie stands frozen. He doesn't bother trying to get any closer to the table. He knows it'll do no good. CHARLENE Oh my god, I just felt him kick! He knows. He knows you're all pulling for him. God bless you all. Natalie looks over at Charlene. Their eyes meet for a second. It's as though Natalie knows it's a scam and Charlene's acknowledging it. Mikey throws again. STICKMAN Six the hard way! Look out, we got a shooter! Another nine grand. Mikey's rail is nearly full. Charlene hops around awkwardly causing more distraction. Bernie is really sweating it out now. Then Shelly arrives. Larry is hot on his tail. SHELLY How much? BERNIE Eighteen thousand since I stepped up. I'm sorry, Shelly, I guess I've been hit and miss lately. Shelly's expression tells us he isn't so sure. Something definitely isn't kosher. As Charlene chatters on, Mikey switches the dice back. Shelly makes him. SHELLY (sotto) Fucking amateurs... Mikey throws... STICKMAN Seven out! Line away. The players and crowd, though disappointed, applaud Mikey's achievement. MIKEY (bowing) I thank you. My wife thanks you. My unborn child thanks you. Mikey moves his rail of chips to the felt. MIKEY Color me up will ya? Larry notices Shelly slipping on a pair of leather gloves. LARRY You've gotta be kidding me. (off Shelly's steely glare) That's not how I propose we handle it. We'll turn the matter over to the authorities. They'll be blacklisted, their credit ruined... SHELLY (gets in Larry's face) And then we'll give 'em both a lollipop for the ride home. Come watch and learn, Harvard. A little lesson on how to protect your investment -- the old school way. Shelly walks over to Mikey and Charlene, Larry lingering behind him. SHELLY Hey, that was some run you had back there. MIKEY Uh, thanks. Just lucky I guess. Mikey steals a tense glance at Charlene. She starts to fidget nervously. SHELLY Why don't we go do this in my office? I don't like to hand out all this amount of cash on the floor. Security (Tony and Lou) corrals the couple. Leads them away. Bernie watches as they pass by. Mikey looks into Bernie's eyes. They both know he's been made. Natalie doesn't say anything, just looks at Bernie. INT. CASINO RECEIVING AREA - NIGHT Slot machines everywhere -- some on the way out, some on the way in. Crates of casino supplies. Bernie rushes in with Natalie behind him. Heading for an aural beacon of BLOWS landing on flesh... GRUNTING, PLEADING... ...arriving to find Tony and Lou kicking the shit out of Mikey on the floor. Charlene lies clutching her belly a few feet away. Shelly swings a baseball bat, warming up for some blood sport. Larry watches from the sidelines -- at once appalled and enthralled. CHARLENE Oh my God... I can feel the contractions coming on... Bernie rushes over to Shelly... BERNIE Shelly, stop them! Don't do this! SHELLY Get lost, Bernie, this got nothing to do with you. BERNIE It's got everything to do with me. He's my son. Everyone stops dead. Freeze frame. Shelly gets a weird look in his eye. A fuse has just been lit... SHELLY What did you say? BERNIE I said, he's my -- SHELLY Who? This little prick? Shelly smashes Mikey across the shoulder with the bat. AARRRGGGGHHH!!! Shelly raises the bat to cream Mikey again... Bernie grabs Shelly's arm. Shelly shoves him back. Raises the bat again... MIKEY Pop, help me... BERNIE Shelly, don't you fucking do it! Shelly freezes. He lowers the bat, throws it aside. Grabs Bernie by his collar... SHELLY Were you in on this? Jesus, you better come clean with me. BERNIE NO! God, no! I didn't know nothing about it. Shelly releases Bernie. There's a strange look in Shelly's eye. We see the wheels turning... SHELLY How much you think their lives are worth, Bernie? Myself, I don't think they're worth piss. But, hey, it ain't my kid... Bernie sees where Shelly's going with this. We can almost hear the cell door slamming in his head. SHELLY Let me see: they were up almost a hundred and fifty grand. That's 150 G's someone's gonna have to account for. What do you say, Bernie, seventy- five grand a piece? Bernie glances over at Natalie. She has tears in her eyes. He looks to Shelly pleadingly. Please don't do this... SHELLY Hey, I know you don't have that kind of cash. But, since you're a friend of the house, I'm willing to front you. BERNIE Shelly, they didn't get away with the money... You didn't lose anything... Shelly glances over at Lou, nods. Lou kicks Mikey in the face. His nose snaps like a twig. BERNIE Oh Jesus... Yes! All right. It's on me. 150 G's. Charlene clutches her belly, moans... CHARLENE Oh god, oh god... you gotta get me to the hospital... contractions... BERNIE Shelly, please help her. That's my grandson... SHELLY Hey, why don't we all break out the champagne? Lootz is about to become a granddaddy. (walks over to her) How you doin' there, sweetheart? Must hurt like crap, huh? CHARLENE (nods) Hurts so bad... SHELLY Yeah? Suddenly Shelly kicks Charlene in the belly! WHAM! She screeches out. NATALIE Oh God... BERNIE Jesus NOOOOO!!! Even Shelly's goons can't believe what they've just witnessed. Larry is aghast. Bernie rushes Shelly, starts raining blows on him. Shelly swats him off. He drops down next to the squirming girl, rips her sweater and blouse up over her stomach... ...to reveal a mound of fake padding. He tears the padding away from her, throws it at Bernie. SHELLY Here! It's a fuckin' boy. Anyone got a cigar? The muscle start laughing it up. Relief. Larry emits a nervous giggle. Natalie's jaw hits the floor. Bernie takes a step back. He's about to go into serious shock. Charlene curls over, sobbing. SHELLY (to Bernie) You sure you still want to be good for it? Because if you want to change your mind, I don't blame you. Bernie looks over at Mikey. He stares up at his father, trembling. MIKEY I'll make it up to you, Pop, I swear... Bernie holds his son's gaze for a beat. He's almost tempted to... He just shrugs and nods at Shelly. BERNIE It's on me. SHELLY (shakes his head) That's the worst fucking call you ever made in your life. ON NATALIE at that moment. We can tell she agrees with Shelly... but thinks all the more of Bernie for it. That might even be love in her eyes. Shelly snatches his baseball bat up off the floor. Walks over to Mikey, and brings it down full force, pulverizing Mikey's left kneecap. Oh man, the scream... BERNIE What are you doing?! I thought we had -- SHELLY 150 G's buys their lives. This is just a little slap on the wrist to remember me by. Natalie turns her head. She's about to throw up. Larry watches, unflinchingly. Charlene is making with some serious pleading now. CHARLENE Oh god... it wasn't my idea. Shelly steps up to Charlene, tapping the base of the bat in the palm of his hand. He smiles reassuringly at her. SHELLY You know, motherhood is a beautiful thing. This... you made a mockery out of it. Maybe you'll get to experience it for real one day. CHARLENE (nods, sobbing) I want... to be a mother... please don't hurt me... SHELLY I'm not going to hurt you. Shelly turns his back on her. Charlene starts sobbing relief. They're not going to hurt her. It's going to be all right. Wrong. Shelly throws the bat to Lou. The heavy steps up to the plate (as we RACK FOCUS to Shelly walking away) -- CRUNCH!!! followed by the girl's SHRIEKS. Natalie buries her head in Bernie's shoulder. SHELLY (to Tony and Lou) Get 'em outta here. You ever see them in this joint again, kill 'em. SHELLY (to Bernie and Natalie) You two, you're still on shift. Shelly catches Larry's eye: I hope you were taking notes. INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT Bernie's seated on the edge of his bed, drowning his sorrows with a bottle of gin. Moonlight paints him in jail bars of shadow. Natalie lingers in the b.g. BERNIE I did this to myself. I planted the seed. When Angela took off with Mikey, I didn't... I never made an effort to get back in his life. I figured, the kid don't need a loser for a father. Now it's all come full circle. I give him the money, I open the door to all this... I musta had it coming. Payback. Natalie's hand lowers the needle onto the Sinatra record. "Nice 'n' Easy" starts up. She walks over to Bernie, takes the bottle away. Helps him to his feet. He gives himself over to her reassuring embrace. Natalie raises Bernie's face to her's. NATALIE Bernie, it's a big world out there. If you just took off -- if we took off. Bernie shakes his head. It's too late for that now. DISSOLVE TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - LATER - NIGHT Natalie staring up at the ceiling, Bernie nuzzled against her. Her features appear softer than ever. Luminous in the moonlight. Realization moist in her eyes. NATALIE You awake, Bernie? He grunts something inaudible. NATALIE I -- think I love you. Bernie tenses up. Huh? NATALIE No, I don't think. I'm pretty certain of it. Bernie raises his head, not quite sure he heard her right. Natalie sits up, hugs her knees. Bernie finds himself staring at her back. NATALIE You blind-sided me, Bernie Lootz. I never saw this coming. You shouldn't do that to a girl. Bernie reaches out, caresses her back. She emits a shiver... NATALIE There's still things you don't know... should know... I don't want to ruin it... Bernie pulls Natalie back toward him. BERNIE It won't make any difference, Natalie. Whatever you come clean about, I'm not gonna feel any different about you. I'd say the words, but with my luck... NATALIE Say 'em anyway. To hell with rotten luck. That's overs. BERNIE (a beat) I love you, Natalie. Natalie smothers her lips against Bernie's. He enshrouds her in his arms. Fade out... INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - DAY Fade into SOFT FOCUS. Slowing taking form... A CAT'S FACE seen in extreme close-up. WIDER -- to reveal the cat resting on Bernie's chest. She MEOWS as he stirs awake. He's stunned to see her there. BERNIE Trixie? The cat jumps off his chest and slinks over to her empty food bowl. Meows again. Bernie breaks into a wide smile. BERNIE Trix. You came back. Bernie shields his eyes from the bright sunlight streaming in through the blinds. Huh? This is a first for him. He's never gotten direct sunlight in his room before. What's the deal? Did the world just turn on its axis? He glances over his shoulder... No Natalie. Just her impression in the sheets. And a note on her pillow. For a moment his heart stops. He conjures up the worst. Grabs up the note, unfolds it. We see a lipstick kiss and the words: HAVE A SPECTACULAR DAY! Bernie lets out a joyful whoop! Leaps out of bed... SMASH CUT TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - CONTINUOUS - DAY CLOSE-UP: Trixie eating some tuna out of her bowl. We hear the record player needle drop on "Luck Be A Lady." Cut to: Bernie's feet gliding around the room... PAN UP to Bernie dancing with himself. He's positively aglow. He snatches up a salt shaker and sings along with Sinatra. It's true -- love makes the world go around. It obviously also gives life to dead plants, as evidenced by the small bulb that has sprung up overnight above his radiator. But we won't dwell on that. INT. SHANGRI-LA HOTEL AND CASINO - DAY Bernie struts into the casino a changed man (still to the tune of "Luck Be a Lady"). Even his limp seems less pronounced as he greets fellow workers as they pass. He catches a glimpse of himself in a wall mirror. Maybe for the first time, he likes what he sees. In the reflection he notices Natalie smiling at him. He meets her eyes. She averts them quickly, keeps walking. INT. SHELLY'S OFFICE - THAT MOMENT Shelly watches Bernie from the video monitor. He appears less than delighted over Bernie's sunny disposition. He picks up the phone, dials. SHELLY (into phone) Yeah, it's me. Get Bernie over to crap table six. INT. CASINO FLOOR - NIGHT Per usual, Bernie walks up to the bar, asks for a cup of coffee. Doris slides it over. BERNIE (looking around) Got any cre -- Before he can answer, Doris hands him a container of cream. A full container. Taken aback, he starts pouring it into his cup, when he hears a VOICE over the intercom: VOICE (V.O.) Lovett, party of six, your table is ready, Lovett, party of six. Bernie looks to Doris. BERNIE Duty calls. INT. CASINO - MONTAGE - MOMENTS LATER A -- Bernie arrives at a hundred dollar blackjack table just in time for the dealer to bust out. The crowd goes crazy! B -- Bernie takes a break by leaning up against the side of a slot machine. Suddenly, the woman playing it hits a jackpot. C -- Everywhere he seems to go, people continue to win. D -- Bernie, despite the spooky irony, can't help but smile as mountains of chips pile up on the tables. Shelly appears behind him. Not a happy camper. He gestures Bernie to follow him. INT. CASINO SLOTS AREA - NIGHT They head over to a section of slots. As they pass one of those huge million dollar slots, the FLOOR MANAGER cuts in front of them. FLOOR MANAGER Hey, Shelly, check it out. The new Mega-Million. I call her Marnie, 'cause she's one frigid broad. Sure, once in a while she'll flash you a bit of tit, but your chances of hitting a home run -- one in twenty million. Here, give her a shot... He hands Shelly a cup of quarters, takes off. Shelly looks to Bernie. He's trying to keep a lid on his anger. SHELLY (feeding Marnie quarters) You wanna tell me what's going on out there? BERNIE I don't know... Shelly pulls the lever. SHELLY What do you mean... Marnie immediately spits out a small jackpot. SHELLY (reacts with surprise) What do you mean, you don't know? We're down almost a mil out there. Doesn't seem strange to you? BERNIE (shrugs) Guess I'm having an off day. SHELLY You don't have off days, Lootz. You're shitty luck incarnate. What's wrong? You coming down with something? You've got this look about you... Shelly starts feeding Marnie again. BERNIE Nothing's wrong. Fact is, I've never felt better. SHELLY What's that supposed to mean? BERNIE She loves me, Shelly. She told me last night. Natalie. On the mention of Natalie's name, we hear a shrieking SIREN, followed by a deafening toll of slot bells. Shelly's just landed the million dollar jackpot. Shelly stares at the slot in surprise -- then looks over at Bernie. Realization hits hard. Fuck! The floor manager staggers over. His expression is priceless. FLOOR MANAGER Sweet Jesus... you popped her cherries. SEVERAL CASINO WORKERS have gathered to witness the deflowering of Marnie. They gaze reverently upon her, as if witnessing the "Close Encounters" mothership for the first time. Shelly drags Bernie out of earshot. SHELLY Natalie? She told you, she loves you? Bernie nods, a huge grin wrenching his cheeks apart. He's about to go helium on us. INT. CASINO FLOOR - NIGHT Natalie's serving drinks to a table of high rollers, when Tony and Lou appear behind her... INT. SHELLY'S OFFICE - NIGHT The door to Shelly's office slams behind Natalie. Shelly glares at her from behind his desk. We see him thumbing his steel abacus. The beads drifting toward the center. Natalie shakily lights up a cigarette. SHELLY Put that fucking thing out! Natalie, startled, drops her cigarettes. She kneels to gather them up. NATALIE Sorry. SHELLY You should be. You've gone and fucked it up big time. I paid you to be his cooze companion, not his fucking true love. But, no, you had to go and get all profound on the poor schmuck. (mimics female voice) "I love you, Bernie." You know what you've gone and done, sweetheart? Those four little words of endearment have already cost this casino a million and counting today. NATALIE I don't understand... SHELLY (jumps to his feet) Lady luck. You never heard'a lady luck?! That's what's goin' on out there. Lootz is Kryptonite on a stick. He should have 'em throwing ice cubes out there, but instead I got a fuckin' meltdown on my hands. Shelly walks around his desk to Natalie. SHELLY OK, here's what's gonna happen. You're outta his life by the time he gets home. Don't even tell him to his face, just leave a note. I'll make some calls, situate you at another joint. NATALIE I can't do that. SHELLY (right in her face) Excuse me? NATALIE It wasn't an act. I meant it. I love him. SHELLY (close to losing it) What's there to fuckin' love? He's a loser. Always has been, always will be. NATALIE I thought you were his friend... SHELLY And I thought you were a smart cookie when I picked you out. You do not want to fuck me over, darlin'. I'll see to it that your next John's a rattlesnake out in the desert. Now get the fuck outta here. Natalie rushes from the office in tears. Shelly closes his eyes for a moment -- gotta keep it together. INT. SHANGRI-LA CASINO - NIGHT Bernie approaches some cocktail waitresses about to go off duty. BERNIE Hi. Any of you seen Natalie around? I'm supposed to give her a ride home. COCKTAIL WAITRESS #1 I think she left already. She wasn't feelin' too good. We been covering for her. Off Bernie's expression: Oh... EXT. LUCKY STAR MOTEL - NIGHT Bernie's Buick pulls into the lot. He parks, heads for his room. INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT Bernie enters. Flips on the light. No Natalie. BERNIE (calls to the bathroom) Natalie? You in there? No answer. He heads over. Finds it empty. Concern spreads across his features. He glances around the room. Notices the closet wide open. Natalie's clothes missing. BERNIE (sotto) Natalie. That's when he catches sight of the note taped to the dresser mirror. He rushes over, rips it off. I'M SORRY BERNIE. I GUESS IT JUST WASN'T IN THE CARDS FOR US. TAKE CARE, NATALIE. Bernie slumps to the floor in disbelief. Starts to tremble. Then rocks back and forth, wracked by stifled sobs. Christ, make it stop hurting... DISSOLVE TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - LATER Bernie seated at the foot of the bed, drinking bourbon from

scuffling

How many times the word 'scuffling' appears in the text?

what Shangri- la is. Paradise. LARRY Yeah, we've all seen the movie. And your point is? Shelly whirls around, yells: SHELLY You don't fuck with paradise! All'a ya! NICKY Hey, Jesus, c'mon, Shelly. We're not trying to fuck with it. We're trying to make it better. SHELLY How... how, Nicky, could it be any better? Right now it's perfect. It's the last of its kind. It's pure... and this. (points to the model; weary) ...this is just... it's a mockery. An insult. Trying to make something of it that it isn't. LARRY What are you talking about? It's right outta the movie? SHELLY Whose talking about a fuckin' movie? This ain't a fuckin' movie. This is my life. This is my house of worship. You people are shittin' on all that's sacred to me. A tense silence ensues. Nicky, Larry and Marty exchange looks. SHELLY (tired laugh) I got just one question? Where you gonna be when they decide to change it back? When the people, they come looking for the real Vegas, from before all this Epcott Center bullshit. Who's gonna it give it to them? You guys? I don't think so. You know who? The same fucks who started this shit in the first place. It's all gonna come full circle and bite you in the ass. Mark my words. Shelly falls silent. Massages his forehead. Shit, that wasn't the way to handle it. Nicky gets up from the sofa, walks over to Shelly, places a hand on his shoulder. Shelly flinches, but doesn't pull away. NICKY You make some good points, Shelly. Maybe it'll swing back the other way, who knows? But the smart money suggests we roll the dice. I'm not gonna bullshit you; naturally there's gonna be a lot of restructuring in the months to come, but I want you to know, you'll always have a place with us. SHELLY Where's that? Behind the bar? MARTY (laughs) Behind the bar, that's a good one. NICKY I think you should take some time and think things through. All this, it's a lot to digest, y'know. MARTY Speaking of things to digest, I'm starving. How's that buffet they got in the Valley of the Blue Moon? You recommend their prime rib, Shell? Shelly stares right through Marty. Choke and die on it, motherfucker. SHELLY It's food. NICKY Hey, my arteries can use a workout. Lead us to the trough, Shell. Shelly nods at Nicky, then shifts his gaze to Larry. Larry's all smiles. He steps forward to join them, his hand dropping down and caressing the surface of Shelly's desk behind him. A subtle gesture not lost on Shelly. Shelly mentally unloads a full chamber into Larry's chest. Returns the smile. INT. CASINO - CRAPS TABLES - NIGHT As Shelly and the group pass a hot craps table, Nicky is drawn to it. NICKY Wait up a second... MARTY I thought we were gonna eat? Only now do we see Bernie has arrived to cool the table of its hot shooter -- A LOUD, pudgy, overdressed SUBURBANITE. Shelly eyes Bernie. SHELLY Maybe we wanna play over there. Less crowded. NICKY Nah, let's play here. This is my lucky table. I always play here. (to the others) Go on ahead. I know where to find you guys. Shelly signals Bernie to back off. Bernie steps back. Shelly, Larry and Marty head for the restaurant. Nicky quickly slaps down some green. The stickman slides the dice over to the suburbanite who is shooting. He scuttles the dice. They bounce up over the rail and spike Nicky on the forehead before dropping back on the felt. The players chuckle. STICKMAN Out! Seven, line away seven... Nicky rubs his forehead, glares at the suburbanite. He fires back. SUBURBANITE C"mon, pops! What the hell? I coulda paid my mortgage with the money I just lost. Nicky says nothing. The table is quickly cleared by the dealers. The stickman skips the next shooter and feeds the dice to Nicky. SHOOTER Hey? I'm supposed to be next... NICKY File a grievance, shithead. Suburbanite is still fuming over his loss. Nicky places a couple hundred on the passline. STICKMAN We're coming out. Crap Eleven, any seven. Nicky throws in some chips to the center. NICKY Hundred dollar big red. Suburbanite watches as Nicky runs through a lengthy pre-shot routine. Lots of hand jive and cuff shooting. SUBURBANITE Hurry it up, gramps. Your soup's getting cold. Nicky throws. STICKMAN Crap, Ace Deuce. Line down. The croupiers takes down the pass line. SUBURBANITE Hey, Busketti, maybe you should try shuffleboard. Nicky is fed the dice again. Same routine. Nicky just fires an incendiary look back at the suburbanite. SUBURBANITE Uncle Palsy? Shake'em this direction. Nicky throws. STICKMAN Four, hard four. The point is four. The players make their bets. SUBURBANITE Good now throw it before you fucking keel over and die, old man. Nicky slowly starts his routine defiantly. SUBURBANITE Happy birthday to me. Happy Birthday to me... Jesus, fuck, I'm another year older already. Nicky throws. STICKMAN OUT! Seven! Line away. Nicky claps his hands dealer style -- for effect -- and with a gentlemanly smile steps back from the table. Nicky's chips are quickly swept up by the croupier. SUBURBANITE Don't take it so hard, pops. Everybody craps out. Nicky locks eyes with the suburbanite. Then flashes a smile that suggests he's going to brush it off. He turns away from the table... SUBURBANITE Now go change your fucking Depends. Nicky makes like it's all in good jest. Yeah, that's real cute. He heads around the table to the suburbanite, holds out his hand as if to say: Hey, no hard feelings. The suburbanite shrugs. What the fuck? I was just playing with you, pops. He reaches for Nicky's hand... when Nicky suddenly headbutts him. Before anyone can react, Nicky starts laying into the suburbanite. The man goes down and. Nicky continues pummeling him... NICKY Who's laughing now, huh? ya fuckin! prick! C'mon, crack wise again... Ya fuckin' smooth as a Ken doll, no- dick, suburbanite scum. How's that for a game?! Shelly alerted to the fracas, rushes back to the table. He takes immediate control of the situation. Snaps his fingers at security. The suburbanite is whisked away with a pocketful of comps and a bruised ego. Shelly takes Nicky aside, attempts to calm him. Nicky keeps railing at Shelly: NICKY That ain't right, Shelly! Guy fucks up my game like that. Who the fuck does he think he is? SHELLY You're right. He's just a piece of shit. Forget about him. NICKY I thought this joint had more class. Used to be, we wouldn't even let bums like that in... Nicky catches himself. He looks at Shelly for a beat. There's an unspoken understanding between them. "The good old days." We see Bernie in the b.g., looking more than a bit shocked. INT. THE MAKAWAO BAR AND GRILL - NIGHT Bernie seated with Natalie. BERNIE This town... You know, Natalie, all I want to do is go some place where I can tell day from night. Where they got clocks on the wall. I can't breathe around here no more. Four days and I'm gone. I'm not even sure I can hold out that long. NATALIE (a beat) So where does that leave us? BERNIE A week ago, I didn't remember what it was like to have a woman's hands on me. I'm still pinching myself, expecting to wake-up from... (just blurts it out) Come with me, Natalie. I want you to come with me. NATALIE God, Bernie, that's... BERNIE I'm sorry. I didn't mean to spring that on you. NATALIE Bernie... I want to be with you. I do. But I don't know if I can leave with you. Bernie's look: Why? NATALIE I was working on a compatibility chart for the two of us. And it looks good, really, it does. BERNIE So, what's the problem? NATALIE That's with us here. In Vegas. Bernie's expression: Oh. NATALIE Maybe I was being presumptuous, 'cause I knew you were leaving... and I tried working it in different ways... It wasn't good, Bernie. I got scared. But that's just for now, for the immediate future. Once the planets realign, maybe a year from now... BERNIE Natalie... I can't... Not another year. Not another week. A somber mood falls on the table. Bernie reaches for Natalie's hand. Instead, he knocks the salt over. It spills out in front of them. BERNIE I think... we probably shouldn't see each other anymore. NATALIE Why, Bernie? We only got a couple days left together. Why not make the most of them? BERNIE (a long beat) Because if I spend one more night in your arms, I'm not going anywhere. NATALIE And that's so bad? Bernie just stares at her, shrouded in sadness. Natalie stubs out her cigarette, rises. NATALIE Take care, Bernie. Bernie casts his eyes to the mound of spilled salt in front of him. Nods. A few beats later he raises his head... BERNIE Natalie, don't... Gone. A WAITRESS appears. WAITRESS (O.S.) Get you another? BERNIE (nods) I think you better bring me the bottle. Please. INT. SHANGRI-LA HOTEL AND CASINO/BAR - NIGHT Once again, we see Bernie's feet limp across the casino floor. He walks up to the bar, asks for a cup of coffee. Doris brings it over. Short on the cream again. He just sips it black. Gloom and doom features. Life sucks. His master's VOICE sounds over the intercom: VOICE (V.O.) Chang, party of fifteen, your table is ready, Chang party of fifteen. Bernie looks to Doris. Sighs. Only three more days. INT. CASINO FLOOR - CRAPS TABLES - NIGHT He heads for the crap tables, the sound of raucous CHEERING becomes audible. A large crowd starting to gather. Bernie noodles his way to the front of the crowd. As soon as he gets a look at the heavy hitter at the table, he tenses up. Oh shit. It's MIKEY. With Charlene. Charlene is making one hell of a racket. Playing up her extremely maternal state. Just then Natalie sidles up to Bernie with the Chivas Regal. Without thinking about it, he grabs the glass off the tray, downs it in a single gulp. CHARLENE (clutching her tummy) Come on, Mikey. This is our future. Don't blow it. Mikey throws down a bet for the dealer. MIKEY Put this on the line for the boys. The stickman thanks him as they place the bet. Mikey throws down more money. We can see Mikey has bets all over the table. MIKEY With shoes! STICKMAN Dealer's got shoes. Hands high, the dice are out! The point is nine. CHARLENE Come on all you's. Put a good thought in for our baby! As everyone dotes over Charlene, Mikey quickly swaps the dice before anyone can see. He throws. STICKMAN Six the hard way! Mikey is paid nine thousand by the croupier, as is Charlene. Bernie stands frozen. He doesn't bother trying to get any closer to the table. He knows it'll do no good. CHARLENE Oh my god, I just felt him kick! He knows. He knows you're all pulling for him. God bless you all. Natalie looks over at Charlene. Their eyes meet for a second. It's as though Natalie knows it's a scam and Charlene's acknowledging it. Mikey throws again. STICKMAN Six the hard way! Look out, we got a shooter! Another nine grand. Mikey's rail is nearly full. Charlene hops around awkwardly causing more distraction. Bernie is really sweating it out now. Then Shelly arrives. Larry is hot on his tail. SHELLY How much? BERNIE Eighteen thousand since I stepped up. I'm sorry, Shelly, I guess I've been hit and miss lately. Shelly's expression tells us he isn't so sure. Something definitely isn't kosher. As Charlene chatters on, Mikey switches the dice back. Shelly makes him. SHELLY (sotto) Fucking amateurs... Mikey throws... STICKMAN Seven out! Line away. The players and crowd, though disappointed, applaud Mikey's achievement. MIKEY (bowing) I thank you. My wife thanks you. My unborn child thanks you. Mikey moves his rail of chips to the felt. MIKEY Color me up will ya? Larry notices Shelly slipping on a pair of leather gloves. LARRY You've gotta be kidding me. (off Shelly's steely glare) That's not how I propose we handle it. We'll turn the matter over to the authorities. They'll be blacklisted, their credit ruined... SHELLY (gets in Larry's face) And then we'll give 'em both a lollipop for the ride home. Come watch and learn, Harvard. A little lesson on how to protect your investment -- the old school way. Shelly walks over to Mikey and Charlene, Larry lingering behind him. SHELLY Hey, that was some run you had back there. MIKEY Uh, thanks. Just lucky I guess. Mikey steals a tense glance at Charlene. She starts to fidget nervously. SHELLY Why don't we go do this in my office? I don't like to hand out all this amount of cash on the floor. Security (Tony and Lou) corrals the couple. Leads them away. Bernie watches as they pass by. Mikey looks into Bernie's eyes. They both know he's been made. Natalie doesn't say anything, just looks at Bernie. INT. CASINO RECEIVING AREA - NIGHT Slot machines everywhere -- some on the way out, some on the way in. Crates of casino supplies. Bernie rushes in with Natalie behind him. Heading for an aural beacon of BLOWS landing on flesh... GRUNTING, PLEADING... ...arriving to find Tony and Lou kicking the shit out of Mikey on the floor. Charlene lies clutching her belly a few feet away. Shelly swings a baseball bat, warming up for some blood sport. Larry watches from the sidelines -- at once appalled and enthralled. CHARLENE Oh my God... I can feel the contractions coming on... Bernie rushes over to Shelly... BERNIE Shelly, stop them! Don't do this! SHELLY Get lost, Bernie, this got nothing to do with you. BERNIE It's got everything to do with me. He's my son. Everyone stops dead. Freeze frame. Shelly gets a weird look in his eye. A fuse has just been lit... SHELLY What did you say? BERNIE I said, he's my -- SHELLY Who? This little prick? Shelly smashes Mikey across the shoulder with the bat. AARRRGGGGHHH!!! Shelly raises the bat to cream Mikey again... Bernie grabs Shelly's arm. Shelly shoves him back. Raises the bat again... MIKEY Pop, help me... BERNIE Shelly, don't you fucking do it! Shelly freezes. He lowers the bat, throws it aside. Grabs Bernie by his collar... SHELLY Were you in on this? Jesus, you better come clean with me. BERNIE NO! God, no! I didn't know nothing about it. Shelly releases Bernie. There's a strange look in Shelly's eye. We see the wheels turning... SHELLY How much you think their lives are worth, Bernie? Myself, I don't think they're worth piss. But, hey, it ain't my kid... Bernie sees where Shelly's going with this. We can almost hear the cell door slamming in his head. SHELLY Let me see: they were up almost a hundred and fifty grand. That's 150 G's someone's gonna have to account for. What do you say, Bernie, seventy- five grand a piece? Bernie glances over at Natalie. She has tears in her eyes. He looks to Shelly pleadingly. Please don't do this... SHELLY Hey, I know you don't have that kind of cash. But, since you're a friend of the house, I'm willing to front you. BERNIE Shelly, they didn't get away with the money... You didn't lose anything... Shelly glances over at Lou, nods. Lou kicks Mikey in the face. His nose snaps like a twig. BERNIE Oh Jesus... Yes! All right. It's on me. 150 G's. Charlene clutches her belly, moans... CHARLENE Oh god, oh god... you gotta get me to the hospital... contractions... BERNIE Shelly, please help her. That's my grandson... SHELLY Hey, why don't we all break out the champagne? Lootz is about to become a granddaddy. (walks over to her) How you doin' there, sweetheart? Must hurt like crap, huh? CHARLENE (nods) Hurts so bad... SHELLY Yeah? Suddenly Shelly kicks Charlene in the belly! WHAM! She screeches out. NATALIE Oh God... BERNIE Jesus NOOOOO!!! Even Shelly's goons can't believe what they've just witnessed. Larry is aghast. Bernie rushes Shelly, starts raining blows on him. Shelly swats him off. He drops down next to the squirming girl, rips her sweater and blouse up over her stomach... ...to reveal a mound of fake padding. He tears the padding away from her, throws it at Bernie. SHELLY Here! It's a fuckin' boy. Anyone got a cigar? The muscle start laughing it up. Relief. Larry emits a nervous giggle. Natalie's jaw hits the floor. Bernie takes a step back. He's about to go into serious shock. Charlene curls over, sobbing. SHELLY (to Bernie) You sure you still want to be good for it? Because if you want to change your mind, I don't blame you. Bernie looks over at Mikey. He stares up at his father, trembling. MIKEY I'll make it up to you, Pop, I swear... Bernie holds his son's gaze for a beat. He's almost tempted to... He just shrugs and nods at Shelly. BERNIE It's on me. SHELLY (shakes his head) That's the worst fucking call you ever made in your life. ON NATALIE at that moment. We can tell she agrees with Shelly... but thinks all the more of Bernie for it. That might even be love in her eyes. Shelly snatches his baseball bat up off the floor. Walks over to Mikey, and brings it down full force, pulverizing Mikey's left kneecap. Oh man, the scream... BERNIE What are you doing?! I thought we had -- SHELLY 150 G's buys their lives. This is just a little slap on the wrist to remember me by. Natalie turns her head. She's about to throw up. Larry watches, unflinchingly. Charlene is making with some serious pleading now. CHARLENE Oh god... it wasn't my idea. Shelly steps up to Charlene, tapping the base of the bat in the palm of his hand. He smiles reassuringly at her. SHELLY You know, motherhood is a beautiful thing. This... you made a mockery out of it. Maybe you'll get to experience it for real one day. CHARLENE (nods, sobbing) I want... to be a mother... please don't hurt me... SHELLY I'm not going to hurt you. Shelly turns his back on her. Charlene starts sobbing relief. They're not going to hurt her. It's going to be all right. Wrong. Shelly throws the bat to Lou. The heavy steps up to the plate (as we RACK FOCUS to Shelly walking away) -- CRUNCH!!! followed by the girl's SHRIEKS. Natalie buries her head in Bernie's shoulder. SHELLY (to Tony and Lou) Get 'em outta here. You ever see them in this joint again, kill 'em. SHELLY (to Bernie and Natalie) You two, you're still on shift. Shelly catches Larry's eye: I hope you were taking notes. INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT Bernie's seated on the edge of his bed, drowning his sorrows with a bottle of gin. Moonlight paints him in jail bars of shadow. Natalie lingers in the b.g. BERNIE I did this to myself. I planted the seed. When Angela took off with Mikey, I didn't... I never made an effort to get back in his life. I figured, the kid don't need a loser for a father. Now it's all come full circle. I give him the money, I open the door to all this... I musta had it coming. Payback. Natalie's hand lowers the needle onto the Sinatra record. "Nice 'n' Easy" starts up. She walks over to Bernie, takes the bottle away. Helps him to his feet. He gives himself over to her reassuring embrace. Natalie raises Bernie's face to her's. NATALIE Bernie, it's a big world out there. If you just took off -- if we took off. Bernie shakes his head. It's too late for that now. DISSOLVE TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - LATER - NIGHT Natalie staring up at the ceiling, Bernie nuzzled against her. Her features appear softer than ever. Luminous in the moonlight. Realization moist in her eyes. NATALIE You awake, Bernie? He grunts something inaudible. NATALIE I -- think I love you. Bernie tenses up. Huh? NATALIE No, I don't think. I'm pretty certain of it. Bernie raises his head, not quite sure he heard her right. Natalie sits up, hugs her knees. Bernie finds himself staring at her back. NATALIE You blind-sided me, Bernie Lootz. I never saw this coming. You shouldn't do that to a girl. Bernie reaches out, caresses her back. She emits a shiver... NATALIE There's still things you don't know... should know... I don't want to ruin it... Bernie pulls Natalie back toward him. BERNIE It won't make any difference, Natalie. Whatever you come clean about, I'm not gonna feel any different about you. I'd say the words, but with my luck... NATALIE Say 'em anyway. To hell with rotten luck. That's overs. BERNIE (a beat) I love you, Natalie. Natalie smothers her lips against Bernie's. He enshrouds her in his arms. Fade out... INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - DAY Fade into SOFT FOCUS. Slowing taking form... A CAT'S FACE seen in extreme close-up. WIDER -- to reveal the cat resting on Bernie's chest. She MEOWS as he stirs awake. He's stunned to see her there. BERNIE Trixie? The cat jumps off his chest and slinks over to her empty food bowl. Meows again. Bernie breaks into a wide smile. BERNIE Trix. You came back. Bernie shields his eyes from the bright sunlight streaming in through the blinds. Huh? This is a first for him. He's never gotten direct sunlight in his room before. What's the deal? Did the world just turn on its axis? He glances over his shoulder... No Natalie. Just her impression in the sheets. And a note on her pillow. For a moment his heart stops. He conjures up the worst. Grabs up the note, unfolds it. We see a lipstick kiss and the words: HAVE A SPECTACULAR DAY! Bernie lets out a joyful whoop! Leaps out of bed... SMASH CUT TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - CONTINUOUS - DAY CLOSE-UP: Trixie eating some tuna out of her bowl. We hear the record player needle drop on "Luck Be A Lady." Cut to: Bernie's feet gliding around the room... PAN UP to Bernie dancing with himself. He's positively aglow. He snatches up a salt shaker and sings along with Sinatra. It's true -- love makes the world go around. It obviously also gives life to dead plants, as evidenced by the small bulb that has sprung up overnight above his radiator. But we won't dwell on that. INT. SHANGRI-LA HOTEL AND CASINO - DAY Bernie struts into the casino a changed man (still to the tune of "Luck Be a Lady"). Even his limp seems less pronounced as he greets fellow workers as they pass. He catches a glimpse of himself in a wall mirror. Maybe for the first time, he likes what he sees. In the reflection he notices Natalie smiling at him. He meets her eyes. She averts them quickly, keeps walking. INT. SHELLY'S OFFICE - THAT MOMENT Shelly watches Bernie from the video monitor. He appears less than delighted over Bernie's sunny disposition. He picks up the phone, dials. SHELLY (into phone) Yeah, it's me. Get Bernie over to crap table six. INT. CASINO FLOOR - NIGHT Per usual, Bernie walks up to the bar, asks for a cup of coffee. Doris slides it over. BERNIE (looking around) Got any cre -- Before he can answer, Doris hands him a container of cream. A full container. Taken aback, he starts pouring it into his cup, when he hears a VOICE over the intercom: VOICE (V.O.) Lovett, party of six, your table is ready, Lovett, party of six. Bernie looks to Doris. BERNIE Duty calls. INT. CASINO - MONTAGE - MOMENTS LATER A -- Bernie arrives at a hundred dollar blackjack table just in time for the dealer to bust out. The crowd goes crazy! B -- Bernie takes a break by leaning up against the side of a slot machine. Suddenly, the woman playing it hits a jackpot. C -- Everywhere he seems to go, people continue to win. D -- Bernie, despite the spooky irony, can't help but smile as mountains of chips pile up on the tables. Shelly appears behind him. Not a happy camper. He gestures Bernie to follow him. INT. CASINO SLOTS AREA - NIGHT They head over to a section of slots. As they pass one of those huge million dollar slots, the FLOOR MANAGER cuts in front of them. FLOOR MANAGER Hey, Shelly, check it out. The new Mega-Million. I call her Marnie, 'cause she's one frigid broad. Sure, once in a while she'll flash you a bit of tit, but your chances of hitting a home run -- one in twenty million. Here, give her a shot... He hands Shelly a cup of quarters, takes off. Shelly looks to Bernie. He's trying to keep a lid on his anger. SHELLY (feeding Marnie quarters) You wanna tell me what's going on out there? BERNIE I don't know... Shelly pulls the lever. SHELLY What do you mean... Marnie immediately spits out a small jackpot. SHELLY (reacts with surprise) What do you mean, you don't know? We're down almost a mil out there. Doesn't seem strange to you? BERNIE (shrugs) Guess I'm having an off day. SHELLY You don't have off days, Lootz. You're shitty luck incarnate. What's wrong? You coming down with something? You've got this look about you... Shelly starts feeding Marnie again. BERNIE Nothing's wrong. Fact is, I've never felt better. SHELLY What's that supposed to mean? BERNIE She loves me, Shelly. She told me last night. Natalie. On the mention of Natalie's name, we hear a shrieking SIREN, followed by a deafening toll of slot bells. Shelly's just landed the million dollar jackpot. Shelly stares at the slot in surprise -- then looks over at Bernie. Realization hits hard. Fuck! The floor manager staggers over. His expression is priceless. FLOOR MANAGER Sweet Jesus... you popped her cherries. SEVERAL CASINO WORKERS have gathered to witness the deflowering of Marnie. They gaze reverently upon her, as if witnessing the "Close Encounters" mothership for the first time. Shelly drags Bernie out of earshot. SHELLY Natalie? She told you, she loves you? Bernie nods, a huge grin wrenching his cheeks apart. He's about to go helium on us. INT. CASINO FLOOR - NIGHT Natalie's serving drinks to a table of high rollers, when Tony and Lou appear behind her... INT. SHELLY'S OFFICE - NIGHT The door to Shelly's office slams behind Natalie. Shelly glares at her from behind his desk. We see him thumbing his steel abacus. The beads drifting toward the center. Natalie shakily lights up a cigarette. SHELLY Put that fucking thing out! Natalie, startled, drops her cigarettes. She kneels to gather them up. NATALIE Sorry. SHELLY You should be. You've gone and fucked it up big time. I paid you to be his cooze companion, not his fucking true love. But, no, you had to go and get all profound on the poor schmuck. (mimics female voice) "I love you, Bernie." You know what you've gone and done, sweetheart? Those four little words of endearment have already cost this casino a million and counting today. NATALIE I don't understand... SHELLY (jumps to his feet) Lady luck. You never heard'a lady luck?! That's what's goin' on out there. Lootz is Kryptonite on a stick. He should have 'em throwing ice cubes out there, but instead I got a fuckin' meltdown on my hands. Shelly walks around his desk to Natalie. SHELLY OK, here's what's gonna happen. You're outta his life by the time he gets home. Don't even tell him to his face, just leave a note. I'll make some calls, situate you at another joint. NATALIE I can't do that. SHELLY (right in her face) Excuse me? NATALIE It wasn't an act. I meant it. I love him. SHELLY (close to losing it) What's there to fuckin' love? He's a loser. Always has been, always will be. NATALIE I thought you were his friend... SHELLY And I thought you were a smart cookie when I picked you out. You do not want to fuck me over, darlin'. I'll see to it that your next John's a rattlesnake out in the desert. Now get the fuck outta here. Natalie rushes from the office in tears. Shelly closes his eyes for a moment -- gotta keep it together. INT. SHANGRI-LA CASINO - NIGHT Bernie approaches some cocktail waitresses about to go off duty. BERNIE Hi. Any of you seen Natalie around? I'm supposed to give her a ride home. COCKTAIL WAITRESS #1 I think she left already. She wasn't feelin' too good. We been covering for her. Off Bernie's expression: Oh... EXT. LUCKY STAR MOTEL - NIGHT Bernie's Buick pulls into the lot. He parks, heads for his room. INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT Bernie enters. Flips on the light. No Natalie. BERNIE (calls to the bathroom) Natalie? You in there? No answer. He heads over. Finds it empty. Concern spreads across his features. He glances around the room. Notices the closet wide open. Natalie's clothes missing. BERNIE (sotto) Natalie. That's when he catches sight of the note taped to the dresser mirror. He rushes over, rips it off. I'M SORRY BERNIE. I GUESS IT JUST WASN'T IN THE CARDS FOR US. TAKE CARE, NATALIE. Bernie slumps to the floor in disbelief. Starts to tremble. Then rocks back and forth, wracked by stifled sobs. Christ, make it stop hurting... DISSOLVE TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - LATER Bernie seated at the foot of the bed, drinking bourbon from

old

How many times the word 'old' appears in the text?

what Shangri- la is. Paradise. LARRY Yeah, we've all seen the movie. And your point is? Shelly whirls around, yells: SHELLY You don't fuck with paradise! All'a ya! NICKY Hey, Jesus, c'mon, Shelly. We're not trying to fuck with it. We're trying to make it better. SHELLY How... how, Nicky, could it be any better? Right now it's perfect. It's the last of its kind. It's pure... and this. (points to the model; weary) ...this is just... it's a mockery. An insult. Trying to make something of it that it isn't. LARRY What are you talking about? It's right outta the movie? SHELLY Whose talking about a fuckin' movie? This ain't a fuckin' movie. This is my life. This is my house of worship. You people are shittin' on all that's sacred to me. A tense silence ensues. Nicky, Larry and Marty exchange looks. SHELLY (tired laugh) I got just one question? Where you gonna be when they decide to change it back? When the people, they come looking for the real Vegas, from before all this Epcott Center bullshit. Who's gonna it give it to them? You guys? I don't think so. You know who? The same fucks who started this shit in the first place. It's all gonna come full circle and bite you in the ass. Mark my words. Shelly falls silent. Massages his forehead. Shit, that wasn't the way to handle it. Nicky gets up from the sofa, walks over to Shelly, places a hand on his shoulder. Shelly flinches, but doesn't pull away. NICKY You make some good points, Shelly. Maybe it'll swing back the other way, who knows? But the smart money suggests we roll the dice. I'm not gonna bullshit you; naturally there's gonna be a lot of restructuring in the months to come, but I want you to know, you'll always have a place with us. SHELLY Where's that? Behind the bar? MARTY (laughs) Behind the bar, that's a good one. NICKY I think you should take some time and think things through. All this, it's a lot to digest, y'know. MARTY Speaking of things to digest, I'm starving. How's that buffet they got in the Valley of the Blue Moon? You recommend their prime rib, Shell? Shelly stares right through Marty. Choke and die on it, motherfucker. SHELLY It's food. NICKY Hey, my arteries can use a workout. Lead us to the trough, Shell. Shelly nods at Nicky, then shifts his gaze to Larry. Larry's all smiles. He steps forward to join them, his hand dropping down and caressing the surface of Shelly's desk behind him. A subtle gesture not lost on Shelly. Shelly mentally unloads a full chamber into Larry's chest. Returns the smile. INT. CASINO - CRAPS TABLES - NIGHT As Shelly and the group pass a hot craps table, Nicky is drawn to it. NICKY Wait up a second... MARTY I thought we were gonna eat? Only now do we see Bernie has arrived to cool the table of its hot shooter -- A LOUD, pudgy, overdressed SUBURBANITE. Shelly eyes Bernie. SHELLY Maybe we wanna play over there. Less crowded. NICKY Nah, let's play here. This is my lucky table. I always play here. (to the others) Go on ahead. I know where to find you guys. Shelly signals Bernie to back off. Bernie steps back. Shelly, Larry and Marty head for the restaurant. Nicky quickly slaps down some green. The stickman slides the dice over to the suburbanite who is shooting. He scuttles the dice. They bounce up over the rail and spike Nicky on the forehead before dropping back on the felt. The players chuckle. STICKMAN Out! Seven, line away seven... Nicky rubs his forehead, glares at the suburbanite. He fires back. SUBURBANITE C"mon, pops! What the hell? I coulda paid my mortgage with the money I just lost. Nicky says nothing. The table is quickly cleared by the dealers. The stickman skips the next shooter and feeds the dice to Nicky. SHOOTER Hey? I'm supposed to be next... NICKY File a grievance, shithead. Suburbanite is still fuming over his loss. Nicky places a couple hundred on the passline. STICKMAN We're coming out. Crap Eleven, any seven. Nicky throws in some chips to the center. NICKY Hundred dollar big red. Suburbanite watches as Nicky runs through a lengthy pre-shot routine. Lots of hand jive and cuff shooting. SUBURBANITE Hurry it up, gramps. Your soup's getting cold. Nicky throws. STICKMAN Crap, Ace Deuce. Line down. The croupiers takes down the pass line. SUBURBANITE Hey, Busketti, maybe you should try shuffleboard. Nicky is fed the dice again. Same routine. Nicky just fires an incendiary look back at the suburbanite. SUBURBANITE Uncle Palsy? Shake'em this direction. Nicky throws. STICKMAN Four, hard four. The point is four. The players make their bets. SUBURBANITE Good now throw it before you fucking keel over and die, old man. Nicky slowly starts his routine defiantly. SUBURBANITE Happy birthday to me. Happy Birthday to me... Jesus, fuck, I'm another year older already. Nicky throws. STICKMAN OUT! Seven! Line away. Nicky claps his hands dealer style -- for effect -- and with a gentlemanly smile steps back from the table. Nicky's chips are quickly swept up by the croupier. SUBURBANITE Don't take it so hard, pops. Everybody craps out. Nicky locks eyes with the suburbanite. Then flashes a smile that suggests he's going to brush it off. He turns away from the table... SUBURBANITE Now go change your fucking Depends. Nicky makes like it's all in good jest. Yeah, that's real cute. He heads around the table to the suburbanite, holds out his hand as if to say: Hey, no hard feelings. The suburbanite shrugs. What the fuck? I was just playing with you, pops. He reaches for Nicky's hand... when Nicky suddenly headbutts him. Before anyone can react, Nicky starts laying into the suburbanite. The man goes down and. Nicky continues pummeling him... NICKY Who's laughing now, huh? ya fuckin! prick! C'mon, crack wise again... Ya fuckin' smooth as a Ken doll, no- dick, suburbanite scum. How's that for a game?! Shelly alerted to the fracas, rushes back to the table. He takes immediate control of the situation. Snaps his fingers at security. The suburbanite is whisked away with a pocketful of comps and a bruised ego. Shelly takes Nicky aside, attempts to calm him. Nicky keeps railing at Shelly: NICKY That ain't right, Shelly! Guy fucks up my game like that. Who the fuck does he think he is? SHELLY You're right. He's just a piece of shit. Forget about him. NICKY I thought this joint had more class. Used to be, we wouldn't even let bums like that in... Nicky catches himself. He looks at Shelly for a beat. There's an unspoken understanding between them. "The good old days." We see Bernie in the b.g., looking more than a bit shocked. INT. THE MAKAWAO BAR AND GRILL - NIGHT Bernie seated with Natalie. BERNIE This town... You know, Natalie, all I want to do is go some place where I can tell day from night. Where they got clocks on the wall. I can't breathe around here no more. Four days and I'm gone. I'm not even sure I can hold out that long. NATALIE (a beat) So where does that leave us? BERNIE A week ago, I didn't remember what it was like to have a woman's hands on me. I'm still pinching myself, expecting to wake-up from... (just blurts it out) Come with me, Natalie. I want you to come with me. NATALIE God, Bernie, that's... BERNIE I'm sorry. I didn't mean to spring that on you. NATALIE Bernie... I want to be with you. I do. But I don't know if I can leave with you. Bernie's look: Why? NATALIE I was working on a compatibility chart for the two of us. And it looks good, really, it does. BERNIE So, what's the problem? NATALIE That's with us here. In Vegas. Bernie's expression: Oh. NATALIE Maybe I was being presumptuous, 'cause I knew you were leaving... and I tried working it in different ways... It wasn't good, Bernie. I got scared. But that's just for now, for the immediate future. Once the planets realign, maybe a year from now... BERNIE Natalie... I can't... Not another year. Not another week. A somber mood falls on the table. Bernie reaches for Natalie's hand. Instead, he knocks the salt over. It spills out in front of them. BERNIE I think... we probably shouldn't see each other anymore. NATALIE Why, Bernie? We only got a couple days left together. Why not make the most of them? BERNIE (a long beat) Because if I spend one more night in your arms, I'm not going anywhere. NATALIE And that's so bad? Bernie just stares at her, shrouded in sadness. Natalie stubs out her cigarette, rises. NATALIE Take care, Bernie. Bernie casts his eyes to the mound of spilled salt in front of him. Nods. A few beats later he raises his head... BERNIE Natalie, don't... Gone. A WAITRESS appears. WAITRESS (O.S.) Get you another? BERNIE (nods) I think you better bring me the bottle. Please. INT. SHANGRI-LA HOTEL AND CASINO/BAR - NIGHT Once again, we see Bernie's feet limp across the casino floor. He walks up to the bar, asks for a cup of coffee. Doris brings it over. Short on the cream again. He just sips it black. Gloom and doom features. Life sucks. His master's VOICE sounds over the intercom: VOICE (V.O.) Chang, party of fifteen, your table is ready, Chang party of fifteen. Bernie looks to Doris. Sighs. Only three more days. INT. CASINO FLOOR - CRAPS TABLES - NIGHT He heads for the crap tables, the sound of raucous CHEERING becomes audible. A large crowd starting to gather. Bernie noodles his way to the front of the crowd. As soon as he gets a look at the heavy hitter at the table, he tenses up. Oh shit. It's MIKEY. With Charlene. Charlene is making one hell of a racket. Playing up her extremely maternal state. Just then Natalie sidles up to Bernie with the Chivas Regal. Without thinking about it, he grabs the glass off the tray, downs it in a single gulp. CHARLENE (clutching her tummy) Come on, Mikey. This is our future. Don't blow it. Mikey throws down a bet for the dealer. MIKEY Put this on the line for the boys. The stickman thanks him as they place the bet. Mikey throws down more money. We can see Mikey has bets all over the table. MIKEY With shoes! STICKMAN Dealer's got shoes. Hands high, the dice are out! The point is nine. CHARLENE Come on all you's. Put a good thought in for our baby! As everyone dotes over Charlene, Mikey quickly swaps the dice before anyone can see. He throws. STICKMAN Six the hard way! Mikey is paid nine thousand by the croupier, as is Charlene. Bernie stands frozen. He doesn't bother trying to get any closer to the table. He knows it'll do no good. CHARLENE Oh my god, I just felt him kick! He knows. He knows you're all pulling for him. God bless you all. Natalie looks over at Charlene. Their eyes meet for a second. It's as though Natalie knows it's a scam and Charlene's acknowledging it. Mikey throws again. STICKMAN Six the hard way! Look out, we got a shooter! Another nine grand. Mikey's rail is nearly full. Charlene hops around awkwardly causing more distraction. Bernie is really sweating it out now. Then Shelly arrives. Larry is hot on his tail. SHELLY How much? BERNIE Eighteen thousand since I stepped up. I'm sorry, Shelly, I guess I've been hit and miss lately. Shelly's expression tells us he isn't so sure. Something definitely isn't kosher. As Charlene chatters on, Mikey switches the dice back. Shelly makes him. SHELLY (sotto) Fucking amateurs... Mikey throws... STICKMAN Seven out! Line away. The players and crowd, though disappointed, applaud Mikey's achievement. MIKEY (bowing) I thank you. My wife thanks you. My unborn child thanks you. Mikey moves his rail of chips to the felt. MIKEY Color me up will ya? Larry notices Shelly slipping on a pair of leather gloves. LARRY You've gotta be kidding me. (off Shelly's steely glare) That's not how I propose we handle it. We'll turn the matter over to the authorities. They'll be blacklisted, their credit ruined... SHELLY (gets in Larry's face) And then we'll give 'em both a lollipop for the ride home. Come watch and learn, Harvard. A little lesson on how to protect your investment -- the old school way. Shelly walks over to Mikey and Charlene, Larry lingering behind him. SHELLY Hey, that was some run you had back there. MIKEY Uh, thanks. Just lucky I guess. Mikey steals a tense glance at Charlene. She starts to fidget nervously. SHELLY Why don't we go do this in my office? I don't like to hand out all this amount of cash on the floor. Security (Tony and Lou) corrals the couple. Leads them away. Bernie watches as they pass by. Mikey looks into Bernie's eyes. They both know he's been made. Natalie doesn't say anything, just looks at Bernie. INT. CASINO RECEIVING AREA - NIGHT Slot machines everywhere -- some on the way out, some on the way in. Crates of casino supplies. Bernie rushes in with Natalie behind him. Heading for an aural beacon of BLOWS landing on flesh... GRUNTING, PLEADING... ...arriving to find Tony and Lou kicking the shit out of Mikey on the floor. Charlene lies clutching her belly a few feet away. Shelly swings a baseball bat, warming up for some blood sport. Larry watches from the sidelines -- at once appalled and enthralled. CHARLENE Oh my God... I can feel the contractions coming on... Bernie rushes over to Shelly... BERNIE Shelly, stop them! Don't do this! SHELLY Get lost, Bernie, this got nothing to do with you. BERNIE It's got everything to do with me. He's my son. Everyone stops dead. Freeze frame. Shelly gets a weird look in his eye. A fuse has just been lit... SHELLY What did you say? BERNIE I said, he's my -- SHELLY Who? This little prick? Shelly smashes Mikey across the shoulder with the bat. AARRRGGGGHHH!!! Shelly raises the bat to cream Mikey again... Bernie grabs Shelly's arm. Shelly shoves him back. Raises the bat again... MIKEY Pop, help me... BERNIE Shelly, don't you fucking do it! Shelly freezes. He lowers the bat, throws it aside. Grabs Bernie by his collar... SHELLY Were you in on this? Jesus, you better come clean with me. BERNIE NO! God, no! I didn't know nothing about it. Shelly releases Bernie. There's a strange look in Shelly's eye. We see the wheels turning... SHELLY How much you think their lives are worth, Bernie? Myself, I don't think they're worth piss. But, hey, it ain't my kid... Bernie sees where Shelly's going with this. We can almost hear the cell door slamming in his head. SHELLY Let me see: they were up almost a hundred and fifty grand. That's 150 G's someone's gonna have to account for. What do you say, Bernie, seventy- five grand a piece? Bernie glances over at Natalie. She has tears in her eyes. He looks to Shelly pleadingly. Please don't do this... SHELLY Hey, I know you don't have that kind of cash. But, since you're a friend of the house, I'm willing to front you. BERNIE Shelly, they didn't get away with the money... You didn't lose anything... Shelly glances over at Lou, nods. Lou kicks Mikey in the face. His nose snaps like a twig. BERNIE Oh Jesus... Yes! All right. It's on me. 150 G's. Charlene clutches her belly, moans... CHARLENE Oh god, oh god... you gotta get me to the hospital... contractions... BERNIE Shelly, please help her. That's my grandson... SHELLY Hey, why don't we all break out the champagne? Lootz is about to become a granddaddy. (walks over to her) How you doin' there, sweetheart? Must hurt like crap, huh? CHARLENE (nods) Hurts so bad... SHELLY Yeah? Suddenly Shelly kicks Charlene in the belly! WHAM! She screeches out. NATALIE Oh God... BERNIE Jesus NOOOOO!!! Even Shelly's goons can't believe what they've just witnessed. Larry is aghast. Bernie rushes Shelly, starts raining blows on him. Shelly swats him off. He drops down next to the squirming girl, rips her sweater and blouse up over her stomach... ...to reveal a mound of fake padding. He tears the padding away from her, throws it at Bernie. SHELLY Here! It's a fuckin' boy. Anyone got a cigar? The muscle start laughing it up. Relief. Larry emits a nervous giggle. Natalie's jaw hits the floor. Bernie takes a step back. He's about to go into serious shock. Charlene curls over, sobbing. SHELLY (to Bernie) You sure you still want to be good for it? Because if you want to change your mind, I don't blame you. Bernie looks over at Mikey. He stares up at his father, trembling. MIKEY I'll make it up to you, Pop, I swear... Bernie holds his son's gaze for a beat. He's almost tempted to... He just shrugs and nods at Shelly. BERNIE It's on me. SHELLY (shakes his head) That's the worst fucking call you ever made in your life. ON NATALIE at that moment. We can tell she agrees with Shelly... but thinks all the more of Bernie for it. That might even be love in her eyes. Shelly snatches his baseball bat up off the floor. Walks over to Mikey, and brings it down full force, pulverizing Mikey's left kneecap. Oh man, the scream... BERNIE What are you doing?! I thought we had -- SHELLY 150 G's buys their lives. This is just a little slap on the wrist to remember me by. Natalie turns her head. She's about to throw up. Larry watches, unflinchingly. Charlene is making with some serious pleading now. CHARLENE Oh god... it wasn't my idea. Shelly steps up to Charlene, tapping the base of the bat in the palm of his hand. He smiles reassuringly at her. SHELLY You know, motherhood is a beautiful thing. This... you made a mockery out of it. Maybe you'll get to experience it for real one day. CHARLENE (nods, sobbing) I want... to be a mother... please don't hurt me... SHELLY I'm not going to hurt you. Shelly turns his back on her. Charlene starts sobbing relief. They're not going to hurt her. It's going to be all right. Wrong. Shelly throws the bat to Lou. The heavy steps up to the plate (as we RACK FOCUS to Shelly walking away) -- CRUNCH!!! followed by the girl's SHRIEKS. Natalie buries her head in Bernie's shoulder. SHELLY (to Tony and Lou) Get 'em outta here. You ever see them in this joint again, kill 'em. SHELLY (to Bernie and Natalie) You two, you're still on shift. Shelly catches Larry's eye: I hope you were taking notes. INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT Bernie's seated on the edge of his bed, drowning his sorrows with a bottle of gin. Moonlight paints him in jail bars of shadow. Natalie lingers in the b.g. BERNIE I did this to myself. I planted the seed. When Angela took off with Mikey, I didn't... I never made an effort to get back in his life. I figured, the kid don't need a loser for a father. Now it's all come full circle. I give him the money, I open the door to all this... I musta had it coming. Payback. Natalie's hand lowers the needle onto the Sinatra record. "Nice 'n' Easy" starts up. She walks over to Bernie, takes the bottle away. Helps him to his feet. He gives himself over to her reassuring embrace. Natalie raises Bernie's face to her's. NATALIE Bernie, it's a big world out there. If you just took off -- if we took off. Bernie shakes his head. It's too late for that now. DISSOLVE TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - LATER - NIGHT Natalie staring up at the ceiling, Bernie nuzzled against her. Her features appear softer than ever. Luminous in the moonlight. Realization moist in her eyes. NATALIE You awake, Bernie? He grunts something inaudible. NATALIE I -- think I love you. Bernie tenses up. Huh? NATALIE No, I don't think. I'm pretty certain of it. Bernie raises his head, not quite sure he heard her right. Natalie sits up, hugs her knees. Bernie finds himself staring at her back. NATALIE You blind-sided me, Bernie Lootz. I never saw this coming. You shouldn't do that to a girl. Bernie reaches out, caresses her back. She emits a shiver... NATALIE There's still things you don't know... should know... I don't want to ruin it... Bernie pulls Natalie back toward him. BERNIE It won't make any difference, Natalie. Whatever you come clean about, I'm not gonna feel any different about you. I'd say the words, but with my luck... NATALIE Say 'em anyway. To hell with rotten luck. That's overs. BERNIE (a beat) I love you, Natalie. Natalie smothers her lips against Bernie's. He enshrouds her in his arms. Fade out... INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - DAY Fade into SOFT FOCUS. Slowing taking form... A CAT'S FACE seen in extreme close-up. WIDER -- to reveal the cat resting on Bernie's chest. She MEOWS as he stirs awake. He's stunned to see her there. BERNIE Trixie? The cat jumps off his chest and slinks over to her empty food bowl. Meows again. Bernie breaks into a wide smile. BERNIE Trix. You came back. Bernie shields his eyes from the bright sunlight streaming in through the blinds. Huh? This is a first for him. He's never gotten direct sunlight in his room before. What's the deal? Did the world just turn on its axis? He glances over his shoulder... No Natalie. Just her impression in the sheets. And a note on her pillow. For a moment his heart stops. He conjures up the worst. Grabs up the note, unfolds it. We see a lipstick kiss and the words: HAVE A SPECTACULAR DAY! Bernie lets out a joyful whoop! Leaps out of bed... SMASH CUT TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - CONTINUOUS - DAY CLOSE-UP: Trixie eating some tuna out of her bowl. We hear the record player needle drop on "Luck Be A Lady." Cut to: Bernie's feet gliding around the room... PAN UP to Bernie dancing with himself. He's positively aglow. He snatches up a salt shaker and sings along with Sinatra. It's true -- love makes the world go around. It obviously also gives life to dead plants, as evidenced by the small bulb that has sprung up overnight above his radiator. But we won't dwell on that. INT. SHANGRI-LA HOTEL AND CASINO - DAY Bernie struts into the casino a changed man (still to the tune of "Luck Be a Lady"). Even his limp seems less pronounced as he greets fellow workers as they pass. He catches a glimpse of himself in a wall mirror. Maybe for the first time, he likes what he sees. In the reflection he notices Natalie smiling at him. He meets her eyes. She averts them quickly, keeps walking. INT. SHELLY'S OFFICE - THAT MOMENT Shelly watches Bernie from the video monitor. He appears less than delighted over Bernie's sunny disposition. He picks up the phone, dials. SHELLY (into phone) Yeah, it's me. Get Bernie over to crap table six. INT. CASINO FLOOR - NIGHT Per usual, Bernie walks up to the bar, asks for a cup of coffee. Doris slides it over. BERNIE (looking around) Got any cre -- Before he can answer, Doris hands him a container of cream. A full container. Taken aback, he starts pouring it into his cup, when he hears a VOICE over the intercom: VOICE (V.O.) Lovett, party of six, your table is ready, Lovett, party of six. Bernie looks to Doris. BERNIE Duty calls. INT. CASINO - MONTAGE - MOMENTS LATER A -- Bernie arrives at a hundred dollar blackjack table just in time for the dealer to bust out. The crowd goes crazy! B -- Bernie takes a break by leaning up against the side of a slot machine. Suddenly, the woman playing it hits a jackpot. C -- Everywhere he seems to go, people continue to win. D -- Bernie, despite the spooky irony, can't help but smile as mountains of chips pile up on the tables. Shelly appears behind him. Not a happy camper. He gestures Bernie to follow him. INT. CASINO SLOTS AREA - NIGHT They head over to a section of slots. As they pass one of those huge million dollar slots, the FLOOR MANAGER cuts in front of them. FLOOR MANAGER Hey, Shelly, check it out. The new Mega-Million. I call her Marnie, 'cause she's one frigid broad. Sure, once in a while she'll flash you a bit of tit, but your chances of hitting a home run -- one in twenty million. Here, give her a shot... He hands Shelly a cup of quarters, takes off. Shelly looks to Bernie. He's trying to keep a lid on his anger. SHELLY (feeding Marnie quarters) You wanna tell me what's going on out there? BERNIE I don't know... Shelly pulls the lever. SHELLY What do you mean... Marnie immediately spits out a small jackpot. SHELLY (reacts with surprise) What do you mean, you don't know? We're down almost a mil out there. Doesn't seem strange to you? BERNIE (shrugs) Guess I'm having an off day. SHELLY You don't have off days, Lootz. You're shitty luck incarnate. What's wrong? You coming down with something? You've got this look about you... Shelly starts feeding Marnie again. BERNIE Nothing's wrong. Fact is, I've never felt better. SHELLY What's that supposed to mean? BERNIE She loves me, Shelly. She told me last night. Natalie. On the mention of Natalie's name, we hear a shrieking SIREN, followed by a deafening toll of slot bells. Shelly's just landed the million dollar jackpot. Shelly stares at the slot in surprise -- then looks over at Bernie. Realization hits hard. Fuck! The floor manager staggers over. His expression is priceless. FLOOR MANAGER Sweet Jesus... you popped her cherries. SEVERAL CASINO WORKERS have gathered to witness the deflowering of Marnie. They gaze reverently upon her, as if witnessing the "Close Encounters" mothership for the first time. Shelly drags Bernie out of earshot. SHELLY Natalie? She told you, she loves you? Bernie nods, a huge grin wrenching his cheeks apart. He's about to go helium on us. INT. CASINO FLOOR - NIGHT Natalie's serving drinks to a table of high rollers, when Tony and Lou appear behind her... INT. SHELLY'S OFFICE - NIGHT The door to Shelly's office slams behind Natalie. Shelly glares at her from behind his desk. We see him thumbing his steel abacus. The beads drifting toward the center. Natalie shakily lights up a cigarette. SHELLY Put that fucking thing out! Natalie, startled, drops her cigarettes. She kneels to gather them up. NATALIE Sorry. SHELLY You should be. You've gone and fucked it up big time. I paid you to be his cooze companion, not his fucking true love. But, no, you had to go and get all profound on the poor schmuck. (mimics female voice) "I love you, Bernie." You know what you've gone and done, sweetheart? Those four little words of endearment have already cost this casino a million and counting today. NATALIE I don't understand... SHELLY (jumps to his feet) Lady luck. You never heard'a lady luck?! That's what's goin' on out there. Lootz is Kryptonite on a stick. He should have 'em throwing ice cubes out there, but instead I got a fuckin' meltdown on my hands. Shelly walks around his desk to Natalie. SHELLY OK, here's what's gonna happen. You're outta his life by the time he gets home. Don't even tell him to his face, just leave a note. I'll make some calls, situate you at another joint. NATALIE I can't do that. SHELLY (right in her face) Excuse me? NATALIE It wasn't an act. I meant it. I love him. SHELLY (close to losing it) What's there to fuckin' love? He's a loser. Always has been, always will be. NATALIE I thought you were his friend... SHELLY And I thought you were a smart cookie when I picked you out. You do not want to fuck me over, darlin'. I'll see to it that your next John's a rattlesnake out in the desert. Now get the fuck outta here. Natalie rushes from the office in tears. Shelly closes his eyes for a moment -- gotta keep it together. INT. SHANGRI-LA CASINO - NIGHT Bernie approaches some cocktail waitresses about to go off duty. BERNIE Hi. Any of you seen Natalie around? I'm supposed to give her a ride home. COCKTAIL WAITRESS #1 I think she left already. She wasn't feelin' too good. We been covering for her. Off Bernie's expression: Oh... EXT. LUCKY STAR MOTEL - NIGHT Bernie's Buick pulls into the lot. He parks, heads for his room. INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT Bernie enters. Flips on the light. No Natalie. BERNIE (calls to the bathroom) Natalie? You in there? No answer. He heads over. Finds it empty. Concern spreads across his features. He glances around the room. Notices the closet wide open. Natalie's clothes missing. BERNIE (sotto) Natalie. That's when he catches sight of the note taped to the dresser mirror. He rushes over, rips it off. I'M SORRY BERNIE. I GUESS IT JUST WASN'T IN THE CARDS FOR US. TAKE CARE, NATALIE. Bernie slumps to the floor in disbelief. Starts to tremble. Then rocks back and forth, wracked by stifled sobs. Christ, make it stop hurting... DISSOLVE TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - LATER Bernie seated at the foot of the bed, drinking bourbon from

deuce

How many times the word 'deuce' appears in the text?

what Shangri- la is. Paradise. LARRY Yeah, we've all seen the movie. And your point is? Shelly whirls around, yells: SHELLY You don't fuck with paradise! All'a ya! NICKY Hey, Jesus, c'mon, Shelly. We're not trying to fuck with it. We're trying to make it better. SHELLY How... how, Nicky, could it be any better? Right now it's perfect. It's the last of its kind. It's pure... and this. (points to the model; weary) ...this is just... it's a mockery. An insult. Trying to make something of it that it isn't. LARRY What are you talking about? It's right outta the movie? SHELLY Whose talking about a fuckin' movie? This ain't a fuckin' movie. This is my life. This is my house of worship. You people are shittin' on all that's sacred to me. A tense silence ensues. Nicky, Larry and Marty exchange looks. SHELLY (tired laugh) I got just one question? Where you gonna be when they decide to change it back? When the people, they come looking for the real Vegas, from before all this Epcott Center bullshit. Who's gonna it give it to them? You guys? I don't think so. You know who? The same fucks who started this shit in the first place. It's all gonna come full circle and bite you in the ass. Mark my words. Shelly falls silent. Massages his forehead. Shit, that wasn't the way to handle it. Nicky gets up from the sofa, walks over to Shelly, places a hand on his shoulder. Shelly flinches, but doesn't pull away. NICKY You make some good points, Shelly. Maybe it'll swing back the other way, who knows? But the smart money suggests we roll the dice. I'm not gonna bullshit you; naturally there's gonna be a lot of restructuring in the months to come, but I want you to know, you'll always have a place with us. SHELLY Where's that? Behind the bar? MARTY (laughs) Behind the bar, that's a good one. NICKY I think you should take some time and think things through. All this, it's a lot to digest, y'know. MARTY Speaking of things to digest, I'm starving. How's that buffet they got in the Valley of the Blue Moon? You recommend their prime rib, Shell? Shelly stares right through Marty. Choke and die on it, motherfucker. SHELLY It's food. NICKY Hey, my arteries can use a workout. Lead us to the trough, Shell. Shelly nods at Nicky, then shifts his gaze to Larry. Larry's all smiles. He steps forward to join them, his hand dropping down and caressing the surface of Shelly's desk behind him. A subtle gesture not lost on Shelly. Shelly mentally unloads a full chamber into Larry's chest. Returns the smile. INT. CASINO - CRAPS TABLES - NIGHT As Shelly and the group pass a hot craps table, Nicky is drawn to it. NICKY Wait up a second... MARTY I thought we were gonna eat? Only now do we see Bernie has arrived to cool the table of its hot shooter -- A LOUD, pudgy, overdressed SUBURBANITE. Shelly eyes Bernie. SHELLY Maybe we wanna play over there. Less crowded. NICKY Nah, let's play here. This is my lucky table. I always play here. (to the others) Go on ahead. I know where to find you guys. Shelly signals Bernie to back off. Bernie steps back. Shelly, Larry and Marty head for the restaurant. Nicky quickly slaps down some green. The stickman slides the dice over to the suburbanite who is shooting. He scuttles the dice. They bounce up over the rail and spike Nicky on the forehead before dropping back on the felt. The players chuckle. STICKMAN Out! Seven, line away seven... Nicky rubs his forehead, glares at the suburbanite. He fires back. SUBURBANITE C"mon, pops! What the hell? I coulda paid my mortgage with the money I just lost. Nicky says nothing. The table is quickly cleared by the dealers. The stickman skips the next shooter and feeds the dice to Nicky. SHOOTER Hey? I'm supposed to be next... NICKY File a grievance, shithead. Suburbanite is still fuming over his loss. Nicky places a couple hundred on the passline. STICKMAN We're coming out. Crap Eleven, any seven. Nicky throws in some chips to the center. NICKY Hundred dollar big red. Suburbanite watches as Nicky runs through a lengthy pre-shot routine. Lots of hand jive and cuff shooting. SUBURBANITE Hurry it up, gramps. Your soup's getting cold. Nicky throws. STICKMAN Crap, Ace Deuce. Line down. The croupiers takes down the pass line. SUBURBANITE Hey, Busketti, maybe you should try shuffleboard. Nicky is fed the dice again. Same routine. Nicky just fires an incendiary look back at the suburbanite. SUBURBANITE Uncle Palsy? Shake'em this direction. Nicky throws. STICKMAN Four, hard four. The point is four. The players make their bets. SUBURBANITE Good now throw it before you fucking keel over and die, old man. Nicky slowly starts his routine defiantly. SUBURBANITE Happy birthday to me. Happy Birthday to me... Jesus, fuck, I'm another year older already. Nicky throws. STICKMAN OUT! Seven! Line away. Nicky claps his hands dealer style -- for effect -- and with a gentlemanly smile steps back from the table. Nicky's chips are quickly swept up by the croupier. SUBURBANITE Don't take it so hard, pops. Everybody craps out. Nicky locks eyes with the suburbanite. Then flashes a smile that suggests he's going to brush it off. He turns away from the table... SUBURBANITE Now go change your fucking Depends. Nicky makes like it's all in good jest. Yeah, that's real cute. He heads around the table to the suburbanite, holds out his hand as if to say: Hey, no hard feelings. The suburbanite shrugs. What the fuck? I was just playing with you, pops. He reaches for Nicky's hand... when Nicky suddenly headbutts him. Before anyone can react, Nicky starts laying into the suburbanite. The man goes down and. Nicky continues pummeling him... NICKY Who's laughing now, huh? ya fuckin! prick! C'mon, crack wise again... Ya fuckin' smooth as a Ken doll, no- dick, suburbanite scum. How's that for a game?! Shelly alerted to the fracas, rushes back to the table. He takes immediate control of the situation. Snaps his fingers at security. The suburbanite is whisked away with a pocketful of comps and a bruised ego. Shelly takes Nicky aside, attempts to calm him. Nicky keeps railing at Shelly: NICKY That ain't right, Shelly! Guy fucks up my game like that. Who the fuck does he think he is? SHELLY You're right. He's just a piece of shit. Forget about him. NICKY I thought this joint had more class. Used to be, we wouldn't even let bums like that in... Nicky catches himself. He looks at Shelly for a beat. There's an unspoken understanding between them. "The good old days." We see Bernie in the b.g., looking more than a bit shocked. INT. THE MAKAWAO BAR AND GRILL - NIGHT Bernie seated with Natalie. BERNIE This town... You know, Natalie, all I want to do is go some place where I can tell day from night. Where they got clocks on the wall. I can't breathe around here no more. Four days and I'm gone. I'm not even sure I can hold out that long. NATALIE (a beat) So where does that leave us? BERNIE A week ago, I didn't remember what it was like to have a woman's hands on me. I'm still pinching myself, expecting to wake-up from... (just blurts it out) Come with me, Natalie. I want you to come with me. NATALIE God, Bernie, that's... BERNIE I'm sorry. I didn't mean to spring that on you. NATALIE Bernie... I want to be with you. I do. But I don't know if I can leave with you. Bernie's look: Why? NATALIE I was working on a compatibility chart for the two of us. And it looks good, really, it does. BERNIE So, what's the problem? NATALIE That's with us here. In Vegas. Bernie's expression: Oh. NATALIE Maybe I was being presumptuous, 'cause I knew you were leaving... and I tried working it in different ways... It wasn't good, Bernie. I got scared. But that's just for now, for the immediate future. Once the planets realign, maybe a year from now... BERNIE Natalie... I can't... Not another year. Not another week. A somber mood falls on the table. Bernie reaches for Natalie's hand. Instead, he knocks the salt over. It spills out in front of them. BERNIE I think... we probably shouldn't see each other anymore. NATALIE Why, Bernie? We only got a couple days left together. Why not make the most of them? BERNIE (a long beat) Because if I spend one more night in your arms, I'm not going anywhere. NATALIE And that's so bad? Bernie just stares at her, shrouded in sadness. Natalie stubs out her cigarette, rises. NATALIE Take care, Bernie. Bernie casts his eyes to the mound of spilled salt in front of him. Nods. A few beats later he raises his head... BERNIE Natalie, don't... Gone. A WAITRESS appears. WAITRESS (O.S.) Get you another? BERNIE (nods) I think you better bring me the bottle. Please. INT. SHANGRI-LA HOTEL AND CASINO/BAR - NIGHT Once again, we see Bernie's feet limp across the casino floor. He walks up to the bar, asks for a cup of coffee. Doris brings it over. Short on the cream again. He just sips it black. Gloom and doom features. Life sucks. His master's VOICE sounds over the intercom: VOICE (V.O.) Chang, party of fifteen, your table is ready, Chang party of fifteen. Bernie looks to Doris. Sighs. Only three more days. INT. CASINO FLOOR - CRAPS TABLES - NIGHT He heads for the crap tables, the sound of raucous CHEERING becomes audible. A large crowd starting to gather. Bernie noodles his way to the front of the crowd. As soon as he gets a look at the heavy hitter at the table, he tenses up. Oh shit. It's MIKEY. With Charlene. Charlene is making one hell of a racket. Playing up her extremely maternal state. Just then Natalie sidles up to Bernie with the Chivas Regal. Without thinking about it, he grabs the glass off the tray, downs it in a single gulp. CHARLENE (clutching her tummy) Come on, Mikey. This is our future. Don't blow it. Mikey throws down a bet for the dealer. MIKEY Put this on the line for the boys. The stickman thanks him as they place the bet. Mikey throws down more money. We can see Mikey has bets all over the table. MIKEY With shoes! STICKMAN Dealer's got shoes. Hands high, the dice are out! The point is nine. CHARLENE Come on all you's. Put a good thought in for our baby! As everyone dotes over Charlene, Mikey quickly swaps the dice before anyone can see. He throws. STICKMAN Six the hard way! Mikey is paid nine thousand by the croupier, as is Charlene. Bernie stands frozen. He doesn't bother trying to get any closer to the table. He knows it'll do no good. CHARLENE Oh my god, I just felt him kick! He knows. He knows you're all pulling for him. God bless you all. Natalie looks over at Charlene. Their eyes meet for a second. It's as though Natalie knows it's a scam and Charlene's acknowledging it. Mikey throws again. STICKMAN Six the hard way! Look out, we got a shooter! Another nine grand. Mikey's rail is nearly full. Charlene hops around awkwardly causing more distraction. Bernie is really sweating it out now. Then Shelly arrives. Larry is hot on his tail. SHELLY How much? BERNIE Eighteen thousand since I stepped up. I'm sorry, Shelly, I guess I've been hit and miss lately. Shelly's expression tells us he isn't so sure. Something definitely isn't kosher. As Charlene chatters on, Mikey switches the dice back. Shelly makes him. SHELLY (sotto) Fucking amateurs... Mikey throws... STICKMAN Seven out! Line away. The players and crowd, though disappointed, applaud Mikey's achievement. MIKEY (bowing) I thank you. My wife thanks you. My unborn child thanks you. Mikey moves his rail of chips to the felt. MIKEY Color me up will ya? Larry notices Shelly slipping on a pair of leather gloves. LARRY You've gotta be kidding me. (off Shelly's steely glare) That's not how I propose we handle it. We'll turn the matter over to the authorities. They'll be blacklisted, their credit ruined... SHELLY (gets in Larry's face) And then we'll give 'em both a lollipop for the ride home. Come watch and learn, Harvard. A little lesson on how to protect your investment -- the old school way. Shelly walks over to Mikey and Charlene, Larry lingering behind him. SHELLY Hey, that was some run you had back there. MIKEY Uh, thanks. Just lucky I guess. Mikey steals a tense glance at Charlene. She starts to fidget nervously. SHELLY Why don't we go do this in my office? I don't like to hand out all this amount of cash on the floor. Security (Tony and Lou) corrals the couple. Leads them away. Bernie watches as they pass by. Mikey looks into Bernie's eyes. They both know he's been made. Natalie doesn't say anything, just looks at Bernie. INT. CASINO RECEIVING AREA - NIGHT Slot machines everywhere -- some on the way out, some on the way in. Crates of casino supplies. Bernie rushes in with Natalie behind him. Heading for an aural beacon of BLOWS landing on flesh... GRUNTING, PLEADING... ...arriving to find Tony and Lou kicking the shit out of Mikey on the floor. Charlene lies clutching her belly a few feet away. Shelly swings a baseball bat, warming up for some blood sport. Larry watches from the sidelines -- at once appalled and enthralled. CHARLENE Oh my God... I can feel the contractions coming on... Bernie rushes over to Shelly... BERNIE Shelly, stop them! Don't do this! SHELLY Get lost, Bernie, this got nothing to do with you. BERNIE It's got everything to do with me. He's my son. Everyone stops dead. Freeze frame. Shelly gets a weird look in his eye. A fuse has just been lit... SHELLY What did you say? BERNIE I said, he's my -- SHELLY Who? This little prick? Shelly smashes Mikey across the shoulder with the bat. AARRRGGGGHHH!!! Shelly raises the bat to cream Mikey again... Bernie grabs Shelly's arm. Shelly shoves him back. Raises the bat again... MIKEY Pop, help me... BERNIE Shelly, don't you fucking do it! Shelly freezes. He lowers the bat, throws it aside. Grabs Bernie by his collar... SHELLY Were you in on this? Jesus, you better come clean with me. BERNIE NO! God, no! I didn't know nothing about it. Shelly releases Bernie. There's a strange look in Shelly's eye. We see the wheels turning... SHELLY How much you think their lives are worth, Bernie? Myself, I don't think they're worth piss. But, hey, it ain't my kid... Bernie sees where Shelly's going with this. We can almost hear the cell door slamming in his head. SHELLY Let me see: they were up almost a hundred and fifty grand. That's 150 G's someone's gonna have to account for. What do you say, Bernie, seventy- five grand a piece? Bernie glances over at Natalie. She has tears in her eyes. He looks to Shelly pleadingly. Please don't do this... SHELLY Hey, I know you don't have that kind of cash. But, since you're a friend of the house, I'm willing to front you. BERNIE Shelly, they didn't get away with the money... You didn't lose anything... Shelly glances over at Lou, nods. Lou kicks Mikey in the face. His nose snaps like a twig. BERNIE Oh Jesus... Yes! All right. It's on me. 150 G's. Charlene clutches her belly, moans... CHARLENE Oh god, oh god... you gotta get me to the hospital... contractions... BERNIE Shelly, please help her. That's my grandson... SHELLY Hey, why don't we all break out the champagne? Lootz is about to become a granddaddy. (walks over to her) How you doin' there, sweetheart? Must hurt like crap, huh? CHARLENE (nods) Hurts so bad... SHELLY Yeah? Suddenly Shelly kicks Charlene in the belly! WHAM! She screeches out. NATALIE Oh God... BERNIE Jesus NOOOOO!!! Even Shelly's goons can't believe what they've just witnessed. Larry is aghast. Bernie rushes Shelly, starts raining blows on him. Shelly swats him off. He drops down next to the squirming girl, rips her sweater and blouse up over her stomach... ...to reveal a mound of fake padding. He tears the padding away from her, throws it at Bernie. SHELLY Here! It's a fuckin' boy. Anyone got a cigar? The muscle start laughing it up. Relief. Larry emits a nervous giggle. Natalie's jaw hits the floor. Bernie takes a step back. He's about to go into serious shock. Charlene curls over, sobbing. SHELLY (to Bernie) You sure you still want to be good for it? Because if you want to change your mind, I don't blame you. Bernie looks over at Mikey. He stares up at his father, trembling. MIKEY I'll make it up to you, Pop, I swear... Bernie holds his son's gaze for a beat. He's almost tempted to... He just shrugs and nods at Shelly. BERNIE It's on me. SHELLY (shakes his head) That's the worst fucking call you ever made in your life. ON NATALIE at that moment. We can tell she agrees with Shelly... but thinks all the more of Bernie for it. That might even be love in her eyes. Shelly snatches his baseball bat up off the floor. Walks over to Mikey, and brings it down full force, pulverizing Mikey's left kneecap. Oh man, the scream... BERNIE What are you doing?! I thought we had -- SHELLY 150 G's buys their lives. This is just a little slap on the wrist to remember me by. Natalie turns her head. She's about to throw up. Larry watches, unflinchingly. Charlene is making with some serious pleading now. CHARLENE Oh god... it wasn't my idea. Shelly steps up to Charlene, tapping the base of the bat in the palm of his hand. He smiles reassuringly at her. SHELLY You know, motherhood is a beautiful thing. This... you made a mockery out of it. Maybe you'll get to experience it for real one day. CHARLENE (nods, sobbing) I want... to be a mother... please don't hurt me... SHELLY I'm not going to hurt you. Shelly turns his back on her. Charlene starts sobbing relief. They're not going to hurt her. It's going to be all right. Wrong. Shelly throws the bat to Lou. The heavy steps up to the plate (as we RACK FOCUS to Shelly walking away) -- CRUNCH!!! followed by the girl's SHRIEKS. Natalie buries her head in Bernie's shoulder. SHELLY (to Tony and Lou) Get 'em outta here. You ever see them in this joint again, kill 'em. SHELLY (to Bernie and Natalie) You two, you're still on shift. Shelly catches Larry's eye: I hope you were taking notes. INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT Bernie's seated on the edge of his bed, drowning his sorrows with a bottle of gin. Moonlight paints him in jail bars of shadow. Natalie lingers in the b.g. BERNIE I did this to myself. I planted the seed. When Angela took off with Mikey, I didn't... I never made an effort to get back in his life. I figured, the kid don't need a loser for a father. Now it's all come full circle. I give him the money, I open the door to all this... I musta had it coming. Payback. Natalie's hand lowers the needle onto the Sinatra record. "Nice 'n' Easy" starts up. She walks over to Bernie, takes the bottle away. Helps him to his feet. He gives himself over to her reassuring embrace. Natalie raises Bernie's face to her's. NATALIE Bernie, it's a big world out there. If you just took off -- if we took off. Bernie shakes his head. It's too late for that now. DISSOLVE TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - LATER - NIGHT Natalie staring up at the ceiling, Bernie nuzzled against her. Her features appear softer than ever. Luminous in the moonlight. Realization moist in her eyes. NATALIE You awake, Bernie? He grunts something inaudible. NATALIE I -- think I love you. Bernie tenses up. Huh? NATALIE No, I don't think. I'm pretty certain of it. Bernie raises his head, not quite sure he heard her right. Natalie sits up, hugs her knees. Bernie finds himself staring at her back. NATALIE You blind-sided me, Bernie Lootz. I never saw this coming. You shouldn't do that to a girl. Bernie reaches out, caresses her back. She emits a shiver... NATALIE There's still things you don't know... should know... I don't want to ruin it... Bernie pulls Natalie back toward him. BERNIE It won't make any difference, Natalie. Whatever you come clean about, I'm not gonna feel any different about you. I'd say the words, but with my luck... NATALIE Say 'em anyway. To hell with rotten luck. That's overs. BERNIE (a beat) I love you, Natalie. Natalie smothers her lips against Bernie's. He enshrouds her in his arms. Fade out... INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - DAY Fade into SOFT FOCUS. Slowing taking form... A CAT'S FACE seen in extreme close-up. WIDER -- to reveal the cat resting on Bernie's chest. She MEOWS as he stirs awake. He's stunned to see her there. BERNIE Trixie? The cat jumps off his chest and slinks over to her empty food bowl. Meows again. Bernie breaks into a wide smile. BERNIE Trix. You came back. Bernie shields his eyes from the bright sunlight streaming in through the blinds. Huh? This is a first for him. He's never gotten direct sunlight in his room before. What's the deal? Did the world just turn on its axis? He glances over his shoulder... No Natalie. Just her impression in the sheets. And a note on her pillow. For a moment his heart stops. He conjures up the worst. Grabs up the note, unfolds it. We see a lipstick kiss and the words: HAVE A SPECTACULAR DAY! Bernie lets out a joyful whoop! Leaps out of bed... SMASH CUT TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - CONTINUOUS - DAY CLOSE-UP: Trixie eating some tuna out of her bowl. We hear the record player needle drop on "Luck Be A Lady." Cut to: Bernie's feet gliding around the room... PAN UP to Bernie dancing with himself. He's positively aglow. He snatches up a salt shaker and sings along with Sinatra. It's true -- love makes the world go around. It obviously also gives life to dead plants, as evidenced by the small bulb that has sprung up overnight above his radiator. But we won't dwell on that. INT. SHANGRI-LA HOTEL AND CASINO - DAY Bernie struts into the casino a changed man (still to the tune of "Luck Be a Lady"). Even his limp seems less pronounced as he greets fellow workers as they pass. He catches a glimpse of himself in a wall mirror. Maybe for the first time, he likes what he sees. In the reflection he notices Natalie smiling at him. He meets her eyes. She averts them quickly, keeps walking. INT. SHELLY'S OFFICE - THAT MOMENT Shelly watches Bernie from the video monitor. He appears less than delighted over Bernie's sunny disposition. He picks up the phone, dials. SHELLY (into phone) Yeah, it's me. Get Bernie over to crap table six. INT. CASINO FLOOR - NIGHT Per usual, Bernie walks up to the bar, asks for a cup of coffee. Doris slides it over. BERNIE (looking around) Got any cre -- Before he can answer, Doris hands him a container of cream. A full container. Taken aback, he starts pouring it into his cup, when he hears a VOICE over the intercom: VOICE (V.O.) Lovett, party of six, your table is ready, Lovett, party of six. Bernie looks to Doris. BERNIE Duty calls. INT. CASINO - MONTAGE - MOMENTS LATER A -- Bernie arrives at a hundred dollar blackjack table just in time for the dealer to bust out. The crowd goes crazy! B -- Bernie takes a break by leaning up against the side of a slot machine. Suddenly, the woman playing it hits a jackpot. C -- Everywhere he seems to go, people continue to win. D -- Bernie, despite the spooky irony, can't help but smile as mountains of chips pile up on the tables. Shelly appears behind him. Not a happy camper. He gestures Bernie to follow him. INT. CASINO SLOTS AREA - NIGHT They head over to a section of slots. As they pass one of those huge million dollar slots, the FLOOR MANAGER cuts in front of them. FLOOR MANAGER Hey, Shelly, check it out. The new Mega-Million. I call her Marnie, 'cause she's one frigid broad. Sure, once in a while she'll flash you a bit of tit, but your chances of hitting a home run -- one in twenty million. Here, give her a shot... He hands Shelly a cup of quarters, takes off. Shelly looks to Bernie. He's trying to keep a lid on his anger. SHELLY (feeding Marnie quarters) You wanna tell me what's going on out there? BERNIE I don't know... Shelly pulls the lever. SHELLY What do you mean... Marnie immediately spits out a small jackpot. SHELLY (reacts with surprise) What do you mean, you don't know? We're down almost a mil out there. Doesn't seem strange to you? BERNIE (shrugs) Guess I'm having an off day. SHELLY You don't have off days, Lootz. You're shitty luck incarnate. What's wrong? You coming down with something? You've got this look about you... Shelly starts feeding Marnie again. BERNIE Nothing's wrong. Fact is, I've never felt better. SHELLY What's that supposed to mean? BERNIE She loves me, Shelly. She told me last night. Natalie. On the mention of Natalie's name, we hear a shrieking SIREN, followed by a deafening toll of slot bells. Shelly's just landed the million dollar jackpot. Shelly stares at the slot in surprise -- then looks over at Bernie. Realization hits hard. Fuck! The floor manager staggers over. His expression is priceless. FLOOR MANAGER Sweet Jesus... you popped her cherries. SEVERAL CASINO WORKERS have gathered to witness the deflowering of Marnie. They gaze reverently upon her, as if witnessing the "Close Encounters" mothership for the first time. Shelly drags Bernie out of earshot. SHELLY Natalie? She told you, she loves you? Bernie nods, a huge grin wrenching his cheeks apart. He's about to go helium on us. INT. CASINO FLOOR - NIGHT Natalie's serving drinks to a table of high rollers, when Tony and Lou appear behind her... INT. SHELLY'S OFFICE - NIGHT The door to Shelly's office slams behind Natalie. Shelly glares at her from behind his desk. We see him thumbing his steel abacus. The beads drifting toward the center. Natalie shakily lights up a cigarette. SHELLY Put that fucking thing out! Natalie, startled, drops her cigarettes. She kneels to gather them up. NATALIE Sorry. SHELLY You should be. You've gone and fucked it up big time. I paid you to be his cooze companion, not his fucking true love. But, no, you had to go and get all profound on the poor schmuck. (mimics female voice) "I love you, Bernie." You know what you've gone and done, sweetheart? Those four little words of endearment have already cost this casino a million and counting today. NATALIE I don't understand... SHELLY (jumps to his feet) Lady luck. You never heard'a lady luck?! That's what's goin' on out there. Lootz is Kryptonite on a stick. He should have 'em throwing ice cubes out there, but instead I got a fuckin' meltdown on my hands. Shelly walks around his desk to Natalie. SHELLY OK, here's what's gonna happen. You're outta his life by the time he gets home. Don't even tell him to his face, just leave a note. I'll make some calls, situate you at another joint. NATALIE I can't do that. SHELLY (right in her face) Excuse me? NATALIE It wasn't an act. I meant it. I love him. SHELLY (close to losing it) What's there to fuckin' love? He's a loser. Always has been, always will be. NATALIE I thought you were his friend... SHELLY And I thought you were a smart cookie when I picked you out. You do not want to fuck me over, darlin'. I'll see to it that your next John's a rattlesnake out in the desert. Now get the fuck outta here. Natalie rushes from the office in tears. Shelly closes his eyes for a moment -- gotta keep it together. INT. SHANGRI-LA CASINO - NIGHT Bernie approaches some cocktail waitresses about to go off duty. BERNIE Hi. Any of you seen Natalie around? I'm supposed to give her a ride home. COCKTAIL WAITRESS #1 I think she left already. She wasn't feelin' too good. We been covering for her. Off Bernie's expression: Oh... EXT. LUCKY STAR MOTEL - NIGHT Bernie's Buick pulls into the lot. He parks, heads for his room. INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT Bernie enters. Flips on the light. No Natalie. BERNIE (calls to the bathroom) Natalie? You in there? No answer. He heads over. Finds it empty. Concern spreads across his features. He glances around the room. Notices the closet wide open. Natalie's clothes missing. BERNIE (sotto) Natalie. That's when he catches sight of the note taped to the dresser mirror. He rushes over, rips it off. I'M SORRY BERNIE. I GUESS IT JUST WASN'T IN THE CARDS FOR US. TAKE CARE, NATALIE. Bernie slumps to the floor in disbelief. Starts to tremble. Then rocks back and forth, wracked by stifled sobs. Christ, make it stop hurting... DISSOLVE TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - LATER Bernie seated at the foot of the bed, drinking bourbon from

days

How many times the word 'days' appears in the text?

what Shangri- la is. Paradise. LARRY Yeah, we've all seen the movie. And your point is? Shelly whirls around, yells: SHELLY You don't fuck with paradise! All'a ya! NICKY Hey, Jesus, c'mon, Shelly. We're not trying to fuck with it. We're trying to make it better. SHELLY How... how, Nicky, could it be any better? Right now it's perfect. It's the last of its kind. It's pure... and this. (points to the model; weary) ...this is just... it's a mockery. An insult. Trying to make something of it that it isn't. LARRY What are you talking about? It's right outta the movie? SHELLY Whose talking about a fuckin' movie? This ain't a fuckin' movie. This is my life. This is my house of worship. You people are shittin' on all that's sacred to me. A tense silence ensues. Nicky, Larry and Marty exchange looks. SHELLY (tired laugh) I got just one question? Where you gonna be when they decide to change it back? When the people, they come looking for the real Vegas, from before all this Epcott Center bullshit. Who's gonna it give it to them? You guys? I don't think so. You know who? The same fucks who started this shit in the first place. It's all gonna come full circle and bite you in the ass. Mark my words. Shelly falls silent. Massages his forehead. Shit, that wasn't the way to handle it. Nicky gets up from the sofa, walks over to Shelly, places a hand on his shoulder. Shelly flinches, but doesn't pull away. NICKY You make some good points, Shelly. Maybe it'll swing back the other way, who knows? But the smart money suggests we roll the dice. I'm not gonna bullshit you; naturally there's gonna be a lot of restructuring in the months to come, but I want you to know, you'll always have a place with us. SHELLY Where's that? Behind the bar? MARTY (laughs) Behind the bar, that's a good one. NICKY I think you should take some time and think things through. All this, it's a lot to digest, y'know. MARTY Speaking of things to digest, I'm starving. How's that buffet they got in the Valley of the Blue Moon? You recommend their prime rib, Shell? Shelly stares right through Marty. Choke and die on it, motherfucker. SHELLY It's food. NICKY Hey, my arteries can use a workout. Lead us to the trough, Shell. Shelly nods at Nicky, then shifts his gaze to Larry. Larry's all smiles. He steps forward to join them, his hand dropping down and caressing the surface of Shelly's desk behind him. A subtle gesture not lost on Shelly. Shelly mentally unloads a full chamber into Larry's chest. Returns the smile. INT. CASINO - CRAPS TABLES - NIGHT As Shelly and the group pass a hot craps table, Nicky is drawn to it. NICKY Wait up a second... MARTY I thought we were gonna eat? Only now do we see Bernie has arrived to cool the table of its hot shooter -- A LOUD, pudgy, overdressed SUBURBANITE. Shelly eyes Bernie. SHELLY Maybe we wanna play over there. Less crowded. NICKY Nah, let's play here. This is my lucky table. I always play here. (to the others) Go on ahead. I know where to find you guys. Shelly signals Bernie to back off. Bernie steps back. Shelly, Larry and Marty head for the restaurant. Nicky quickly slaps down some green. The stickman slides the dice over to the suburbanite who is shooting. He scuttles the dice. They bounce up over the rail and spike Nicky on the forehead before dropping back on the felt. The players chuckle. STICKMAN Out! Seven, line away seven... Nicky rubs his forehead, glares at the suburbanite. He fires back. SUBURBANITE C"mon, pops! What the hell? I coulda paid my mortgage with the money I just lost. Nicky says nothing. The table is quickly cleared by the dealers. The stickman skips the next shooter and feeds the dice to Nicky. SHOOTER Hey? I'm supposed to be next... NICKY File a grievance, shithead. Suburbanite is still fuming over his loss. Nicky places a couple hundred on the passline. STICKMAN We're coming out. Crap Eleven, any seven. Nicky throws in some chips to the center. NICKY Hundred dollar big red. Suburbanite watches as Nicky runs through a lengthy pre-shot routine. Lots of hand jive and cuff shooting. SUBURBANITE Hurry it up, gramps. Your soup's getting cold. Nicky throws. STICKMAN Crap, Ace Deuce. Line down. The croupiers takes down the pass line. SUBURBANITE Hey, Busketti, maybe you should try shuffleboard. Nicky is fed the dice again. Same routine. Nicky just fires an incendiary look back at the suburbanite. SUBURBANITE Uncle Palsy? Shake'em this direction. Nicky throws. STICKMAN Four, hard four. The point is four. The players make their bets. SUBURBANITE Good now throw it before you fucking keel over and die, old man. Nicky slowly starts his routine defiantly. SUBURBANITE Happy birthday to me. Happy Birthday to me... Jesus, fuck, I'm another year older already. Nicky throws. STICKMAN OUT! Seven! Line away. Nicky claps his hands dealer style -- for effect -- and with a gentlemanly smile steps back from the table. Nicky's chips are quickly swept up by the croupier. SUBURBANITE Don't take it so hard, pops. Everybody craps out. Nicky locks eyes with the suburbanite. Then flashes a smile that suggests he's going to brush it off. He turns away from the table... SUBURBANITE Now go change your fucking Depends. Nicky makes like it's all in good jest. Yeah, that's real cute. He heads around the table to the suburbanite, holds out his hand as if to say: Hey, no hard feelings. The suburbanite shrugs. What the fuck? I was just playing with you, pops. He reaches for Nicky's hand... when Nicky suddenly headbutts him. Before anyone can react, Nicky starts laying into the suburbanite. The man goes down and. Nicky continues pummeling him... NICKY Who's laughing now, huh? ya fuckin! prick! C'mon, crack wise again... Ya fuckin' smooth as a Ken doll, no- dick, suburbanite scum. How's that for a game?! Shelly alerted to the fracas, rushes back to the table. He takes immediate control of the situation. Snaps his fingers at security. The suburbanite is whisked away with a pocketful of comps and a bruised ego. Shelly takes Nicky aside, attempts to calm him. Nicky keeps railing at Shelly: NICKY That ain't right, Shelly! Guy fucks up my game like that. Who the fuck does he think he is? SHELLY You're right. He's just a piece of shit. Forget about him. NICKY I thought this joint had more class. Used to be, we wouldn't even let bums like that in... Nicky catches himself. He looks at Shelly for a beat. There's an unspoken understanding between them. "The good old days." We see Bernie in the b.g., looking more than a bit shocked. INT. THE MAKAWAO BAR AND GRILL - NIGHT Bernie seated with Natalie. BERNIE This town... You know, Natalie, all I want to do is go some place where I can tell day from night. Where they got clocks on the wall. I can't breathe around here no more. Four days and I'm gone. I'm not even sure I can hold out that long. NATALIE (a beat) So where does that leave us? BERNIE A week ago, I didn't remember what it was like to have a woman's hands on me. I'm still pinching myself, expecting to wake-up from... (just blurts it out) Come with me, Natalie. I want you to come with me. NATALIE God, Bernie, that's... BERNIE I'm sorry. I didn't mean to spring that on you. NATALIE Bernie... I want to be with you. I do. But I don't know if I can leave with you. Bernie's look: Why? NATALIE I was working on a compatibility chart for the two of us. And it looks good, really, it does. BERNIE So, what's the problem? NATALIE That's with us here. In Vegas. Bernie's expression: Oh. NATALIE Maybe I was being presumptuous, 'cause I knew you were leaving... and I tried working it in different ways... It wasn't good, Bernie. I got scared. But that's just for now, for the immediate future. Once the planets realign, maybe a year from now... BERNIE Natalie... I can't... Not another year. Not another week. A somber mood falls on the table. Bernie reaches for Natalie's hand. Instead, he knocks the salt over. It spills out in front of them. BERNIE I think... we probably shouldn't see each other anymore. NATALIE Why, Bernie? We only got a couple days left together. Why not make the most of them? BERNIE (a long beat) Because if I spend one more night in your arms, I'm not going anywhere. NATALIE And that's so bad? Bernie just stares at her, shrouded in sadness. Natalie stubs out her cigarette, rises. NATALIE Take care, Bernie. Bernie casts his eyes to the mound of spilled salt in front of him. Nods. A few beats later he raises his head... BERNIE Natalie, don't... Gone. A WAITRESS appears. WAITRESS (O.S.) Get you another? BERNIE (nods) I think you better bring me the bottle. Please. INT. SHANGRI-LA HOTEL AND CASINO/BAR - NIGHT Once again, we see Bernie's feet limp across the casino floor. He walks up to the bar, asks for a cup of coffee. Doris brings it over. Short on the cream again. He just sips it black. Gloom and doom features. Life sucks. His master's VOICE sounds over the intercom: VOICE (V.O.) Chang, party of fifteen, your table is ready, Chang party of fifteen. Bernie looks to Doris. Sighs. Only three more days. INT. CASINO FLOOR - CRAPS TABLES - NIGHT He heads for the crap tables, the sound of raucous CHEERING becomes audible. A large crowd starting to gather. Bernie noodles his way to the front of the crowd. As soon as he gets a look at the heavy hitter at the table, he tenses up. Oh shit. It's MIKEY. With Charlene. Charlene is making one hell of a racket. Playing up her extremely maternal state. Just then Natalie sidles up to Bernie with the Chivas Regal. Without thinking about it, he grabs the glass off the tray, downs it in a single gulp. CHARLENE (clutching her tummy) Come on, Mikey. This is our future. Don't blow it. Mikey throws down a bet for the dealer. MIKEY Put this on the line for the boys. The stickman thanks him as they place the bet. Mikey throws down more money. We can see Mikey has bets all over the table. MIKEY With shoes! STICKMAN Dealer's got shoes. Hands high, the dice are out! The point is nine. CHARLENE Come on all you's. Put a good thought in for our baby! As everyone dotes over Charlene, Mikey quickly swaps the dice before anyone can see. He throws. STICKMAN Six the hard way! Mikey is paid nine thousand by the croupier, as is Charlene. Bernie stands frozen. He doesn't bother trying to get any closer to the table. He knows it'll do no good. CHARLENE Oh my god, I just felt him kick! He knows. He knows you're all pulling for him. God bless you all. Natalie looks over at Charlene. Their eyes meet for a second. It's as though Natalie knows it's a scam and Charlene's acknowledging it. Mikey throws again. STICKMAN Six the hard way! Look out, we got a shooter! Another nine grand. Mikey's rail is nearly full. Charlene hops around awkwardly causing more distraction. Bernie is really sweating it out now. Then Shelly arrives. Larry is hot on his tail. SHELLY How much? BERNIE Eighteen thousand since I stepped up. I'm sorry, Shelly, I guess I've been hit and miss lately. Shelly's expression tells us he isn't so sure. Something definitely isn't kosher. As Charlene chatters on, Mikey switches the dice back. Shelly makes him. SHELLY (sotto) Fucking amateurs... Mikey throws... STICKMAN Seven out! Line away. The players and crowd, though disappointed, applaud Mikey's achievement. MIKEY (bowing) I thank you. My wife thanks you. My unborn child thanks you. Mikey moves his rail of chips to the felt. MIKEY Color me up will ya? Larry notices Shelly slipping on a pair of leather gloves. LARRY You've gotta be kidding me. (off Shelly's steely glare) That's not how I propose we handle it. We'll turn the matter over to the authorities. They'll be blacklisted, their credit ruined... SHELLY (gets in Larry's face) And then we'll give 'em both a lollipop for the ride home. Come watch and learn, Harvard. A little lesson on how to protect your investment -- the old school way. Shelly walks over to Mikey and Charlene, Larry lingering behind him. SHELLY Hey, that was some run you had back there. MIKEY Uh, thanks. Just lucky I guess. Mikey steals a tense glance at Charlene. She starts to fidget nervously. SHELLY Why don't we go do this in my office? I don't like to hand out all this amount of cash on the floor. Security (Tony and Lou) corrals the couple. Leads them away. Bernie watches as they pass by. Mikey looks into Bernie's eyes. They both know he's been made. Natalie doesn't say anything, just looks at Bernie. INT. CASINO RECEIVING AREA - NIGHT Slot machines everywhere -- some on the way out, some on the way in. Crates of casino supplies. Bernie rushes in with Natalie behind him. Heading for an aural beacon of BLOWS landing on flesh... GRUNTING, PLEADING... ...arriving to find Tony and Lou kicking the shit out of Mikey on the floor. Charlene lies clutching her belly a few feet away. Shelly swings a baseball bat, warming up for some blood sport. Larry watches from the sidelines -- at once appalled and enthralled. CHARLENE Oh my God... I can feel the contractions coming on... Bernie rushes over to Shelly... BERNIE Shelly, stop them! Don't do this! SHELLY Get lost, Bernie, this got nothing to do with you. BERNIE It's got everything to do with me. He's my son. Everyone stops dead. Freeze frame. Shelly gets a weird look in his eye. A fuse has just been lit... SHELLY What did you say? BERNIE I said, he's my -- SHELLY Who? This little prick? Shelly smashes Mikey across the shoulder with the bat. AARRRGGGGHHH!!! Shelly raises the bat to cream Mikey again... Bernie grabs Shelly's arm. Shelly shoves him back. Raises the bat again... MIKEY Pop, help me... BERNIE Shelly, don't you fucking do it! Shelly freezes. He lowers the bat, throws it aside. Grabs Bernie by his collar... SHELLY Were you in on this? Jesus, you better come clean with me. BERNIE NO! God, no! I didn't know nothing about it. Shelly releases Bernie. There's a strange look in Shelly's eye. We see the wheels turning... SHELLY How much you think their lives are worth, Bernie? Myself, I don't think they're worth piss. But, hey, it ain't my kid... Bernie sees where Shelly's going with this. We can almost hear the cell door slamming in his head. SHELLY Let me see: they were up almost a hundred and fifty grand. That's 150 G's someone's gonna have to account for. What do you say, Bernie, seventy- five grand a piece? Bernie glances over at Natalie. She has tears in her eyes. He looks to Shelly pleadingly. Please don't do this... SHELLY Hey, I know you don't have that kind of cash. But, since you're a friend of the house, I'm willing to front you. BERNIE Shelly, they didn't get away with the money... You didn't lose anything... Shelly glances over at Lou, nods. Lou kicks Mikey in the face. His nose snaps like a twig. BERNIE Oh Jesus... Yes! All right. It's on me. 150 G's. Charlene clutches her belly, moans... CHARLENE Oh god, oh god... you gotta get me to the hospital... contractions... BERNIE Shelly, please help her. That's my grandson... SHELLY Hey, why don't we all break out the champagne? Lootz is about to become a granddaddy. (walks over to her) How you doin' there, sweetheart? Must hurt like crap, huh? CHARLENE (nods) Hurts so bad... SHELLY Yeah? Suddenly Shelly kicks Charlene in the belly! WHAM! She screeches out. NATALIE Oh God... BERNIE Jesus NOOOOO!!! Even Shelly's goons can't believe what they've just witnessed. Larry is aghast. Bernie rushes Shelly, starts raining blows on him. Shelly swats him off. He drops down next to the squirming girl, rips her sweater and blouse up over her stomach... ...to reveal a mound of fake padding. He tears the padding away from her, throws it at Bernie. SHELLY Here! It's a fuckin' boy. Anyone got a cigar? The muscle start laughing it up. Relief. Larry emits a nervous giggle. Natalie's jaw hits the floor. Bernie takes a step back. He's about to go into serious shock. Charlene curls over, sobbing. SHELLY (to Bernie) You sure you still want to be good for it? Because if you want to change your mind, I don't blame you. Bernie looks over at Mikey. He stares up at his father, trembling. MIKEY I'll make it up to you, Pop, I swear... Bernie holds his son's gaze for a beat. He's almost tempted to... He just shrugs and nods at Shelly. BERNIE It's on me. SHELLY (shakes his head) That's the worst fucking call you ever made in your life. ON NATALIE at that moment. We can tell she agrees with Shelly... but thinks all the more of Bernie for it. That might even be love in her eyes. Shelly snatches his baseball bat up off the floor. Walks over to Mikey, and brings it down full force, pulverizing Mikey's left kneecap. Oh man, the scream... BERNIE What are you doing?! I thought we had -- SHELLY 150 G's buys their lives. This is just a little slap on the wrist to remember me by. Natalie turns her head. She's about to throw up. Larry watches, unflinchingly. Charlene is making with some serious pleading now. CHARLENE Oh god... it wasn't my idea. Shelly steps up to Charlene, tapping the base of the bat in the palm of his hand. He smiles reassuringly at her. SHELLY You know, motherhood is a beautiful thing. This... you made a mockery out of it. Maybe you'll get to experience it for real one day. CHARLENE (nods, sobbing) I want... to be a mother... please don't hurt me... SHELLY I'm not going to hurt you. Shelly turns his back on her. Charlene starts sobbing relief. They're not going to hurt her. It's going to be all right. Wrong. Shelly throws the bat to Lou. The heavy steps up to the plate (as we RACK FOCUS to Shelly walking away) -- CRUNCH!!! followed by the girl's SHRIEKS. Natalie buries her head in Bernie's shoulder. SHELLY (to Tony and Lou) Get 'em outta here. You ever see them in this joint again, kill 'em. SHELLY (to Bernie and Natalie) You two, you're still on shift. Shelly catches Larry's eye: I hope you were taking notes. INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT Bernie's seated on the edge of his bed, drowning his sorrows with a bottle of gin. Moonlight paints him in jail bars of shadow. Natalie lingers in the b.g. BERNIE I did this to myself. I planted the seed. When Angela took off with Mikey, I didn't... I never made an effort to get back in his life. I figured, the kid don't need a loser for a father. Now it's all come full circle. I give him the money, I open the door to all this... I musta had it coming. Payback. Natalie's hand lowers the needle onto the Sinatra record. "Nice 'n' Easy" starts up. She walks over to Bernie, takes the bottle away. Helps him to his feet. He gives himself over to her reassuring embrace. Natalie raises Bernie's face to her's. NATALIE Bernie, it's a big world out there. If you just took off -- if we took off. Bernie shakes his head. It's too late for that now. DISSOLVE TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - LATER - NIGHT Natalie staring up at the ceiling, Bernie nuzzled against her. Her features appear softer than ever. Luminous in the moonlight. Realization moist in her eyes. NATALIE You awake, Bernie? He grunts something inaudible. NATALIE I -- think I love you. Bernie tenses up. Huh? NATALIE No, I don't think. I'm pretty certain of it. Bernie raises his head, not quite sure he heard her right. Natalie sits up, hugs her knees. Bernie finds himself staring at her back. NATALIE You blind-sided me, Bernie Lootz. I never saw this coming. You shouldn't do that to a girl. Bernie reaches out, caresses her back. She emits a shiver... NATALIE There's still things you don't know... should know... I don't want to ruin it... Bernie pulls Natalie back toward him. BERNIE It won't make any difference, Natalie. Whatever you come clean about, I'm not gonna feel any different about you. I'd say the words, but with my luck... NATALIE Say 'em anyway. To hell with rotten luck. That's overs. BERNIE (a beat) I love you, Natalie. Natalie smothers her lips against Bernie's. He enshrouds her in his arms. Fade out... INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - DAY Fade into SOFT FOCUS. Slowing taking form... A CAT'S FACE seen in extreme close-up. WIDER -- to reveal the cat resting on Bernie's chest. She MEOWS as he stirs awake. He's stunned to see her there. BERNIE Trixie? The cat jumps off his chest and slinks over to her empty food bowl. Meows again. Bernie breaks into a wide smile. BERNIE Trix. You came back. Bernie shields his eyes from the bright sunlight streaming in through the blinds. Huh? This is a first for him. He's never gotten direct sunlight in his room before. What's the deal? Did the world just turn on its axis? He glances over his shoulder... No Natalie. Just her impression in the sheets. And a note on her pillow. For a moment his heart stops. He conjures up the worst. Grabs up the note, unfolds it. We see a lipstick kiss and the words: HAVE A SPECTACULAR DAY! Bernie lets out a joyful whoop! Leaps out of bed... SMASH CUT TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - CONTINUOUS - DAY CLOSE-UP: Trixie eating some tuna out of her bowl. We hear the record player needle drop on "Luck Be A Lady." Cut to: Bernie's feet gliding around the room... PAN UP to Bernie dancing with himself. He's positively aglow. He snatches up a salt shaker and sings along with Sinatra. It's true -- love makes the world go around. It obviously also gives life to dead plants, as evidenced by the small bulb that has sprung up overnight above his radiator. But we won't dwell on that. INT. SHANGRI-LA HOTEL AND CASINO - DAY Bernie struts into the casino a changed man (still to the tune of "Luck Be a Lady"). Even his limp seems less pronounced as he greets fellow workers as they pass. He catches a glimpse of himself in a wall mirror. Maybe for the first time, he likes what he sees. In the reflection he notices Natalie smiling at him. He meets her eyes. She averts them quickly, keeps walking. INT. SHELLY'S OFFICE - THAT MOMENT Shelly watches Bernie from the video monitor. He appears less than delighted over Bernie's sunny disposition. He picks up the phone, dials. SHELLY (into phone) Yeah, it's me. Get Bernie over to crap table six. INT. CASINO FLOOR - NIGHT Per usual, Bernie walks up to the bar, asks for a cup of coffee. Doris slides it over. BERNIE (looking around) Got any cre -- Before he can answer, Doris hands him a container of cream. A full container. Taken aback, he starts pouring it into his cup, when he hears a VOICE over the intercom: VOICE (V.O.) Lovett, party of six, your table is ready, Lovett, party of six. Bernie looks to Doris. BERNIE Duty calls. INT. CASINO - MONTAGE - MOMENTS LATER A -- Bernie arrives at a hundred dollar blackjack table just in time for the dealer to bust out. The crowd goes crazy! B -- Bernie takes a break by leaning up against the side of a slot machine. Suddenly, the woman playing it hits a jackpot. C -- Everywhere he seems to go, people continue to win. D -- Bernie, despite the spooky irony, can't help but smile as mountains of chips pile up on the tables. Shelly appears behind him. Not a happy camper. He gestures Bernie to follow him. INT. CASINO SLOTS AREA - NIGHT They head over to a section of slots. As they pass one of those huge million dollar slots, the FLOOR MANAGER cuts in front of them. FLOOR MANAGER Hey, Shelly, check it out. The new Mega-Million. I call her Marnie, 'cause she's one frigid broad. Sure, once in a while she'll flash you a bit of tit, but your chances of hitting a home run -- one in twenty million. Here, give her a shot... He hands Shelly a cup of quarters, takes off. Shelly looks to Bernie. He's trying to keep a lid on his anger. SHELLY (feeding Marnie quarters) You wanna tell me what's going on out there? BERNIE I don't know... Shelly pulls the lever. SHELLY What do you mean... Marnie immediately spits out a small jackpot. SHELLY (reacts with surprise) What do you mean, you don't know? We're down almost a mil out there. Doesn't seem strange to you? BERNIE (shrugs) Guess I'm having an off day. SHELLY You don't have off days, Lootz. You're shitty luck incarnate. What's wrong? You coming down with something? You've got this look about you... Shelly starts feeding Marnie again. BERNIE Nothing's wrong. Fact is, I've never felt better. SHELLY What's that supposed to mean? BERNIE She loves me, Shelly. She told me last night. Natalie. On the mention of Natalie's name, we hear a shrieking SIREN, followed by a deafening toll of slot bells. Shelly's just landed the million dollar jackpot. Shelly stares at the slot in surprise -- then looks over at Bernie. Realization hits hard. Fuck! The floor manager staggers over. His expression is priceless. FLOOR MANAGER Sweet Jesus... you popped her cherries. SEVERAL CASINO WORKERS have gathered to witness the deflowering of Marnie. They gaze reverently upon her, as if witnessing the "Close Encounters" mothership for the first time. Shelly drags Bernie out of earshot. SHELLY Natalie? She told you, she loves you? Bernie nods, a huge grin wrenching his cheeks apart. He's about to go helium on us. INT. CASINO FLOOR - NIGHT Natalie's serving drinks to a table of high rollers, when Tony and Lou appear behind her... INT. SHELLY'S OFFICE - NIGHT The door to Shelly's office slams behind Natalie. Shelly glares at her from behind his desk. We see him thumbing his steel abacus. The beads drifting toward the center. Natalie shakily lights up a cigarette. SHELLY Put that fucking thing out! Natalie, startled, drops her cigarettes. She kneels to gather them up. NATALIE Sorry. SHELLY You should be. You've gone and fucked it up big time. I paid you to be his cooze companion, not his fucking true love. But, no, you had to go and get all profound on the poor schmuck. (mimics female voice) "I love you, Bernie." You know what you've gone and done, sweetheart? Those four little words of endearment have already cost this casino a million and counting today. NATALIE I don't understand... SHELLY (jumps to his feet) Lady luck. You never heard'a lady luck?! That's what's goin' on out there. Lootz is Kryptonite on a stick. He should have 'em throwing ice cubes out there, but instead I got a fuckin' meltdown on my hands. Shelly walks around his desk to Natalie. SHELLY OK, here's what's gonna happen. You're outta his life by the time he gets home. Don't even tell him to his face, just leave a note. I'll make some calls, situate you at another joint. NATALIE I can't do that. SHELLY (right in her face) Excuse me? NATALIE It wasn't an act. I meant it. I love him. SHELLY (close to losing it) What's there to fuckin' love? He's a loser. Always has been, always will be. NATALIE I thought you were his friend... SHELLY And I thought you were a smart cookie when I picked you out. You do not want to fuck me over, darlin'. I'll see to it that your next John's a rattlesnake out in the desert. Now get the fuck outta here. Natalie rushes from the office in tears. Shelly closes his eyes for a moment -- gotta keep it together. INT. SHANGRI-LA CASINO - NIGHT Bernie approaches some cocktail waitresses about to go off duty. BERNIE Hi. Any of you seen Natalie around? I'm supposed to give her a ride home. COCKTAIL WAITRESS #1 I think she left already. She wasn't feelin' too good. We been covering for her. Off Bernie's expression: Oh... EXT. LUCKY STAR MOTEL - NIGHT Bernie's Buick pulls into the lot. He parks, heads for his room. INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT Bernie enters. Flips on the light. No Natalie. BERNIE (calls to the bathroom) Natalie? You in there? No answer. He heads over. Finds it empty. Concern spreads across his features. He glances around the room. Notices the closet wide open. Natalie's clothes missing. BERNIE (sotto) Natalie. That's when he catches sight of the note taped to the dresser mirror. He rushes over, rips it off. I'M SORRY BERNIE. I GUESS IT JUST WASN'T IN THE CARDS FOR US. TAKE CARE, NATALIE. Bernie slumps to the floor in disbelief. Starts to tremble. Then rocks back and forth, wracked by stifled sobs. Christ, make it stop hurting... DISSOLVE TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - LATER Bernie seated at the foot of the bed, drinking bourbon from

vegas

How many times the word 'vegas' appears in the text?

what Shangri- la is. Paradise. LARRY Yeah, we've all seen the movie. And your point is? Shelly whirls around, yells: SHELLY You don't fuck with paradise! All'a ya! NICKY Hey, Jesus, c'mon, Shelly. We're not trying to fuck with it. We're trying to make it better. SHELLY How... how, Nicky, could it be any better? Right now it's perfect. It's the last of its kind. It's pure... and this. (points to the model; weary) ...this is just... it's a mockery. An insult. Trying to make something of it that it isn't. LARRY What are you talking about? It's right outta the movie? SHELLY Whose talking about a fuckin' movie? This ain't a fuckin' movie. This is my life. This is my house of worship. You people are shittin' on all that's sacred to me. A tense silence ensues. Nicky, Larry and Marty exchange looks. SHELLY (tired laugh) I got just one question? Where you gonna be when they decide to change it back? When the people, they come looking for the real Vegas, from before all this Epcott Center bullshit. Who's gonna it give it to them? You guys? I don't think so. You know who? The same fucks who started this shit in the first place. It's all gonna come full circle and bite you in the ass. Mark my words. Shelly falls silent. Massages his forehead. Shit, that wasn't the way to handle it. Nicky gets up from the sofa, walks over to Shelly, places a hand on his shoulder. Shelly flinches, but doesn't pull away. NICKY You make some good points, Shelly. Maybe it'll swing back the other way, who knows? But the smart money suggests we roll the dice. I'm not gonna bullshit you; naturally there's gonna be a lot of restructuring in the months to come, but I want you to know, you'll always have a place with us. SHELLY Where's that? Behind the bar? MARTY (laughs) Behind the bar, that's a good one. NICKY I think you should take some time and think things through. All this, it's a lot to digest, y'know. MARTY Speaking of things to digest, I'm starving. How's that buffet they got in the Valley of the Blue Moon? You recommend their prime rib, Shell? Shelly stares right through Marty. Choke and die on it, motherfucker. SHELLY It's food. NICKY Hey, my arteries can use a workout. Lead us to the trough, Shell. Shelly nods at Nicky, then shifts his gaze to Larry. Larry's all smiles. He steps forward to join them, his hand dropping down and caressing the surface of Shelly's desk behind him. A subtle gesture not lost on Shelly. Shelly mentally unloads a full chamber into Larry's chest. Returns the smile. INT. CASINO - CRAPS TABLES - NIGHT As Shelly and the group pass a hot craps table, Nicky is drawn to it. NICKY Wait up a second... MARTY I thought we were gonna eat? Only now do we see Bernie has arrived to cool the table of its hot shooter -- A LOUD, pudgy, overdressed SUBURBANITE. Shelly eyes Bernie. SHELLY Maybe we wanna play over there. Less crowded. NICKY Nah, let's play here. This is my lucky table. I always play here. (to the others) Go on ahead. I know where to find you guys. Shelly signals Bernie to back off. Bernie steps back. Shelly, Larry and Marty head for the restaurant. Nicky quickly slaps down some green. The stickman slides the dice over to the suburbanite who is shooting. He scuttles the dice. They bounce up over the rail and spike Nicky on the forehead before dropping back on the felt. The players chuckle. STICKMAN Out! Seven, line away seven... Nicky rubs his forehead, glares at the suburbanite. He fires back. SUBURBANITE C"mon, pops! What the hell? I coulda paid my mortgage with the money I just lost. Nicky says nothing. The table is quickly cleared by the dealers. The stickman skips the next shooter and feeds the dice to Nicky. SHOOTER Hey? I'm supposed to be next... NICKY File a grievance, shithead. Suburbanite is still fuming over his loss. Nicky places a couple hundred on the passline. STICKMAN We're coming out. Crap Eleven, any seven. Nicky throws in some chips to the center. NICKY Hundred dollar big red. Suburbanite watches as Nicky runs through a lengthy pre-shot routine. Lots of hand jive and cuff shooting. SUBURBANITE Hurry it up, gramps. Your soup's getting cold. Nicky throws. STICKMAN Crap, Ace Deuce. Line down. The croupiers takes down the pass line. SUBURBANITE Hey, Busketti, maybe you should try shuffleboard. Nicky is fed the dice again. Same routine. Nicky just fires an incendiary look back at the suburbanite. SUBURBANITE Uncle Palsy? Shake'em this direction. Nicky throws. STICKMAN Four, hard four. The point is four. The players make their bets. SUBURBANITE Good now throw it before you fucking keel over and die, old man. Nicky slowly starts his routine defiantly. SUBURBANITE Happy birthday to me. Happy Birthday to me... Jesus, fuck, I'm another year older already. Nicky throws. STICKMAN OUT! Seven! Line away. Nicky claps his hands dealer style -- for effect -- and with a gentlemanly smile steps back from the table. Nicky's chips are quickly swept up by the croupier. SUBURBANITE Don't take it so hard, pops. Everybody craps out. Nicky locks eyes with the suburbanite. Then flashes a smile that suggests he's going to brush it off. He turns away from the table... SUBURBANITE Now go change your fucking Depends. Nicky makes like it's all in good jest. Yeah, that's real cute. He heads around the table to the suburbanite, holds out his hand as if to say: Hey, no hard feelings. The suburbanite shrugs. What the fuck? I was just playing with you, pops. He reaches for Nicky's hand... when Nicky suddenly headbutts him. Before anyone can react, Nicky starts laying into the suburbanite. The man goes down and. Nicky continues pummeling him... NICKY Who's laughing now, huh? ya fuckin! prick! C'mon, crack wise again... Ya fuckin' smooth as a Ken doll, no- dick, suburbanite scum. How's that for a game?! Shelly alerted to the fracas, rushes back to the table. He takes immediate control of the situation. Snaps his fingers at security. The suburbanite is whisked away with a pocketful of comps and a bruised ego. Shelly takes Nicky aside, attempts to calm him. Nicky keeps railing at Shelly: NICKY That ain't right, Shelly! Guy fucks up my game like that. Who the fuck does he think he is? SHELLY You're right. He's just a piece of shit. Forget about him. NICKY I thought this joint had more class. Used to be, we wouldn't even let bums like that in... Nicky catches himself. He looks at Shelly for a beat. There's an unspoken understanding between them. "The good old days." We see Bernie in the b.g., looking more than a bit shocked. INT. THE MAKAWAO BAR AND GRILL - NIGHT Bernie seated with Natalie. BERNIE This town... You know, Natalie, all I want to do is go some place where I can tell day from night. Where they got clocks on the wall. I can't breathe around here no more. Four days and I'm gone. I'm not even sure I can hold out that long. NATALIE (a beat) So where does that leave us? BERNIE A week ago, I didn't remember what it was like to have a woman's hands on me. I'm still pinching myself, expecting to wake-up from... (just blurts it out) Come with me, Natalie. I want you to come with me. NATALIE God, Bernie, that's... BERNIE I'm sorry. I didn't mean to spring that on you. NATALIE Bernie... I want to be with you. I do. But I don't know if I can leave with you. Bernie's look: Why? NATALIE I was working on a compatibility chart for the two of us. And it looks good, really, it does. BERNIE So, what's the problem? NATALIE That's with us here. In Vegas. Bernie's expression: Oh. NATALIE Maybe I was being presumptuous, 'cause I knew you were leaving... and I tried working it in different ways... It wasn't good, Bernie. I got scared. But that's just for now, for the immediate future. Once the planets realign, maybe a year from now... BERNIE Natalie... I can't... Not another year. Not another week. A somber mood falls on the table. Bernie reaches for Natalie's hand. Instead, he knocks the salt over. It spills out in front of them. BERNIE I think... we probably shouldn't see each other anymore. NATALIE Why, Bernie? We only got a couple days left together. Why not make the most of them? BERNIE (a long beat) Because if I spend one more night in your arms, I'm not going anywhere. NATALIE And that's so bad? Bernie just stares at her, shrouded in sadness. Natalie stubs out her cigarette, rises. NATALIE Take care, Bernie. Bernie casts his eyes to the mound of spilled salt in front of him. Nods. A few beats later he raises his head... BERNIE Natalie, don't... Gone. A WAITRESS appears. WAITRESS (O.S.) Get you another? BERNIE (nods) I think you better bring me the bottle. Please. INT. SHANGRI-LA HOTEL AND CASINO/BAR - NIGHT Once again, we see Bernie's feet limp across the casino floor. He walks up to the bar, asks for a cup of coffee. Doris brings it over. Short on the cream again. He just sips it black. Gloom and doom features. Life sucks. His master's VOICE sounds over the intercom: VOICE (V.O.) Chang, party of fifteen, your table is ready, Chang party of fifteen. Bernie looks to Doris. Sighs. Only three more days. INT. CASINO FLOOR - CRAPS TABLES - NIGHT He heads for the crap tables, the sound of raucous CHEERING becomes audible. A large crowd starting to gather. Bernie noodles his way to the front of the crowd. As soon as he gets a look at the heavy hitter at the table, he tenses up. Oh shit. It's MIKEY. With Charlene. Charlene is making one hell of a racket. Playing up her extremely maternal state. Just then Natalie sidles up to Bernie with the Chivas Regal. Without thinking about it, he grabs the glass off the tray, downs it in a single gulp. CHARLENE (clutching her tummy) Come on, Mikey. This is our future. Don't blow it. Mikey throws down a bet for the dealer. MIKEY Put this on the line for the boys. The stickman thanks him as they place the bet. Mikey throws down more money. We can see Mikey has bets all over the table. MIKEY With shoes! STICKMAN Dealer's got shoes. Hands high, the dice are out! The point is nine. CHARLENE Come on all you's. Put a good thought in for our baby! As everyone dotes over Charlene, Mikey quickly swaps the dice before anyone can see. He throws. STICKMAN Six the hard way! Mikey is paid nine thousand by the croupier, as is Charlene. Bernie stands frozen. He doesn't bother trying to get any closer to the table. He knows it'll do no good. CHARLENE Oh my god, I just felt him kick! He knows. He knows you're all pulling for him. God bless you all. Natalie looks over at Charlene. Their eyes meet for a second. It's as though Natalie knows it's a scam and Charlene's acknowledging it. Mikey throws again. STICKMAN Six the hard way! Look out, we got a shooter! Another nine grand. Mikey's rail is nearly full. Charlene hops around awkwardly causing more distraction. Bernie is really sweating it out now. Then Shelly arrives. Larry is hot on his tail. SHELLY How much? BERNIE Eighteen thousand since I stepped up. I'm sorry, Shelly, I guess I've been hit and miss lately. Shelly's expression tells us he isn't so sure. Something definitely isn't kosher. As Charlene chatters on, Mikey switches the dice back. Shelly makes him. SHELLY (sotto) Fucking amateurs... Mikey throws... STICKMAN Seven out! Line away. The players and crowd, though disappointed, applaud Mikey's achievement. MIKEY (bowing) I thank you. My wife thanks you. My unborn child thanks you. Mikey moves his rail of chips to the felt. MIKEY Color me up will ya? Larry notices Shelly slipping on a pair of leather gloves. LARRY You've gotta be kidding me. (off Shelly's steely glare) That's not how I propose we handle it. We'll turn the matter over to the authorities. They'll be blacklisted, their credit ruined... SHELLY (gets in Larry's face) And then we'll give 'em both a lollipop for the ride home. Come watch and learn, Harvard. A little lesson on how to protect your investment -- the old school way. Shelly walks over to Mikey and Charlene, Larry lingering behind him. SHELLY Hey, that was some run you had back there. MIKEY Uh, thanks. Just lucky I guess. Mikey steals a tense glance at Charlene. She starts to fidget nervously. SHELLY Why don't we go do this in my office? I don't like to hand out all this amount of cash on the floor. Security (Tony and Lou) corrals the couple. Leads them away. Bernie watches as they pass by. Mikey looks into Bernie's eyes. They both know he's been made. Natalie doesn't say anything, just looks at Bernie. INT. CASINO RECEIVING AREA - NIGHT Slot machines everywhere -- some on the way out, some on the way in. Crates of casino supplies. Bernie rushes in with Natalie behind him. Heading for an aural beacon of BLOWS landing on flesh... GRUNTING, PLEADING... ...arriving to find Tony and Lou kicking the shit out of Mikey on the floor. Charlene lies clutching her belly a few feet away. Shelly swings a baseball bat, warming up for some blood sport. Larry watches from the sidelines -- at once appalled and enthralled. CHARLENE Oh my God... I can feel the contractions coming on... Bernie rushes over to Shelly... BERNIE Shelly, stop them! Don't do this! SHELLY Get lost, Bernie, this got nothing to do with you. BERNIE It's got everything to do with me. He's my son. Everyone stops dead. Freeze frame. Shelly gets a weird look in his eye. A fuse has just been lit... SHELLY What did you say? BERNIE I said, he's my -- SHELLY Who? This little prick? Shelly smashes Mikey across the shoulder with the bat. AARRRGGGGHHH!!! Shelly raises the bat to cream Mikey again... Bernie grabs Shelly's arm. Shelly shoves him back. Raises the bat again... MIKEY Pop, help me... BERNIE Shelly, don't you fucking do it! Shelly freezes. He lowers the bat, throws it aside. Grabs Bernie by his collar... SHELLY Were you in on this? Jesus, you better come clean with me. BERNIE NO! God, no! I didn't know nothing about it. Shelly releases Bernie. There's a strange look in Shelly's eye. We see the wheels turning... SHELLY How much you think their lives are worth, Bernie? Myself, I don't think they're worth piss. But, hey, it ain't my kid... Bernie sees where Shelly's going with this. We can almost hear the cell door slamming in his head. SHELLY Let me see: they were up almost a hundred and fifty grand. That's 150 G's someone's gonna have to account for. What do you say, Bernie, seventy- five grand a piece? Bernie glances over at Natalie. She has tears in her eyes. He looks to Shelly pleadingly. Please don't do this... SHELLY Hey, I know you don't have that kind of cash. But, since you're a friend of the house, I'm willing to front you. BERNIE Shelly, they didn't get away with the money... You didn't lose anything... Shelly glances over at Lou, nods. Lou kicks Mikey in the face. His nose snaps like a twig. BERNIE Oh Jesus... Yes! All right. It's on me. 150 G's. Charlene clutches her belly, moans... CHARLENE Oh god, oh god... you gotta get me to the hospital... contractions... BERNIE Shelly, please help her. That's my grandson... SHELLY Hey, why don't we all break out the champagne? Lootz is about to become a granddaddy. (walks over to her) How you doin' there, sweetheart? Must hurt like crap, huh? CHARLENE (nods) Hurts so bad... SHELLY Yeah? Suddenly Shelly kicks Charlene in the belly! WHAM! She screeches out. NATALIE Oh God... BERNIE Jesus NOOOOO!!! Even Shelly's goons can't believe what they've just witnessed. Larry is aghast. Bernie rushes Shelly, starts raining blows on him. Shelly swats him off. He drops down next to the squirming girl, rips her sweater and blouse up over her stomach... ...to reveal a mound of fake padding. He tears the padding away from her, throws it at Bernie. SHELLY Here! It's a fuckin' boy. Anyone got a cigar? The muscle start laughing it up. Relief. Larry emits a nervous giggle. Natalie's jaw hits the floor. Bernie takes a step back. He's about to go into serious shock. Charlene curls over, sobbing. SHELLY (to Bernie) You sure you still want to be good for it? Because if you want to change your mind, I don't blame you. Bernie looks over at Mikey. He stares up at his father, trembling. MIKEY I'll make it up to you, Pop, I swear... Bernie holds his son's gaze for a beat. He's almost tempted to... He just shrugs and nods at Shelly. BERNIE It's on me. SHELLY (shakes his head) That's the worst fucking call you ever made in your life. ON NATALIE at that moment. We can tell she agrees with Shelly... but thinks all the more of Bernie for it. That might even be love in her eyes. Shelly snatches his baseball bat up off the floor. Walks over to Mikey, and brings it down full force, pulverizing Mikey's left kneecap. Oh man, the scream... BERNIE What are you doing?! I thought we had -- SHELLY 150 G's buys their lives. This is just a little slap on the wrist to remember me by. Natalie turns her head. She's about to throw up. Larry watches, unflinchingly. Charlene is making with some serious pleading now. CHARLENE Oh god... it wasn't my idea. Shelly steps up to Charlene, tapping the base of the bat in the palm of his hand. He smiles reassuringly at her. SHELLY You know, motherhood is a beautiful thing. This... you made a mockery out of it. Maybe you'll get to experience it for real one day. CHARLENE (nods, sobbing) I want... to be a mother... please don't hurt me... SHELLY I'm not going to hurt you. Shelly turns his back on her. Charlene starts sobbing relief. They're not going to hurt her. It's going to be all right. Wrong. Shelly throws the bat to Lou. The heavy steps up to the plate (as we RACK FOCUS to Shelly walking away) -- CRUNCH!!! followed by the girl's SHRIEKS. Natalie buries her head in Bernie's shoulder. SHELLY (to Tony and Lou) Get 'em outta here. You ever see them in this joint again, kill 'em. SHELLY (to Bernie and Natalie) You two, you're still on shift. Shelly catches Larry's eye: I hope you were taking notes. INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT Bernie's seated on the edge of his bed, drowning his sorrows with a bottle of gin. Moonlight paints him in jail bars of shadow. Natalie lingers in the b.g. BERNIE I did this to myself. I planted the seed. When Angela took off with Mikey, I didn't... I never made an effort to get back in his life. I figured, the kid don't need a loser for a father. Now it's all come full circle. I give him the money, I open the door to all this... I musta had it coming. Payback. Natalie's hand lowers the needle onto the Sinatra record. "Nice 'n' Easy" starts up. She walks over to Bernie, takes the bottle away. Helps him to his feet. He gives himself over to her reassuring embrace. Natalie raises Bernie's face to her's. NATALIE Bernie, it's a big world out there. If you just took off -- if we took off. Bernie shakes his head. It's too late for that now. DISSOLVE TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - LATER - NIGHT Natalie staring up at the ceiling, Bernie nuzzled against her. Her features appear softer than ever. Luminous in the moonlight. Realization moist in her eyes. NATALIE You awake, Bernie? He grunts something inaudible. NATALIE I -- think I love you. Bernie tenses up. Huh? NATALIE No, I don't think. I'm pretty certain of it. Bernie raises his head, not quite sure he heard her right. Natalie sits up, hugs her knees. Bernie finds himself staring at her back. NATALIE You blind-sided me, Bernie Lootz. I never saw this coming. You shouldn't do that to a girl. Bernie reaches out, caresses her back. She emits a shiver... NATALIE There's still things you don't know... should know... I don't want to ruin it... Bernie pulls Natalie back toward him. BERNIE It won't make any difference, Natalie. Whatever you come clean about, I'm not gonna feel any different about you. I'd say the words, but with my luck... NATALIE Say 'em anyway. To hell with rotten luck. That's overs. BERNIE (a beat) I love you, Natalie. Natalie smothers her lips against Bernie's. He enshrouds her in his arms. Fade out... INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - DAY Fade into SOFT FOCUS. Slowing taking form... A CAT'S FACE seen in extreme close-up. WIDER -- to reveal the cat resting on Bernie's chest. She MEOWS as he stirs awake. He's stunned to see her there. BERNIE Trixie? The cat jumps off his chest and slinks over to her empty food bowl. Meows again. Bernie breaks into a wide smile. BERNIE Trix. You came back. Bernie shields his eyes from the bright sunlight streaming in through the blinds. Huh? This is a first for him. He's never gotten direct sunlight in his room before. What's the deal? Did the world just turn on its axis? He glances over his shoulder... No Natalie. Just her impression in the sheets. And a note on her pillow. For a moment his heart stops. He conjures up the worst. Grabs up the note, unfolds it. We see a lipstick kiss and the words: HAVE A SPECTACULAR DAY! Bernie lets out a joyful whoop! Leaps out of bed... SMASH CUT TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - CONTINUOUS - DAY CLOSE-UP: Trixie eating some tuna out of her bowl. We hear the record player needle drop on "Luck Be A Lady." Cut to: Bernie's feet gliding around the room... PAN UP to Bernie dancing with himself. He's positively aglow. He snatches up a salt shaker and sings along with Sinatra. It's true -- love makes the world go around. It obviously also gives life to dead plants, as evidenced by the small bulb that has sprung up overnight above his radiator. But we won't dwell on that. INT. SHANGRI-LA HOTEL AND CASINO - DAY Bernie struts into the casino a changed man (still to the tune of "Luck Be a Lady"). Even his limp seems less pronounced as he greets fellow workers as they pass. He catches a glimpse of himself in a wall mirror. Maybe for the first time, he likes what he sees. In the reflection he notices Natalie smiling at him. He meets her eyes. She averts them quickly, keeps walking. INT. SHELLY'S OFFICE - THAT MOMENT Shelly watches Bernie from the video monitor. He appears less than delighted over Bernie's sunny disposition. He picks up the phone, dials. SHELLY (into phone) Yeah, it's me. Get Bernie over to crap table six. INT. CASINO FLOOR - NIGHT Per usual, Bernie walks up to the bar, asks for a cup of coffee. Doris slides it over. BERNIE (looking around) Got any cre -- Before he can answer, Doris hands him a container of cream. A full container. Taken aback, he starts pouring it into his cup, when he hears a VOICE over the intercom: VOICE (V.O.) Lovett, party of six, your table is ready, Lovett, party of six. Bernie looks to Doris. BERNIE Duty calls. INT. CASINO - MONTAGE - MOMENTS LATER A -- Bernie arrives at a hundred dollar blackjack table just in time for the dealer to bust out. The crowd goes crazy! B -- Bernie takes a break by leaning up against the side of a slot machine. Suddenly, the woman playing it hits a jackpot. C -- Everywhere he seems to go, people continue to win. D -- Bernie, despite the spooky irony, can't help but smile as mountains of chips pile up on the tables. Shelly appears behind him. Not a happy camper. He gestures Bernie to follow him. INT. CASINO SLOTS AREA - NIGHT They head over to a section of slots. As they pass one of those huge million dollar slots, the FLOOR MANAGER cuts in front of them. FLOOR MANAGER Hey, Shelly, check it out. The new Mega-Million. I call her Marnie, 'cause she's one frigid broad. Sure, once in a while she'll flash you a bit of tit, but your chances of hitting a home run -- one in twenty million. Here, give her a shot... He hands Shelly a cup of quarters, takes off. Shelly looks to Bernie. He's trying to keep a lid on his anger. SHELLY (feeding Marnie quarters) You wanna tell me what's going on out there? BERNIE I don't know... Shelly pulls the lever. SHELLY What do you mean... Marnie immediately spits out a small jackpot. SHELLY (reacts with surprise) What do you mean, you don't know? We're down almost a mil out there. Doesn't seem strange to you? BERNIE (shrugs) Guess I'm having an off day. SHELLY You don't have off days, Lootz. You're shitty luck incarnate. What's wrong? You coming down with something? You've got this look about you... Shelly starts feeding Marnie again. BERNIE Nothing's wrong. Fact is, I've never felt better. SHELLY What's that supposed to mean? BERNIE She loves me, Shelly. She told me last night. Natalie. On the mention of Natalie's name, we hear a shrieking SIREN, followed by a deafening toll of slot bells. Shelly's just landed the million dollar jackpot. Shelly stares at the slot in surprise -- then looks over at Bernie. Realization hits hard. Fuck! The floor manager staggers over. His expression is priceless. FLOOR MANAGER Sweet Jesus... you popped her cherries. SEVERAL CASINO WORKERS have gathered to witness the deflowering of Marnie. They gaze reverently upon her, as if witnessing the "Close Encounters" mothership for the first time. Shelly drags Bernie out of earshot. SHELLY Natalie? She told you, she loves you? Bernie nods, a huge grin wrenching his cheeks apart. He's about to go helium on us. INT. CASINO FLOOR - NIGHT Natalie's serving drinks to a table of high rollers, when Tony and Lou appear behind her... INT. SHELLY'S OFFICE - NIGHT The door to Shelly's office slams behind Natalie. Shelly glares at her from behind his desk. We see him thumbing his steel abacus. The beads drifting toward the center. Natalie shakily lights up a cigarette. SHELLY Put that fucking thing out! Natalie, startled, drops her cigarettes. She kneels to gather them up. NATALIE Sorry. SHELLY You should be. You've gone and fucked it up big time. I paid you to be his cooze companion, not his fucking true love. But, no, you had to go and get all profound on the poor schmuck. (mimics female voice) "I love you, Bernie." You know what you've gone and done, sweetheart? Those four little words of endearment have already cost this casino a million and counting today. NATALIE I don't understand... SHELLY (jumps to his feet) Lady luck. You never heard'a lady luck?! That's what's goin' on out there. Lootz is Kryptonite on a stick. He should have 'em throwing ice cubes out there, but instead I got a fuckin' meltdown on my hands. Shelly walks around his desk to Natalie. SHELLY OK, here's what's gonna happen. You're outta his life by the time he gets home. Don't even tell him to his face, just leave a note. I'll make some calls, situate you at another joint. NATALIE I can't do that. SHELLY (right in her face) Excuse me? NATALIE It wasn't an act. I meant it. I love him. SHELLY (close to losing it) What's there to fuckin' love? He's a loser. Always has been, always will be. NATALIE I thought you were his friend... SHELLY And I thought you were a smart cookie when I picked you out. You do not want to fuck me over, darlin'. I'll see to it that your next John's a rattlesnake out in the desert. Now get the fuck outta here. Natalie rushes from the office in tears. Shelly closes his eyes for a moment -- gotta keep it together. INT. SHANGRI-LA CASINO - NIGHT Bernie approaches some cocktail waitresses about to go off duty. BERNIE Hi. Any of you seen Natalie around? I'm supposed to give her a ride home. COCKTAIL WAITRESS #1 I think she left already. She wasn't feelin' too good. We been covering for her. Off Bernie's expression: Oh... EXT. LUCKY STAR MOTEL - NIGHT Bernie's Buick pulls into the lot. He parks, heads for his room. INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT Bernie enters. Flips on the light. No Natalie. BERNIE (calls to the bathroom) Natalie? You in there? No answer. He heads over. Finds it empty. Concern spreads across his features. He glances around the room. Notices the closet wide open. Natalie's clothes missing. BERNIE (sotto) Natalie. That's when he catches sight of the note taped to the dresser mirror. He rushes over, rips it off. I'M SORRY BERNIE. I GUESS IT JUST WASN'T IN THE CARDS FOR US. TAKE CARE, NATALIE. Bernie slumps to the floor in disbelief. Starts to tremble. Then rocks back and forth, wracked by stifled sobs. Christ, make it stop hurting... DISSOLVE TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - LATER Bernie seated at the foot of the bed, drinking bourbon from

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what Shangri- la is. Paradise. LARRY Yeah, we've all seen the movie. And your point is? Shelly whirls around, yells: SHELLY You don't fuck with paradise! All'a ya! NICKY Hey, Jesus, c'mon, Shelly. We're not trying to fuck with it. We're trying to make it better. SHELLY How... how, Nicky, could it be any better? Right now it's perfect. It's the last of its kind. It's pure... and this. (points to the model; weary) ...this is just... it's a mockery. An insult. Trying to make something of it that it isn't. LARRY What are you talking about? It's right outta the movie? SHELLY Whose talking about a fuckin' movie? This ain't a fuckin' movie. This is my life. This is my house of worship. You people are shittin' on all that's sacred to me. A tense silence ensues. Nicky, Larry and Marty exchange looks. SHELLY (tired laugh) I got just one question? Where you gonna be when they decide to change it back? When the people, they come looking for the real Vegas, from before all this Epcott Center bullshit. Who's gonna it give it to them? You guys? I don't think so. You know who? The same fucks who started this shit in the first place. It's all gonna come full circle and bite you in the ass. Mark my words. Shelly falls silent. Massages his forehead. Shit, that wasn't the way to handle it. Nicky gets up from the sofa, walks over to Shelly, places a hand on his shoulder. Shelly flinches, but doesn't pull away. NICKY You make some good points, Shelly. Maybe it'll swing back the other way, who knows? But the smart money suggests we roll the dice. I'm not gonna bullshit you; naturally there's gonna be a lot of restructuring in the months to come, but I want you to know, you'll always have a place with us. SHELLY Where's that? Behind the bar? MARTY (laughs) Behind the bar, that's a good one. NICKY I think you should take some time and think things through. All this, it's a lot to digest, y'know. MARTY Speaking of things to digest, I'm starving. How's that buffet they got in the Valley of the Blue Moon? You recommend their prime rib, Shell? Shelly stares right through Marty. Choke and die on it, motherfucker. SHELLY It's food. NICKY Hey, my arteries can use a workout. Lead us to the trough, Shell. Shelly nods at Nicky, then shifts his gaze to Larry. Larry's all smiles. He steps forward to join them, his hand dropping down and caressing the surface of Shelly's desk behind him. A subtle gesture not lost on Shelly. Shelly mentally unloads a full chamber into Larry's chest. Returns the smile. INT. CASINO - CRAPS TABLES - NIGHT As Shelly and the group pass a hot craps table, Nicky is drawn to it. NICKY Wait up a second... MARTY I thought we were gonna eat? Only now do we see Bernie has arrived to cool the table of its hot shooter -- A LOUD, pudgy, overdressed SUBURBANITE. Shelly eyes Bernie. SHELLY Maybe we wanna play over there. Less crowded. NICKY Nah, let's play here. This is my lucky table. I always play here. (to the others) Go on ahead. I know where to find you guys. Shelly signals Bernie to back off. Bernie steps back. Shelly, Larry and Marty head for the restaurant. Nicky quickly slaps down some green. The stickman slides the dice over to the suburbanite who is shooting. He scuttles the dice. They bounce up over the rail and spike Nicky on the forehead before dropping back on the felt. The players chuckle. STICKMAN Out! Seven, line away seven... Nicky rubs his forehead, glares at the suburbanite. He fires back. SUBURBANITE C"mon, pops! What the hell? I coulda paid my mortgage with the money I just lost. Nicky says nothing. The table is quickly cleared by the dealers. The stickman skips the next shooter and feeds the dice to Nicky. SHOOTER Hey? I'm supposed to be next... NICKY File a grievance, shithead. Suburbanite is still fuming over his loss. Nicky places a couple hundred on the passline. STICKMAN We're coming out. Crap Eleven, any seven. Nicky throws in some chips to the center. NICKY Hundred dollar big red. Suburbanite watches as Nicky runs through a lengthy pre-shot routine. Lots of hand jive and cuff shooting. SUBURBANITE Hurry it up, gramps. Your soup's getting cold. Nicky throws. STICKMAN Crap, Ace Deuce. Line down. The croupiers takes down the pass line. SUBURBANITE Hey, Busketti, maybe you should try shuffleboard. Nicky is fed the dice again. Same routine. Nicky just fires an incendiary look back at the suburbanite. SUBURBANITE Uncle Palsy? Shake'em this direction. Nicky throws. STICKMAN Four, hard four. The point is four. The players make their bets. SUBURBANITE Good now throw it before you fucking keel over and die, old man. Nicky slowly starts his routine defiantly. SUBURBANITE Happy birthday to me. Happy Birthday to me... Jesus, fuck, I'm another year older already. Nicky throws. STICKMAN OUT! Seven! Line away. Nicky claps his hands dealer style -- for effect -- and with a gentlemanly smile steps back from the table. Nicky's chips are quickly swept up by the croupier. SUBURBANITE Don't take it so hard, pops. Everybody craps out. Nicky locks eyes with the suburbanite. Then flashes a smile that suggests he's going to brush it off. He turns away from the table... SUBURBANITE Now go change your fucking Depends. Nicky makes like it's all in good jest. Yeah, that's real cute. He heads around the table to the suburbanite, holds out his hand as if to say: Hey, no hard feelings. The suburbanite shrugs. What the fuck? I was just playing with you, pops. He reaches for Nicky's hand... when Nicky suddenly headbutts him. Before anyone can react, Nicky starts laying into the suburbanite. The man goes down and. Nicky continues pummeling him... NICKY Who's laughing now, huh? ya fuckin! prick! C'mon, crack wise again... Ya fuckin' smooth as a Ken doll, no- dick, suburbanite scum. How's that for a game?! Shelly alerted to the fracas, rushes back to the table. He takes immediate control of the situation. Snaps his fingers at security. The suburbanite is whisked away with a pocketful of comps and a bruised ego. Shelly takes Nicky aside, attempts to calm him. Nicky keeps railing at Shelly: NICKY That ain't right, Shelly! Guy fucks up my game like that. Who the fuck does he think he is? SHELLY You're right. He's just a piece of shit. Forget about him. NICKY I thought this joint had more class. Used to be, we wouldn't even let bums like that in... Nicky catches himself. He looks at Shelly for a beat. There's an unspoken understanding between them. "The good old days." We see Bernie in the b.g., looking more than a bit shocked. INT. THE MAKAWAO BAR AND GRILL - NIGHT Bernie seated with Natalie. BERNIE This town... You know, Natalie, all I want to do is go some place where I can tell day from night. Where they got clocks on the wall. I can't breathe around here no more. Four days and I'm gone. I'm not even sure I can hold out that long. NATALIE (a beat) So where does that leave us? BERNIE A week ago, I didn't remember what it was like to have a woman's hands on me. I'm still pinching myself, expecting to wake-up from... (just blurts it out) Come with me, Natalie. I want you to come with me. NATALIE God, Bernie, that's... BERNIE I'm sorry. I didn't mean to spring that on you. NATALIE Bernie... I want to be with you. I do. But I don't know if I can leave with you. Bernie's look: Why? NATALIE I was working on a compatibility chart for the two of us. And it looks good, really, it does. BERNIE So, what's the problem? NATALIE That's with us here. In Vegas. Bernie's expression: Oh. NATALIE Maybe I was being presumptuous, 'cause I knew you were leaving... and I tried working it in different ways... It wasn't good, Bernie. I got scared. But that's just for now, for the immediate future. Once the planets realign, maybe a year from now... BERNIE Natalie... I can't... Not another year. Not another week. A somber mood falls on the table. Bernie reaches for Natalie's hand. Instead, he knocks the salt over. It spills out in front of them. BERNIE I think... we probably shouldn't see each other anymore. NATALIE Why, Bernie? We only got a couple days left together. Why not make the most of them? BERNIE (a long beat) Because if I spend one more night in your arms, I'm not going anywhere. NATALIE And that's so bad? Bernie just stares at her, shrouded in sadness. Natalie stubs out her cigarette, rises. NATALIE Take care, Bernie. Bernie casts his eyes to the mound of spilled salt in front of him. Nods. A few beats later he raises his head... BERNIE Natalie, don't... Gone. A WAITRESS appears. WAITRESS (O.S.) Get you another? BERNIE (nods) I think you better bring me the bottle. Please. INT. SHANGRI-LA HOTEL AND CASINO/BAR - NIGHT Once again, we see Bernie's feet limp across the casino floor. He walks up to the bar, asks for a cup of coffee. Doris brings it over. Short on the cream again. He just sips it black. Gloom and doom features. Life sucks. His master's VOICE sounds over the intercom: VOICE (V.O.) Chang, party of fifteen, your table is ready, Chang party of fifteen. Bernie looks to Doris. Sighs. Only three more days. INT. CASINO FLOOR - CRAPS TABLES - NIGHT He heads for the crap tables, the sound of raucous CHEERING becomes audible. A large crowd starting to gather. Bernie noodles his way to the front of the crowd. As soon as he gets a look at the heavy hitter at the table, he tenses up. Oh shit. It's MIKEY. With Charlene. Charlene is making one hell of a racket. Playing up her extremely maternal state. Just then Natalie sidles up to Bernie with the Chivas Regal. Without thinking about it, he grabs the glass off the tray, downs it in a single gulp. CHARLENE (clutching her tummy) Come on, Mikey. This is our future. Don't blow it. Mikey throws down a bet for the dealer. MIKEY Put this on the line for the boys. The stickman thanks him as they place the bet. Mikey throws down more money. We can see Mikey has bets all over the table. MIKEY With shoes! STICKMAN Dealer's got shoes. Hands high, the dice are out! The point is nine. CHARLENE Come on all you's. Put a good thought in for our baby! As everyone dotes over Charlene, Mikey quickly swaps the dice before anyone can see. He throws. STICKMAN Six the hard way! Mikey is paid nine thousand by the croupier, as is Charlene. Bernie stands frozen. He doesn't bother trying to get any closer to the table. He knows it'll do no good. CHARLENE Oh my god, I just felt him kick! He knows. He knows you're all pulling for him. God bless you all. Natalie looks over at Charlene. Their eyes meet for a second. It's as though Natalie knows it's a scam and Charlene's acknowledging it. Mikey throws again. STICKMAN Six the hard way! Look out, we got a shooter! Another nine grand. Mikey's rail is nearly full. Charlene hops around awkwardly causing more distraction. Bernie is really sweating it out now. Then Shelly arrives. Larry is hot on his tail. SHELLY How much? BERNIE Eighteen thousand since I stepped up. I'm sorry, Shelly, I guess I've been hit and miss lately. Shelly's expression tells us he isn't so sure. Something definitely isn't kosher. As Charlene chatters on, Mikey switches the dice back. Shelly makes him. SHELLY (sotto) Fucking amateurs... Mikey throws... STICKMAN Seven out! Line away. The players and crowd, though disappointed, applaud Mikey's achievement. MIKEY (bowing) I thank you. My wife thanks you. My unborn child thanks you. Mikey moves his rail of chips to the felt. MIKEY Color me up will ya? Larry notices Shelly slipping on a pair of leather gloves. LARRY You've gotta be kidding me. (off Shelly's steely glare) That's not how I propose we handle it. We'll turn the matter over to the authorities. They'll be blacklisted, their credit ruined... SHELLY (gets in Larry's face) And then we'll give 'em both a lollipop for the ride home. Come watch and learn, Harvard. A little lesson on how to protect your investment -- the old school way. Shelly walks over to Mikey and Charlene, Larry lingering behind him. SHELLY Hey, that was some run you had back there. MIKEY Uh, thanks. Just lucky I guess. Mikey steals a tense glance at Charlene. She starts to fidget nervously. SHELLY Why don't we go do this in my office? I don't like to hand out all this amount of cash on the floor. Security (Tony and Lou) corrals the couple. Leads them away. Bernie watches as they pass by. Mikey looks into Bernie's eyes. They both know he's been made. Natalie doesn't say anything, just looks at Bernie. INT. CASINO RECEIVING AREA - NIGHT Slot machines everywhere -- some on the way out, some on the way in. Crates of casino supplies. Bernie rushes in with Natalie behind him. Heading for an aural beacon of BLOWS landing on flesh... GRUNTING, PLEADING... ...arriving to find Tony and Lou kicking the shit out of Mikey on the floor. Charlene lies clutching her belly a few feet away. Shelly swings a baseball bat, warming up for some blood sport. Larry watches from the sidelines -- at once appalled and enthralled. CHARLENE Oh my God... I can feel the contractions coming on... Bernie rushes over to Shelly... BERNIE Shelly, stop them! Don't do this! SHELLY Get lost, Bernie, this got nothing to do with you. BERNIE It's got everything to do with me. He's my son. Everyone stops dead. Freeze frame. Shelly gets a weird look in his eye. A fuse has just been lit... SHELLY What did you say? BERNIE I said, he's my -- SHELLY Who? This little prick? Shelly smashes Mikey across the shoulder with the bat. AARRRGGGGHHH!!! Shelly raises the bat to cream Mikey again... Bernie grabs Shelly's arm. Shelly shoves him back. Raises the bat again... MIKEY Pop, help me... BERNIE Shelly, don't you fucking do it! Shelly freezes. He lowers the bat, throws it aside. Grabs Bernie by his collar... SHELLY Were you in on this? Jesus, you better come clean with me. BERNIE NO! God, no! I didn't know nothing about it. Shelly releases Bernie. There's a strange look in Shelly's eye. We see the wheels turning... SHELLY How much you think their lives are worth, Bernie? Myself, I don't think they're worth piss. But, hey, it ain't my kid... Bernie sees where Shelly's going with this. We can almost hear the cell door slamming in his head. SHELLY Let me see: they were up almost a hundred and fifty grand. That's 150 G's someone's gonna have to account for. What do you say, Bernie, seventy- five grand a piece? Bernie glances over at Natalie. She has tears in her eyes. He looks to Shelly pleadingly. Please don't do this... SHELLY Hey, I know you don't have that kind of cash. But, since you're a friend of the house, I'm willing to front you. BERNIE Shelly, they didn't get away with the money... You didn't lose anything... Shelly glances over at Lou, nods. Lou kicks Mikey in the face. His nose snaps like a twig. BERNIE Oh Jesus... Yes! All right. It's on me. 150 G's. Charlene clutches her belly, moans... CHARLENE Oh god, oh god... you gotta get me to the hospital... contractions... BERNIE Shelly, please help her. That's my grandson... SHELLY Hey, why don't we all break out the champagne? Lootz is about to become a granddaddy. (walks over to her) How you doin' there, sweetheart? Must hurt like crap, huh? CHARLENE (nods) Hurts so bad... SHELLY Yeah? Suddenly Shelly kicks Charlene in the belly! WHAM! She screeches out. NATALIE Oh God... BERNIE Jesus NOOOOO!!! Even Shelly's goons can't believe what they've just witnessed. Larry is aghast. Bernie rushes Shelly, starts raining blows on him. Shelly swats him off. He drops down next to the squirming girl, rips her sweater and blouse up over her stomach... ...to reveal a mound of fake padding. He tears the padding away from her, throws it at Bernie. SHELLY Here! It's a fuckin' boy. Anyone got a cigar? The muscle start laughing it up. Relief. Larry emits a nervous giggle. Natalie's jaw hits the floor. Bernie takes a step back. He's about to go into serious shock. Charlene curls over, sobbing. SHELLY (to Bernie) You sure you still want to be good for it? Because if you want to change your mind, I don't blame you. Bernie looks over at Mikey. He stares up at his father, trembling. MIKEY I'll make it up to you, Pop, I swear... Bernie holds his son's gaze for a beat. He's almost tempted to... He just shrugs and nods at Shelly. BERNIE It's on me. SHELLY (shakes his head) That's the worst fucking call you ever made in your life. ON NATALIE at that moment. We can tell she agrees with Shelly... but thinks all the more of Bernie for it. That might even be love in her eyes. Shelly snatches his baseball bat up off the floor. Walks over to Mikey, and brings it down full force, pulverizing Mikey's left kneecap. Oh man, the scream... BERNIE What are you doing?! I thought we had -- SHELLY 150 G's buys their lives. This is just a little slap on the wrist to remember me by. Natalie turns her head. She's about to throw up. Larry watches, unflinchingly. Charlene is making with some serious pleading now. CHARLENE Oh god... it wasn't my idea. Shelly steps up to Charlene, tapping the base of the bat in the palm of his hand. He smiles reassuringly at her. SHELLY You know, motherhood is a beautiful thing. This... you made a mockery out of it. Maybe you'll get to experience it for real one day. CHARLENE (nods, sobbing) I want... to be a mother... please don't hurt me... SHELLY I'm not going to hurt you. Shelly turns his back on her. Charlene starts sobbing relief. They're not going to hurt her. It's going to be all right. Wrong. Shelly throws the bat to Lou. The heavy steps up to the plate (as we RACK FOCUS to Shelly walking away) -- CRUNCH!!! followed by the girl's SHRIEKS. Natalie buries her head in Bernie's shoulder. SHELLY (to Tony and Lou) Get 'em outta here. You ever see them in this joint again, kill 'em. SHELLY (to Bernie and Natalie) You two, you're still on shift. Shelly catches Larry's eye: I hope you were taking notes. INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT Bernie's seated on the edge of his bed, drowning his sorrows with a bottle of gin. Moonlight paints him in jail bars of shadow. Natalie lingers in the b.g. BERNIE I did this to myself. I planted the seed. When Angela took off with Mikey, I didn't... I never made an effort to get back in his life. I figured, the kid don't need a loser for a father. Now it's all come full circle. I give him the money, I open the door to all this... I musta had it coming. Payback. Natalie's hand lowers the needle onto the Sinatra record. "Nice 'n' Easy" starts up. She walks over to Bernie, takes the bottle away. Helps him to his feet. He gives himself over to her reassuring embrace. Natalie raises Bernie's face to her's. NATALIE Bernie, it's a big world out there. If you just took off -- if we took off. Bernie shakes his head. It's too late for that now. DISSOLVE TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - LATER - NIGHT Natalie staring up at the ceiling, Bernie nuzzled against her. Her features appear softer than ever. Luminous in the moonlight. Realization moist in her eyes. NATALIE You awake, Bernie? He grunts something inaudible. NATALIE I -- think I love you. Bernie tenses up. Huh? NATALIE No, I don't think. I'm pretty certain of it. Bernie raises his head, not quite sure he heard her right. Natalie sits up, hugs her knees. Bernie finds himself staring at her back. NATALIE You blind-sided me, Bernie Lootz. I never saw this coming. You shouldn't do that to a girl. Bernie reaches out, caresses her back. She emits a shiver... NATALIE There's still things you don't know... should know... I don't want to ruin it... Bernie pulls Natalie back toward him. BERNIE It won't make any difference, Natalie. Whatever you come clean about, I'm not gonna feel any different about you. I'd say the words, but with my luck... NATALIE Say 'em anyway. To hell with rotten luck. That's overs. BERNIE (a beat) I love you, Natalie. Natalie smothers her lips against Bernie's. He enshrouds her in his arms. Fade out... INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - DAY Fade into SOFT FOCUS. Slowing taking form... A CAT'S FACE seen in extreme close-up. WIDER -- to reveal the cat resting on Bernie's chest. She MEOWS as he stirs awake. He's stunned to see her there. BERNIE Trixie? The cat jumps off his chest and slinks over to her empty food bowl. Meows again. Bernie breaks into a wide smile. BERNIE Trix. You came back. Bernie shields his eyes from the bright sunlight streaming in through the blinds. Huh? This is a first for him. He's never gotten direct sunlight in his room before. What's the deal? Did the world just turn on its axis? He glances over his shoulder... No Natalie. Just her impression in the sheets. And a note on her pillow. For a moment his heart stops. He conjures up the worst. Grabs up the note, unfolds it. We see a lipstick kiss and the words: HAVE A SPECTACULAR DAY! Bernie lets out a joyful whoop! Leaps out of bed... SMASH CUT TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - CONTINUOUS - DAY CLOSE-UP: Trixie eating some tuna out of her bowl. We hear the record player needle drop on "Luck Be A Lady." Cut to: Bernie's feet gliding around the room... PAN UP to Bernie dancing with himself. He's positively aglow. He snatches up a salt shaker and sings along with Sinatra. It's true -- love makes the world go around. It obviously also gives life to dead plants, as evidenced by the small bulb that has sprung up overnight above his radiator. But we won't dwell on that. INT. SHANGRI-LA HOTEL AND CASINO - DAY Bernie struts into the casino a changed man (still to the tune of "Luck Be a Lady"). Even his limp seems less pronounced as he greets fellow workers as they pass. He catches a glimpse of himself in a wall mirror. Maybe for the first time, he likes what he sees. In the reflection he notices Natalie smiling at him. He meets her eyes. She averts them quickly, keeps walking. INT. SHELLY'S OFFICE - THAT MOMENT Shelly watches Bernie from the video monitor. He appears less than delighted over Bernie's sunny disposition. He picks up the phone, dials. SHELLY (into phone) Yeah, it's me. Get Bernie over to crap table six. INT. CASINO FLOOR - NIGHT Per usual, Bernie walks up to the bar, asks for a cup of coffee. Doris slides it over. BERNIE (looking around) Got any cre -- Before he can answer, Doris hands him a container of cream. A full container. Taken aback, he starts pouring it into his cup, when he hears a VOICE over the intercom: VOICE (V.O.) Lovett, party of six, your table is ready, Lovett, party of six. Bernie looks to Doris. BERNIE Duty calls. INT. CASINO - MONTAGE - MOMENTS LATER A -- Bernie arrives at a hundred dollar blackjack table just in time for the dealer to bust out. The crowd goes crazy! B -- Bernie takes a break by leaning up against the side of a slot machine. Suddenly, the woman playing it hits a jackpot. C -- Everywhere he seems to go, people continue to win. D -- Bernie, despite the spooky irony, can't help but smile as mountains of chips pile up on the tables. Shelly appears behind him. Not a happy camper. He gestures Bernie to follow him. INT. CASINO SLOTS AREA - NIGHT They head over to a section of slots. As they pass one of those huge million dollar slots, the FLOOR MANAGER cuts in front of them. FLOOR MANAGER Hey, Shelly, check it out. The new Mega-Million. I call her Marnie, 'cause she's one frigid broad. Sure, once in a while she'll flash you a bit of tit, but your chances of hitting a home run -- one in twenty million. Here, give her a shot... He hands Shelly a cup of quarters, takes off. Shelly looks to Bernie. He's trying to keep a lid on his anger. SHELLY (feeding Marnie quarters) You wanna tell me what's going on out there? BERNIE I don't know... Shelly pulls the lever. SHELLY What do you mean... Marnie immediately spits out a small jackpot. SHELLY (reacts with surprise) What do you mean, you don't know? We're down almost a mil out there. Doesn't seem strange to you? BERNIE (shrugs) Guess I'm having an off day. SHELLY You don't have off days, Lootz. You're shitty luck incarnate. What's wrong? You coming down with something? You've got this look about you... Shelly starts feeding Marnie again. BERNIE Nothing's wrong. Fact is, I've never felt better. SHELLY What's that supposed to mean? BERNIE She loves me, Shelly. She told me last night. Natalie. On the mention of Natalie's name, we hear a shrieking SIREN, followed by a deafening toll of slot bells. Shelly's just landed the million dollar jackpot. Shelly stares at the slot in surprise -- then looks over at Bernie. Realization hits hard. Fuck! The floor manager staggers over. His expression is priceless. FLOOR MANAGER Sweet Jesus... you popped her cherries. SEVERAL CASINO WORKERS have gathered to witness the deflowering of Marnie. They gaze reverently upon her, as if witnessing the "Close Encounters" mothership for the first time. Shelly drags Bernie out of earshot. SHELLY Natalie? She told you, she loves you? Bernie nods, a huge grin wrenching his cheeks apart. He's about to go helium on us. INT. CASINO FLOOR - NIGHT Natalie's serving drinks to a table of high rollers, when Tony and Lou appear behind her... INT. SHELLY'S OFFICE - NIGHT The door to Shelly's office slams behind Natalie. Shelly glares at her from behind his desk. We see him thumbing his steel abacus. The beads drifting toward the center. Natalie shakily lights up a cigarette. SHELLY Put that fucking thing out! Natalie, startled, drops her cigarettes. She kneels to gather them up. NATALIE Sorry. SHELLY You should be. You've gone and fucked it up big time. I paid you to be his cooze companion, not his fucking true love. But, no, you had to go and get all profound on the poor schmuck. (mimics female voice) "I love you, Bernie." You know what you've gone and done, sweetheart? Those four little words of endearment have already cost this casino a million and counting today. NATALIE I don't understand... SHELLY (jumps to his feet) Lady luck. You never heard'a lady luck?! That's what's goin' on out there. Lootz is Kryptonite on a stick. He should have 'em throwing ice cubes out there, but instead I got a fuckin' meltdown on my hands. Shelly walks around his desk to Natalie. SHELLY OK, here's what's gonna happen. You're outta his life by the time he gets home. Don't even tell him to his face, just leave a note. I'll make some calls, situate you at another joint. NATALIE I can't do that. SHELLY (right in her face) Excuse me? NATALIE It wasn't an act. I meant it. I love him. SHELLY (close to losing it) What's there to fuckin' love? He's a loser. Always has been, always will be. NATALIE I thought you were his friend... SHELLY And I thought you were a smart cookie when I picked you out. You do not want to fuck me over, darlin'. I'll see to it that your next John's a rattlesnake out in the desert. Now get the fuck outta here. Natalie rushes from the office in tears. Shelly closes his eyes for a moment -- gotta keep it together. INT. SHANGRI-LA CASINO - NIGHT Bernie approaches some cocktail waitresses about to go off duty. BERNIE Hi. Any of you seen Natalie around? I'm supposed to give her a ride home. COCKTAIL WAITRESS #1 I think she left already. She wasn't feelin' too good. We been covering for her. Off Bernie's expression: Oh... EXT. LUCKY STAR MOTEL - NIGHT Bernie's Buick pulls into the lot. He parks, heads for his room. INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT Bernie enters. Flips on the light. No Natalie. BERNIE (calls to the bathroom) Natalie? You in there? No answer. He heads over. Finds it empty. Concern spreads across his features. He glances around the room. Notices the closet wide open. Natalie's clothes missing. BERNIE (sotto) Natalie. That's when he catches sight of the note taped to the dresser mirror. He rushes over, rips it off. I'M SORRY BERNIE. I GUESS IT JUST WASN'T IN THE CARDS FOR US. TAKE CARE, NATALIE. Bernie slumps to the floor in disbelief. Starts to tremble. Then rocks back and forth, wracked by stifled sobs. Christ, make it stop hurting... DISSOLVE TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - LATER Bernie seated at the foot of the bed, drinking bourbon from

dealer

How many times the word 'dealer' appears in the text?

what Shangri- la is. Paradise. LARRY Yeah, we've all seen the movie. And your point is? Shelly whirls around, yells: SHELLY You don't fuck with paradise! All'a ya! NICKY Hey, Jesus, c'mon, Shelly. We're not trying to fuck with it. We're trying to make it better. SHELLY How... how, Nicky, could it be any better? Right now it's perfect. It's the last of its kind. It's pure... and this. (points to the model; weary) ...this is just... it's a mockery. An insult. Trying to make something of it that it isn't. LARRY What are you talking about? It's right outta the movie? SHELLY Whose talking about a fuckin' movie? This ain't a fuckin' movie. This is my life. This is my house of worship. You people are shittin' on all that's sacred to me. A tense silence ensues. Nicky, Larry and Marty exchange looks. SHELLY (tired laugh) I got just one question? Where you gonna be when they decide to change it back? When the people, they come looking for the real Vegas, from before all this Epcott Center bullshit. Who's gonna it give it to them? You guys? I don't think so. You know who? The same fucks who started this shit in the first place. It's all gonna come full circle and bite you in the ass. Mark my words. Shelly falls silent. Massages his forehead. Shit, that wasn't the way to handle it. Nicky gets up from the sofa, walks over to Shelly, places a hand on his shoulder. Shelly flinches, but doesn't pull away. NICKY You make some good points, Shelly. Maybe it'll swing back the other way, who knows? But the smart money suggests we roll the dice. I'm not gonna bullshit you; naturally there's gonna be a lot of restructuring in the months to come, but I want you to know, you'll always have a place with us. SHELLY Where's that? Behind the bar? MARTY (laughs) Behind the bar, that's a good one. NICKY I think you should take some time and think things through. All this, it's a lot to digest, y'know. MARTY Speaking of things to digest, I'm starving. How's that buffet they got in the Valley of the Blue Moon? You recommend their prime rib, Shell? Shelly stares right through Marty. Choke and die on it, motherfucker. SHELLY It's food. NICKY Hey, my arteries can use a workout. Lead us to the trough, Shell. Shelly nods at Nicky, then shifts his gaze to Larry. Larry's all smiles. He steps forward to join them, his hand dropping down and caressing the surface of Shelly's desk behind him. A subtle gesture not lost on Shelly. Shelly mentally unloads a full chamber into Larry's chest. Returns the smile. INT. CASINO - CRAPS TABLES - NIGHT As Shelly and the group pass a hot craps table, Nicky is drawn to it. NICKY Wait up a second... MARTY I thought we were gonna eat? Only now do we see Bernie has arrived to cool the table of its hot shooter -- A LOUD, pudgy, overdressed SUBURBANITE. Shelly eyes Bernie. SHELLY Maybe we wanna play over there. Less crowded. NICKY Nah, let's play here. This is my lucky table. I always play here. (to the others) Go on ahead. I know where to find you guys. Shelly signals Bernie to back off. Bernie steps back. Shelly, Larry and Marty head for the restaurant. Nicky quickly slaps down some green. The stickman slides the dice over to the suburbanite who is shooting. He scuttles the dice. They bounce up over the rail and spike Nicky on the forehead before dropping back on the felt. The players chuckle. STICKMAN Out! Seven, line away seven... Nicky rubs his forehead, glares at the suburbanite. He fires back. SUBURBANITE C"mon, pops! What the hell? I coulda paid my mortgage with the money I just lost. Nicky says nothing. The table is quickly cleared by the dealers. The stickman skips the next shooter and feeds the dice to Nicky. SHOOTER Hey? I'm supposed to be next... NICKY File a grievance, shithead. Suburbanite is still fuming over his loss. Nicky places a couple hundred on the passline. STICKMAN We're coming out. Crap Eleven, any seven. Nicky throws in some chips to the center. NICKY Hundred dollar big red. Suburbanite watches as Nicky runs through a lengthy pre-shot routine. Lots of hand jive and cuff shooting. SUBURBANITE Hurry it up, gramps. Your soup's getting cold. Nicky throws. STICKMAN Crap, Ace Deuce. Line down. The croupiers takes down the pass line. SUBURBANITE Hey, Busketti, maybe you should try shuffleboard. Nicky is fed the dice again. Same routine. Nicky just fires an incendiary look back at the suburbanite. SUBURBANITE Uncle Palsy? Shake'em this direction. Nicky throws. STICKMAN Four, hard four. The point is four. The players make their bets. SUBURBANITE Good now throw it before you fucking keel over and die, old man. Nicky slowly starts his routine defiantly. SUBURBANITE Happy birthday to me. Happy Birthday to me... Jesus, fuck, I'm another year older already. Nicky throws. STICKMAN OUT! Seven! Line away. Nicky claps his hands dealer style -- for effect -- and with a gentlemanly smile steps back from the table. Nicky's chips are quickly swept up by the croupier. SUBURBANITE Don't take it so hard, pops. Everybody craps out. Nicky locks eyes with the suburbanite. Then flashes a smile that suggests he's going to brush it off. He turns away from the table... SUBURBANITE Now go change your fucking Depends. Nicky makes like it's all in good jest. Yeah, that's real cute. He heads around the table to the suburbanite, holds out his hand as if to say: Hey, no hard feelings. The suburbanite shrugs. What the fuck? I was just playing with you, pops. He reaches for Nicky's hand... when Nicky suddenly headbutts him. Before anyone can react, Nicky starts laying into the suburbanite. The man goes down and. Nicky continues pummeling him... NICKY Who's laughing now, huh? ya fuckin! prick! C'mon, crack wise again... Ya fuckin' smooth as a Ken doll, no- dick, suburbanite scum. How's that for a game?! Shelly alerted to the fracas, rushes back to the table. He takes immediate control of the situation. Snaps his fingers at security. The suburbanite is whisked away with a pocketful of comps and a bruised ego. Shelly takes Nicky aside, attempts to calm him. Nicky keeps railing at Shelly: NICKY That ain't right, Shelly! Guy fucks up my game like that. Who the fuck does he think he is? SHELLY You're right. He's just a piece of shit. Forget about him. NICKY I thought this joint had more class. Used to be, we wouldn't even let bums like that in... Nicky catches himself. He looks at Shelly for a beat. There's an unspoken understanding between them. "The good old days." We see Bernie in the b.g., looking more than a bit shocked. INT. THE MAKAWAO BAR AND GRILL - NIGHT Bernie seated with Natalie. BERNIE This town... You know, Natalie, all I want to do is go some place where I can tell day from night. Where they got clocks on the wall. I can't breathe around here no more. Four days and I'm gone. I'm not even sure I can hold out that long. NATALIE (a beat) So where does that leave us? BERNIE A week ago, I didn't remember what it was like to have a woman's hands on me. I'm still pinching myself, expecting to wake-up from... (just blurts it out) Come with me, Natalie. I want you to come with me. NATALIE God, Bernie, that's... BERNIE I'm sorry. I didn't mean to spring that on you. NATALIE Bernie... I want to be with you. I do. But I don't know if I can leave with you. Bernie's look: Why? NATALIE I was working on a compatibility chart for the two of us. And it looks good, really, it does. BERNIE So, what's the problem? NATALIE That's with us here. In Vegas. Bernie's expression: Oh. NATALIE Maybe I was being presumptuous, 'cause I knew you were leaving... and I tried working it in different ways... It wasn't good, Bernie. I got scared. But that's just for now, for the immediate future. Once the planets realign, maybe a year from now... BERNIE Natalie... I can't... Not another year. Not another week. A somber mood falls on the table. Bernie reaches for Natalie's hand. Instead, he knocks the salt over. It spills out in front of them. BERNIE I think... we probably shouldn't see each other anymore. NATALIE Why, Bernie? We only got a couple days left together. Why not make the most of them? BERNIE (a long beat) Because if I spend one more night in your arms, I'm not going anywhere. NATALIE And that's so bad? Bernie just stares at her, shrouded in sadness. Natalie stubs out her cigarette, rises. NATALIE Take care, Bernie. Bernie casts his eyes to the mound of spilled salt in front of him. Nods. A few beats later he raises his head... BERNIE Natalie, don't... Gone. A WAITRESS appears. WAITRESS (O.S.) Get you another? BERNIE (nods) I think you better bring me the bottle. Please. INT. SHANGRI-LA HOTEL AND CASINO/BAR - NIGHT Once again, we see Bernie's feet limp across the casino floor. He walks up to the bar, asks for a cup of coffee. Doris brings it over. Short on the cream again. He just sips it black. Gloom and doom features. Life sucks. His master's VOICE sounds over the intercom: VOICE (V.O.) Chang, party of fifteen, your table is ready, Chang party of fifteen. Bernie looks to Doris. Sighs. Only three more days. INT. CASINO FLOOR - CRAPS TABLES - NIGHT He heads for the crap tables, the sound of raucous CHEERING becomes audible. A large crowd starting to gather. Bernie noodles his way to the front of the crowd. As soon as he gets a look at the heavy hitter at the table, he tenses up. Oh shit. It's MIKEY. With Charlene. Charlene is making one hell of a racket. Playing up her extremely maternal state. Just then Natalie sidles up to Bernie with the Chivas Regal. Without thinking about it, he grabs the glass off the tray, downs it in a single gulp. CHARLENE (clutching her tummy) Come on, Mikey. This is our future. Don't blow it. Mikey throws down a bet for the dealer. MIKEY Put this on the line for the boys. The stickman thanks him as they place the bet. Mikey throws down more money. We can see Mikey has bets all over the table. MIKEY With shoes! STICKMAN Dealer's got shoes. Hands high, the dice are out! The point is nine. CHARLENE Come on all you's. Put a good thought in for our baby! As everyone dotes over Charlene, Mikey quickly swaps the dice before anyone can see. He throws. STICKMAN Six the hard way! Mikey is paid nine thousand by the croupier, as is Charlene. Bernie stands frozen. He doesn't bother trying to get any closer to the table. He knows it'll do no good. CHARLENE Oh my god, I just felt him kick! He knows. He knows you're all pulling for him. God bless you all. Natalie looks over at Charlene. Their eyes meet for a second. It's as though Natalie knows it's a scam and Charlene's acknowledging it. Mikey throws again. STICKMAN Six the hard way! Look out, we got a shooter! Another nine grand. Mikey's rail is nearly full. Charlene hops around awkwardly causing more distraction. Bernie is really sweating it out now. Then Shelly arrives. Larry is hot on his tail. SHELLY How much? BERNIE Eighteen thousand since I stepped up. I'm sorry, Shelly, I guess I've been hit and miss lately. Shelly's expression tells us he isn't so sure. Something definitely isn't kosher. As Charlene chatters on, Mikey switches the dice back. Shelly makes him. SHELLY (sotto) Fucking amateurs... Mikey throws... STICKMAN Seven out! Line away. The players and crowd, though disappointed, applaud Mikey's achievement. MIKEY (bowing) I thank you. My wife thanks you. My unborn child thanks you. Mikey moves his rail of chips to the felt. MIKEY Color me up will ya? Larry notices Shelly slipping on a pair of leather gloves. LARRY You've gotta be kidding me. (off Shelly's steely glare) That's not how I propose we handle it. We'll turn the matter over to the authorities. They'll be blacklisted, their credit ruined... SHELLY (gets in Larry's face) And then we'll give 'em both a lollipop for the ride home. Come watch and learn, Harvard. A little lesson on how to protect your investment -- the old school way. Shelly walks over to Mikey and Charlene, Larry lingering behind him. SHELLY Hey, that was some run you had back there. MIKEY Uh, thanks. Just lucky I guess. Mikey steals a tense glance at Charlene. She starts to fidget nervously. SHELLY Why don't we go do this in my office? I don't like to hand out all this amount of cash on the floor. Security (Tony and Lou) corrals the couple. Leads them away. Bernie watches as they pass by. Mikey looks into Bernie's eyes. They both know he's been made. Natalie doesn't say anything, just looks at Bernie. INT. CASINO RECEIVING AREA - NIGHT Slot machines everywhere -- some on the way out, some on the way in. Crates of casino supplies. Bernie rushes in with Natalie behind him. Heading for an aural beacon of BLOWS landing on flesh... GRUNTING, PLEADING... ...arriving to find Tony and Lou kicking the shit out of Mikey on the floor. Charlene lies clutching her belly a few feet away. Shelly swings a baseball bat, warming up for some blood sport. Larry watches from the sidelines -- at once appalled and enthralled. CHARLENE Oh my God... I can feel the contractions coming on... Bernie rushes over to Shelly... BERNIE Shelly, stop them! Don't do this! SHELLY Get lost, Bernie, this got nothing to do with you. BERNIE It's got everything to do with me. He's my son. Everyone stops dead. Freeze frame. Shelly gets a weird look in his eye. A fuse has just been lit... SHELLY What did you say? BERNIE I said, he's my -- SHELLY Who? This little prick? Shelly smashes Mikey across the shoulder with the bat. AARRRGGGGHHH!!! Shelly raises the bat to cream Mikey again... Bernie grabs Shelly's arm. Shelly shoves him back. Raises the bat again... MIKEY Pop, help me... BERNIE Shelly, don't you fucking do it! Shelly freezes. He lowers the bat, throws it aside. Grabs Bernie by his collar... SHELLY Were you in on this? Jesus, you better come clean with me. BERNIE NO! God, no! I didn't know nothing about it. Shelly releases Bernie. There's a strange look in Shelly's eye. We see the wheels turning... SHELLY How much you think their lives are worth, Bernie? Myself, I don't think they're worth piss. But, hey, it ain't my kid... Bernie sees where Shelly's going with this. We can almost hear the cell door slamming in his head. SHELLY Let me see: they were up almost a hundred and fifty grand. That's 150 G's someone's gonna have to account for. What do you say, Bernie, seventy- five grand a piece? Bernie glances over at Natalie. She has tears in her eyes. He looks to Shelly pleadingly. Please don't do this... SHELLY Hey, I know you don't have that kind of cash. But, since you're a friend of the house, I'm willing to front you. BERNIE Shelly, they didn't get away with the money... You didn't lose anything... Shelly glances over at Lou, nods. Lou kicks Mikey in the face. His nose snaps like a twig. BERNIE Oh Jesus... Yes! All right. It's on me. 150 G's. Charlene clutches her belly, moans... CHARLENE Oh god, oh god... you gotta get me to the hospital... contractions... BERNIE Shelly, please help her. That's my grandson... SHELLY Hey, why don't we all break out the champagne? Lootz is about to become a granddaddy. (walks over to her) How you doin' there, sweetheart? Must hurt like crap, huh? CHARLENE (nods) Hurts so bad... SHELLY Yeah? Suddenly Shelly kicks Charlene in the belly! WHAM! She screeches out. NATALIE Oh God... BERNIE Jesus NOOOOO!!! Even Shelly's goons can't believe what they've just witnessed. Larry is aghast. Bernie rushes Shelly, starts raining blows on him. Shelly swats him off. He drops down next to the squirming girl, rips her sweater and blouse up over her stomach... ...to reveal a mound of fake padding. He tears the padding away from her, throws it at Bernie. SHELLY Here! It's a fuckin' boy. Anyone got a cigar? The muscle start laughing it up. Relief. Larry emits a nervous giggle. Natalie's jaw hits the floor. Bernie takes a step back. He's about to go into serious shock. Charlene curls over, sobbing. SHELLY (to Bernie) You sure you still want to be good for it? Because if you want to change your mind, I don't blame you. Bernie looks over at Mikey. He stares up at his father, trembling. MIKEY I'll make it up to you, Pop, I swear... Bernie holds his son's gaze for a beat. He's almost tempted to... He just shrugs and nods at Shelly. BERNIE It's on me. SHELLY (shakes his head) That's the worst fucking call you ever made in your life. ON NATALIE at that moment. We can tell she agrees with Shelly... but thinks all the more of Bernie for it. That might even be love in her eyes. Shelly snatches his baseball bat up off the floor. Walks over to Mikey, and brings it down full force, pulverizing Mikey's left kneecap. Oh man, the scream... BERNIE What are you doing?! I thought we had -- SHELLY 150 G's buys their lives. This is just a little slap on the wrist to remember me by. Natalie turns her head. She's about to throw up. Larry watches, unflinchingly. Charlene is making with some serious pleading now. CHARLENE Oh god... it wasn't my idea. Shelly steps up to Charlene, tapping the base of the bat in the palm of his hand. He smiles reassuringly at her. SHELLY You know, motherhood is a beautiful thing. This... you made a mockery out of it. Maybe you'll get to experience it for real one day. CHARLENE (nods, sobbing) I want... to be a mother... please don't hurt me... SHELLY I'm not going to hurt you. Shelly turns his back on her. Charlene starts sobbing relief. They're not going to hurt her. It's going to be all right. Wrong. Shelly throws the bat to Lou. The heavy steps up to the plate (as we RACK FOCUS to Shelly walking away) -- CRUNCH!!! followed by the girl's SHRIEKS. Natalie buries her head in Bernie's shoulder. SHELLY (to Tony and Lou) Get 'em outta here. You ever see them in this joint again, kill 'em. SHELLY (to Bernie and Natalie) You two, you're still on shift. Shelly catches Larry's eye: I hope you were taking notes. INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT Bernie's seated on the edge of his bed, drowning his sorrows with a bottle of gin. Moonlight paints him in jail bars of shadow. Natalie lingers in the b.g. BERNIE I did this to myself. I planted the seed. When Angela took off with Mikey, I didn't... I never made an effort to get back in his life. I figured, the kid don't need a loser for a father. Now it's all come full circle. I give him the money, I open the door to all this... I musta had it coming. Payback. Natalie's hand lowers the needle onto the Sinatra record. "Nice 'n' Easy" starts up. She walks over to Bernie, takes the bottle away. Helps him to his feet. He gives himself over to her reassuring embrace. Natalie raises Bernie's face to her's. NATALIE Bernie, it's a big world out there. If you just took off -- if we took off. Bernie shakes his head. It's too late for that now. DISSOLVE TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - LATER - NIGHT Natalie staring up at the ceiling, Bernie nuzzled against her. Her features appear softer than ever. Luminous in the moonlight. Realization moist in her eyes. NATALIE You awake, Bernie? He grunts something inaudible. NATALIE I -- think I love you. Bernie tenses up. Huh? NATALIE No, I don't think. I'm pretty certain of it. Bernie raises his head, not quite sure he heard her right. Natalie sits up, hugs her knees. Bernie finds himself staring at her back. NATALIE You blind-sided me, Bernie Lootz. I never saw this coming. You shouldn't do that to a girl. Bernie reaches out, caresses her back. She emits a shiver... NATALIE There's still things you don't know... should know... I don't want to ruin it... Bernie pulls Natalie back toward him. BERNIE It won't make any difference, Natalie. Whatever you come clean about, I'm not gonna feel any different about you. I'd say the words, but with my luck... NATALIE Say 'em anyway. To hell with rotten luck. That's overs. BERNIE (a beat) I love you, Natalie. Natalie smothers her lips against Bernie's. He enshrouds her in his arms. Fade out... INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - DAY Fade into SOFT FOCUS. Slowing taking form... A CAT'S FACE seen in extreme close-up. WIDER -- to reveal the cat resting on Bernie's chest. She MEOWS as he stirs awake. He's stunned to see her there. BERNIE Trixie? The cat jumps off his chest and slinks over to her empty food bowl. Meows again. Bernie breaks into a wide smile. BERNIE Trix. You came back. Bernie shields his eyes from the bright sunlight streaming in through the blinds. Huh? This is a first for him. He's never gotten direct sunlight in his room before. What's the deal? Did the world just turn on its axis? He glances over his shoulder... No Natalie. Just her impression in the sheets. And a note on her pillow. For a moment his heart stops. He conjures up the worst. Grabs up the note, unfolds it. We see a lipstick kiss and the words: HAVE A SPECTACULAR DAY! Bernie lets out a joyful whoop! Leaps out of bed... SMASH CUT TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - CONTINUOUS - DAY CLOSE-UP: Trixie eating some tuna out of her bowl. We hear the record player needle drop on "Luck Be A Lady." Cut to: Bernie's feet gliding around the room... PAN UP to Bernie dancing with himself. He's positively aglow. He snatches up a salt shaker and sings along with Sinatra. It's true -- love makes the world go around. It obviously also gives life to dead plants, as evidenced by the small bulb that has sprung up overnight above his radiator. But we won't dwell on that. INT. SHANGRI-LA HOTEL AND CASINO - DAY Bernie struts into the casino a changed man (still to the tune of "Luck Be a Lady"). Even his limp seems less pronounced as he greets fellow workers as they pass. He catches a glimpse of himself in a wall mirror. Maybe for the first time, he likes what he sees. In the reflection he notices Natalie smiling at him. He meets her eyes. She averts them quickly, keeps walking. INT. SHELLY'S OFFICE - THAT MOMENT Shelly watches Bernie from the video monitor. He appears less than delighted over Bernie's sunny disposition. He picks up the phone, dials. SHELLY (into phone) Yeah, it's me. Get Bernie over to crap table six. INT. CASINO FLOOR - NIGHT Per usual, Bernie walks up to the bar, asks for a cup of coffee. Doris slides it over. BERNIE (looking around) Got any cre -- Before he can answer, Doris hands him a container of cream. A full container. Taken aback, he starts pouring it into his cup, when he hears a VOICE over the intercom: VOICE (V.O.) Lovett, party of six, your table is ready, Lovett, party of six. Bernie looks to Doris. BERNIE Duty calls. INT. CASINO - MONTAGE - MOMENTS LATER A -- Bernie arrives at a hundred dollar blackjack table just in time for the dealer to bust out. The crowd goes crazy! B -- Bernie takes a break by leaning up against the side of a slot machine. Suddenly, the woman playing it hits a jackpot. C -- Everywhere he seems to go, people continue to win. D -- Bernie, despite the spooky irony, can't help but smile as mountains of chips pile up on the tables. Shelly appears behind him. Not a happy camper. He gestures Bernie to follow him. INT. CASINO SLOTS AREA - NIGHT They head over to a section of slots. As they pass one of those huge million dollar slots, the FLOOR MANAGER cuts in front of them. FLOOR MANAGER Hey, Shelly, check it out. The new Mega-Million. I call her Marnie, 'cause she's one frigid broad. Sure, once in a while she'll flash you a bit of tit, but your chances of hitting a home run -- one in twenty million. Here, give her a shot... He hands Shelly a cup of quarters, takes off. Shelly looks to Bernie. He's trying to keep a lid on his anger. SHELLY (feeding Marnie quarters) You wanna tell me what's going on out there? BERNIE I don't know... Shelly pulls the lever. SHELLY What do you mean... Marnie immediately spits out a small jackpot. SHELLY (reacts with surprise) What do you mean, you don't know? We're down almost a mil out there. Doesn't seem strange to you? BERNIE (shrugs) Guess I'm having an off day. SHELLY You don't have off days, Lootz. You're shitty luck incarnate. What's wrong? You coming down with something? You've got this look about you... Shelly starts feeding Marnie again. BERNIE Nothing's wrong. Fact is, I've never felt better. SHELLY What's that supposed to mean? BERNIE She loves me, Shelly. She told me last night. Natalie. On the mention of Natalie's name, we hear a shrieking SIREN, followed by a deafening toll of slot bells. Shelly's just landed the million dollar jackpot. Shelly stares at the slot in surprise -- then looks over at Bernie. Realization hits hard. Fuck! The floor manager staggers over. His expression is priceless. FLOOR MANAGER Sweet Jesus... you popped her cherries. SEVERAL CASINO WORKERS have gathered to witness the deflowering of Marnie. They gaze reverently upon her, as if witnessing the "Close Encounters" mothership for the first time. Shelly drags Bernie out of earshot. SHELLY Natalie? She told you, she loves you? Bernie nods, a huge grin wrenching his cheeks apart. He's about to go helium on us. INT. CASINO FLOOR - NIGHT Natalie's serving drinks to a table of high rollers, when Tony and Lou appear behind her... INT. SHELLY'S OFFICE - NIGHT The door to Shelly's office slams behind Natalie. Shelly glares at her from behind his desk. We see him thumbing his steel abacus. The beads drifting toward the center. Natalie shakily lights up a cigarette. SHELLY Put that fucking thing out! Natalie, startled, drops her cigarettes. She kneels to gather them up. NATALIE Sorry. SHELLY You should be. You've gone and fucked it up big time. I paid you to be his cooze companion, not his fucking true love. But, no, you had to go and get all profound on the poor schmuck. (mimics female voice) "I love you, Bernie." You know what you've gone and done, sweetheart? Those four little words of endearment have already cost this casino a million and counting today. NATALIE I don't understand... SHELLY (jumps to his feet) Lady luck. You never heard'a lady luck?! That's what's goin' on out there. Lootz is Kryptonite on a stick. He should have 'em throwing ice cubes out there, but instead I got a fuckin' meltdown on my hands. Shelly walks around his desk to Natalie. SHELLY OK, here's what's gonna happen. You're outta his life by the time he gets home. Don't even tell him to his face, just leave a note. I'll make some calls, situate you at another joint. NATALIE I can't do that. SHELLY (right in her face) Excuse me? NATALIE It wasn't an act. I meant it. I love him. SHELLY (close to losing it) What's there to fuckin' love? He's a loser. Always has been, always will be. NATALIE I thought you were his friend... SHELLY And I thought you were a smart cookie when I picked you out. You do not want to fuck me over, darlin'. I'll see to it that your next John's a rattlesnake out in the desert. Now get the fuck outta here. Natalie rushes from the office in tears. Shelly closes his eyes for a moment -- gotta keep it together. INT. SHANGRI-LA CASINO - NIGHT Bernie approaches some cocktail waitresses about to go off duty. BERNIE Hi. Any of you seen Natalie around? I'm supposed to give her a ride home. COCKTAIL WAITRESS #1 I think she left already. She wasn't feelin' too good. We been covering for her. Off Bernie's expression: Oh... EXT. LUCKY STAR MOTEL - NIGHT Bernie's Buick pulls into the lot. He parks, heads for his room. INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT Bernie enters. Flips on the light. No Natalie. BERNIE (calls to the bathroom) Natalie? You in there? No answer. He heads over. Finds it empty. Concern spreads across his features. He glances around the room. Notices the closet wide open. Natalie's clothes missing. BERNIE (sotto) Natalie. That's when he catches sight of the note taped to the dresser mirror. He rushes over, rips it off. I'M SORRY BERNIE. I GUESS IT JUST WASN'T IN THE CARDS FOR US. TAKE CARE, NATALIE. Bernie slumps to the floor in disbelief. Starts to tremble. Then rocks back and forth, wracked by stifled sobs. Christ, make it stop hurting... DISSOLVE TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - LATER Bernie seated at the foot of the bed, drinking bourbon from

blurts

How many times the word 'blurts' appears in the text?

what Shangri- la is. Paradise. LARRY Yeah, we've all seen the movie. And your point is? Shelly whirls around, yells: SHELLY You don't fuck with paradise! All'a ya! NICKY Hey, Jesus, c'mon, Shelly. We're not trying to fuck with it. We're trying to make it better. SHELLY How... how, Nicky, could it be any better? Right now it's perfect. It's the last of its kind. It's pure... and this. (points to the model; weary) ...this is just... it's a mockery. An insult. Trying to make something of it that it isn't. LARRY What are you talking about? It's right outta the movie? SHELLY Whose talking about a fuckin' movie? This ain't a fuckin' movie. This is my life. This is my house of worship. You people are shittin' on all that's sacred to me. A tense silence ensues. Nicky, Larry and Marty exchange looks. SHELLY (tired laugh) I got just one question? Where you gonna be when they decide to change it back? When the people, they come looking for the real Vegas, from before all this Epcott Center bullshit. Who's gonna it give it to them? You guys? I don't think so. You know who? The same fucks who started this shit in the first place. It's all gonna come full circle and bite you in the ass. Mark my words. Shelly falls silent. Massages his forehead. Shit, that wasn't the way to handle it. Nicky gets up from the sofa, walks over to Shelly, places a hand on his shoulder. Shelly flinches, but doesn't pull away. NICKY You make some good points, Shelly. Maybe it'll swing back the other way, who knows? But the smart money suggests we roll the dice. I'm not gonna bullshit you; naturally there's gonna be a lot of restructuring in the months to come, but I want you to know, you'll always have a place with us. SHELLY Where's that? Behind the bar? MARTY (laughs) Behind the bar, that's a good one. NICKY I think you should take some time and think things through. All this, it's a lot to digest, y'know. MARTY Speaking of things to digest, I'm starving. How's that buffet they got in the Valley of the Blue Moon? You recommend their prime rib, Shell? Shelly stares right through Marty. Choke and die on it, motherfucker. SHELLY It's food. NICKY Hey, my arteries can use a workout. Lead us to the trough, Shell. Shelly nods at Nicky, then shifts his gaze to Larry. Larry's all smiles. He steps forward to join them, his hand dropping down and caressing the surface of Shelly's desk behind him. A subtle gesture not lost on Shelly. Shelly mentally unloads a full chamber into Larry's chest. Returns the smile. INT. CASINO - CRAPS TABLES - NIGHT As Shelly and the group pass a hot craps table, Nicky is drawn to it. NICKY Wait up a second... MARTY I thought we were gonna eat? Only now do we see Bernie has arrived to cool the table of its hot shooter -- A LOUD, pudgy, overdressed SUBURBANITE. Shelly eyes Bernie. SHELLY Maybe we wanna play over there. Less crowded. NICKY Nah, let's play here. This is my lucky table. I always play here. (to the others) Go on ahead. I know where to find you guys. Shelly signals Bernie to back off. Bernie steps back. Shelly, Larry and Marty head for the restaurant. Nicky quickly slaps down some green. The stickman slides the dice over to the suburbanite who is shooting. He scuttles the dice. They bounce up over the rail and spike Nicky on the forehead before dropping back on the felt. The players chuckle. STICKMAN Out! Seven, line away seven... Nicky rubs his forehead, glares at the suburbanite. He fires back. SUBURBANITE C"mon, pops! What the hell? I coulda paid my mortgage with the money I just lost. Nicky says nothing. The table is quickly cleared by the dealers. The stickman skips the next shooter and feeds the dice to Nicky. SHOOTER Hey? I'm supposed to be next... NICKY File a grievance, shithead. Suburbanite is still fuming over his loss. Nicky places a couple hundred on the passline. STICKMAN We're coming out. Crap Eleven, any seven. Nicky throws in some chips to the center. NICKY Hundred dollar big red. Suburbanite watches as Nicky runs through a lengthy pre-shot routine. Lots of hand jive and cuff shooting. SUBURBANITE Hurry it up, gramps. Your soup's getting cold. Nicky throws. STICKMAN Crap, Ace Deuce. Line down. The croupiers takes down the pass line. SUBURBANITE Hey, Busketti, maybe you should try shuffleboard. Nicky is fed the dice again. Same routine. Nicky just fires an incendiary look back at the suburbanite. SUBURBANITE Uncle Palsy? Shake'em this direction. Nicky throws. STICKMAN Four, hard four. The point is four. The players make their bets. SUBURBANITE Good now throw it before you fucking keel over and die, old man. Nicky slowly starts his routine defiantly. SUBURBANITE Happy birthday to me. Happy Birthday to me... Jesus, fuck, I'm another year older already. Nicky throws. STICKMAN OUT! Seven! Line away. Nicky claps his hands dealer style -- for effect -- and with a gentlemanly smile steps back from the table. Nicky's chips are quickly swept up by the croupier. SUBURBANITE Don't take it so hard, pops. Everybody craps out. Nicky locks eyes with the suburbanite. Then flashes a smile that suggests he's going to brush it off. He turns away from the table... SUBURBANITE Now go change your fucking Depends. Nicky makes like it's all in good jest. Yeah, that's real cute. He heads around the table to the suburbanite, holds out his hand as if to say: Hey, no hard feelings. The suburbanite shrugs. What the fuck? I was just playing with you, pops. He reaches for Nicky's hand... when Nicky suddenly headbutts him. Before anyone can react, Nicky starts laying into the suburbanite. The man goes down and. Nicky continues pummeling him... NICKY Who's laughing now, huh? ya fuckin! prick! C'mon, crack wise again... Ya fuckin' smooth as a Ken doll, no- dick, suburbanite scum. How's that for a game?! Shelly alerted to the fracas, rushes back to the table. He takes immediate control of the situation. Snaps his fingers at security. The suburbanite is whisked away with a pocketful of comps and a bruised ego. Shelly takes Nicky aside, attempts to calm him. Nicky keeps railing at Shelly: NICKY That ain't right, Shelly! Guy fucks up my game like that. Who the fuck does he think he is? SHELLY You're right. He's just a piece of shit. Forget about him. NICKY I thought this joint had more class. Used to be, we wouldn't even let bums like that in... Nicky catches himself. He looks at Shelly for a beat. There's an unspoken understanding between them. "The good old days." We see Bernie in the b.g., looking more than a bit shocked. INT. THE MAKAWAO BAR AND GRILL - NIGHT Bernie seated with Natalie. BERNIE This town... You know, Natalie, all I want to do is go some place where I can tell day from night. Where they got clocks on the wall. I can't breathe around here no more. Four days and I'm gone. I'm not even sure I can hold out that long. NATALIE (a beat) So where does that leave us? BERNIE A week ago, I didn't remember what it was like to have a woman's hands on me. I'm still pinching myself, expecting to wake-up from... (just blurts it out) Come with me, Natalie. I want you to come with me. NATALIE God, Bernie, that's... BERNIE I'm sorry. I didn't mean to spring that on you. NATALIE Bernie... I want to be with you. I do. But I don't know if I can leave with you. Bernie's look: Why? NATALIE I was working on a compatibility chart for the two of us. And it looks good, really, it does. BERNIE So, what's the problem? NATALIE That's with us here. In Vegas. Bernie's expression: Oh. NATALIE Maybe I was being presumptuous, 'cause I knew you were leaving... and I tried working it in different ways... It wasn't good, Bernie. I got scared. But that's just for now, for the immediate future. Once the planets realign, maybe a year from now... BERNIE Natalie... I can't... Not another year. Not another week. A somber mood falls on the table. Bernie reaches for Natalie's hand. Instead, he knocks the salt over. It spills out in front of them. BERNIE I think... we probably shouldn't see each other anymore. NATALIE Why, Bernie? We only got a couple days left together. Why not make the most of them? BERNIE (a long beat) Because if I spend one more night in your arms, I'm not going anywhere. NATALIE And that's so bad? Bernie just stares at her, shrouded in sadness. Natalie stubs out her cigarette, rises. NATALIE Take care, Bernie. Bernie casts his eyes to the mound of spilled salt in front of him. Nods. A few beats later he raises his head... BERNIE Natalie, don't... Gone. A WAITRESS appears. WAITRESS (O.S.) Get you another? BERNIE (nods) I think you better bring me the bottle. Please. INT. SHANGRI-LA HOTEL AND CASINO/BAR - NIGHT Once again, we see Bernie's feet limp across the casino floor. He walks up to the bar, asks for a cup of coffee. Doris brings it over. Short on the cream again. He just sips it black. Gloom and doom features. Life sucks. His master's VOICE sounds over the intercom: VOICE (V.O.) Chang, party of fifteen, your table is ready, Chang party of fifteen. Bernie looks to Doris. Sighs. Only three more days. INT. CASINO FLOOR - CRAPS TABLES - NIGHT He heads for the crap tables, the sound of raucous CHEERING becomes audible. A large crowd starting to gather. Bernie noodles his way to the front of the crowd. As soon as he gets a look at the heavy hitter at the table, he tenses up. Oh shit. It's MIKEY. With Charlene. Charlene is making one hell of a racket. Playing up her extremely maternal state. Just then Natalie sidles up to Bernie with the Chivas Regal. Without thinking about it, he grabs the glass off the tray, downs it in a single gulp. CHARLENE (clutching her tummy) Come on, Mikey. This is our future. Don't blow it. Mikey throws down a bet for the dealer. MIKEY Put this on the line for the boys. The stickman thanks him as they place the bet. Mikey throws down more money. We can see Mikey has bets all over the table. MIKEY With shoes! STICKMAN Dealer's got shoes. Hands high, the dice are out! The point is nine. CHARLENE Come on all you's. Put a good thought in for our baby! As everyone dotes over Charlene, Mikey quickly swaps the dice before anyone can see. He throws. STICKMAN Six the hard way! Mikey is paid nine thousand by the croupier, as is Charlene. Bernie stands frozen. He doesn't bother trying to get any closer to the table. He knows it'll do no good. CHARLENE Oh my god, I just felt him kick! He knows. He knows you're all pulling for him. God bless you all. Natalie looks over at Charlene. Their eyes meet for a second. It's as though Natalie knows it's a scam and Charlene's acknowledging it. Mikey throws again. STICKMAN Six the hard way! Look out, we got a shooter! Another nine grand. Mikey's rail is nearly full. Charlene hops around awkwardly causing more distraction. Bernie is really sweating it out now. Then Shelly arrives. Larry is hot on his tail. SHELLY How much? BERNIE Eighteen thousand since I stepped up. I'm sorry, Shelly, I guess I've been hit and miss lately. Shelly's expression tells us he isn't so sure. Something definitely isn't kosher. As Charlene chatters on, Mikey switches the dice back. Shelly makes him. SHELLY (sotto) Fucking amateurs... Mikey throws... STICKMAN Seven out! Line away. The players and crowd, though disappointed, applaud Mikey's achievement. MIKEY (bowing) I thank you. My wife thanks you. My unborn child thanks you. Mikey moves his rail of chips to the felt. MIKEY Color me up will ya? Larry notices Shelly slipping on a pair of leather gloves. LARRY You've gotta be kidding me. (off Shelly's steely glare) That's not how I propose we handle it. We'll turn the matter over to the authorities. They'll be blacklisted, their credit ruined... SHELLY (gets in Larry's face) And then we'll give 'em both a lollipop for the ride home. Come watch and learn, Harvard. A little lesson on how to protect your investment -- the old school way. Shelly walks over to Mikey and Charlene, Larry lingering behind him. SHELLY Hey, that was some run you had back there. MIKEY Uh, thanks. Just lucky I guess. Mikey steals a tense glance at Charlene. She starts to fidget nervously. SHELLY Why don't we go do this in my office? I don't like to hand out all this amount of cash on the floor. Security (Tony and Lou) corrals the couple. Leads them away. Bernie watches as they pass by. Mikey looks into Bernie's eyes. They both know he's been made. Natalie doesn't say anything, just looks at Bernie. INT. CASINO RECEIVING AREA - NIGHT Slot machines everywhere -- some on the way out, some on the way in. Crates of casino supplies. Bernie rushes in with Natalie behind him. Heading for an aural beacon of BLOWS landing on flesh... GRUNTING, PLEADING... ...arriving to find Tony and Lou kicking the shit out of Mikey on the floor. Charlene lies clutching her belly a few feet away. Shelly swings a baseball bat, warming up for some blood sport. Larry watches from the sidelines -- at once appalled and enthralled. CHARLENE Oh my God... I can feel the contractions coming on... Bernie rushes over to Shelly... BERNIE Shelly, stop them! Don't do this! SHELLY Get lost, Bernie, this got nothing to do with you. BERNIE It's got everything to do with me. He's my son. Everyone stops dead. Freeze frame. Shelly gets a weird look in his eye. A fuse has just been lit... SHELLY What did you say? BERNIE I said, he's my -- SHELLY Who? This little prick? Shelly smashes Mikey across the shoulder with the bat. AARRRGGGGHHH!!! Shelly raises the bat to cream Mikey again... Bernie grabs Shelly's arm. Shelly shoves him back. Raises the bat again... MIKEY Pop, help me... BERNIE Shelly, don't you fucking do it! Shelly freezes. He lowers the bat, throws it aside. Grabs Bernie by his collar... SHELLY Were you in on this? Jesus, you better come clean with me. BERNIE NO! God, no! I didn't know nothing about it. Shelly releases Bernie. There's a strange look in Shelly's eye. We see the wheels turning... SHELLY How much you think their lives are worth, Bernie? Myself, I don't think they're worth piss. But, hey, it ain't my kid... Bernie sees where Shelly's going with this. We can almost hear the cell door slamming in his head. SHELLY Let me see: they were up almost a hundred and fifty grand. That's 150 G's someone's gonna have to account for. What do you say, Bernie, seventy- five grand a piece? Bernie glances over at Natalie. She has tears in her eyes. He looks to Shelly pleadingly. Please don't do this... SHELLY Hey, I know you don't have that kind of cash. But, since you're a friend of the house, I'm willing to front you. BERNIE Shelly, they didn't get away with the money... You didn't lose anything... Shelly glances over at Lou, nods. Lou kicks Mikey in the face. His nose snaps like a twig. BERNIE Oh Jesus... Yes! All right. It's on me. 150 G's. Charlene clutches her belly, moans... CHARLENE Oh god, oh god... you gotta get me to the hospital... contractions... BERNIE Shelly, please help her. That's my grandson... SHELLY Hey, why don't we all break out the champagne? Lootz is about to become a granddaddy. (walks over to her) How you doin' there, sweetheart? Must hurt like crap, huh? CHARLENE (nods) Hurts so bad... SHELLY Yeah? Suddenly Shelly kicks Charlene in the belly! WHAM! She screeches out. NATALIE Oh God... BERNIE Jesus NOOOOO!!! Even Shelly's goons can't believe what they've just witnessed. Larry is aghast. Bernie rushes Shelly, starts raining blows on him. Shelly swats him off. He drops down next to the squirming girl, rips her sweater and blouse up over her stomach... ...to reveal a mound of fake padding. He tears the padding away from her, throws it at Bernie. SHELLY Here! It's a fuckin' boy. Anyone got a cigar? The muscle start laughing it up. Relief. Larry emits a nervous giggle. Natalie's jaw hits the floor. Bernie takes a step back. He's about to go into serious shock. Charlene curls over, sobbing. SHELLY (to Bernie) You sure you still want to be good for it? Because if you want to change your mind, I don't blame you. Bernie looks over at Mikey. He stares up at his father, trembling. MIKEY I'll make it up to you, Pop, I swear... Bernie holds his son's gaze for a beat. He's almost tempted to... He just shrugs and nods at Shelly. BERNIE It's on me. SHELLY (shakes his head) That's the worst fucking call you ever made in your life. ON NATALIE at that moment. We can tell she agrees with Shelly... but thinks all the more of Bernie for it. That might even be love in her eyes. Shelly snatches his baseball bat up off the floor. Walks over to Mikey, and brings it down full force, pulverizing Mikey's left kneecap. Oh man, the scream... BERNIE What are you doing?! I thought we had -- SHELLY 150 G's buys their lives. This is just a little slap on the wrist to remember me by. Natalie turns her head. She's about to throw up. Larry watches, unflinchingly. Charlene is making with some serious pleading now. CHARLENE Oh god... it wasn't my idea. Shelly steps up to Charlene, tapping the base of the bat in the palm of his hand. He smiles reassuringly at her. SHELLY You know, motherhood is a beautiful thing. This... you made a mockery out of it. Maybe you'll get to experience it for real one day. CHARLENE (nods, sobbing) I want... to be a mother... please don't hurt me... SHELLY I'm not going to hurt you. Shelly turns his back on her. Charlene starts sobbing relief. They're not going to hurt her. It's going to be all right. Wrong. Shelly throws the bat to Lou. The heavy steps up to the plate (as we RACK FOCUS to Shelly walking away) -- CRUNCH!!! followed by the girl's SHRIEKS. Natalie buries her head in Bernie's shoulder. SHELLY (to Tony and Lou) Get 'em outta here. You ever see them in this joint again, kill 'em. SHELLY (to Bernie and Natalie) You two, you're still on shift. Shelly catches Larry's eye: I hope you were taking notes. INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT Bernie's seated on the edge of his bed, drowning his sorrows with a bottle of gin. Moonlight paints him in jail bars of shadow. Natalie lingers in the b.g. BERNIE I did this to myself. I planted the seed. When Angela took off with Mikey, I didn't... I never made an effort to get back in his life. I figured, the kid don't need a loser for a father. Now it's all come full circle. I give him the money, I open the door to all this... I musta had it coming. Payback. Natalie's hand lowers the needle onto the Sinatra record. "Nice 'n' Easy" starts up. She walks over to Bernie, takes the bottle away. Helps him to his feet. He gives himself over to her reassuring embrace. Natalie raises Bernie's face to her's. NATALIE Bernie, it's a big world out there. If you just took off -- if we took off. Bernie shakes his head. It's too late for that now. DISSOLVE TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - LATER - NIGHT Natalie staring up at the ceiling, Bernie nuzzled against her. Her features appear softer than ever. Luminous in the moonlight. Realization moist in her eyes. NATALIE You awake, Bernie? He grunts something inaudible. NATALIE I -- think I love you. Bernie tenses up. Huh? NATALIE No, I don't think. I'm pretty certain of it. Bernie raises his head, not quite sure he heard her right. Natalie sits up, hugs her knees. Bernie finds himself staring at her back. NATALIE You blind-sided me, Bernie Lootz. I never saw this coming. You shouldn't do that to a girl. Bernie reaches out, caresses her back. She emits a shiver... NATALIE There's still things you don't know... should know... I don't want to ruin it... Bernie pulls Natalie back toward him. BERNIE It won't make any difference, Natalie. Whatever you come clean about, I'm not gonna feel any different about you. I'd say the words, but with my luck... NATALIE Say 'em anyway. To hell with rotten luck. That's overs. BERNIE (a beat) I love you, Natalie. Natalie smothers her lips against Bernie's. He enshrouds her in his arms. Fade out... INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - DAY Fade into SOFT FOCUS. Slowing taking form... A CAT'S FACE seen in extreme close-up. WIDER -- to reveal the cat resting on Bernie's chest. She MEOWS as he stirs awake. He's stunned to see her there. BERNIE Trixie? The cat jumps off his chest and slinks over to her empty food bowl. Meows again. Bernie breaks into a wide smile. BERNIE Trix. You came back. Bernie shields his eyes from the bright sunlight streaming in through the blinds. Huh? This is a first for him. He's never gotten direct sunlight in his room before. What's the deal? Did the world just turn on its axis? He glances over his shoulder... No Natalie. Just her impression in the sheets. And a note on her pillow. For a moment his heart stops. He conjures up the worst. Grabs up the note, unfolds it. We see a lipstick kiss and the words: HAVE A SPECTACULAR DAY! Bernie lets out a joyful whoop! Leaps out of bed... SMASH CUT TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - CONTINUOUS - DAY CLOSE-UP: Trixie eating some tuna out of her bowl. We hear the record player needle drop on "Luck Be A Lady." Cut to: Bernie's feet gliding around the room... PAN UP to Bernie dancing with himself. He's positively aglow. He snatches up a salt shaker and sings along with Sinatra. It's true -- love makes the world go around. It obviously also gives life to dead plants, as evidenced by the small bulb that has sprung up overnight above his radiator. But we won't dwell on that. INT. SHANGRI-LA HOTEL AND CASINO - DAY Bernie struts into the casino a changed man (still to the tune of "Luck Be a Lady"). Even his limp seems less pronounced as he greets fellow workers as they pass. He catches a glimpse of himself in a wall mirror. Maybe for the first time, he likes what he sees. In the reflection he notices Natalie smiling at him. He meets her eyes. She averts them quickly, keeps walking. INT. SHELLY'S OFFICE - THAT MOMENT Shelly watches Bernie from the video monitor. He appears less than delighted over Bernie's sunny disposition. He picks up the phone, dials. SHELLY (into phone) Yeah, it's me. Get Bernie over to crap table six. INT. CASINO FLOOR - NIGHT Per usual, Bernie walks up to the bar, asks for a cup of coffee. Doris slides it over. BERNIE (looking around) Got any cre -- Before he can answer, Doris hands him a container of cream. A full container. Taken aback, he starts pouring it into his cup, when he hears a VOICE over the intercom: VOICE (V.O.) Lovett, party of six, your table is ready, Lovett, party of six. Bernie looks to Doris. BERNIE Duty calls. INT. CASINO - MONTAGE - MOMENTS LATER A -- Bernie arrives at a hundred dollar blackjack table just in time for the dealer to bust out. The crowd goes crazy! B -- Bernie takes a break by leaning up against the side of a slot machine. Suddenly, the woman playing it hits a jackpot. C -- Everywhere he seems to go, people continue to win. D -- Bernie, despite the spooky irony, can't help but smile as mountains of chips pile up on the tables. Shelly appears behind him. Not a happy camper. He gestures Bernie to follow him. INT. CASINO SLOTS AREA - NIGHT They head over to a section of slots. As they pass one of those huge million dollar slots, the FLOOR MANAGER cuts in front of them. FLOOR MANAGER Hey, Shelly, check it out. The new Mega-Million. I call her Marnie, 'cause she's one frigid broad. Sure, once in a while she'll flash you a bit of tit, but your chances of hitting a home run -- one in twenty million. Here, give her a shot... He hands Shelly a cup of quarters, takes off. Shelly looks to Bernie. He's trying to keep a lid on his anger. SHELLY (feeding Marnie quarters) You wanna tell me what's going on out there? BERNIE I don't know... Shelly pulls the lever. SHELLY What do you mean... Marnie immediately spits out a small jackpot. SHELLY (reacts with surprise) What do you mean, you don't know? We're down almost a mil out there. Doesn't seem strange to you? BERNIE (shrugs) Guess I'm having an off day. SHELLY You don't have off days, Lootz. You're shitty luck incarnate. What's wrong? You coming down with something? You've got this look about you... Shelly starts feeding Marnie again. BERNIE Nothing's wrong. Fact is, I've never felt better. SHELLY What's that supposed to mean? BERNIE She loves me, Shelly. She told me last night. Natalie. On the mention of Natalie's name, we hear a shrieking SIREN, followed by a deafening toll of slot bells. Shelly's just landed the million dollar jackpot. Shelly stares at the slot in surprise -- then looks over at Bernie. Realization hits hard. Fuck! The floor manager staggers over. His expression is priceless. FLOOR MANAGER Sweet Jesus... you popped her cherries. SEVERAL CASINO WORKERS have gathered to witness the deflowering of Marnie. They gaze reverently upon her, as if witnessing the "Close Encounters" mothership for the first time. Shelly drags Bernie out of earshot. SHELLY Natalie? She told you, she loves you? Bernie nods, a huge grin wrenching his cheeks apart. He's about to go helium on us. INT. CASINO FLOOR - NIGHT Natalie's serving drinks to a table of high rollers, when Tony and Lou appear behind her... INT. SHELLY'S OFFICE - NIGHT The door to Shelly's office slams behind Natalie. Shelly glares at her from behind his desk. We see him thumbing his steel abacus. The beads drifting toward the center. Natalie shakily lights up a cigarette. SHELLY Put that fucking thing out! Natalie, startled, drops her cigarettes. She kneels to gather them up. NATALIE Sorry. SHELLY You should be. You've gone and fucked it up big time. I paid you to be his cooze companion, not his fucking true love. But, no, you had to go and get all profound on the poor schmuck. (mimics female voice) "I love you, Bernie." You know what you've gone and done, sweetheart? Those four little words of endearment have already cost this casino a million and counting today. NATALIE I don't understand... SHELLY (jumps to his feet) Lady luck. You never heard'a lady luck?! That's what's goin' on out there. Lootz is Kryptonite on a stick. He should have 'em throwing ice cubes out there, but instead I got a fuckin' meltdown on my hands. Shelly walks around his desk to Natalie. SHELLY OK, here's what's gonna happen. You're outta his life by the time he gets home. Don't even tell him to his face, just leave a note. I'll make some calls, situate you at another joint. NATALIE I can't do that. SHELLY (right in her face) Excuse me? NATALIE It wasn't an act. I meant it. I love him. SHELLY (close to losing it) What's there to fuckin' love? He's a loser. Always has been, always will be. NATALIE I thought you were his friend... SHELLY And I thought you were a smart cookie when I picked you out. You do not want to fuck me over, darlin'. I'll see to it that your next John's a rattlesnake out in the desert. Now get the fuck outta here. Natalie rushes from the office in tears. Shelly closes his eyes for a moment -- gotta keep it together. INT. SHANGRI-LA CASINO - NIGHT Bernie approaches some cocktail waitresses about to go off duty. BERNIE Hi. Any of you seen Natalie around? I'm supposed to give her a ride home. COCKTAIL WAITRESS #1 I think she left already. She wasn't feelin' too good. We been covering for her. Off Bernie's expression: Oh... EXT. LUCKY STAR MOTEL - NIGHT Bernie's Buick pulls into the lot. He parks, heads for his room. INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT Bernie enters. Flips on the light. No Natalie. BERNIE (calls to the bathroom) Natalie? You in there? No answer. He heads over. Finds it empty. Concern spreads across his features. He glances around the room. Notices the closet wide open. Natalie's clothes missing. BERNIE (sotto) Natalie. That's when he catches sight of the note taped to the dresser mirror. He rushes over, rips it off. I'M SORRY BERNIE. I GUESS IT JUST WASN'T IN THE CARDS FOR US. TAKE CARE, NATALIE. Bernie slumps to the floor in disbelief. Starts to tremble. Then rocks back and forth, wracked by stifled sobs. Christ, make it stop hurting... DISSOLVE TO: INT. BERNIE'S MOTEL ROOM - LATER Bernie seated at the foot of the bed, drinking bourbon from

birthday

How many times the word 'birthday' appears in the text?

what grief was, not so long ago; but not till now had she known anxiety. Charles's state of mind was a matter of simple astonishment to her. At first it quite frightened and shocked her; it was as if Charles had lost his identity, and had turned out some one else. It was like a great breach of trust. She had seen there was a good deal in the newspapers about the "Oxford party" and their doings; and at different places, where she had been on visits, she had heard of churches being done up in the new fashion, and clergymen being accused, in consequence, of Popery--a charge which she had laughed at. But now it was actually brought home to her door that there was something in it. Yet it was to her incomprehensible, and she hardly knew where she was. And that, of all persons in the world, her brother, her own Charles, with whom she had been one heart and soul all their lives--one so cheerful, so religious, so good, so sensible, so cautious,--that he should be the first specimen that crossed her path of the new opinions,--it bewildered her. And where _had_ he got his notions?--Notions! she could not call them notions; he had nothing to say for himself. It was an infatuation; he, so clever, so sharp-sighted, could say nothing better in defence of himself than that Mrs. Bishop of Monmouth was too pretty, and that old Dr. Stock sat upon a cushion. Oh, sad, sad indeed! How was it he could be so insensible to the blessings he gained from his Church, and had enjoyed all his life? What could he need? _She_ had no need at all: going to church was a pleasure to her. She liked to hear the Lessons and the Collects, coming round year after year, and marking the seasons. The historical books and prophets in summer; then the "stir-up" Collect just before Advent; the beautiful Collects in Advent itself, with the Lessons from Isaiah reaching on through Epiphany; they were quite music to the ear. Then the Psalms, varying with every Sunday; they were a perpetual solace to her, ever old yet ever new. The occasional additions, too--the Athanasian Creed, the Benedictus, Deus misereatur, and Omnia opera, which her father had been used to read at certain great feasts; and the beautiful Litany. What could he want more? where could he find so much? Well, it was a mystery to her; and she could only feel thankful that _she_ was not exposed to the temptations, whatever they were, which had acted on the powerful mind of her brother. Then, she had anticipated how pleasant it would be when Charles was a clergyman, and she should hear him preach; when there would be one whom she would have a right to ask questions and to consult whenever she wished. This prospect was at an end; she could no longer trust him: he had given a shake to her confidence which it never could recover; it was gone for ever. They were all of them women but he; he was their only stay, now that her father had been taken away. What was now to become of them? To be abandoned by her own brother! oh, how terrible! And how was she to break it to her mother? for broken it must be sooner or later. She could not deceive herself; she knew her brother well enough to feel sure that, when he had really got hold of a thing, he would not let it go again without convincing reasons; and what reasons there could be for letting it go she could not conceive, if there could be reasons for taking it up. The taking it up baffled all reason, all calculation. Well, but how was her mother to be told of it? Was it better to let her suspect it first, and so break it to her, or to wait till the event happened? The problem was too difficult for the present, and she must leave it. This was her state for several days, till her fever of mind gradually subsided into a state of which a dull anxiety was a latent but habitual element, leaving her as usual at ordinary times, but every now and then betraying itself by sudden sharp sighs or wanderings of thought. Neither brother nor sister, loving each other really as much as ever, had quite the same sweetness and evenness of temper as was natural to them; self-control became a duty, and the evening circle was duller than before, without any one being able to say why. Charles was more attentive to his mother; he no more brought his books into the drawing-room, but gave himself to her company. He read to them, but he had little to talk about; and Eliza and Caroline both wished his stupid examination, past and over, that he might be restored to his natural liveliness. As to Mrs. Reding, she did not observe more than that her son was a very hard student, and grudged himself a walk or ride, let the day be ever so fine. She was a mild, quiet person, of keen feelings and precise habits; not very quick at observation; and, having lived all her life in the country, and till her late loss having scarcely known what trouble was, she was singularly unable to comprehend how things could go on in any way but one. Charles had not told her the real cause of his spending the winter at home, thinking it would be a needless vexation to her; much less did he contemplate harassing her with the recital of his own religious difficulties, which were not appreciable by her, and issued in no definite result. To his sister he did attempt an explanation of his former conversation, with a view of softening the extreme misgivings which it had created in her mind. She received it thankfully, and professed to be relieved by it; but the blow was struck, the suspicion was lodged deep in her mind--he was still Charles, dear to her as ever, but she never could rid herself of the anticipation which on that occasion she had expressed. CHAPTER XIV. One morning he was told that a gentleman had asked for him, and been shown into the dining-room. Descending, he saw the tall slender figure of Bateman, now a clergyman, and lately appointed curate of a neighbouring parish. Charles had not seen him for a year and a half, and shook hands with him very warmly, complimenting him on his white neckcloth, which somehow, he said, altered him more than he could have expected. Bateman's manner certainly was altered; it might be the accident of the day, but he did not seem quite at his ease; it might be that he was in a strange house, and was likely soon to be precipitated into the company of ladies, to which he had never been used. If so, the trial was on the point of beginning, for Charles said instantly that he must come and see his mother, and of course meant to dine with them; the sky was clear, and there was an excellent footpath between Boughton and Melford. Bateman could not do this, but he would have the greatest pleasure in being introduced to Mrs. Reding; so he stumbled after Charles into the drawing-room, and was soon conversing with her and the young ladies. "A charming prospect you have here, ma'am," said Bateman, "when you are once inside the house. It does not promise outside so extensive a view." "No, it is shut in with trees," said Mrs. Reding; "and the brow of the hill changes its direction so much that at first I used to think the prospect ought to be from the opposite windows." "What is that high hill?" said Bateman. "It is Hart Hill," said Charles; "there's a Roman camp atop of it." "We can see eight steeples from our windows," said Mrs. Reding;--"ring the bell for luncheon, my dear." "Ah, our ancestors, Mrs. Reding," said Bateman, "thought more of building churches than we do; or rather than we have done, I should say, for now it is astonishing what efforts are made to add to our ecclesiastical structures." "Our ancestors did a good deal too," said Mrs. Reding; "how many churches, my dear, were built in London in Queen Anne's time? St. Martin's was one of them." "Fifty," said Eliza. "Fifty were intended," said Charles. "Yes, Mrs. Reding," said Bateman; "but by ancestors I meant the holy Bishops and other members of our Catholic Church previously to the Reformation. For, though the Reformation was a great blessing" (a glance at Charles), "yet we must not, in justice, forget what was done by English Churchmen before it." "Ah, poor creatures," said Mrs. Reding, "they did one good thing in building churches; it has saved us much trouble." "Is there much church-restoration going on in these parts?" said Bateman, taken rather aback. "My mother has but lately come here, like yourself," said Charles; "yes, there is some; Barton Church, you know," appealing to Mary. "Have your walks extended so far as Barton?" said Mary to Bateman. "Not yet, Miss Reding, not yet," answered he; "of course they are destroying the pews." "They are to put in seats," said Charles, "and of a very good pattern." "Pews are intolerable," said Bateman; "yet the last generation of incumbents contentedly bore them; it is wonderful!" A not unnatural silence followed this speech. Charles broke it by asking if Bateman intended to do anything in the improvement line at Melford. Bateman looked modest. "Nothing of any consequence," he said; "some few things were done; but he had a rector of the old school, poor man, who was an enemy to that sort of thing." It was with some malicious feeling, in consequence of his attack on clergymen of the past age, that Charles pressed his visitor to give an account of his own reforms. "Why," said Bateman, "much discretion is necessary in these matters, or you do as much harm as good; you get into hot water with churchwardens and vestries, as well as with old rectors, and again with the gentry of the place, and please no one. For this reason I have made no attempt to introduce the surplice into the pulpit except on the great festivals, intending to familiarize my parishioners to it by little and little. However, I wear a scarf or stole, and have taken care that it should be two inches broader than usual; and I always wear the cassock in my parish. I hope you approve of the cassock, Mrs. Reding?" "It is a very cold dress, sir--that's my opinion--when made of silk or bombazeen; and very unbecoming too, when worn by itself." "Particularly behind," said Charles; "it is quite unshapely." "Oh, I have remedied that," said Bateman; "you have noticed, Miss Reding, I dare say, the Bishop's short cassock. It comes to the knees, and looks much like a continuation of a waistcoat, the straight-cut coat being worn as usual. Well, Miss Reding, I have adopted the same plan with the long cassock; I put my coat over it." Mary had difficulty to keep from smiling; Charles laughed out. "Impossible, Bateman," he said; "you don't mean you wear your tailed French coat over your long straight cassock reaching to your ankles?" "Certainly," said Bateman gravely; "I thus consult for warmth and appearance too; and all my parishioners are sure to know me. I think this a great point, Miss Reding: I hear the little boys as I pass say, 'That's the parson.'" "I'll be bound they do," said Charles. "Well," said Mrs. Reding, surprised out of her propriety, "did one ever hear the like!" Bateman looked round at her, startled and frightened. "You were going to speak of your improvements in your church," said Mary, wishing to divert his attention from her mother. "Ah, true, Miss Reding, true," said Bateman, "thank you for reminding me; I have digressed to improvements in my own dress. I should have liked to have pulled down the galleries and lowered the high pews; that, however, I could not do. So I have lowered the pulpit some six feet. Now by doing so, first I give a pattern in my own person of the kind of condescension or lowliness to which I would persuade my people. But this is not all; for the consequence of lowering the pulpit is, that no one in the galleries can see or hear me preach; and this is a bonus on those who are below." "It's a broad hint, certainly," said Charles. "But it's a hint for those below also," continued Bateman; "for no one can see or hear me in the pews either, till the sides are lowered." "One thing only is wanting besides," said Charles, smiling and looking amiable, lest he should be saying too much; "since you are full tall, you must kneel when you preach, Bateman, else you will undo your own alterations." Bateman looked pleased. "I have anticipated you," he said; "I preach sitting. It is more comformable to antiquity and to reason to sit than to stand." "With these precautions," said Charles, "I really think you might have ventured on your surplice in the pulpit every Sunday. Are your parishioners contented?" "Oh, not at all, far from it," cried Bateman; "but they can do nothing. The alteration is so simple." "Nothing besides?" asked Charles. "Nothing in the architectural way," answered he; "but one thing more in the way of observances. I have fortunately picked up a very fair copy of Jewell, black-letter; and I have placed it in church, securing it with a chain to the wall, for any poor person who wishes to read it. Our church is emphatically the 'poor man's church,' Mrs. Reding." "Well," said Charles to himself, "I'll back the old parsons against the young ones any day, if this is to be their cut." Then aloud: "Come, you must see our garden; take up your hat, and let's have a turn in it. There's a very nice terrace-walk at the upper end." Bateman accordingly, having been thus trotted out for the amusement of the ladies, was now led off again, and was soon in the aforesaid terrace-walk, pacing up and down in earnest conversation with Charles. "Reding, my good fellow," said he, "what is the meaning of this report concerning you, which is everywhere about?" "I have not heard it," said Charles abruptly. "Why, it is this," said Bateman; "I wish to approach the subject with as great delicacy as possible: don't tell me if you don't like it, or tell me just as much as you like; yet you will excuse an old friend. They say you are going to leave the Church of your baptism for the Church of Rome." "Is it widely spread?" asked Charles coolly. "Oh, yes; I heard it in London; have had a letter mentioning it from Oxford; and a friend of mine heard it given out as positive at a visitation dinner in Wales." "So," thought Charles, "you are bringing _your_ witness against me as well as the rest." "Well but, my good Reding," said Bateman, "why are you silent? is it true--is it true?" "What true? that I am a Roman Catholic? Oh, certainly; don't you understand, that's why I am reading so hard for the schools?" said Charles. "Come, be serious for a moment, Reding," said Bateman, "do be serious. Will you empower me to contradict the report, or to negative it to a certain point, or in any respect?" "Oh, to be sure," said Charles, "contradict it, by all means, contradict it entirely." "May I give it a plain, unqualified, unconditional, categorical, flat denial?" asked Bateman. "Of course, of course." Bateman could not make him out, and had not a dream how he was teasing him. "I don't know where to find you," he said. They paced down the walk in silence. Bateman began again. "You see," he said, "it would be such a wonderful blindness, it would be so utterly inexcusable in a person like yourself, who had known _what_ the Church of England was; not a Dissenter, not an unlettered layman; but one who had been at Oxford, who had come across so many excellent men, who had seen what the Church of England could be, her grave beauty, her orderly and decent activity; who had seen churches decorated as they should be, with candlesticks, ciboriums, faldstools, lecterns, antependiums, piscinas, rood-lofts, and sedilia; who, in fact, had seen the Church Service _carried out_, and could desiderate nothing;--tell me, my dear good Reding," taking hold of his button-hole, "what is it you want--what is it? name it." "That you would take yourself off," Charles would have said, had he spoken his mind; he merely said, however, that really he desiderated nothing but to be believed when he said that he had no intention of leaving his own Church. Bateman was incredulous, and thought him close. "Perhaps you are not aware," he said, "how much is known of the circumstances of your being sent down. The old Principal was full of the subject." "What! I suppose he told people right and left," said Reding. "Oh, yes," answered Bateman; "a friend of mine knows him, and happening to call on him soon after you went down, had the whole story from him. He spoke most kindly of you, and in the highest terms; said that it was deplorable how much your mind was warped by the prevalent opinions, and that he should not be surprised if it turned out you were a Romanist even while you were at St. Saviour's; anyhow, that you would be one day a Romanist for certain, for that you held that the saints reigning with Christ interceded for us in heaven. But what was stronger, when the report got about, Sheffield said that he was not surprised at it, that he always prophesied it." "I am much obliged to him," said Charles. "However, you warrant me," said Bateman, "to contradict it--so I understand you--to contradict it peremptorily; that's enough for me. It's a great relief; it's very satisfactory. Well, I must be going." "I don't like to seem to drive you away," said Charles, "but really you must be going if you want to get home before nightfall. I hope you don't feel lonely or overworked where you are. If you are so at any time, don't scruple to drop in to dinner here; nay, we can take you in for a night, if you wish it." Bateman thanked him, and they proceeded to the hall-door together; when they were nearly parting, Bateman stopped and said, "Do you know, I should like to lend you some books to read. Let me send up to you Bramhall's Works, Thorndike, Barrow on the Unity of the Church, and Leslie's Dialogues on Romanism. I could name others, but content myself with these at present. They perfectly settle the matter; you can't help being convinced. I'll not say a word more; good-bye to you, good-bye." CHAPTER XV. Much as Charles loved and prized the company of his mother and sisters he was not sorry to have gentlemen's society, so he accepted with pleasure an invitation which Bateman sent him to dine with him at Melford. Also he wished to show Bateman, what no protestation could effect, how absurdly exaggerated were the reports which were circulated about him. And as the said Bateman, with all his want of common sense, was really a well-informed man, and well read in English divines, he thought he might incidentally hear something from him which he could turn to account. When he got to Melford he found a Mr. Campbell had been asked to meet him; a young Cambridge rector of a neighbouring parish, of the same religious sentiments on the whole as Bateman, and, though a little positive, a man of clear head and vigorous mind. They had been going over the church; and the conversation at dinner turned on the revival of Gothic architecture--an event which gave unmixed satisfaction to all parties. The subject would have died out, almost as soon as it was started, for want of a difference upon it, had not Bateman happily gone on boldly to declare that, if he had his will, there should be no architecture in the English churches but Gothic, and no music but Gregorian. This was a good thesis, distinctly put, and gave scope for a very pretty quarrel. Reding said that all these adjuncts of worship, whether music or architecture, were national; they were the mode in which religious feeling showed itself in particular times and places. He did not mean to say that the outward expression of religion in a country might not be guided, but it could not be forced; that it was as preposterous to make people worship in one's own way, as be merry in one's own way. "The Greeks," he said, "cut the hair in grief, the Romans let it grow; the Orientals veiled their heads in worship, the Greeks uncovered them; Christians take off their hats in a church, Mahometans their shoes; a long veil is a sign of modesty in Europe, of immodesty in Asia. You may as well try to change the size of people, as their forms of worship. Bateman, we must cut you down a foot, and then you shall begin your ecclesiastical reforms." "But surely, my worthy friend," answered Bateman, "you don't mean to say that there is no natural connexion between internal feeling and outward expression, so that one form is no better than another?" "Far from it," answered Charles; "but let those who confine their music to Gregorians put up crucifixes in the highways. Each is the representative of a particular place or time." "That's what I say of our good friend's short coat and long cassock," said Campbell; "it is a confusion of different times, ancient and modern." "Or of different ideas," said Charles, "the cassock Catholic, the coat Protestant." "The reverse," said Bateman; "the cassock is old Hooker's Anglican habit: the coat comes from Catholic France." "Anyhow, it is what Mr. Reding calls a mixture of ideas," said Campbell; "and that's the difficulty I find in uniting Gothic and Gregorians." "Oh, pardon me," said Bateman, "they are one idea; they are both eminently Catholic." "You can't be more Catholic than Rome, I suppose," said Campbell; "yet there's no Gothic there." "Rome is a peculiar place," said Bateman; "besides, my dear friend, if we do but consider that Rome has corrupted the pure apostolic doctrine, can we wonder that it should have a corrupt architecture?" "Why, then, go to Rome for Gregorians?" said Campbell; "I suspect they are called after Gregory I. Bishop of Rome, whom Protestants consider the first specimen of Antichrist." "It's nothing to us what Protestants think," answered Bateman. "Don't let us quarrel about terms," said Campbell; "both you and I think that Rome has corrupted the faith, whether she is Antichrist or not. You said so yourself just now." "It is true, I did," said Bateman; "but I make a little distinction. The Church of Rome has not _corrupted_ the faith, but has _admitted_ corruptions among her people." "It won't do," answered Campbell; "depend on it, we can't stand our ground in controversy unless we in our hearts think very severely of the Church of Rome." "Why, what's Rome to us?" asked Bateman; "we come from the old British Church; we don't meddle with Rome, and we wish Rome not to meddle with us, but she will." "Well," said Campbell, "you but read a bit of the history of the Reformation, and you will find that the doctrine that the Pope is Antichrist was the life of the movement." "With Ultra-Protestants, not with us," answered Bateman. "Such Ultra-Protestants as the writers of the Homilies," said Campbell; "but, I say again, I am not contending for names; I only mean, that as that doctrine was the life of the Reformation, so a belief, which I have and you too, that there is something bad, corrupt, perilous in the Church of Rome--that there is a spirit of Antichrist living in her, energizing in her, and ruling her--is necessary to a man's being a good Anglican. You must believe this, or you ought to go to Rome." "Impossible! my dear friend," said Bateman; "all our doctrine has been that Rome and we are sister Churches." "I say," said Campbell, "that without this strong repulsion you will not withstand the great claims, the overcoming attractions, of the Church of Rome. She is our mother--oh, that word 'mother!'--a mighty mother! She opens her arms--oh, the fragrance of that bosom! She is full of gifts--I feel it, I have long felt it. Why don't I rush into her arms? Because I feel that she is ruled by a spirit which is not she. But did that distrust of her go from me, was that certainty which I have of her corruption disproved, I should join her communion to-morrow." "This is not very edifying doctrine for Reding," thought Bateman. "Oh, my good Campbell," he said, "you are paradoxical to-day." "Not a bit of it," answered Campbell; "our Reformers felt that the only way in which they could break the tie of allegiance which bound us to Rome was the doctrine of her serious corruption. And so it is with our divines. If there is one doctrine in which they agree, it is that Rome is Antichrist, or an Antichrist. Depend upon it, that doctrine is necessary for our position." "I don't quite understand that language," said Reding; "I see it is used in various publications. It implies that controversy is a game, and that disputants are not looking out for truth, but for arguments." "You must not mistake me, Mr. Reding," answered Campbell; "all I mean is, that you have no leave to trifle with your conviction that Rome is antichristian, if you think so. For if it _is_ so, it is necessary to _say_ so. A poet says, 'Speak _gently_ of our sister's _fall_:' no, if it is a fall, we must not speak gently of it. At first one says, 'So great a Church! who am I, to speak against her?' Yes, you must, if your view of her is true: 'Tell truth and shame the Devil.' Recollect you don't use your own words; you are sanctioned, protected by all our divines. You must, else you can give no sufficient reason for not joining the Church of Rome. You must speak out, not what you _don't_ think, but what you _do_ think, _if_ you do think it." "Here's a doctrine!" thought Charles; "why it's putting the controversy into a nutshell." Bateman interposed. "My dear Campbell," he said, "you are behind the day. We have given up all that abuse against Rome." "Then the party is not so clever as I give them credit for being," answered Campbell; "be sure of this,--those who have given up their protests against Rome, either are looking towards her, or have no eyes to see." "All we say," answered Bateman, "is, as I said before, that _we_ don't wish to interfere with Rome; _we_ don't anathematize Rome--Rome anathematizes _us_." "It won't do," said Campbell; "those who resolve to remain in our Church, and are using sweet words of Romanism, will be forced back upon their proper ground in spite of themselves, and will get no thanks for their pains. No man can serve two masters; either go to Rome, or condemn Rome. For me, the Romish Church has a great deal in it which I can't get over; and thinking so, much as I admire it in parts, I can't help speaking, I can't help it. It would not be honest, and it would not be consistent." "Well, he has ended better than he began," thought Bateman; and he chimed in, "Oh yes, true, too true; it's painful to see it, but there's a great deal in the Church of Rome which no man of plain sense, no reader of the Fathers, no Scripture student, no true member of the Anglo-Catholic Church can possibly stomach." This put a corona on the discussion; and the rest of the dinner passed off pleasantly indeed, but not very intellectually. CHAPTER XVI. After dinner it occurred to them that the subject of Gregorians and Gothic had been left in the lurch. "How in the world did we get off it?" asked Charles. "Well, at least, we have found it," said Bateman; "and I really should like to hear what you have to say upon it, Campbell." "Oh, really, Bateman," answered he, "I am quite sick of the subject; every one seems to me to be going into extremes: what's the good of arguing about it? you won't agree with me." "I don't see that at all," answered Bateman; "people often think they differ, merely because they have not courage to talk to each other." "A good remark," thought Charles; "what a pity that Bateman, with so much sense, should have so little common sense!" "Well, then," said Campbell, "my quarrel with Gothic and Gregorians, when coupled together, is, that they are two ideas, not one. Have figured music in Gothic churches, keep your Gregorian for basilicas." "My good Campbell," said Bateman, "you seem oblivious that Gregorian chants and hymns have always accompanied Gothic aisles, Gothic copes, Gothic mitres, and Gothic chalices." "Our ancestors did what they could," answered Campbell; "they were great in architecture, small in music. They could not use what was not yet invented. They sang Gregorians because they had not Palestrina." "A paradox, a paradox!" cried Bateman. "Surely there is a close connexion," answered Campbell, "between the rise and nature of the basilica and of Gregorian unison.

quick

How many times the word 'quick' appears in the text?

what grief was, not so long ago; but not till now had she known anxiety. Charles's state of mind was a matter of simple astonishment to her. At first it quite frightened and shocked her; it was as if Charles had lost his identity, and had turned out some one else. It was like a great breach of trust. She had seen there was a good deal in the newspapers about the "Oxford party" and their doings; and at different places, where she had been on visits, she had heard of churches being done up in the new fashion, and clergymen being accused, in consequence, of Popery--a charge which she had laughed at. But now it was actually brought home to her door that there was something in it. Yet it was to her incomprehensible, and she hardly knew where she was. And that, of all persons in the world, her brother, her own Charles, with whom she had been one heart and soul all their lives--one so cheerful, so religious, so good, so sensible, so cautious,--that he should be the first specimen that crossed her path of the new opinions,--it bewildered her. And where _had_ he got his notions?--Notions! she could not call them notions; he had nothing to say for himself. It was an infatuation; he, so clever, so sharp-sighted, could say nothing better in defence of himself than that Mrs. Bishop of Monmouth was too pretty, and that old Dr. Stock sat upon a cushion. Oh, sad, sad indeed! How was it he could be so insensible to the blessings he gained from his Church, and had enjoyed all his life? What could he need? _She_ had no need at all: going to church was a pleasure to her. She liked to hear the Lessons and the Collects, coming round year after year, and marking the seasons. The historical books and prophets in summer; then the "stir-up" Collect just before Advent; the beautiful Collects in Advent itself, with the Lessons from Isaiah reaching on through Epiphany; they were quite music to the ear. Then the Psalms, varying with every Sunday; they were a perpetual solace to her, ever old yet ever new. The occasional additions, too--the Athanasian Creed, the Benedictus, Deus misereatur, and Omnia opera, which her father had been used to read at certain great feasts; and the beautiful Litany. What could he want more? where could he find so much? Well, it was a mystery to her; and she could only feel thankful that _she_ was not exposed to the temptations, whatever they were, which had acted on the powerful mind of her brother. Then, she had anticipated how pleasant it would be when Charles was a clergyman, and she should hear him preach; when there would be one whom she would have a right to ask questions and to consult whenever she wished. This prospect was at an end; she could no longer trust him: he had given a shake to her confidence which it never could recover; it was gone for ever. They were all of them women but he; he was their only stay, now that her father had been taken away. What was now to become of them? To be abandoned by her own brother! oh, how terrible! And how was she to break it to her mother? for broken it must be sooner or later. She could not deceive herself; she knew her brother well enough to feel sure that, when he had really got hold of a thing, he would not let it go again without convincing reasons; and what reasons there could be for letting it go she could not conceive, if there could be reasons for taking it up. The taking it up baffled all reason, all calculation. Well, but how was her mother to be told of it? Was it better to let her suspect it first, and so break it to her, or to wait till the event happened? The problem was too difficult for the present, and she must leave it. This was her state for several days, till her fever of mind gradually subsided into a state of which a dull anxiety was a latent but habitual element, leaving her as usual at ordinary times, but every now and then betraying itself by sudden sharp sighs or wanderings of thought. Neither brother nor sister, loving each other really as much as ever, had quite the same sweetness and evenness of temper as was natural to them; self-control became a duty, and the evening circle was duller than before, without any one being able to say why. Charles was more attentive to his mother; he no more brought his books into the drawing-room, but gave himself to her company. He read to them, but he had little to talk about; and Eliza and Caroline both wished his stupid examination, past and over, that he might be restored to his natural liveliness. As to Mrs. Reding, she did not observe more than that her son was a very hard student, and grudged himself a walk or ride, let the day be ever so fine. She was a mild, quiet person, of keen feelings and precise habits; not very quick at observation; and, having lived all her life in the country, and till her late loss having scarcely known what trouble was, she was singularly unable to comprehend how things could go on in any way but one. Charles had not told her the real cause of his spending the winter at home, thinking it would be a needless vexation to her; much less did he contemplate harassing her with the recital of his own religious difficulties, which were not appreciable by her, and issued in no definite result. To his sister he did attempt an explanation of his former conversation, with a view of softening the extreme misgivings which it had created in her mind. She received it thankfully, and professed to be relieved by it; but the blow was struck, the suspicion was lodged deep in her mind--he was still Charles, dear to her as ever, but she never could rid herself of the anticipation which on that occasion she had expressed. CHAPTER XIV. One morning he was told that a gentleman had asked for him, and been shown into the dining-room. Descending, he saw the tall slender figure of Bateman, now a clergyman, and lately appointed curate of a neighbouring parish. Charles had not seen him for a year and a half, and shook hands with him very warmly, complimenting him on his white neckcloth, which somehow, he said, altered him more than he could have expected. Bateman's manner certainly was altered; it might be the accident of the day, but he did not seem quite at his ease; it might be that he was in a strange house, and was likely soon to be precipitated into the company of ladies, to which he had never been used. If so, the trial was on the point of beginning, for Charles said instantly that he must come and see his mother, and of course meant to dine with them; the sky was clear, and there was an excellent footpath between Boughton and Melford. Bateman could not do this, but he would have the greatest pleasure in being introduced to Mrs. Reding; so he stumbled after Charles into the drawing-room, and was soon conversing with her and the young ladies. "A charming prospect you have here, ma'am," said Bateman, "when you are once inside the house. It does not promise outside so extensive a view." "No, it is shut in with trees," said Mrs. Reding; "and the brow of the hill changes its direction so much that at first I used to think the prospect ought to be from the opposite windows." "What is that high hill?" said Bateman. "It is Hart Hill," said Charles; "there's a Roman camp atop of it." "We can see eight steeples from our windows," said Mrs. Reding;--"ring the bell for luncheon, my dear." "Ah, our ancestors, Mrs. Reding," said Bateman, "thought more of building churches than we do; or rather than we have done, I should say, for now it is astonishing what efforts are made to add to our ecclesiastical structures." "Our ancestors did a good deal too," said Mrs. Reding; "how many churches, my dear, were built in London in Queen Anne's time? St. Martin's was one of them." "Fifty," said Eliza. "Fifty were intended," said Charles. "Yes, Mrs. Reding," said Bateman; "but by ancestors I meant the holy Bishops and other members of our Catholic Church previously to the Reformation. For, though the Reformation was a great blessing" (a glance at Charles), "yet we must not, in justice, forget what was done by English Churchmen before it." "Ah, poor creatures," said Mrs. Reding, "they did one good thing in building churches; it has saved us much trouble." "Is there much church-restoration going on in these parts?" said Bateman, taken rather aback. "My mother has but lately come here, like yourself," said Charles; "yes, there is some; Barton Church, you know," appealing to Mary. "Have your walks extended so far as Barton?" said Mary to Bateman. "Not yet, Miss Reding, not yet," answered he; "of course they are destroying the pews." "They are to put in seats," said Charles, "and of a very good pattern." "Pews are intolerable," said Bateman; "yet the last generation of incumbents contentedly bore them; it is wonderful!" A not unnatural silence followed this speech. Charles broke it by asking if Bateman intended to do anything in the improvement line at Melford. Bateman looked modest. "Nothing of any consequence," he said; "some few things were done; but he had a rector of the old school, poor man, who was an enemy to that sort of thing." It was with some malicious feeling, in consequence of his attack on clergymen of the past age, that Charles pressed his visitor to give an account of his own reforms. "Why," said Bateman, "much discretion is necessary in these matters, or you do as much harm as good; you get into hot water with churchwardens and vestries, as well as with old rectors, and again with the gentry of the place, and please no one. For this reason I have made no attempt to introduce the surplice into the pulpit except on the great festivals, intending to familiarize my parishioners to it by little and little. However, I wear a scarf or stole, and have taken care that it should be two inches broader than usual; and I always wear the cassock in my parish. I hope you approve of the cassock, Mrs. Reding?" "It is a very cold dress, sir--that's my opinion--when made of silk or bombazeen; and very unbecoming too, when worn by itself." "Particularly behind," said Charles; "it is quite unshapely." "Oh, I have remedied that," said Bateman; "you have noticed, Miss Reding, I dare say, the Bishop's short cassock. It comes to the knees, and looks much like a continuation of a waistcoat, the straight-cut coat being worn as usual. Well, Miss Reding, I have adopted the same plan with the long cassock; I put my coat over it." Mary had difficulty to keep from smiling; Charles laughed out. "Impossible, Bateman," he said; "you don't mean you wear your tailed French coat over your long straight cassock reaching to your ankles?" "Certainly," said Bateman gravely; "I thus consult for warmth and appearance too; and all my parishioners are sure to know me. I think this a great point, Miss Reding: I hear the little boys as I pass say, 'That's the parson.'" "I'll be bound they do," said Charles. "Well," said Mrs. Reding, surprised out of her propriety, "did one ever hear the like!" Bateman looked round at her, startled and frightened. "You were going to speak of your improvements in your church," said Mary, wishing to divert his attention from her mother. "Ah, true, Miss Reding, true," said Bateman, "thank you for reminding me; I have digressed to improvements in my own dress. I should have liked to have pulled down the galleries and lowered the high pews; that, however, I could not do. So I have lowered the pulpit some six feet. Now by doing so, first I give a pattern in my own person of the kind of condescension or lowliness to which I would persuade my people. But this is not all; for the consequence of lowering the pulpit is, that no one in the galleries can see or hear me preach; and this is a bonus on those who are below." "It's a broad hint, certainly," said Charles. "But it's a hint for those below also," continued Bateman; "for no one can see or hear me in the pews either, till the sides are lowered." "One thing only is wanting besides," said Charles, smiling and looking amiable, lest he should be saying too much; "since you are full tall, you must kneel when you preach, Bateman, else you will undo your own alterations." Bateman looked pleased. "I have anticipated you," he said; "I preach sitting. It is more comformable to antiquity and to reason to sit than to stand." "With these precautions," said Charles, "I really think you might have ventured on your surplice in the pulpit every Sunday. Are your parishioners contented?" "Oh, not at all, far from it," cried Bateman; "but they can do nothing. The alteration is so simple." "Nothing besides?" asked Charles. "Nothing in the architectural way," answered he; "but one thing more in the way of observances. I have fortunately picked up a very fair copy of Jewell, black-letter; and I have placed it in church, securing it with a chain to the wall, for any poor person who wishes to read it. Our church is emphatically the 'poor man's church,' Mrs. Reding." "Well," said Charles to himself, "I'll back the old parsons against the young ones any day, if this is to be their cut." Then aloud: "Come, you must see our garden; take up your hat, and let's have a turn in it. There's a very nice terrace-walk at the upper end." Bateman accordingly, having been thus trotted out for the amusement of the ladies, was now led off again, and was soon in the aforesaid terrace-walk, pacing up and down in earnest conversation with Charles. "Reding, my good fellow," said he, "what is the meaning of this report concerning you, which is everywhere about?" "I have not heard it," said Charles abruptly. "Why, it is this," said Bateman; "I wish to approach the subject with as great delicacy as possible: don't tell me if you don't like it, or tell me just as much as you like; yet you will excuse an old friend. They say you are going to leave the Church of your baptism for the Church of Rome." "Is it widely spread?" asked Charles coolly. "Oh, yes; I heard it in London; have had a letter mentioning it from Oxford; and a friend of mine heard it given out as positive at a visitation dinner in Wales." "So," thought Charles, "you are bringing _your_ witness against me as well as the rest." "Well but, my good Reding," said Bateman, "why are you silent? is it true--is it true?" "What true? that I am a Roman Catholic? Oh, certainly; don't you understand, that's why I am reading so hard for the schools?" said Charles. "Come, be serious for a moment, Reding," said Bateman, "do be serious. Will you empower me to contradict the report, or to negative it to a certain point, or in any respect?" "Oh, to be sure," said Charles, "contradict it, by all means, contradict it entirely." "May I give it a plain, unqualified, unconditional, categorical, flat denial?" asked Bateman. "Of course, of course." Bateman could not make him out, and had not a dream how he was teasing him. "I don't know where to find you," he said. They paced down the walk in silence. Bateman began again. "You see," he said, "it would be such a wonderful blindness, it would be so utterly inexcusable in a person like yourself, who had known _what_ the Church of England was; not a Dissenter, not an unlettered layman; but one who had been at Oxford, who had come across so many excellent men, who had seen what the Church of England could be, her grave beauty, her orderly and decent activity; who had seen churches decorated as they should be, with candlesticks, ciboriums, faldstools, lecterns, antependiums, piscinas, rood-lofts, and sedilia; who, in fact, had seen the Church Service _carried out_, and could desiderate nothing;--tell me, my dear good Reding," taking hold of his button-hole, "what is it you want--what is it? name it." "That you would take yourself off," Charles would have said, had he spoken his mind; he merely said, however, that really he desiderated nothing but to be believed when he said that he had no intention of leaving his own Church. Bateman was incredulous, and thought him close. "Perhaps you are not aware," he said, "how much is known of the circumstances of your being sent down. The old Principal was full of the subject." "What! I suppose he told people right and left," said Reding. "Oh, yes," answered Bateman; "a friend of mine knows him, and happening to call on him soon after you went down, had the whole story from him. He spoke most kindly of you, and in the highest terms; said that it was deplorable how much your mind was warped by the prevalent opinions, and that he should not be surprised if it turned out you were a Romanist even while you were at St. Saviour's; anyhow, that you would be one day a Romanist for certain, for that you held that the saints reigning with Christ interceded for us in heaven. But what was stronger, when the report got about, Sheffield said that he was not surprised at it, that he always prophesied it." "I am much obliged to him," said Charles. "However, you warrant me," said Bateman, "to contradict it--so I understand you--to contradict it peremptorily; that's enough for me. It's a great relief; it's very satisfactory. Well, I must be going." "I don't like to seem to drive you away," said Charles, "but really you must be going if you want to get home before nightfall. I hope you don't feel lonely or overworked where you are. If you are so at any time, don't scruple to drop in to dinner here; nay, we can take you in for a night, if you wish it." Bateman thanked him, and they proceeded to the hall-door together; when they were nearly parting, Bateman stopped and said, "Do you know, I should like to lend you some books to read. Let me send up to you Bramhall's Works, Thorndike, Barrow on the Unity of the Church, and Leslie's Dialogues on Romanism. I could name others, but content myself with these at present. They perfectly settle the matter; you can't help being convinced. I'll not say a word more; good-bye to you, good-bye." CHAPTER XV. Much as Charles loved and prized the company of his mother and sisters he was not sorry to have gentlemen's society, so he accepted with pleasure an invitation which Bateman sent him to dine with him at Melford. Also he wished to show Bateman, what no protestation could effect, how absurdly exaggerated were the reports which were circulated about him. And as the said Bateman, with all his want of common sense, was really a well-informed man, and well read in English divines, he thought he might incidentally hear something from him which he could turn to account. When he got to Melford he found a Mr. Campbell had been asked to meet him; a young Cambridge rector of a neighbouring parish, of the same religious sentiments on the whole as Bateman, and, though a little positive, a man of clear head and vigorous mind. They had been going over the church; and the conversation at dinner turned on the revival of Gothic architecture--an event which gave unmixed satisfaction to all parties. The subject would have died out, almost as soon as it was started, for want of a difference upon it, had not Bateman happily gone on boldly to declare that, if he had his will, there should be no architecture in the English churches but Gothic, and no music but Gregorian. This was a good thesis, distinctly put, and gave scope for a very pretty quarrel. Reding said that all these adjuncts of worship, whether music or architecture, were national; they were the mode in which religious feeling showed itself in particular times and places. He did not mean to say that the outward expression of religion in a country might not be guided, but it could not be forced; that it was as preposterous to make people worship in one's own way, as be merry in one's own way. "The Greeks," he said, "cut the hair in grief, the Romans let it grow; the Orientals veiled their heads in worship, the Greeks uncovered them; Christians take off their hats in a church, Mahometans their shoes; a long veil is a sign of modesty in Europe, of immodesty in Asia. You may as well try to change the size of people, as their forms of worship. Bateman, we must cut you down a foot, and then you shall begin your ecclesiastical reforms." "But surely, my worthy friend," answered Bateman, "you don't mean to say that there is no natural connexion between internal feeling and outward expression, so that one form is no better than another?" "Far from it," answered Charles; "but let those who confine their music to Gregorians put up crucifixes in the highways. Each is the representative of a particular place or time." "That's what I say of our good friend's short coat and long cassock," said Campbell; "it is a confusion of different times, ancient and modern." "Or of different ideas," said Charles, "the cassock Catholic, the coat Protestant." "The reverse," said Bateman; "the cassock is old Hooker's Anglican habit: the coat comes from Catholic France." "Anyhow, it is what Mr. Reding calls a mixture of ideas," said Campbell; "and that's the difficulty I find in uniting Gothic and Gregorians." "Oh, pardon me," said Bateman, "they are one idea; they are both eminently Catholic." "You can't be more Catholic than Rome, I suppose," said Campbell; "yet there's no Gothic there." "Rome is a peculiar place," said Bateman; "besides, my dear friend, if we do but consider that Rome has corrupted the pure apostolic doctrine, can we wonder that it should have a corrupt architecture?" "Why, then, go to Rome for Gregorians?" said Campbell; "I suspect they are called after Gregory I. Bishop of Rome, whom Protestants consider the first specimen of Antichrist." "It's nothing to us what Protestants think," answered Bateman. "Don't let us quarrel about terms," said Campbell; "both you and I think that Rome has corrupted the faith, whether she is Antichrist or not. You said so yourself just now." "It is true, I did," said Bateman; "but I make a little distinction. The Church of Rome has not _corrupted_ the faith, but has _admitted_ corruptions among her people." "It won't do," answered Campbell; "depend on it, we can't stand our ground in controversy unless we in our hearts think very severely of the Church of Rome." "Why, what's Rome to us?" asked Bateman; "we come from the old British Church; we don't meddle with Rome, and we wish Rome not to meddle with us, but she will." "Well," said Campbell, "you but read a bit of the history of the Reformation, and you will find that the doctrine that the Pope is Antichrist was the life of the movement." "With Ultra-Protestants, not with us," answered Bateman. "Such Ultra-Protestants as the writers of the Homilies," said Campbell; "but, I say again, I am not contending for names; I only mean, that as that doctrine was the life of the Reformation, so a belief, which I have and you too, that there is something bad, corrupt, perilous in the Church of Rome--that there is a spirit of Antichrist living in her, energizing in her, and ruling her--is necessary to a man's being a good Anglican. You must believe this, or you ought to go to Rome." "Impossible! my dear friend," said Bateman; "all our doctrine has been that Rome and we are sister Churches." "I say," said Campbell, "that without this strong repulsion you will not withstand the great claims, the overcoming attractions, of the Church of Rome. She is our mother--oh, that word 'mother!'--a mighty mother! She opens her arms--oh, the fragrance of that bosom! She is full of gifts--I feel it, I have long felt it. Why don't I rush into her arms? Because I feel that she is ruled by a spirit which is not she. But did that distrust of her go from me, was that certainty which I have of her corruption disproved, I should join her communion to-morrow." "This is not very edifying doctrine for Reding," thought Bateman. "Oh, my good Campbell," he said, "you are paradoxical to-day." "Not a bit of it," answered Campbell; "our Reformers felt that the only way in which they could break the tie of allegiance which bound us to Rome was the doctrine of her serious corruption. And so it is with our divines. If there is one doctrine in which they agree, it is that Rome is Antichrist, or an Antichrist. Depend upon it, that doctrine is necessary for our position." "I don't quite understand that language," said Reding; "I see it is used in various publications. It implies that controversy is a game, and that disputants are not looking out for truth, but for arguments." "You must not mistake me, Mr. Reding," answered Campbell; "all I mean is, that you have no leave to trifle with your conviction that Rome is antichristian, if you think so. For if it _is_ so, it is necessary to _say_ so. A poet says, 'Speak _gently_ of our sister's _fall_:' no, if it is a fall, we must not speak gently of it. At first one says, 'So great a Church! who am I, to speak against her?' Yes, you must, if your view of her is true: 'Tell truth and shame the Devil.' Recollect you don't use your own words; you are sanctioned, protected by all our divines. You must, else you can give no sufficient reason for not joining the Church of Rome. You must speak out, not what you _don't_ think, but what you _do_ think, _if_ you do think it." "Here's a doctrine!" thought Charles; "why it's putting the controversy into a nutshell." Bateman interposed. "My dear Campbell," he said, "you are behind the day. We have given up all that abuse against Rome." "Then the party is not so clever as I give them credit for being," answered Campbell; "be sure of this,--those who have given up their protests against Rome, either are looking towards her, or have no eyes to see." "All we say," answered Bateman, "is, as I said before, that _we_ don't wish to interfere with Rome; _we_ don't anathematize Rome--Rome anathematizes _us_." "It won't do," said Campbell; "those who resolve to remain in our Church, and are using sweet words of Romanism, will be forced back upon their proper ground in spite of themselves, and will get no thanks for their pains. No man can serve two masters; either go to Rome, or condemn Rome. For me, the Romish Church has a great deal in it which I can't get over; and thinking so, much as I admire it in parts, I can't help speaking, I can't help it. It would not be honest, and it would not be consistent." "Well, he has ended better than he began," thought Bateman; and he chimed in, "Oh yes, true, too true; it's painful to see it, but there's a great deal in the Church of Rome which no man of plain sense, no reader of the Fathers, no Scripture student, no true member of the Anglo-Catholic Church can possibly stomach." This put a corona on the discussion; and the rest of the dinner passed off pleasantly indeed, but not very intellectually. CHAPTER XVI. After dinner it occurred to them that the subject of Gregorians and Gothic had been left in the lurch. "How in the world did we get off it?" asked Charles. "Well, at least, we have found it," said Bateman; "and I really should like to hear what you have to say upon it, Campbell." "Oh, really, Bateman," answered he, "I am quite sick of the subject; every one seems to me to be going into extremes: what's the good of arguing about it? you won't agree with me." "I don't see that at all," answered Bateman; "people often think they differ, merely because they have not courage to talk to each other." "A good remark," thought Charles; "what a pity that Bateman, with so much sense, should have so little common sense!" "Well, then," said Campbell, "my quarrel with Gothic and Gregorians, when coupled together, is, that they are two ideas, not one. Have figured music in Gothic churches, keep your Gregorian for basilicas." "My good Campbell," said Bateman, "you seem oblivious that Gregorian chants and hymns have always accompanied Gothic aisles, Gothic copes, Gothic mitres, and Gothic chalices." "Our ancestors did what they could," answered Campbell; "they were great in architecture, small in music. They could not use what was not yet invented. They sang Gregorians because they had not Palestrina." "A paradox, a paradox!" cried Bateman. "Surely there is a close connexion," answered Campbell, "between the rise and nature of the basilica and of Gregorian unison.

looked

How many times the word 'looked' appears in the text?

what grief was, not so long ago; but not till now had she known anxiety. Charles's state of mind was a matter of simple astonishment to her. At first it quite frightened and shocked her; it was as if Charles had lost his identity, and had turned out some one else. It was like a great breach of trust. She had seen there was a good deal in the newspapers about the "Oxford party" and their doings; and at different places, where she had been on visits, she had heard of churches being done up in the new fashion, and clergymen being accused, in consequence, of Popery--a charge which she had laughed at. But now it was actually brought home to her door that there was something in it. Yet it was to her incomprehensible, and she hardly knew where she was. And that, of all persons in the world, her brother, her own Charles, with whom she had been one heart and soul all their lives--one so cheerful, so religious, so good, so sensible, so cautious,--that he should be the first specimen that crossed her path of the new opinions,--it bewildered her. And where _had_ he got his notions?--Notions! she could not call them notions; he had nothing to say for himself. It was an infatuation; he, so clever, so sharp-sighted, could say nothing better in defence of himself than that Mrs. Bishop of Monmouth was too pretty, and that old Dr. Stock sat upon a cushion. Oh, sad, sad indeed! How was it he could be so insensible to the blessings he gained from his Church, and had enjoyed all his life? What could he need? _She_ had no need at all: going to church was a pleasure to her. She liked to hear the Lessons and the Collects, coming round year after year, and marking the seasons. The historical books and prophets in summer; then the "stir-up" Collect just before Advent; the beautiful Collects in Advent itself, with the Lessons from Isaiah reaching on through Epiphany; they were quite music to the ear. Then the Psalms, varying with every Sunday; they were a perpetual solace to her, ever old yet ever new. The occasional additions, too--the Athanasian Creed, the Benedictus, Deus misereatur, and Omnia opera, which her father had been used to read at certain great feasts; and the beautiful Litany. What could he want more? where could he find so much? Well, it was a mystery to her; and she could only feel thankful that _she_ was not exposed to the temptations, whatever they were, which had acted on the powerful mind of her brother. Then, she had anticipated how pleasant it would be when Charles was a clergyman, and she should hear him preach; when there would be one whom she would have a right to ask questions and to consult whenever she wished. This prospect was at an end; she could no longer trust him: he had given a shake to her confidence which it never could recover; it was gone for ever. They were all of them women but he; he was their only stay, now that her father had been taken away. What was now to become of them? To be abandoned by her own brother! oh, how terrible! And how was she to break it to her mother? for broken it must be sooner or later. She could not deceive herself; she knew her brother well enough to feel sure that, when he had really got hold of a thing, he would not let it go again without convincing reasons; and what reasons there could be for letting it go she could not conceive, if there could be reasons for taking it up. The taking it up baffled all reason, all calculation. Well, but how was her mother to be told of it? Was it better to let her suspect it first, and so break it to her, or to wait till the event happened? The problem was too difficult for the present, and she must leave it. This was her state for several days, till her fever of mind gradually subsided into a state of which a dull anxiety was a latent but habitual element, leaving her as usual at ordinary times, but every now and then betraying itself by sudden sharp sighs or wanderings of thought. Neither brother nor sister, loving each other really as much as ever, had quite the same sweetness and evenness of temper as was natural to them; self-control became a duty, and the evening circle was duller than before, without any one being able to say why. Charles was more attentive to his mother; he no more brought his books into the drawing-room, but gave himself to her company. He read to them, but he had little to talk about; and Eliza and Caroline both wished his stupid examination, past and over, that he might be restored to his natural liveliness. As to Mrs. Reding, she did not observe more than that her son was a very hard student, and grudged himself a walk or ride, let the day be ever so fine. She was a mild, quiet person, of keen feelings and precise habits; not very quick at observation; and, having lived all her life in the country, and till her late loss having scarcely known what trouble was, she was singularly unable to comprehend how things could go on in any way but one. Charles had not told her the real cause of his spending the winter at home, thinking it would be a needless vexation to her; much less did he contemplate harassing her with the recital of his own religious difficulties, which were not appreciable by her, and issued in no definite result. To his sister he did attempt an explanation of his former conversation, with a view of softening the extreme misgivings which it had created in her mind. She received it thankfully, and professed to be relieved by it; but the blow was struck, the suspicion was lodged deep in her mind--he was still Charles, dear to her as ever, but she never could rid herself of the anticipation which on that occasion she had expressed. CHAPTER XIV. One morning he was told that a gentleman had asked for him, and been shown into the dining-room. Descending, he saw the tall slender figure of Bateman, now a clergyman, and lately appointed curate of a neighbouring parish. Charles had not seen him for a year and a half, and shook hands with him very warmly, complimenting him on his white neckcloth, which somehow, he said, altered him more than he could have expected. Bateman's manner certainly was altered; it might be the accident of the day, but he did not seem quite at his ease; it might be that he was in a strange house, and was likely soon to be precipitated into the company of ladies, to which he had never been used. If so, the trial was on the point of beginning, for Charles said instantly that he must come and see his mother, and of course meant to dine with them; the sky was clear, and there was an excellent footpath between Boughton and Melford. Bateman could not do this, but he would have the greatest pleasure in being introduced to Mrs. Reding; so he stumbled after Charles into the drawing-room, and was soon conversing with her and the young ladies. "A charming prospect you have here, ma'am," said Bateman, "when you are once inside the house. It does not promise outside so extensive a view." "No, it is shut in with trees," said Mrs. Reding; "and the brow of the hill changes its direction so much that at first I used to think the prospect ought to be from the opposite windows." "What is that high hill?" said Bateman. "It is Hart Hill," said Charles; "there's a Roman camp atop of it." "We can see eight steeples from our windows," said Mrs. Reding;--"ring the bell for luncheon, my dear." "Ah, our ancestors, Mrs. Reding," said Bateman, "thought more of building churches than we do; or rather than we have done, I should say, for now it is astonishing what efforts are made to add to our ecclesiastical structures." "Our ancestors did a good deal too," said Mrs. Reding; "how many churches, my dear, were built in London in Queen Anne's time? St. Martin's was one of them." "Fifty," said Eliza. "Fifty were intended," said Charles. "Yes, Mrs. Reding," said Bateman; "but by ancestors I meant the holy Bishops and other members of our Catholic Church previously to the Reformation. For, though the Reformation was a great blessing" (a glance at Charles), "yet we must not, in justice, forget what was done by English Churchmen before it." "Ah, poor creatures," said Mrs. Reding, "they did one good thing in building churches; it has saved us much trouble." "Is there much church-restoration going on in these parts?" said Bateman, taken rather aback. "My mother has but lately come here, like yourself," said Charles; "yes, there is some; Barton Church, you know," appealing to Mary. "Have your walks extended so far as Barton?" said Mary to Bateman. "Not yet, Miss Reding, not yet," answered he; "of course they are destroying the pews." "They are to put in seats," said Charles, "and of a very good pattern." "Pews are intolerable," said Bateman; "yet the last generation of incumbents contentedly bore them; it is wonderful!" A not unnatural silence followed this speech. Charles broke it by asking if Bateman intended to do anything in the improvement line at Melford. Bateman looked modest. "Nothing of any consequence," he said; "some few things were done; but he had a rector of the old school, poor man, who was an enemy to that sort of thing." It was with some malicious feeling, in consequence of his attack on clergymen of the past age, that Charles pressed his visitor to give an account of his own reforms. "Why," said Bateman, "much discretion is necessary in these matters, or you do as much harm as good; you get into hot water with churchwardens and vestries, as well as with old rectors, and again with the gentry of the place, and please no one. For this reason I have made no attempt to introduce the surplice into the pulpit except on the great festivals, intending to familiarize my parishioners to it by little and little. However, I wear a scarf or stole, and have taken care that it should be two inches broader than usual; and I always wear the cassock in my parish. I hope you approve of the cassock, Mrs. Reding?" "It is a very cold dress, sir--that's my opinion--when made of silk or bombazeen; and very unbecoming too, when worn by itself." "Particularly behind," said Charles; "it is quite unshapely." "Oh, I have remedied that," said Bateman; "you have noticed, Miss Reding, I dare say, the Bishop's short cassock. It comes to the knees, and looks much like a continuation of a waistcoat, the straight-cut coat being worn as usual. Well, Miss Reding, I have adopted the same plan with the long cassock; I put my coat over it." Mary had difficulty to keep from smiling; Charles laughed out. "Impossible, Bateman," he said; "you don't mean you wear your tailed French coat over your long straight cassock reaching to your ankles?" "Certainly," said Bateman gravely; "I thus consult for warmth and appearance too; and all my parishioners are sure to know me. I think this a great point, Miss Reding: I hear the little boys as I pass say, 'That's the parson.'" "I'll be bound they do," said Charles. "Well," said Mrs. Reding, surprised out of her propriety, "did one ever hear the like!" Bateman looked round at her, startled and frightened. "You were going to speak of your improvements in your church," said Mary, wishing to divert his attention from her mother. "Ah, true, Miss Reding, true," said Bateman, "thank you for reminding me; I have digressed to improvements in my own dress. I should have liked to have pulled down the galleries and lowered the high pews; that, however, I could not do. So I have lowered the pulpit some six feet. Now by doing so, first I give a pattern in my own person of the kind of condescension or lowliness to which I would persuade my people. But this is not all; for the consequence of lowering the pulpit is, that no one in the galleries can see or hear me preach; and this is a bonus on those who are below." "It's a broad hint, certainly," said Charles. "But it's a hint for those below also," continued Bateman; "for no one can see or hear me in the pews either, till the sides are lowered." "One thing only is wanting besides," said Charles, smiling and looking amiable, lest he should be saying too much; "since you are full tall, you must kneel when you preach, Bateman, else you will undo your own alterations." Bateman looked pleased. "I have anticipated you," he said; "I preach sitting. It is more comformable to antiquity and to reason to sit than to stand." "With these precautions," said Charles, "I really think you might have ventured on your surplice in the pulpit every Sunday. Are your parishioners contented?" "Oh, not at all, far from it," cried Bateman; "but they can do nothing. The alteration is so simple." "Nothing besides?" asked Charles. "Nothing in the architectural way," answered he; "but one thing more in the way of observances. I have fortunately picked up a very fair copy of Jewell, black-letter; and I have placed it in church, securing it with a chain to the wall, for any poor person who wishes to read it. Our church is emphatically the 'poor man's church,' Mrs. Reding." "Well," said Charles to himself, "I'll back the old parsons against the young ones any day, if this is to be their cut." Then aloud: "Come, you must see our garden; take up your hat, and let's have a turn in it. There's a very nice terrace-walk at the upper end." Bateman accordingly, having been thus trotted out for the amusement of the ladies, was now led off again, and was soon in the aforesaid terrace-walk, pacing up and down in earnest conversation with Charles. "Reding, my good fellow," said he, "what is the meaning of this report concerning you, which is everywhere about?" "I have not heard it," said Charles abruptly. "Why, it is this," said Bateman; "I wish to approach the subject with as great delicacy as possible: don't tell me if you don't like it, or tell me just as much as you like; yet you will excuse an old friend. They say you are going to leave the Church of your baptism for the Church of Rome." "Is it widely spread?" asked Charles coolly. "Oh, yes; I heard it in London; have had a letter mentioning it from Oxford; and a friend of mine heard it given out as positive at a visitation dinner in Wales." "So," thought Charles, "you are bringing _your_ witness against me as well as the rest." "Well but, my good Reding," said Bateman, "why are you silent? is it true--is it true?" "What true? that I am a Roman Catholic? Oh, certainly; don't you understand, that's why I am reading so hard for the schools?" said Charles. "Come, be serious for a moment, Reding," said Bateman, "do be serious. Will you empower me to contradict the report, or to negative it to a certain point, or in any respect?" "Oh, to be sure," said Charles, "contradict it, by all means, contradict it entirely." "May I give it a plain, unqualified, unconditional, categorical, flat denial?" asked Bateman. "Of course, of course." Bateman could not make him out, and had not a dream how he was teasing him. "I don't know where to find you," he said. They paced down the walk in silence. Bateman began again. "You see," he said, "it would be such a wonderful blindness, it would be so utterly inexcusable in a person like yourself, who had known _what_ the Church of England was; not a Dissenter, not an unlettered layman; but one who had been at Oxford, who had come across so many excellent men, who had seen what the Church of England could be, her grave beauty, her orderly and decent activity; who had seen churches decorated as they should be, with candlesticks, ciboriums, faldstools, lecterns, antependiums, piscinas, rood-lofts, and sedilia; who, in fact, had seen the Church Service _carried out_, and could desiderate nothing;--tell me, my dear good Reding," taking hold of his button-hole, "what is it you want--what is it? name it." "That you would take yourself off," Charles would have said, had he spoken his mind; he merely said, however, that really he desiderated nothing but to be believed when he said that he had no intention of leaving his own Church. Bateman was incredulous, and thought him close. "Perhaps you are not aware," he said, "how much is known of the circumstances of your being sent down. The old Principal was full of the subject." "What! I suppose he told people right and left," said Reding. "Oh, yes," answered Bateman; "a friend of mine knows him, and happening to call on him soon after you went down, had the whole story from him. He spoke most kindly of you, and in the highest terms; said that it was deplorable how much your mind was warped by the prevalent opinions, and that he should not be surprised if it turned out you were a Romanist even while you were at St. Saviour's; anyhow, that you would be one day a Romanist for certain, for that you held that the saints reigning with Christ interceded for us in heaven. But what was stronger, when the report got about, Sheffield said that he was not surprised at it, that he always prophesied it." "I am much obliged to him," said Charles. "However, you warrant me," said Bateman, "to contradict it--so I understand you--to contradict it peremptorily; that's enough for me. It's a great relief; it's very satisfactory. Well, I must be going." "I don't like to seem to drive you away," said Charles, "but really you must be going if you want to get home before nightfall. I hope you don't feel lonely or overworked where you are. If you are so at any time, don't scruple to drop in to dinner here; nay, we can take you in for a night, if you wish it." Bateman thanked him, and they proceeded to the hall-door together; when they were nearly parting, Bateman stopped and said, "Do you know, I should like to lend you some books to read. Let me send up to you Bramhall's Works, Thorndike, Barrow on the Unity of the Church, and Leslie's Dialogues on Romanism. I could name others, but content myself with these at present. They perfectly settle the matter; you can't help being convinced. I'll not say a word more; good-bye to you, good-bye." CHAPTER XV. Much as Charles loved and prized the company of his mother and sisters he was not sorry to have gentlemen's society, so he accepted with pleasure an invitation which Bateman sent him to dine with him at Melford. Also he wished to show Bateman, what no protestation could effect, how absurdly exaggerated were the reports which were circulated about him. And as the said Bateman, with all his want of common sense, was really a well-informed man, and well read in English divines, he thought he might incidentally hear something from him which he could turn to account. When he got to Melford he found a Mr. Campbell had been asked to meet him; a young Cambridge rector of a neighbouring parish, of the same religious sentiments on the whole as Bateman, and, though a little positive, a man of clear head and vigorous mind. They had been going over the church; and the conversation at dinner turned on the revival of Gothic architecture--an event which gave unmixed satisfaction to all parties. The subject would have died out, almost as soon as it was started, for want of a difference upon it, had not Bateman happily gone on boldly to declare that, if he had his will, there should be no architecture in the English churches but Gothic, and no music but Gregorian. This was a good thesis, distinctly put, and gave scope for a very pretty quarrel. Reding said that all these adjuncts of worship, whether music or architecture, were national; they were the mode in which religious feeling showed itself in particular times and places. He did not mean to say that the outward expression of religion in a country might not be guided, but it could not be forced; that it was as preposterous to make people worship in one's own way, as be merry in one's own way. "The Greeks," he said, "cut the hair in grief, the Romans let it grow; the Orientals veiled their heads in worship, the Greeks uncovered them; Christians take off their hats in a church, Mahometans their shoes; a long veil is a sign of modesty in Europe, of immodesty in Asia. You may as well try to change the size of people, as their forms of worship. Bateman, we must cut you down a foot, and then you shall begin your ecclesiastical reforms." "But surely, my worthy friend," answered Bateman, "you don't mean to say that there is no natural connexion between internal feeling and outward expression, so that one form is no better than another?" "Far from it," answered Charles; "but let those who confine their music to Gregorians put up crucifixes in the highways. Each is the representative of a particular place or time." "That's what I say of our good friend's short coat and long cassock," said Campbell; "it is a confusion of different times, ancient and modern." "Or of different ideas," said Charles, "the cassock Catholic, the coat Protestant." "The reverse," said Bateman; "the cassock is old Hooker's Anglican habit: the coat comes from Catholic France." "Anyhow, it is what Mr. Reding calls a mixture of ideas," said Campbell; "and that's the difficulty I find in uniting Gothic and Gregorians." "Oh, pardon me," said Bateman, "they are one idea; they are both eminently Catholic." "You can't be more Catholic than Rome, I suppose," said Campbell; "yet there's no Gothic there." "Rome is a peculiar place," said Bateman; "besides, my dear friend, if we do but consider that Rome has corrupted the pure apostolic doctrine, can we wonder that it should have a corrupt architecture?" "Why, then, go to Rome for Gregorians?" said Campbell; "I suspect they are called after Gregory I. Bishop of Rome, whom Protestants consider the first specimen of Antichrist." "It's nothing to us what Protestants think," answered Bateman. "Don't let us quarrel about terms," said Campbell; "both you and I think that Rome has corrupted the faith, whether she is Antichrist or not. You said so yourself just now." "It is true, I did," said Bateman; "but I make a little distinction. The Church of Rome has not _corrupted_ the faith, but has _admitted_ corruptions among her people." "It won't do," answered Campbell; "depend on it, we can't stand our ground in controversy unless we in our hearts think very severely of the Church of Rome." "Why, what's Rome to us?" asked Bateman; "we come from the old British Church; we don't meddle with Rome, and we wish Rome not to meddle with us, but she will." "Well," said Campbell, "you but read a bit of the history of the Reformation, and you will find that the doctrine that the Pope is Antichrist was the life of the movement." "With Ultra-Protestants, not with us," answered Bateman. "Such Ultra-Protestants as the writers of the Homilies," said Campbell; "but, I say again, I am not contending for names; I only mean, that as that doctrine was the life of the Reformation, so a belief, which I have and you too, that there is something bad, corrupt, perilous in the Church of Rome--that there is a spirit of Antichrist living in her, energizing in her, and ruling her--is necessary to a man's being a good Anglican. You must believe this, or you ought to go to Rome." "Impossible! my dear friend," said Bateman; "all our doctrine has been that Rome and we are sister Churches." "I say," said Campbell, "that without this strong repulsion you will not withstand the great claims, the overcoming attractions, of the Church of Rome. She is our mother--oh, that word 'mother!'--a mighty mother! She opens her arms--oh, the fragrance of that bosom! She is full of gifts--I feel it, I have long felt it. Why don't I rush into her arms? Because I feel that she is ruled by a spirit which is not she. But did that distrust of her go from me, was that certainty which I have of her corruption disproved, I should join her communion to-morrow." "This is not very edifying doctrine for Reding," thought Bateman. "Oh, my good Campbell," he said, "you are paradoxical to-day." "Not a bit of it," answered Campbell; "our Reformers felt that the only way in which they could break the tie of allegiance which bound us to Rome was the doctrine of her serious corruption. And so it is with our divines. If there is one doctrine in which they agree, it is that Rome is Antichrist, or an Antichrist. Depend upon it, that doctrine is necessary for our position." "I don't quite understand that language," said Reding; "I see it is used in various publications. It implies that controversy is a game, and that disputants are not looking out for truth, but for arguments." "You must not mistake me, Mr. Reding," answered Campbell; "all I mean is, that you have no leave to trifle with your conviction that Rome is antichristian, if you think so. For if it _is_ so, it is necessary to _say_ so. A poet says, 'Speak _gently_ of our sister's _fall_:' no, if it is a fall, we must not speak gently of it. At first one says, 'So great a Church! who am I, to speak against her?' Yes, you must, if your view of her is true: 'Tell truth and shame the Devil.' Recollect you don't use your own words; you are sanctioned, protected by all our divines. You must, else you can give no sufficient reason for not joining the Church of Rome. You must speak out, not what you _don't_ think, but what you _do_ think, _if_ you do think it." "Here's a doctrine!" thought Charles; "why it's putting the controversy into a nutshell." Bateman interposed. "My dear Campbell," he said, "you are behind the day. We have given up all that abuse against Rome." "Then the party is not so clever as I give them credit for being," answered Campbell; "be sure of this,--those who have given up their protests against Rome, either are looking towards her, or have no eyes to see." "All we say," answered Bateman, "is, as I said before, that _we_ don't wish to interfere with Rome; _we_ don't anathematize Rome--Rome anathematizes _us_." "It won't do," said Campbell; "those who resolve to remain in our Church, and are using sweet words of Romanism, will be forced back upon their proper ground in spite of themselves, and will get no thanks for their pains. No man can serve two masters; either go to Rome, or condemn Rome. For me, the Romish Church has a great deal in it which I can't get over; and thinking so, much as I admire it in parts, I can't help speaking, I can't help it. It would not be honest, and it would not be consistent." "Well, he has ended better than he began," thought Bateman; and he chimed in, "Oh yes, true, too true; it's painful to see it, but there's a great deal in the Church of Rome which no man of plain sense, no reader of the Fathers, no Scripture student, no true member of the Anglo-Catholic Church can possibly stomach." This put a corona on the discussion; and the rest of the dinner passed off pleasantly indeed, but not very intellectually. CHAPTER XVI. After dinner it occurred to them that the subject of Gregorians and Gothic had been left in the lurch. "How in the world did we get off it?" asked Charles. "Well, at least, we have found it," said Bateman; "and I really should like to hear what you have to say upon it, Campbell." "Oh, really, Bateman," answered he, "I am quite sick of the subject; every one seems to me to be going into extremes: what's the good of arguing about it? you won't agree with me." "I don't see that at all," answered Bateman; "people often think they differ, merely because they have not courage to talk to each other." "A good remark," thought Charles; "what a pity that Bateman, with so much sense, should have so little common sense!" "Well, then," said Campbell, "my quarrel with Gothic and Gregorians, when coupled together, is, that they are two ideas, not one. Have figured music in Gothic churches, keep your Gregorian for basilicas." "My good Campbell," said Bateman, "you seem oblivious that Gregorian chants and hymns have always accompanied Gothic aisles, Gothic copes, Gothic mitres, and Gothic chalices." "Our ancestors did what they could," answered Campbell; "they were great in architecture, small in music. They could not use what was not yet invented. They sang Gregorians because they had not Palestrina." "A paradox, a paradox!" cried Bateman. "Surely there is a close connexion," answered Campbell, "between the rise and nature of the basilica and of Gregorian unison.

excuse

How many times the word 'excuse' appears in the text?

what grief was, not so long ago; but not till now had she known anxiety. Charles's state of mind was a matter of simple astonishment to her. At first it quite frightened and shocked her; it was as if Charles had lost his identity, and had turned out some one else. It was like a great breach of trust. She had seen there was a good deal in the newspapers about the "Oxford party" and their doings; and at different places, where she had been on visits, she had heard of churches being done up in the new fashion, and clergymen being accused, in consequence, of Popery--a charge which she had laughed at. But now it was actually brought home to her door that there was something in it. Yet it was to her incomprehensible, and she hardly knew where she was. And that, of all persons in the world, her brother, her own Charles, with whom she had been one heart and soul all their lives--one so cheerful, so religious, so good, so sensible, so cautious,--that he should be the first specimen that crossed her path of the new opinions,--it bewildered her. And where _had_ he got his notions?--Notions! she could not call them notions; he had nothing to say for himself. It was an infatuation; he, so clever, so sharp-sighted, could say nothing better in defence of himself than that Mrs. Bishop of Monmouth was too pretty, and that old Dr. Stock sat upon a cushion. Oh, sad, sad indeed! How was it he could be so insensible to the blessings he gained from his Church, and had enjoyed all his life? What could he need? _She_ had no need at all: going to church was a pleasure to her. She liked to hear the Lessons and the Collects, coming round year after year, and marking the seasons. The historical books and prophets in summer; then the "stir-up" Collect just before Advent; the beautiful Collects in Advent itself, with the Lessons from Isaiah reaching on through Epiphany; they were quite music to the ear. Then the Psalms, varying with every Sunday; they were a perpetual solace to her, ever old yet ever new. The occasional additions, too--the Athanasian Creed, the Benedictus, Deus misereatur, and Omnia opera, which her father had been used to read at certain great feasts; and the beautiful Litany. What could he want more? where could he find so much? Well, it was a mystery to her; and she could only feel thankful that _she_ was not exposed to the temptations, whatever they were, which had acted on the powerful mind of her brother. Then, she had anticipated how pleasant it would be when Charles was a clergyman, and she should hear him preach; when there would be one whom she would have a right to ask questions and to consult whenever she wished. This prospect was at an end; she could no longer trust him: he had given a shake to her confidence which it never could recover; it was gone for ever. They were all of them women but he; he was their only stay, now that her father had been taken away. What was now to become of them? To be abandoned by her own brother! oh, how terrible! And how was she to break it to her mother? for broken it must be sooner or later. She could not deceive herself; she knew her brother well enough to feel sure that, when he had really got hold of a thing, he would not let it go again without convincing reasons; and what reasons there could be for letting it go she could not conceive, if there could be reasons for taking it up. The taking it up baffled all reason, all calculation. Well, but how was her mother to be told of it? Was it better to let her suspect it first, and so break it to her, or to wait till the event happened? The problem was too difficult for the present, and she must leave it. This was her state for several days, till her fever of mind gradually subsided into a state of which a dull anxiety was a latent but habitual element, leaving her as usual at ordinary times, but every now and then betraying itself by sudden sharp sighs or wanderings of thought. Neither brother nor sister, loving each other really as much as ever, had quite the same sweetness and evenness of temper as was natural to them; self-control became a duty, and the evening circle was duller than before, without any one being able to say why. Charles was more attentive to his mother; he no more brought his books into the drawing-room, but gave himself to her company. He read to them, but he had little to talk about; and Eliza and Caroline both wished his stupid examination, past and over, that he might be restored to his natural liveliness. As to Mrs. Reding, she did not observe more than that her son was a very hard student, and grudged himself a walk or ride, let the day be ever so fine. She was a mild, quiet person, of keen feelings and precise habits; not very quick at observation; and, having lived all her life in the country, and till her late loss having scarcely known what trouble was, she was singularly unable to comprehend how things could go on in any way but one. Charles had not told her the real cause of his spending the winter at home, thinking it would be a needless vexation to her; much less did he contemplate harassing her with the recital of his own religious difficulties, which were not appreciable by her, and issued in no definite result. To his sister he did attempt an explanation of his former conversation, with a view of softening the extreme misgivings which it had created in her mind. She received it thankfully, and professed to be relieved by it; but the blow was struck, the suspicion was lodged deep in her mind--he was still Charles, dear to her as ever, but she never could rid herself of the anticipation which on that occasion she had expressed. CHAPTER XIV. One morning he was told that a gentleman had asked for him, and been shown into the dining-room. Descending, he saw the tall slender figure of Bateman, now a clergyman, and lately appointed curate of a neighbouring parish. Charles had not seen him for a year and a half, and shook hands with him very warmly, complimenting him on his white neckcloth, which somehow, he said, altered him more than he could have expected. Bateman's manner certainly was altered; it might be the accident of the day, but he did not seem quite at his ease; it might be that he was in a strange house, and was likely soon to be precipitated into the company of ladies, to which he had never been used. If so, the trial was on the point of beginning, for Charles said instantly that he must come and see his mother, and of course meant to dine with them; the sky was clear, and there was an excellent footpath between Boughton and Melford. Bateman could not do this, but he would have the greatest pleasure in being introduced to Mrs. Reding; so he stumbled after Charles into the drawing-room, and was soon conversing with her and the young ladies. "A charming prospect you have here, ma'am," said Bateman, "when you are once inside the house. It does not promise outside so extensive a view." "No, it is shut in with trees," said Mrs. Reding; "and the brow of the hill changes its direction so much that at first I used to think the prospect ought to be from the opposite windows." "What is that high hill?" said Bateman. "It is Hart Hill," said Charles; "there's a Roman camp atop of it." "We can see eight steeples from our windows," said Mrs. Reding;--"ring the bell for luncheon, my dear." "Ah, our ancestors, Mrs. Reding," said Bateman, "thought more of building churches than we do; or rather than we have done, I should say, for now it is astonishing what efforts are made to add to our ecclesiastical structures." "Our ancestors did a good deal too," said Mrs. Reding; "how many churches, my dear, were built in London in Queen Anne's time? St. Martin's was one of them." "Fifty," said Eliza. "Fifty were intended," said Charles. "Yes, Mrs. Reding," said Bateman; "but by ancestors I meant the holy Bishops and other members of our Catholic Church previously to the Reformation. For, though the Reformation was a great blessing" (a glance at Charles), "yet we must not, in justice, forget what was done by English Churchmen before it." "Ah, poor creatures," said Mrs. Reding, "they did one good thing in building churches; it has saved us much trouble." "Is there much church-restoration going on in these parts?" said Bateman, taken rather aback. "My mother has but lately come here, like yourself," said Charles; "yes, there is some; Barton Church, you know," appealing to Mary. "Have your walks extended so far as Barton?" said Mary to Bateman. "Not yet, Miss Reding, not yet," answered he; "of course they are destroying the pews." "They are to put in seats," said Charles, "and of a very good pattern." "Pews are intolerable," said Bateman; "yet the last generation of incumbents contentedly bore them; it is wonderful!" A not unnatural silence followed this speech. Charles broke it by asking if Bateman intended to do anything in the improvement line at Melford. Bateman looked modest. "Nothing of any consequence," he said; "some few things were done; but he had a rector of the old school, poor man, who was an enemy to that sort of thing." It was with some malicious feeling, in consequence of his attack on clergymen of the past age, that Charles pressed his visitor to give an account of his own reforms. "Why," said Bateman, "much discretion is necessary in these matters, or you do as much harm as good; you get into hot water with churchwardens and vestries, as well as with old rectors, and again with the gentry of the place, and please no one. For this reason I have made no attempt to introduce the surplice into the pulpit except on the great festivals, intending to familiarize my parishioners to it by little and little. However, I wear a scarf or stole, and have taken care that it should be two inches broader than usual; and I always wear the cassock in my parish. I hope you approve of the cassock, Mrs. Reding?" "It is a very cold dress, sir--that's my opinion--when made of silk or bombazeen; and very unbecoming too, when worn by itself." "Particularly behind," said Charles; "it is quite unshapely." "Oh, I have remedied that," said Bateman; "you have noticed, Miss Reding, I dare say, the Bishop's short cassock. It comes to the knees, and looks much like a continuation of a waistcoat, the straight-cut coat being worn as usual. Well, Miss Reding, I have adopted the same plan with the long cassock; I put my coat over it." Mary had difficulty to keep from smiling; Charles laughed out. "Impossible, Bateman," he said; "you don't mean you wear your tailed French coat over your long straight cassock reaching to your ankles?" "Certainly," said Bateman gravely; "I thus consult for warmth and appearance too; and all my parishioners are sure to know me. I think this a great point, Miss Reding: I hear the little boys as I pass say, 'That's the parson.'" "I'll be bound they do," said Charles. "Well," said Mrs. Reding, surprised out of her propriety, "did one ever hear the like!" Bateman looked round at her, startled and frightened. "You were going to speak of your improvements in your church," said Mary, wishing to divert his attention from her mother. "Ah, true, Miss Reding, true," said Bateman, "thank you for reminding me; I have digressed to improvements in my own dress. I should have liked to have pulled down the galleries and lowered the high pews; that, however, I could not do. So I have lowered the pulpit some six feet. Now by doing so, first I give a pattern in my own person of the kind of condescension or lowliness to which I would persuade my people. But this is not all; for the consequence of lowering the pulpit is, that no one in the galleries can see or hear me preach; and this is a bonus on those who are below." "It's a broad hint, certainly," said Charles. "But it's a hint for those below also," continued Bateman; "for no one can see or hear me in the pews either, till the sides are lowered." "One thing only is wanting besides," said Charles, smiling and looking amiable, lest he should be saying too much; "since you are full tall, you must kneel when you preach, Bateman, else you will undo your own alterations." Bateman looked pleased. "I have anticipated you," he said; "I preach sitting. It is more comformable to antiquity and to reason to sit than to stand." "With these precautions," said Charles, "I really think you might have ventured on your surplice in the pulpit every Sunday. Are your parishioners contented?" "Oh, not at all, far from it," cried Bateman; "but they can do nothing. The alteration is so simple." "Nothing besides?" asked Charles. "Nothing in the architectural way," answered he; "but one thing more in the way of observances. I have fortunately picked up a very fair copy of Jewell, black-letter; and I have placed it in church, securing it with a chain to the wall, for any poor person who wishes to read it. Our church is emphatically the 'poor man's church,' Mrs. Reding." "Well," said Charles to himself, "I'll back the old parsons against the young ones any day, if this is to be their cut." Then aloud: "Come, you must see our garden; take up your hat, and let's have a turn in it. There's a very nice terrace-walk at the upper end." Bateman accordingly, having been thus trotted out for the amusement of the ladies, was now led off again, and was soon in the aforesaid terrace-walk, pacing up and down in earnest conversation with Charles. "Reding, my good fellow," said he, "what is the meaning of this report concerning you, which is everywhere about?" "I have not heard it," said Charles abruptly. "Why, it is this," said Bateman; "I wish to approach the subject with as great delicacy as possible: don't tell me if you don't like it, or tell me just as much as you like; yet you will excuse an old friend. They say you are going to leave the Church of your baptism for the Church of Rome." "Is it widely spread?" asked Charles coolly. "Oh, yes; I heard it in London; have had a letter mentioning it from Oxford; and a friend of mine heard it given out as positive at a visitation dinner in Wales." "So," thought Charles, "you are bringing _your_ witness against me as well as the rest." "Well but, my good Reding," said Bateman, "why are you silent? is it true--is it true?" "What true? that I am a Roman Catholic? Oh, certainly; don't you understand, that's why I am reading so hard for the schools?" said Charles. "Come, be serious for a moment, Reding," said Bateman, "do be serious. Will you empower me to contradict the report, or to negative it to a certain point, or in any respect?" "Oh, to be sure," said Charles, "contradict it, by all means, contradict it entirely." "May I give it a plain, unqualified, unconditional, categorical, flat denial?" asked Bateman. "Of course, of course." Bateman could not make him out, and had not a dream how he was teasing him. "I don't know where to find you," he said. They paced down the walk in silence. Bateman began again. "You see," he said, "it would be such a wonderful blindness, it would be so utterly inexcusable in a person like yourself, who had known _what_ the Church of England was; not a Dissenter, not an unlettered layman; but one who had been at Oxford, who had come across so many excellent men, who had seen what the Church of England could be, her grave beauty, her orderly and decent activity; who had seen churches decorated as they should be, with candlesticks, ciboriums, faldstools, lecterns, antependiums, piscinas, rood-lofts, and sedilia; who, in fact, had seen the Church Service _carried out_, and could desiderate nothing;--tell me, my dear good Reding," taking hold of his button-hole, "what is it you want--what is it? name it." "That you would take yourself off," Charles would have said, had he spoken his mind; he merely said, however, that really he desiderated nothing but to be believed when he said that he had no intention of leaving his own Church. Bateman was incredulous, and thought him close. "Perhaps you are not aware," he said, "how much is known of the circumstances of your being sent down. The old Principal was full of the subject." "What! I suppose he told people right and left," said Reding. "Oh, yes," answered Bateman; "a friend of mine knows him, and happening to call on him soon after you went down, had the whole story from him. He spoke most kindly of you, and in the highest terms; said that it was deplorable how much your mind was warped by the prevalent opinions, and that he should not be surprised if it turned out you were a Romanist even while you were at St. Saviour's; anyhow, that you would be one day a Romanist for certain, for that you held that the saints reigning with Christ interceded for us in heaven. But what was stronger, when the report got about, Sheffield said that he was not surprised at it, that he always prophesied it." "I am much obliged to him," said Charles. "However, you warrant me," said Bateman, "to contradict it--so I understand you--to contradict it peremptorily; that's enough for me. It's a great relief; it's very satisfactory. Well, I must be going." "I don't like to seem to drive you away," said Charles, "but really you must be going if you want to get home before nightfall. I hope you don't feel lonely or overworked where you are. If you are so at any time, don't scruple to drop in to dinner here; nay, we can take you in for a night, if you wish it." Bateman thanked him, and they proceeded to the hall-door together; when they were nearly parting, Bateman stopped and said, "Do you know, I should like to lend you some books to read. Let me send up to you Bramhall's Works, Thorndike, Barrow on the Unity of the Church, and Leslie's Dialogues on Romanism. I could name others, but content myself with these at present. They perfectly settle the matter; you can't help being convinced. I'll not say a word more; good-bye to you, good-bye." CHAPTER XV. Much as Charles loved and prized the company of his mother and sisters he was not sorry to have gentlemen's society, so he accepted with pleasure an invitation which Bateman sent him to dine with him at Melford. Also he wished to show Bateman, what no protestation could effect, how absurdly exaggerated were the reports which were circulated about him. And as the said Bateman, with all his want of common sense, was really a well-informed man, and well read in English divines, he thought he might incidentally hear something from him which he could turn to account. When he got to Melford he found a Mr. Campbell had been asked to meet him; a young Cambridge rector of a neighbouring parish, of the same religious sentiments on the whole as Bateman, and, though a little positive, a man of clear head and vigorous mind. They had been going over the church; and the conversation at dinner turned on the revival of Gothic architecture--an event which gave unmixed satisfaction to all parties. The subject would have died out, almost as soon as it was started, for want of a difference upon it, had not Bateman happily gone on boldly to declare that, if he had his will, there should be no architecture in the English churches but Gothic, and no music but Gregorian. This was a good thesis, distinctly put, and gave scope for a very pretty quarrel. Reding said that all these adjuncts of worship, whether music or architecture, were national; they were the mode in which religious feeling showed itself in particular times and places. He did not mean to say that the outward expression of religion in a country might not be guided, but it could not be forced; that it was as preposterous to make people worship in one's own way, as be merry in one's own way. "The Greeks," he said, "cut the hair in grief, the Romans let it grow; the Orientals veiled their heads in worship, the Greeks uncovered them; Christians take off their hats in a church, Mahometans their shoes; a long veil is a sign of modesty in Europe, of immodesty in Asia. You may as well try to change the size of people, as their forms of worship. Bateman, we must cut you down a foot, and then you shall begin your ecclesiastical reforms." "But surely, my worthy friend," answered Bateman, "you don't mean to say that there is no natural connexion between internal feeling and outward expression, so that one form is no better than another?" "Far from it," answered Charles; "but let those who confine their music to Gregorians put up crucifixes in the highways. Each is the representative of a particular place or time." "That's what I say of our good friend's short coat and long cassock," said Campbell; "it is a confusion of different times, ancient and modern." "Or of different ideas," said Charles, "the cassock Catholic, the coat Protestant." "The reverse," said Bateman; "the cassock is old Hooker's Anglican habit: the coat comes from Catholic France." "Anyhow, it is what Mr. Reding calls a mixture of ideas," said Campbell; "and that's the difficulty I find in uniting Gothic and Gregorians." "Oh, pardon me," said Bateman, "they are one idea; they are both eminently Catholic." "You can't be more Catholic than Rome, I suppose," said Campbell; "yet there's no Gothic there." "Rome is a peculiar place," said Bateman; "besides, my dear friend, if we do but consider that Rome has corrupted the pure apostolic doctrine, can we wonder that it should have a corrupt architecture?" "Why, then, go to Rome for Gregorians?" said Campbell; "I suspect they are called after Gregory I. Bishop of Rome, whom Protestants consider the first specimen of Antichrist." "It's nothing to us what Protestants think," answered Bateman. "Don't let us quarrel about terms," said Campbell; "both you and I think that Rome has corrupted the faith, whether she is Antichrist or not. You said so yourself just now." "It is true, I did," said Bateman; "but I make a little distinction. The Church of Rome has not _corrupted_ the faith, but has _admitted_ corruptions among her people." "It won't do," answered Campbell; "depend on it, we can't stand our ground in controversy unless we in our hearts think very severely of the Church of Rome." "Why, what's Rome to us?" asked Bateman; "we come from the old British Church; we don't meddle with Rome, and we wish Rome not to meddle with us, but she will." "Well," said Campbell, "you but read a bit of the history of the Reformation, and you will find that the doctrine that the Pope is Antichrist was the life of the movement." "With Ultra-Protestants, not with us," answered Bateman. "Such Ultra-Protestants as the writers of the Homilies," said Campbell; "but, I say again, I am not contending for names; I only mean, that as that doctrine was the life of the Reformation, so a belief, which I have and you too, that there is something bad, corrupt, perilous in the Church of Rome--that there is a spirit of Antichrist living in her, energizing in her, and ruling her--is necessary to a man's being a good Anglican. You must believe this, or you ought to go to Rome." "Impossible! my dear friend," said Bateman; "all our doctrine has been that Rome and we are sister Churches." "I say," said Campbell, "that without this strong repulsion you will not withstand the great claims, the overcoming attractions, of the Church of Rome. She is our mother--oh, that word 'mother!'--a mighty mother! She opens her arms--oh, the fragrance of that bosom! She is full of gifts--I feel it, I have long felt it. Why don't I rush into her arms? Because I feel that she is ruled by a spirit which is not she. But did that distrust of her go from me, was that certainty which I have of her corruption disproved, I should join her communion to-morrow." "This is not very edifying doctrine for Reding," thought Bateman. "Oh, my good Campbell," he said, "you are paradoxical to-day." "Not a bit of it," answered Campbell; "our Reformers felt that the only way in which they could break the tie of allegiance which bound us to Rome was the doctrine of her serious corruption. And so it is with our divines. If there is one doctrine in which they agree, it is that Rome is Antichrist, or an Antichrist. Depend upon it, that doctrine is necessary for our position." "I don't quite understand that language," said Reding; "I see it is used in various publications. It implies that controversy is a game, and that disputants are not looking out for truth, but for arguments." "You must not mistake me, Mr. Reding," answered Campbell; "all I mean is, that you have no leave to trifle with your conviction that Rome is antichristian, if you think so. For if it _is_ so, it is necessary to _say_ so. A poet says, 'Speak _gently_ of our sister's _fall_:' no, if it is a fall, we must not speak gently of it. At first one says, 'So great a Church! who am I, to speak against her?' Yes, you must, if your view of her is true: 'Tell truth and shame the Devil.' Recollect you don't use your own words; you are sanctioned, protected by all our divines. You must, else you can give no sufficient reason for not joining the Church of Rome. You must speak out, not what you _don't_ think, but what you _do_ think, _if_ you do think it." "Here's a doctrine!" thought Charles; "why it's putting the controversy into a nutshell." Bateman interposed. "My dear Campbell," he said, "you are behind the day. We have given up all that abuse against Rome." "Then the party is not so clever as I give them credit for being," answered Campbell; "be sure of this,--those who have given up their protests against Rome, either are looking towards her, or have no eyes to see." "All we say," answered Bateman, "is, as I said before, that _we_ don't wish to interfere with Rome; _we_ don't anathematize Rome--Rome anathematizes _us_." "It won't do," said Campbell; "those who resolve to remain in our Church, and are using sweet words of Romanism, will be forced back upon their proper ground in spite of themselves, and will get no thanks for their pains. No man can serve two masters; either go to Rome, or condemn Rome. For me, the Romish Church has a great deal in it which I can't get over; and thinking so, much as I admire it in parts, I can't help speaking, I can't help it. It would not be honest, and it would not be consistent." "Well, he has ended better than he began," thought Bateman; and he chimed in, "Oh yes, true, too true; it's painful to see it, but there's a great deal in the Church of Rome which no man of plain sense, no reader of the Fathers, no Scripture student, no true member of the Anglo-Catholic Church can possibly stomach." This put a corona on the discussion; and the rest of the dinner passed off pleasantly indeed, but not very intellectually. CHAPTER XVI. After dinner it occurred to them that the subject of Gregorians and Gothic had been left in the lurch. "How in the world did we get off it?" asked Charles. "Well, at least, we have found it," said Bateman; "and I really should like to hear what you have to say upon it, Campbell." "Oh, really, Bateman," answered he, "I am quite sick of the subject; every one seems to me to be going into extremes: what's the good of arguing about it? you won't agree with me." "I don't see that at all," answered Bateman; "people often think they differ, merely because they have not courage to talk to each other." "A good remark," thought Charles; "what a pity that Bateman, with so much sense, should have so little common sense!" "Well, then," said Campbell, "my quarrel with Gothic and Gregorians, when coupled together, is, that they are two ideas, not one. Have figured music in Gothic churches, keep your Gregorian for basilicas." "My good Campbell," said Bateman, "you seem oblivious that Gregorian chants and hymns have always accompanied Gothic aisles, Gothic copes, Gothic mitres, and Gothic chalices." "Our ancestors did what they could," answered Campbell; "they were great in architecture, small in music. They could not use what was not yet invented. They sang Gregorians because they had not Palestrina." "A paradox, a paradox!" cried Bateman. "Surely there is a close connexion," answered Campbell, "between the rise and nature of the basilica and of Gregorian unison.

deceitful

How many times the word 'deceitful' appears in the text?

what grief was, not so long ago; but not till now had she known anxiety. Charles's state of mind was a matter of simple astonishment to her. At first it quite frightened and shocked her; it was as if Charles had lost his identity, and had turned out some one else. It was like a great breach of trust. She had seen there was a good deal in the newspapers about the "Oxford party" and their doings; and at different places, where she had been on visits, she had heard of churches being done up in the new fashion, and clergymen being accused, in consequence, of Popery--a charge which she had laughed at. But now it was actually brought home to her door that there was something in it. Yet it was to her incomprehensible, and she hardly knew where she was. And that, of all persons in the world, her brother, her own Charles, with whom she had been one heart and soul all their lives--one so cheerful, so religious, so good, so sensible, so cautious,--that he should be the first specimen that crossed her path of the new opinions,--it bewildered her. And where _had_ he got his notions?--Notions! she could not call them notions; he had nothing to say for himself. It was an infatuation; he, so clever, so sharp-sighted, could say nothing better in defence of himself than that Mrs. Bishop of Monmouth was too pretty, and that old Dr. Stock sat upon a cushion. Oh, sad, sad indeed! How was it he could be so insensible to the blessings he gained from his Church, and had enjoyed all his life? What could he need? _She_ had no need at all: going to church was a pleasure to her. She liked to hear the Lessons and the Collects, coming round year after year, and marking the seasons. The historical books and prophets in summer; then the "stir-up" Collect just before Advent; the beautiful Collects in Advent itself, with the Lessons from Isaiah reaching on through Epiphany; they were quite music to the ear. Then the Psalms, varying with every Sunday; they were a perpetual solace to her, ever old yet ever new. The occasional additions, too--the Athanasian Creed, the Benedictus, Deus misereatur, and Omnia opera, which her father had been used to read at certain great feasts; and the beautiful Litany. What could he want more? where could he find so much? Well, it was a mystery to her; and she could only feel thankful that _she_ was not exposed to the temptations, whatever they were, which had acted on the powerful mind of her brother. Then, she had anticipated how pleasant it would be when Charles was a clergyman, and she should hear him preach; when there would be one whom she would have a right to ask questions and to consult whenever she wished. This prospect was at an end; she could no longer trust him: he had given a shake to her confidence which it never could recover; it was gone for ever. They were all of them women but he; he was their only stay, now that her father had been taken away. What was now to become of them? To be abandoned by her own brother! oh, how terrible! And how was she to break it to her mother? for broken it must be sooner or later. She could not deceive herself; she knew her brother well enough to feel sure that, when he had really got hold of a thing, he would not let it go again without convincing reasons; and what reasons there could be for letting it go she could not conceive, if there could be reasons for taking it up. The taking it up baffled all reason, all calculation. Well, but how was her mother to be told of it? Was it better to let her suspect it first, and so break it to her, or to wait till the event happened? The problem was too difficult for the present, and she must leave it. This was her state for several days, till her fever of mind gradually subsided into a state of which a dull anxiety was a latent but habitual element, leaving her as usual at ordinary times, but every now and then betraying itself by sudden sharp sighs or wanderings of thought. Neither brother nor sister, loving each other really as much as ever, had quite the same sweetness and evenness of temper as was natural to them; self-control became a duty, and the evening circle was duller than before, without any one being able to say why. Charles was more attentive to his mother; he no more brought his books into the drawing-room, but gave himself to her company. He read to them, but he had little to talk about; and Eliza and Caroline both wished his stupid examination, past and over, that he might be restored to his natural liveliness. As to Mrs. Reding, she did not observe more than that her son was a very hard student, and grudged himself a walk or ride, let the day be ever so fine. She was a mild, quiet person, of keen feelings and precise habits; not very quick at observation; and, having lived all her life in the country, and till her late loss having scarcely known what trouble was, she was singularly unable to comprehend how things could go on in any way but one. Charles had not told her the real cause of his spending the winter at home, thinking it would be a needless vexation to her; much less did he contemplate harassing her with the recital of his own religious difficulties, which were not appreciable by her, and issued in no definite result. To his sister he did attempt an explanation of his former conversation, with a view of softening the extreme misgivings which it had created in her mind. She received it thankfully, and professed to be relieved by it; but the blow was struck, the suspicion was lodged deep in her mind--he was still Charles, dear to her as ever, but she never could rid herself of the anticipation which on that occasion she had expressed. CHAPTER XIV. One morning he was told that a gentleman had asked for him, and been shown into the dining-room. Descending, he saw the tall slender figure of Bateman, now a clergyman, and lately appointed curate of a neighbouring parish. Charles had not seen him for a year and a half, and shook hands with him very warmly, complimenting him on his white neckcloth, which somehow, he said, altered him more than he could have expected. Bateman's manner certainly was altered; it might be the accident of the day, but he did not seem quite at his ease; it might be that he was in a strange house, and was likely soon to be precipitated into the company of ladies, to which he had never been used. If so, the trial was on the point of beginning, for Charles said instantly that he must come and see his mother, and of course meant to dine with them; the sky was clear, and there was an excellent footpath between Boughton and Melford. Bateman could not do this, but he would have the greatest pleasure in being introduced to Mrs. Reding; so he stumbled after Charles into the drawing-room, and was soon conversing with her and the young ladies. "A charming prospect you have here, ma'am," said Bateman, "when you are once inside the house. It does not promise outside so extensive a view." "No, it is shut in with trees," said Mrs. Reding; "and the brow of the hill changes its direction so much that at first I used to think the prospect ought to be from the opposite windows." "What is that high hill?" said Bateman. "It is Hart Hill," said Charles; "there's a Roman camp atop of it." "We can see eight steeples from our windows," said Mrs. Reding;--"ring the bell for luncheon, my dear." "Ah, our ancestors, Mrs. Reding," said Bateman, "thought more of building churches than we do; or rather than we have done, I should say, for now it is astonishing what efforts are made to add to our ecclesiastical structures." "Our ancestors did a good deal too," said Mrs. Reding; "how many churches, my dear, were built in London in Queen Anne's time? St. Martin's was one of them." "Fifty," said Eliza. "Fifty were intended," said Charles. "Yes, Mrs. Reding," said Bateman; "but by ancestors I meant the holy Bishops and other members of our Catholic Church previously to the Reformation. For, though the Reformation was a great blessing" (a glance at Charles), "yet we must not, in justice, forget what was done by English Churchmen before it." "Ah, poor creatures," said Mrs. Reding, "they did one good thing in building churches; it has saved us much trouble." "Is there much church-restoration going on in these parts?" said Bateman, taken rather aback. "My mother has but lately come here, like yourself," said Charles; "yes, there is some; Barton Church, you know," appealing to Mary. "Have your walks extended so far as Barton?" said Mary to Bateman. "Not yet, Miss Reding, not yet," answered he; "of course they are destroying the pews." "They are to put in seats," said Charles, "and of a very good pattern." "Pews are intolerable," said Bateman; "yet the last generation of incumbents contentedly bore them; it is wonderful!" A not unnatural silence followed this speech. Charles broke it by asking if Bateman intended to do anything in the improvement line at Melford. Bateman looked modest. "Nothing of any consequence," he said; "some few things were done; but he had a rector of the old school, poor man, who was an enemy to that sort of thing." It was with some malicious feeling, in consequence of his attack on clergymen of the past age, that Charles pressed his visitor to give an account of his own reforms. "Why," said Bateman, "much discretion is necessary in these matters, or you do as much harm as good; you get into hot water with churchwardens and vestries, as well as with old rectors, and again with the gentry of the place, and please no one. For this reason I have made no attempt to introduce the surplice into the pulpit except on the great festivals, intending to familiarize my parishioners to it by little and little. However, I wear a scarf or stole, and have taken care that it should be two inches broader than usual; and I always wear the cassock in my parish. I hope you approve of the cassock, Mrs. Reding?" "It is a very cold dress, sir--that's my opinion--when made of silk or bombazeen; and very unbecoming too, when worn by itself." "Particularly behind," said Charles; "it is quite unshapely." "Oh, I have remedied that," said Bateman; "you have noticed, Miss Reding, I dare say, the Bishop's short cassock. It comes to the knees, and looks much like a continuation of a waistcoat, the straight-cut coat being worn as usual. Well, Miss Reding, I have adopted the same plan with the long cassock; I put my coat over it." Mary had difficulty to keep from smiling; Charles laughed out. "Impossible, Bateman," he said; "you don't mean you wear your tailed French coat over your long straight cassock reaching to your ankles?" "Certainly," said Bateman gravely; "I thus consult for warmth and appearance too; and all my parishioners are sure to know me. I think this a great point, Miss Reding: I hear the little boys as I pass say, 'That's the parson.'" "I'll be bound they do," said Charles. "Well," said Mrs. Reding, surprised out of her propriety, "did one ever hear the like!" Bateman looked round at her, startled and frightened. "You were going to speak of your improvements in your church," said Mary, wishing to divert his attention from her mother. "Ah, true, Miss Reding, true," said Bateman, "thank you for reminding me; I have digressed to improvements in my own dress. I should have liked to have pulled down the galleries and lowered the high pews; that, however, I could not do. So I have lowered the pulpit some six feet. Now by doing so, first I give a pattern in my own person of the kind of condescension or lowliness to which I would persuade my people. But this is not all; for the consequence of lowering the pulpit is, that no one in the galleries can see or hear me preach; and this is a bonus on those who are below." "It's a broad hint, certainly," said Charles. "But it's a hint for those below also," continued Bateman; "for no one can see or hear me in the pews either, till the sides are lowered." "One thing only is wanting besides," said Charles, smiling and looking amiable, lest he should be saying too much; "since you are full tall, you must kneel when you preach, Bateman, else you will undo your own alterations." Bateman looked pleased. "I have anticipated you," he said; "I preach sitting. It is more comformable to antiquity and to reason to sit than to stand." "With these precautions," said Charles, "I really think you might have ventured on your surplice in the pulpit every Sunday. Are your parishioners contented?" "Oh, not at all, far from it," cried Bateman; "but they can do nothing. The alteration is so simple." "Nothing besides?" asked Charles. "Nothing in the architectural way," answered he; "but one thing more in the way of observances. I have fortunately picked up a very fair copy of Jewell, black-letter; and I have placed it in church, securing it with a chain to the wall, for any poor person who wishes to read it. Our church is emphatically the 'poor man's church,' Mrs. Reding." "Well," said Charles to himself, "I'll back the old parsons against the young ones any day, if this is to be their cut." Then aloud: "Come, you must see our garden; take up your hat, and let's have a turn in it. There's a very nice terrace-walk at the upper end." Bateman accordingly, having been thus trotted out for the amusement of the ladies, was now led off again, and was soon in the aforesaid terrace-walk, pacing up and down in earnest conversation with Charles. "Reding, my good fellow," said he, "what is the meaning of this report concerning you, which is everywhere about?" "I have not heard it," said Charles abruptly. "Why, it is this," said Bateman; "I wish to approach the subject with as great delicacy as possible: don't tell me if you don't like it, or tell me just as much as you like; yet you will excuse an old friend. They say you are going to leave the Church of your baptism for the Church of Rome." "Is it widely spread?" asked Charles coolly. "Oh, yes; I heard it in London; have had a letter mentioning it from Oxford; and a friend of mine heard it given out as positive at a visitation dinner in Wales." "So," thought Charles, "you are bringing _your_ witness against me as well as the rest." "Well but, my good Reding," said Bateman, "why are you silent? is it true--is it true?" "What true? that I am a Roman Catholic? Oh, certainly; don't you understand, that's why I am reading so hard for the schools?" said Charles. "Come, be serious for a moment, Reding," said Bateman, "do be serious. Will you empower me to contradict the report, or to negative it to a certain point, or in any respect?" "Oh, to be sure," said Charles, "contradict it, by all means, contradict it entirely." "May I give it a plain, unqualified, unconditional, categorical, flat denial?" asked Bateman. "Of course, of course." Bateman could not make him out, and had not a dream how he was teasing him. "I don't know where to find you," he said. They paced down the walk in silence. Bateman began again. "You see," he said, "it would be such a wonderful blindness, it would be so utterly inexcusable in a person like yourself, who had known _what_ the Church of England was; not a Dissenter, not an unlettered layman; but one who had been at Oxford, who had come across so many excellent men, who had seen what the Church of England could be, her grave beauty, her orderly and decent activity; who had seen churches decorated as they should be, with candlesticks, ciboriums, faldstools, lecterns, antependiums, piscinas, rood-lofts, and sedilia; who, in fact, had seen the Church Service _carried out_, and could desiderate nothing;--tell me, my dear good Reding," taking hold of his button-hole, "what is it you want--what is it? name it." "That you would take yourself off," Charles would have said, had he spoken his mind; he merely said, however, that really he desiderated nothing but to be believed when he said that he had no intention of leaving his own Church. Bateman was incredulous, and thought him close. "Perhaps you are not aware," he said, "how much is known of the circumstances of your being sent down. The old Principal was full of the subject." "What! I suppose he told people right and left," said Reding. "Oh, yes," answered Bateman; "a friend of mine knows him, and happening to call on him soon after you went down, had the whole story from him. He spoke most kindly of you, and in the highest terms; said that it was deplorable how much your mind was warped by the prevalent opinions, and that he should not be surprised if it turned out you were a Romanist even while you were at St. Saviour's; anyhow, that you would be one day a Romanist for certain, for that you held that the saints reigning with Christ interceded for us in heaven. But what was stronger, when the report got about, Sheffield said that he was not surprised at it, that he always prophesied it." "I am much obliged to him," said Charles. "However, you warrant me," said Bateman, "to contradict it--so I understand you--to contradict it peremptorily; that's enough for me. It's a great relief; it's very satisfactory. Well, I must be going." "I don't like to seem to drive you away," said Charles, "but really you must be going if you want to get home before nightfall. I hope you don't feel lonely or overworked where you are. If you are so at any time, don't scruple to drop in to dinner here; nay, we can take you in for a night, if you wish it." Bateman thanked him, and they proceeded to the hall-door together; when they were nearly parting, Bateman stopped and said, "Do you know, I should like to lend you some books to read. Let me send up to you Bramhall's Works, Thorndike, Barrow on the Unity of the Church, and Leslie's Dialogues on Romanism. I could name others, but content myself with these at present. They perfectly settle the matter; you can't help being convinced. I'll not say a word more; good-bye to you, good-bye." CHAPTER XV. Much as Charles loved and prized the company of his mother and sisters he was not sorry to have gentlemen's society, so he accepted with pleasure an invitation which Bateman sent him to dine with him at Melford. Also he wished to show Bateman, what no protestation could effect, how absurdly exaggerated were the reports which were circulated about him. And as the said Bateman, with all his want of common sense, was really a well-informed man, and well read in English divines, he thought he might incidentally hear something from him which he could turn to account. When he got to Melford he found a Mr. Campbell had been asked to meet him; a young Cambridge rector of a neighbouring parish, of the same religious sentiments on the whole as Bateman, and, though a little positive, a man of clear head and vigorous mind. They had been going over the church; and the conversation at dinner turned on the revival of Gothic architecture--an event which gave unmixed satisfaction to all parties. The subject would have died out, almost as soon as it was started, for want of a difference upon it, had not Bateman happily gone on boldly to declare that, if he had his will, there should be no architecture in the English churches but Gothic, and no music but Gregorian. This was a good thesis, distinctly put, and gave scope for a very pretty quarrel. Reding said that all these adjuncts of worship, whether music or architecture, were national; they were the mode in which religious feeling showed itself in particular times and places. He did not mean to say that the outward expression of religion in a country might not be guided, but it could not be forced; that it was as preposterous to make people worship in one's own way, as be merry in one's own way. "The Greeks," he said, "cut the hair in grief, the Romans let it grow; the Orientals veiled their heads in worship, the Greeks uncovered them; Christians take off their hats in a church, Mahometans their shoes; a long veil is a sign of modesty in Europe, of immodesty in Asia. You may as well try to change the size of people, as their forms of worship. Bateman, we must cut you down a foot, and then you shall begin your ecclesiastical reforms." "But surely, my worthy friend," answered Bateman, "you don't mean to say that there is no natural connexion between internal feeling and outward expression, so that one form is no better than another?" "Far from it," answered Charles; "but let those who confine their music to Gregorians put up crucifixes in the highways. Each is the representative of a particular place or time." "That's what I say of our good friend's short coat and long cassock," said Campbell; "it is a confusion of different times, ancient and modern." "Or of different ideas," said Charles, "the cassock Catholic, the coat Protestant." "The reverse," said Bateman; "the cassock is old Hooker's Anglican habit: the coat comes from Catholic France." "Anyhow, it is what Mr. Reding calls a mixture of ideas," said Campbell; "and that's the difficulty I find in uniting Gothic and Gregorians." "Oh, pardon me," said Bateman, "they are one idea; they are both eminently Catholic." "You can't be more Catholic than Rome, I suppose," said Campbell; "yet there's no Gothic there." "Rome is a peculiar place," said Bateman; "besides, my dear friend, if we do but consider that Rome has corrupted the pure apostolic doctrine, can we wonder that it should have a corrupt architecture?" "Why, then, go to Rome for Gregorians?" said Campbell; "I suspect they are called after Gregory I. Bishop of Rome, whom Protestants consider the first specimen of Antichrist." "It's nothing to us what Protestants think," answered Bateman. "Don't let us quarrel about terms," said Campbell; "both you and I think that Rome has corrupted the faith, whether she is Antichrist or not. You said so yourself just now." "It is true, I did," said Bateman; "but I make a little distinction. The Church of Rome has not _corrupted_ the faith, but has _admitted_ corruptions among her people." "It won't do," answered Campbell; "depend on it, we can't stand our ground in controversy unless we in our hearts think very severely of the Church of Rome." "Why, what's Rome to us?" asked Bateman; "we come from the old British Church; we don't meddle with Rome, and we wish Rome not to meddle with us, but she will." "Well," said Campbell, "you but read a bit of the history of the Reformation, and you will find that the doctrine that the Pope is Antichrist was the life of the movement." "With Ultra-Protestants, not with us," answered Bateman. "Such Ultra-Protestants as the writers of the Homilies," said Campbell; "but, I say again, I am not contending for names; I only mean, that as that doctrine was the life of the Reformation, so a belief, which I have and you too, that there is something bad, corrupt, perilous in the Church of Rome--that there is a spirit of Antichrist living in her, energizing in her, and ruling her--is necessary to a man's being a good Anglican. You must believe this, or you ought to go to Rome." "Impossible! my dear friend," said Bateman; "all our doctrine has been that Rome and we are sister Churches." "I say," said Campbell, "that without this strong repulsion you will not withstand the great claims, the overcoming attractions, of the Church of Rome. She is our mother--oh, that word 'mother!'--a mighty mother! She opens her arms--oh, the fragrance of that bosom! She is full of gifts--I feel it, I have long felt it. Why don't I rush into her arms? Because I feel that she is ruled by a spirit which is not she. But did that distrust of her go from me, was that certainty which I have of her corruption disproved, I should join her communion to-morrow." "This is not very edifying doctrine for Reding," thought Bateman. "Oh, my good Campbell," he said, "you are paradoxical to-day." "Not a bit of it," answered Campbell; "our Reformers felt that the only way in which they could break the tie of allegiance which bound us to Rome was the doctrine of her serious corruption. And so it is with our divines. If there is one doctrine in which they agree, it is that Rome is Antichrist, or an Antichrist. Depend upon it, that doctrine is necessary for our position." "I don't quite understand that language," said Reding; "I see it is used in various publications. It implies that controversy is a game, and that disputants are not looking out for truth, but for arguments." "You must not mistake me, Mr. Reding," answered Campbell; "all I mean is, that you have no leave to trifle with your conviction that Rome is antichristian, if you think so. For if it _is_ so, it is necessary to _say_ so. A poet says, 'Speak _gently_ of our sister's _fall_:' no, if it is a fall, we must not speak gently of it. At first one says, 'So great a Church! who am I, to speak against her?' Yes, you must, if your view of her is true: 'Tell truth and shame the Devil.' Recollect you don't use your own words; you are sanctioned, protected by all our divines. You must, else you can give no sufficient reason for not joining the Church of Rome. You must speak out, not what you _don't_ think, but what you _do_ think, _if_ you do think it." "Here's a doctrine!" thought Charles; "why it's putting the controversy into a nutshell." Bateman interposed. "My dear Campbell," he said, "you are behind the day. We have given up all that abuse against Rome." "Then the party is not so clever as I give them credit for being," answered Campbell; "be sure of this,--those who have given up their protests against Rome, either are looking towards her, or have no eyes to see." "All we say," answered Bateman, "is, as I said before, that _we_ don't wish to interfere with Rome; _we_ don't anathematize Rome--Rome anathematizes _us_." "It won't do," said Campbell; "those who resolve to remain in our Church, and are using sweet words of Romanism, will be forced back upon their proper ground in spite of themselves, and will get no thanks for their pains. No man can serve two masters; either go to Rome, or condemn Rome. For me, the Romish Church has a great deal in it which I can't get over; and thinking so, much as I admire it in parts, I can't help speaking, I can't help it. It would not be honest, and it would not be consistent." "Well, he has ended better than he began," thought Bateman; and he chimed in, "Oh yes, true, too true; it's painful to see it, but there's a great deal in the Church of Rome which no man of plain sense, no reader of the Fathers, no Scripture student, no true member of the Anglo-Catholic Church can possibly stomach." This put a corona on the discussion; and the rest of the dinner passed off pleasantly indeed, but not very intellectually. CHAPTER XVI. After dinner it occurred to them that the subject of Gregorians and Gothic had been left in the lurch. "How in the world did we get off it?" asked Charles. "Well, at least, we have found it," said Bateman; "and I really should like to hear what you have to say upon it, Campbell." "Oh, really, Bateman," answered he, "I am quite sick of the subject; every one seems to me to be going into extremes: what's the good of arguing about it? you won't agree with me." "I don't see that at all," answered Bateman; "people often think they differ, merely because they have not courage to talk to each other." "A good remark," thought Charles; "what a pity that Bateman, with so much sense, should have so little common sense!" "Well, then," said Campbell, "my quarrel with Gothic and Gregorians, when coupled together, is, that they are two ideas, not one. Have figured music in Gothic churches, keep your Gregorian for basilicas." "My good Campbell," said Bateman, "you seem oblivious that Gregorian chants and hymns have always accompanied Gothic aisles, Gothic copes, Gothic mitres, and Gothic chalices." "Our ancestors did what they could," answered Campbell; "they were great in architecture, small in music. They could not use what was not yet invented. They sang Gregorians because they had not Palestrina." "A paradox, a paradox!" cried Bateman. "Surely there is a close connexion," answered Campbell, "between the rise and nature of the basilica and of Gregorian unison.

cramped

How many times the word 'cramped' appears in the text?

what grief was, not so long ago; but not till now had she known anxiety. Charles's state of mind was a matter of simple astonishment to her. At first it quite frightened and shocked her; it was as if Charles had lost his identity, and had turned out some one else. It was like a great breach of trust. She had seen there was a good deal in the newspapers about the "Oxford party" and their doings; and at different places, where she had been on visits, she had heard of churches being done up in the new fashion, and clergymen being accused, in consequence, of Popery--a charge which she had laughed at. But now it was actually brought home to her door that there was something in it. Yet it was to her incomprehensible, and she hardly knew where she was. And that, of all persons in the world, her brother, her own Charles, with whom she had been one heart and soul all their lives--one so cheerful, so religious, so good, so sensible, so cautious,--that he should be the first specimen that crossed her path of the new opinions,--it bewildered her. And where _had_ he got his notions?--Notions! she could not call them notions; he had nothing to say for himself. It was an infatuation; he, so clever, so sharp-sighted, could say nothing better in defence of himself than that Mrs. Bishop of Monmouth was too pretty, and that old Dr. Stock sat upon a cushion. Oh, sad, sad indeed! How was it he could be so insensible to the blessings he gained from his Church, and had enjoyed all his life? What could he need? _She_ had no need at all: going to church was a pleasure to her. She liked to hear the Lessons and the Collects, coming round year after year, and marking the seasons. The historical books and prophets in summer; then the "stir-up" Collect just before Advent; the beautiful Collects in Advent itself, with the Lessons from Isaiah reaching on through Epiphany; they were quite music to the ear. Then the Psalms, varying with every Sunday; they were a perpetual solace to her, ever old yet ever new. The occasional additions, too--the Athanasian Creed, the Benedictus, Deus misereatur, and Omnia opera, which her father had been used to read at certain great feasts; and the beautiful Litany. What could he want more? where could he find so much? Well, it was a mystery to her; and she could only feel thankful that _she_ was not exposed to the temptations, whatever they were, which had acted on the powerful mind of her brother. Then, she had anticipated how pleasant it would be when Charles was a clergyman, and she should hear him preach; when there would be one whom she would have a right to ask questions and to consult whenever she wished. This prospect was at an end; she could no longer trust him: he had given a shake to her confidence which it never could recover; it was gone for ever. They were all of them women but he; he was their only stay, now that her father had been taken away. What was now to become of them? To be abandoned by her own brother! oh, how terrible! And how was she to break it to her mother? for broken it must be sooner or later. She could not deceive herself; she knew her brother well enough to feel sure that, when he had really got hold of a thing, he would not let it go again without convincing reasons; and what reasons there could be for letting it go she could not conceive, if there could be reasons for taking it up. The taking it up baffled all reason, all calculation. Well, but how was her mother to be told of it? Was it better to let her suspect it first, and so break it to her, or to wait till the event happened? The problem was too difficult for the present, and she must leave it. This was her state for several days, till her fever of mind gradually subsided into a state of which a dull anxiety was a latent but habitual element, leaving her as usual at ordinary times, but every now and then betraying itself by sudden sharp sighs or wanderings of thought. Neither brother nor sister, loving each other really as much as ever, had quite the same sweetness and evenness of temper as was natural to them; self-control became a duty, and the evening circle was duller than before, without any one being able to say why. Charles was more attentive to his mother; he no more brought his books into the drawing-room, but gave himself to her company. He read to them, but he had little to talk about; and Eliza and Caroline both wished his stupid examination, past and over, that he might be restored to his natural liveliness. As to Mrs. Reding, she did not observe more than that her son was a very hard student, and grudged himself a walk or ride, let the day be ever so fine. She was a mild, quiet person, of keen feelings and precise habits; not very quick at observation; and, having lived all her life in the country, and till her late loss having scarcely known what trouble was, she was singularly unable to comprehend how things could go on in any way but one. Charles had not told her the real cause of his spending the winter at home, thinking it would be a needless vexation to her; much less did he contemplate harassing her with the recital of his own religious difficulties, which were not appreciable by her, and issued in no definite result. To his sister he did attempt an explanation of his former conversation, with a view of softening the extreme misgivings which it had created in her mind. She received it thankfully, and professed to be relieved by it; but the blow was struck, the suspicion was lodged deep in her mind--he was still Charles, dear to her as ever, but she never could rid herself of the anticipation which on that occasion she had expressed. CHAPTER XIV. One morning he was told that a gentleman had asked for him, and been shown into the dining-room. Descending, he saw the tall slender figure of Bateman, now a clergyman, and lately appointed curate of a neighbouring parish. Charles had not seen him for a year and a half, and shook hands with him very warmly, complimenting him on his white neckcloth, which somehow, he said, altered him more than he could have expected. Bateman's manner certainly was altered; it might be the accident of the day, but he did not seem quite at his ease; it might be that he was in a strange house, and was likely soon to be precipitated into the company of ladies, to which he had never been used. If so, the trial was on the point of beginning, for Charles said instantly that he must come and see his mother, and of course meant to dine with them; the sky was clear, and there was an excellent footpath between Boughton and Melford. Bateman could not do this, but he would have the greatest pleasure in being introduced to Mrs. Reding; so he stumbled after Charles into the drawing-room, and was soon conversing with her and the young ladies. "A charming prospect you have here, ma'am," said Bateman, "when you are once inside the house. It does not promise outside so extensive a view." "No, it is shut in with trees," said Mrs. Reding; "and the brow of the hill changes its direction so much that at first I used to think the prospect ought to be from the opposite windows." "What is that high hill?" said Bateman. "It is Hart Hill," said Charles; "there's a Roman camp atop of it." "We can see eight steeples from our windows," said Mrs. Reding;--"ring the bell for luncheon, my dear." "Ah, our ancestors, Mrs. Reding," said Bateman, "thought more of building churches than we do; or rather than we have done, I should say, for now it is astonishing what efforts are made to add to our ecclesiastical structures." "Our ancestors did a good deal too," said Mrs. Reding; "how many churches, my dear, were built in London in Queen Anne's time? St. Martin's was one of them." "Fifty," said Eliza. "Fifty were intended," said Charles. "Yes, Mrs. Reding," said Bateman; "but by ancestors I meant the holy Bishops and other members of our Catholic Church previously to the Reformation. For, though the Reformation was a great blessing" (a glance at Charles), "yet we must not, in justice, forget what was done by English Churchmen before it." "Ah, poor creatures," said Mrs. Reding, "they did one good thing in building churches; it has saved us much trouble." "Is there much church-restoration going on in these parts?" said Bateman, taken rather aback. "My mother has but lately come here, like yourself," said Charles; "yes, there is some; Barton Church, you know," appealing to Mary. "Have your walks extended so far as Barton?" said Mary to Bateman. "Not yet, Miss Reding, not yet," answered he; "of course they are destroying the pews." "They are to put in seats," said Charles, "and of a very good pattern." "Pews are intolerable," said Bateman; "yet the last generation of incumbents contentedly bore them; it is wonderful!" A not unnatural silence followed this speech. Charles broke it by asking if Bateman intended to do anything in the improvement line at Melford. Bateman looked modest. "Nothing of any consequence," he said; "some few things were done; but he had a rector of the old school, poor man, who was an enemy to that sort of thing." It was with some malicious feeling, in consequence of his attack on clergymen of the past age, that Charles pressed his visitor to give an account of his own reforms. "Why," said Bateman, "much discretion is necessary in these matters, or you do as much harm as good; you get into hot water with churchwardens and vestries, as well as with old rectors, and again with the gentry of the place, and please no one. For this reason I have made no attempt to introduce the surplice into the pulpit except on the great festivals, intending to familiarize my parishioners to it by little and little. However, I wear a scarf or stole, and have taken care that it should be two inches broader than usual; and I always wear the cassock in my parish. I hope you approve of the cassock, Mrs. Reding?" "It is a very cold dress, sir--that's my opinion--when made of silk or bombazeen; and very unbecoming too, when worn by itself." "Particularly behind," said Charles; "it is quite unshapely." "Oh, I have remedied that," said Bateman; "you have noticed, Miss Reding, I dare say, the Bishop's short cassock. It comes to the knees, and looks much like a continuation of a waistcoat, the straight-cut coat being worn as usual. Well, Miss Reding, I have adopted the same plan with the long cassock; I put my coat over it." Mary had difficulty to keep from smiling; Charles laughed out. "Impossible, Bateman," he said; "you don't mean you wear your tailed French coat over your long straight cassock reaching to your ankles?" "Certainly," said Bateman gravely; "I thus consult for warmth and appearance too; and all my parishioners are sure to know me. I think this a great point, Miss Reding: I hear the little boys as I pass say, 'That's the parson.'" "I'll be bound they do," said Charles. "Well," said Mrs. Reding, surprised out of her propriety, "did one ever hear the like!" Bateman looked round at her, startled and frightened. "You were going to speak of your improvements in your church," said Mary, wishing to divert his attention from her mother. "Ah, true, Miss Reding, true," said Bateman, "thank you for reminding me; I have digressed to improvements in my own dress. I should have liked to have pulled down the galleries and lowered the high pews; that, however, I could not do. So I have lowered the pulpit some six feet. Now by doing so, first I give a pattern in my own person of the kind of condescension or lowliness to which I would persuade my people. But this is not all; for the consequence of lowering the pulpit is, that no one in the galleries can see or hear me preach; and this is a bonus on those who are below." "It's a broad hint, certainly," said Charles. "But it's a hint for those below also," continued Bateman; "for no one can see or hear me in the pews either, till the sides are lowered." "One thing only is wanting besides," said Charles, smiling and looking amiable, lest he should be saying too much; "since you are full tall, you must kneel when you preach, Bateman, else you will undo your own alterations." Bateman looked pleased. "I have anticipated you," he said; "I preach sitting. It is more comformable to antiquity and to reason to sit than to stand." "With these precautions," said Charles, "I really think you might have ventured on your surplice in the pulpit every Sunday. Are your parishioners contented?" "Oh, not at all, far from it," cried Bateman; "but they can do nothing. The alteration is so simple." "Nothing besides?" asked Charles. "Nothing in the architectural way," answered he; "but one thing more in the way of observances. I have fortunately picked up a very fair copy of Jewell, black-letter; and I have placed it in church, securing it with a chain to the wall, for any poor person who wishes to read it. Our church is emphatically the 'poor man's church,' Mrs. Reding." "Well," said Charles to himself, "I'll back the old parsons against the young ones any day, if this is to be their cut." Then aloud: "Come, you must see our garden; take up your hat, and let's have a turn in it. There's a very nice terrace-walk at the upper end." Bateman accordingly, having been thus trotted out for the amusement of the ladies, was now led off again, and was soon in the aforesaid terrace-walk, pacing up and down in earnest conversation with Charles. "Reding, my good fellow," said he, "what is the meaning of this report concerning you, which is everywhere about?" "I have not heard it," said Charles abruptly. "Why, it is this," said Bateman; "I wish to approach the subject with as great delicacy as possible: don't tell me if you don't like it, or tell me just as much as you like; yet you will excuse an old friend. They say you are going to leave the Church of your baptism for the Church of Rome." "Is it widely spread?" asked Charles coolly. "Oh, yes; I heard it in London; have had a letter mentioning it from Oxford; and a friend of mine heard it given out as positive at a visitation dinner in Wales." "So," thought Charles, "you are bringing _your_ witness against me as well as the rest." "Well but, my good Reding," said Bateman, "why are you silent? is it true--is it true?" "What true? that I am a Roman Catholic? Oh, certainly; don't you understand, that's why I am reading so hard for the schools?" said Charles. "Come, be serious for a moment, Reding," said Bateman, "do be serious. Will you empower me to contradict the report, or to negative it to a certain point, or in any respect?" "Oh, to be sure," said Charles, "contradict it, by all means, contradict it entirely." "May I give it a plain, unqualified, unconditional, categorical, flat denial?" asked Bateman. "Of course, of course." Bateman could not make him out, and had not a dream how he was teasing him. "I don't know where to find you," he said. They paced down the walk in silence. Bateman began again. "You see," he said, "it would be such a wonderful blindness, it would be so utterly inexcusable in a person like yourself, who had known _what_ the Church of England was; not a Dissenter, not an unlettered layman; but one who had been at Oxford, who had come across so many excellent men, who had seen what the Church of England could be, her grave beauty, her orderly and decent activity; who had seen churches decorated as they should be, with candlesticks, ciboriums, faldstools, lecterns, antependiums, piscinas, rood-lofts, and sedilia; who, in fact, had seen the Church Service _carried out_, and could desiderate nothing;--tell me, my dear good Reding," taking hold of his button-hole, "what is it you want--what is it? name it." "That you would take yourself off," Charles would have said, had he spoken his mind; he merely said, however, that really he desiderated nothing but to be believed when he said that he had no intention of leaving his own Church. Bateman was incredulous, and thought him close. "Perhaps you are not aware," he said, "how much is known of the circumstances of your being sent down. The old Principal was full of the subject." "What! I suppose he told people right and left," said Reding. "Oh, yes," answered Bateman; "a friend of mine knows him, and happening to call on him soon after you went down, had the whole story from him. He spoke most kindly of you, and in the highest terms; said that it was deplorable how much your mind was warped by the prevalent opinions, and that he should not be surprised if it turned out you were a Romanist even while you were at St. Saviour's; anyhow, that you would be one day a Romanist for certain, for that you held that the saints reigning with Christ interceded for us in heaven. But what was stronger, when the report got about, Sheffield said that he was not surprised at it, that he always prophesied it." "I am much obliged to him," said Charles. "However, you warrant me," said Bateman, "to contradict it--so I understand you--to contradict it peremptorily; that's enough for me. It's a great relief; it's very satisfactory. Well, I must be going." "I don't like to seem to drive you away," said Charles, "but really you must be going if you want to get home before nightfall. I hope you don't feel lonely or overworked where you are. If you are so at any time, don't scruple to drop in to dinner here; nay, we can take you in for a night, if you wish it." Bateman thanked him, and they proceeded to the hall-door together; when they were nearly parting, Bateman stopped and said, "Do you know, I should like to lend you some books to read. Let me send up to you Bramhall's Works, Thorndike, Barrow on the Unity of the Church, and Leslie's Dialogues on Romanism. I could name others, but content myself with these at present. They perfectly settle the matter; you can't help being convinced. I'll not say a word more; good-bye to you, good-bye." CHAPTER XV. Much as Charles loved and prized the company of his mother and sisters he was not sorry to have gentlemen's society, so he accepted with pleasure an invitation which Bateman sent him to dine with him at Melford. Also he wished to show Bateman, what no protestation could effect, how absurdly exaggerated were the reports which were circulated about him. And as the said Bateman, with all his want of common sense, was really a well-informed man, and well read in English divines, he thought he might incidentally hear something from him which he could turn to account. When he got to Melford he found a Mr. Campbell had been asked to meet him; a young Cambridge rector of a neighbouring parish, of the same religious sentiments on the whole as Bateman, and, though a little positive, a man of clear head and vigorous mind. They had been going over the church; and the conversation at dinner turned on the revival of Gothic architecture--an event which gave unmixed satisfaction to all parties. The subject would have died out, almost as soon as it was started, for want of a difference upon it, had not Bateman happily gone on boldly to declare that, if he had his will, there should be no architecture in the English churches but Gothic, and no music but Gregorian. This was a good thesis, distinctly put, and gave scope for a very pretty quarrel. Reding said that all these adjuncts of worship, whether music or architecture, were national; they were the mode in which religious feeling showed itself in particular times and places. He did not mean to say that the outward expression of religion in a country might not be guided, but it could not be forced; that it was as preposterous to make people worship in one's own way, as be merry in one's own way. "The Greeks," he said, "cut the hair in grief, the Romans let it grow; the Orientals veiled their heads in worship, the Greeks uncovered them; Christians take off their hats in a church, Mahometans their shoes; a long veil is a sign of modesty in Europe, of immodesty in Asia. You may as well try to change the size of people, as their forms of worship. Bateman, we must cut you down a foot, and then you shall begin your ecclesiastical reforms." "But surely, my worthy friend," answered Bateman, "you don't mean to say that there is no natural connexion between internal feeling and outward expression, so that one form is no better than another?" "Far from it," answered Charles; "but let those who confine their music to Gregorians put up crucifixes in the highways. Each is the representative of a particular place or time." "That's what I say of our good friend's short coat and long cassock," said Campbell; "it is a confusion of different times, ancient and modern." "Or of different ideas," said Charles, "the cassock Catholic, the coat Protestant." "The reverse," said Bateman; "the cassock is old Hooker's Anglican habit: the coat comes from Catholic France." "Anyhow, it is what Mr. Reding calls a mixture of ideas," said Campbell; "and that's the difficulty I find in uniting Gothic and Gregorians." "Oh, pardon me," said Bateman, "they are one idea; they are both eminently Catholic." "You can't be more Catholic than Rome, I suppose," said Campbell; "yet there's no Gothic there." "Rome is a peculiar place," said Bateman; "besides, my dear friend, if we do but consider that Rome has corrupted the pure apostolic doctrine, can we wonder that it should have a corrupt architecture?" "Why, then, go to Rome for Gregorians?" said Campbell; "I suspect they are called after Gregory I. Bishop of Rome, whom Protestants consider the first specimen of Antichrist." "It's nothing to us what Protestants think," answered Bateman. "Don't let us quarrel about terms," said Campbell; "both you and I think that Rome has corrupted the faith, whether she is Antichrist or not. You said so yourself just now." "It is true, I did," said Bateman; "but I make a little distinction. The Church of Rome has not _corrupted_ the faith, but has _admitted_ corruptions among her people." "It won't do," answered Campbell; "depend on it, we can't stand our ground in controversy unless we in our hearts think very severely of the Church of Rome." "Why, what's Rome to us?" asked Bateman; "we come from the old British Church; we don't meddle with Rome, and we wish Rome not to meddle with us, but she will." "Well," said Campbell, "you but read a bit of the history of the Reformation, and you will find that the doctrine that the Pope is Antichrist was the life of the movement." "With Ultra-Protestants, not with us," answered Bateman. "Such Ultra-Protestants as the writers of the Homilies," said Campbell; "but, I say again, I am not contending for names; I only mean, that as that doctrine was the life of the Reformation, so a belief, which I have and you too, that there is something bad, corrupt, perilous in the Church of Rome--that there is a spirit of Antichrist living in her, energizing in her, and ruling her--is necessary to a man's being a good Anglican. You must believe this, or you ought to go to Rome." "Impossible! my dear friend," said Bateman; "all our doctrine has been that Rome and we are sister Churches." "I say," said Campbell, "that without this strong repulsion you will not withstand the great claims, the overcoming attractions, of the Church of Rome. She is our mother--oh, that word 'mother!'--a mighty mother! She opens her arms--oh, the fragrance of that bosom! She is full of gifts--I feel it, I have long felt it. Why don't I rush into her arms? Because I feel that she is ruled by a spirit which is not she. But did that distrust of her go from me, was that certainty which I have of her corruption disproved, I should join her communion to-morrow." "This is not very edifying doctrine for Reding," thought Bateman. "Oh, my good Campbell," he said, "you are paradoxical to-day." "Not a bit of it," answered Campbell; "our Reformers felt that the only way in which they could break the tie of allegiance which bound us to Rome was the doctrine of her serious corruption. And so it is with our divines. If there is one doctrine in which they agree, it is that Rome is Antichrist, or an Antichrist. Depend upon it, that doctrine is necessary for our position." "I don't quite understand that language," said Reding; "I see it is used in various publications. It implies that controversy is a game, and that disputants are not looking out for truth, but for arguments." "You must not mistake me, Mr. Reding," answered Campbell; "all I mean is, that you have no leave to trifle with your conviction that Rome is antichristian, if you think so. For if it _is_ so, it is necessary to _say_ so. A poet says, 'Speak _gently_ of our sister's _fall_:' no, if it is a fall, we must not speak gently of it. At first one says, 'So great a Church! who am I, to speak against her?' Yes, you must, if your view of her is true: 'Tell truth and shame the Devil.' Recollect you don't use your own words; you are sanctioned, protected by all our divines. You must, else you can give no sufficient reason for not joining the Church of Rome. You must speak out, not what you _don't_ think, but what you _do_ think, _if_ you do think it." "Here's a doctrine!" thought Charles; "why it's putting the controversy into a nutshell." Bateman interposed. "My dear Campbell," he said, "you are behind the day. We have given up all that abuse against Rome." "Then the party is not so clever as I give them credit for being," answered Campbell; "be sure of this,--those who have given up their protests against Rome, either are looking towards her, or have no eyes to see." "All we say," answered Bateman, "is, as I said before, that _we_ don't wish to interfere with Rome; _we_ don't anathematize Rome--Rome anathematizes _us_." "It won't do," said Campbell; "those who resolve to remain in our Church, and are using sweet words of Romanism, will be forced back upon their proper ground in spite of themselves, and will get no thanks for their pains. No man can serve two masters; either go to Rome, or condemn Rome. For me, the Romish Church has a great deal in it which I can't get over; and thinking so, much as I admire it in parts, I can't help speaking, I can't help it. It would not be honest, and it would not be consistent." "Well, he has ended better than he began," thought Bateman; and he chimed in, "Oh yes, true, too true; it's painful to see it, but there's a great deal in the Church of Rome which no man of plain sense, no reader of the Fathers, no Scripture student, no true member of the Anglo-Catholic Church can possibly stomach." This put a corona on the discussion; and the rest of the dinner passed off pleasantly indeed, but not very intellectually. CHAPTER XVI. After dinner it occurred to them that the subject of Gregorians and Gothic had been left in the lurch. "How in the world did we get off it?" asked Charles. "Well, at least, we have found it," said Bateman; "and I really should like to hear what you have to say upon it, Campbell." "Oh, really, Bateman," answered he, "I am quite sick of the subject; every one seems to me to be going into extremes: what's the good of arguing about it? you won't agree with me." "I don't see that at all," answered Bateman; "people often think they differ, merely because they have not courage to talk to each other." "A good remark," thought Charles; "what a pity that Bateman, with so much sense, should have so little common sense!" "Well, then," said Campbell, "my quarrel with Gothic and Gregorians, when coupled together, is, that they are two ideas, not one. Have figured music in Gothic churches, keep your Gregorian for basilicas." "My good Campbell," said Bateman, "you seem oblivious that Gregorian chants and hymns have always accompanied Gothic aisles, Gothic copes, Gothic mitres, and Gothic chalices." "Our ancestors did what they could," answered Campbell; "they were great in architecture, small in music. They could not use what was not yet invented. They sang Gregorians because they had not Palestrina." "A paradox, a paradox!" cried Bateman. "Surely there is a close connexion," answered Campbell, "between the rise and nature of the basilica and of Gregorian unison.

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what grief was, not so long ago; but not till now had she known anxiety. Charles's state of mind was a matter of simple astonishment to her. At first it quite frightened and shocked her; it was as if Charles had lost his identity, and had turned out some one else. It was like a great breach of trust. She had seen there was a good deal in the newspapers about the "Oxford party" and their doings; and at different places, where she had been on visits, she had heard of churches being done up in the new fashion, and clergymen being accused, in consequence, of Popery--a charge which she had laughed at. But now it was actually brought home to her door that there was something in it. Yet it was to her incomprehensible, and she hardly knew where she was. And that, of all persons in the world, her brother, her own Charles, with whom she had been one heart and soul all their lives--one so cheerful, so religious, so good, so sensible, so cautious,--that he should be the first specimen that crossed her path of the new opinions,--it bewildered her. And where _had_ he got his notions?--Notions! she could not call them notions; he had nothing to say for himself. It was an infatuation; he, so clever, so sharp-sighted, could say nothing better in defence of himself than that Mrs. Bishop of Monmouth was too pretty, and that old Dr. Stock sat upon a cushion. Oh, sad, sad indeed! How was it he could be so insensible to the blessings he gained from his Church, and had enjoyed all his life? What could he need? _She_ had no need at all: going to church was a pleasure to her. She liked to hear the Lessons and the Collects, coming round year after year, and marking the seasons. The historical books and prophets in summer; then the "stir-up" Collect just before Advent; the beautiful Collects in Advent itself, with the Lessons from Isaiah reaching on through Epiphany; they were quite music to the ear. Then the Psalms, varying with every Sunday; they were a perpetual solace to her, ever old yet ever new. The occasional additions, too--the Athanasian Creed, the Benedictus, Deus misereatur, and Omnia opera, which her father had been used to read at certain great feasts; and the beautiful Litany. What could he want more? where could he find so much? Well, it was a mystery to her; and she could only feel thankful that _she_ was not exposed to the temptations, whatever they were, which had acted on the powerful mind of her brother. Then, she had anticipated how pleasant it would be when Charles was a clergyman, and she should hear him preach; when there would be one whom she would have a right to ask questions and to consult whenever she wished. This prospect was at an end; she could no longer trust him: he had given a shake to her confidence which it never could recover; it was gone for ever. They were all of them women but he; he was their only stay, now that her father had been taken away. What was now to become of them? To be abandoned by her own brother! oh, how terrible! And how was she to break it to her mother? for broken it must be sooner or later. She could not deceive herself; she knew her brother well enough to feel sure that, when he had really got hold of a thing, he would not let it go again without convincing reasons; and what reasons there could be for letting it go she could not conceive, if there could be reasons for taking it up. The taking it up baffled all reason, all calculation. Well, but how was her mother to be told of it? Was it better to let her suspect it first, and so break it to her, or to wait till the event happened? The problem was too difficult for the present, and she must leave it. This was her state for several days, till her fever of mind gradually subsided into a state of which a dull anxiety was a latent but habitual element, leaving her as usual at ordinary times, but every now and then betraying itself by sudden sharp sighs or wanderings of thought. Neither brother nor sister, loving each other really as much as ever, had quite the same sweetness and evenness of temper as was natural to them; self-control became a duty, and the evening circle was duller than before, without any one being able to say why. Charles was more attentive to his mother; he no more brought his books into the drawing-room, but gave himself to her company. He read to them, but he had little to talk about; and Eliza and Caroline both wished his stupid examination, past and over, that he might be restored to his natural liveliness. As to Mrs. Reding, she did not observe more than that her son was a very hard student, and grudged himself a walk or ride, let the day be ever so fine. She was a mild, quiet person, of keen feelings and precise habits; not very quick at observation; and, having lived all her life in the country, and till her late loss having scarcely known what trouble was, she was singularly unable to comprehend how things could go on in any way but one. Charles had not told her the real cause of his spending the winter at home, thinking it would be a needless vexation to her; much less did he contemplate harassing her with the recital of his own religious difficulties, which were not appreciable by her, and issued in no definite result. To his sister he did attempt an explanation of his former conversation, with a view of softening the extreme misgivings which it had created in her mind. She received it thankfully, and professed to be relieved by it; but the blow was struck, the suspicion was lodged deep in her mind--he was still Charles, dear to her as ever, but she never could rid herself of the anticipation which on that occasion she had expressed. CHAPTER XIV. One morning he was told that a gentleman had asked for him, and been shown into the dining-room. Descending, he saw the tall slender figure of Bateman, now a clergyman, and lately appointed curate of a neighbouring parish. Charles had not seen him for a year and a half, and shook hands with him very warmly, complimenting him on his white neckcloth, which somehow, he said, altered him more than he could have expected. Bateman's manner certainly was altered; it might be the accident of the day, but he did not seem quite at his ease; it might be that he was in a strange house, and was likely soon to be precipitated into the company of ladies, to which he had never been used. If so, the trial was on the point of beginning, for Charles said instantly that he must come and see his mother, and of course meant to dine with them; the sky was clear, and there was an excellent footpath between Boughton and Melford. Bateman could not do this, but he would have the greatest pleasure in being introduced to Mrs. Reding; so he stumbled after Charles into the drawing-room, and was soon conversing with her and the young ladies. "A charming prospect you have here, ma'am," said Bateman, "when you are once inside the house. It does not promise outside so extensive a view." "No, it is shut in with trees," said Mrs. Reding; "and the brow of the hill changes its direction so much that at first I used to think the prospect ought to be from the opposite windows." "What is that high hill?" said Bateman. "It is Hart Hill," said Charles; "there's a Roman camp atop of it." "We can see eight steeples from our windows," said Mrs. Reding;--"ring the bell for luncheon, my dear." "Ah, our ancestors, Mrs. Reding," said Bateman, "thought more of building churches than we do; or rather than we have done, I should say, for now it is astonishing what efforts are made to add to our ecclesiastical structures." "Our ancestors did a good deal too," said Mrs. Reding; "how many churches, my dear, were built in London in Queen Anne's time? St. Martin's was one of them." "Fifty," said Eliza. "Fifty were intended," said Charles. "Yes, Mrs. Reding," said Bateman; "but by ancestors I meant the holy Bishops and other members of our Catholic Church previously to the Reformation. For, though the Reformation was a great blessing" (a glance at Charles), "yet we must not, in justice, forget what was done by English Churchmen before it." "Ah, poor creatures," said Mrs. Reding, "they did one good thing in building churches; it has saved us much trouble." "Is there much church-restoration going on in these parts?" said Bateman, taken rather aback. "My mother has but lately come here, like yourself," said Charles; "yes, there is some; Barton Church, you know," appealing to Mary. "Have your walks extended so far as Barton?" said Mary to Bateman. "Not yet, Miss Reding, not yet," answered he; "of course they are destroying the pews." "They are to put in seats," said Charles, "and of a very good pattern." "Pews are intolerable," said Bateman; "yet the last generation of incumbents contentedly bore them; it is wonderful!" A not unnatural silence followed this speech. Charles broke it by asking if Bateman intended to do anything in the improvement line at Melford. Bateman looked modest. "Nothing of any consequence," he said; "some few things were done; but he had a rector of the old school, poor man, who was an enemy to that sort of thing." It was with some malicious feeling, in consequence of his attack on clergymen of the past age, that Charles pressed his visitor to give an account of his own reforms. "Why," said Bateman, "much discretion is necessary in these matters, or you do as much harm as good; you get into hot water with churchwardens and vestries, as well as with old rectors, and again with the gentry of the place, and please no one. For this reason I have made no attempt to introduce the surplice into the pulpit except on the great festivals, intending to familiarize my parishioners to it by little and little. However, I wear a scarf or stole, and have taken care that it should be two inches broader than usual; and I always wear the cassock in my parish. I hope you approve of the cassock, Mrs. Reding?" "It is a very cold dress, sir--that's my opinion--when made of silk or bombazeen; and very unbecoming too, when worn by itself." "Particularly behind," said Charles; "it is quite unshapely." "Oh, I have remedied that," said Bateman; "you have noticed, Miss Reding, I dare say, the Bishop's short cassock. It comes to the knees, and looks much like a continuation of a waistcoat, the straight-cut coat being worn as usual. Well, Miss Reding, I have adopted the same plan with the long cassock; I put my coat over it." Mary had difficulty to keep from smiling; Charles laughed out. "Impossible, Bateman," he said; "you don't mean you wear your tailed French coat over your long straight cassock reaching to your ankles?" "Certainly," said Bateman gravely; "I thus consult for warmth and appearance too; and all my parishioners are sure to know me. I think this a great point, Miss Reding: I hear the little boys as I pass say, 'That's the parson.'" "I'll be bound they do," said Charles. "Well," said Mrs. Reding, surprised out of her propriety, "did one ever hear the like!" Bateman looked round at her, startled and frightened. "You were going to speak of your improvements in your church," said Mary, wishing to divert his attention from her mother. "Ah, true, Miss Reding, true," said Bateman, "thank you for reminding me; I have digressed to improvements in my own dress. I should have liked to have pulled down the galleries and lowered the high pews; that, however, I could not do. So I have lowered the pulpit some six feet. Now by doing so, first I give a pattern in my own person of the kind of condescension or lowliness to which I would persuade my people. But this is not all; for the consequence of lowering the pulpit is, that no one in the galleries can see or hear me preach; and this is a bonus on those who are below." "It's a broad hint, certainly," said Charles. "But it's a hint for those below also," continued Bateman; "for no one can see or hear me in the pews either, till the sides are lowered." "One thing only is wanting besides," said Charles, smiling and looking amiable, lest he should be saying too much; "since you are full tall, you must kneel when you preach, Bateman, else you will undo your own alterations." Bateman looked pleased. "I have anticipated you," he said; "I preach sitting. It is more comformable to antiquity and to reason to sit than to stand." "With these precautions," said Charles, "I really think you might have ventured on your surplice in the pulpit every Sunday. Are your parishioners contented?" "Oh, not at all, far from it," cried Bateman; "but they can do nothing. The alteration is so simple." "Nothing besides?" asked Charles. "Nothing in the architectural way," answered he; "but one thing more in the way of observances. I have fortunately picked up a very fair copy of Jewell, black-letter; and I have placed it in church, securing it with a chain to the wall, for any poor person who wishes to read it. Our church is emphatically the 'poor man's church,' Mrs. Reding." "Well," said Charles to himself, "I'll back the old parsons against the young ones any day, if this is to be their cut." Then aloud: "Come, you must see our garden; take up your hat, and let's have a turn in it. There's a very nice terrace-walk at the upper end." Bateman accordingly, having been thus trotted out for the amusement of the ladies, was now led off again, and was soon in the aforesaid terrace-walk, pacing up and down in earnest conversation with Charles. "Reding, my good fellow," said he, "what is the meaning of this report concerning you, which is everywhere about?" "I have not heard it," said Charles abruptly. "Why, it is this," said Bateman; "I wish to approach the subject with as great delicacy as possible: don't tell me if you don't like it, or tell me just as much as you like; yet you will excuse an old friend. They say you are going to leave the Church of your baptism for the Church of Rome." "Is it widely spread?" asked Charles coolly. "Oh, yes; I heard it in London; have had a letter mentioning it from Oxford; and a friend of mine heard it given out as positive at a visitation dinner in Wales." "So," thought Charles, "you are bringing _your_ witness against me as well as the rest." "Well but, my good Reding," said Bateman, "why are you silent? is it true--is it true?" "What true? that I am a Roman Catholic? Oh, certainly; don't you understand, that's why I am reading so hard for the schools?" said Charles. "Come, be serious for a moment, Reding," said Bateman, "do be serious. Will you empower me to contradict the report, or to negative it to a certain point, or in any respect?" "Oh, to be sure," said Charles, "contradict it, by all means, contradict it entirely." "May I give it a plain, unqualified, unconditional, categorical, flat denial?" asked Bateman. "Of course, of course." Bateman could not make him out, and had not a dream how he was teasing him. "I don't know where to find you," he said. They paced down the walk in silence. Bateman began again. "You see," he said, "it would be such a wonderful blindness, it would be so utterly inexcusable in a person like yourself, who had known _what_ the Church of England was; not a Dissenter, not an unlettered layman; but one who had been at Oxford, who had come across so many excellent men, who had seen what the Church of England could be, her grave beauty, her orderly and decent activity; who had seen churches decorated as they should be, with candlesticks, ciboriums, faldstools, lecterns, antependiums, piscinas, rood-lofts, and sedilia; who, in fact, had seen the Church Service _carried out_, and could desiderate nothing;--tell me, my dear good Reding," taking hold of his button-hole, "what is it you want--what is it? name it." "That you would take yourself off," Charles would have said, had he spoken his mind; he merely said, however, that really he desiderated nothing but to be believed when he said that he had no intention of leaving his own Church. Bateman was incredulous, and thought him close. "Perhaps you are not aware," he said, "how much is known of the circumstances of your being sent down. The old Principal was full of the subject." "What! I suppose he told people right and left," said Reding. "Oh, yes," answered Bateman; "a friend of mine knows him, and happening to call on him soon after you went down, had the whole story from him. He spoke most kindly of you, and in the highest terms; said that it was deplorable how much your mind was warped by the prevalent opinions, and that he should not be surprised if it turned out you were a Romanist even while you were at St. Saviour's; anyhow, that you would be one day a Romanist for certain, for that you held that the saints reigning with Christ interceded for us in heaven. But what was stronger, when the report got about, Sheffield said that he was not surprised at it, that he always prophesied it." "I am much obliged to him," said Charles. "However, you warrant me," said Bateman, "to contradict it--so I understand you--to contradict it peremptorily; that's enough for me. It's a great relief; it's very satisfactory. Well, I must be going." "I don't like to seem to drive you away," said Charles, "but really you must be going if you want to get home before nightfall. I hope you don't feel lonely or overworked where you are. If you are so at any time, don't scruple to drop in to dinner here; nay, we can take you in for a night, if you wish it." Bateman thanked him, and they proceeded to the hall-door together; when they were nearly parting, Bateman stopped and said, "Do you know, I should like to lend you some books to read. Let me send up to you Bramhall's Works, Thorndike, Barrow on the Unity of the Church, and Leslie's Dialogues on Romanism. I could name others, but content myself with these at present. They perfectly settle the matter; you can't help being convinced. I'll not say a word more; good-bye to you, good-bye." CHAPTER XV. Much as Charles loved and prized the company of his mother and sisters he was not sorry to have gentlemen's society, so he accepted with pleasure an invitation which Bateman sent him to dine with him at Melford. Also he wished to show Bateman, what no protestation could effect, how absurdly exaggerated were the reports which were circulated about him. And as the said Bateman, with all his want of common sense, was really a well-informed man, and well read in English divines, he thought he might incidentally hear something from him which he could turn to account. When he got to Melford he found a Mr. Campbell had been asked to meet him; a young Cambridge rector of a neighbouring parish, of the same religious sentiments on the whole as Bateman, and, though a little positive, a man of clear head and vigorous mind. They had been going over the church; and the conversation at dinner turned on the revival of Gothic architecture--an event which gave unmixed satisfaction to all parties. The subject would have died out, almost as soon as it was started, for want of a difference upon it, had not Bateman happily gone on boldly to declare that, if he had his will, there should be no architecture in the English churches but Gothic, and no music but Gregorian. This was a good thesis, distinctly put, and gave scope for a very pretty quarrel. Reding said that all these adjuncts of worship, whether music or architecture, were national; they were the mode in which religious feeling showed itself in particular times and places. He did not mean to say that the outward expression of religion in a country might not be guided, but it could not be forced; that it was as preposterous to make people worship in one's own way, as be merry in one's own way. "The Greeks," he said, "cut the hair in grief, the Romans let it grow; the Orientals veiled their heads in worship, the Greeks uncovered them; Christians take off their hats in a church, Mahometans their shoes; a long veil is a sign of modesty in Europe, of immodesty in Asia. You may as well try to change the size of people, as their forms of worship. Bateman, we must cut you down a foot, and then you shall begin your ecclesiastical reforms." "But surely, my worthy friend," answered Bateman, "you don't mean to say that there is no natural connexion between internal feeling and outward expression, so that one form is no better than another?" "Far from it," answered Charles; "but let those who confine their music to Gregorians put up crucifixes in the highways. Each is the representative of a particular place or time." "That's what I say of our good friend's short coat and long cassock," said Campbell; "it is a confusion of different times, ancient and modern." "Or of different ideas," said Charles, "the cassock Catholic, the coat Protestant." "The reverse," said Bateman; "the cassock is old Hooker's Anglican habit: the coat comes from Catholic France." "Anyhow, it is what Mr. Reding calls a mixture of ideas," said Campbell; "and that's the difficulty I find in uniting Gothic and Gregorians." "Oh, pardon me," said Bateman, "they are one idea; they are both eminently Catholic." "You can't be more Catholic than Rome, I suppose," said Campbell; "yet there's no Gothic there." "Rome is a peculiar place," said Bateman; "besides, my dear friend, if we do but consider that Rome has corrupted the pure apostolic doctrine, can we wonder that it should have a corrupt architecture?" "Why, then, go to Rome for Gregorians?" said Campbell; "I suspect they are called after Gregory I. Bishop of Rome, whom Protestants consider the first specimen of Antichrist." "It's nothing to us what Protestants think," answered Bateman. "Don't let us quarrel about terms," said Campbell; "both you and I think that Rome has corrupted the faith, whether she is Antichrist or not. You said so yourself just now." "It is true, I did," said Bateman; "but I make a little distinction. The Church of Rome has not _corrupted_ the faith, but has _admitted_ corruptions among her people." "It won't do," answered Campbell; "depend on it, we can't stand our ground in controversy unless we in our hearts think very severely of the Church of Rome." "Why, what's Rome to us?" asked Bateman; "we come from the old British Church; we don't meddle with Rome, and we wish Rome not to meddle with us, but she will." "Well," said Campbell, "you but read a bit of the history of the Reformation, and you will find that the doctrine that the Pope is Antichrist was the life of the movement." "With Ultra-Protestants, not with us," answered Bateman. "Such Ultra-Protestants as the writers of the Homilies," said Campbell; "but, I say again, I am not contending for names; I only mean, that as that doctrine was the life of the Reformation, so a belief, which I have and you too, that there is something bad, corrupt, perilous in the Church of Rome--that there is a spirit of Antichrist living in her, energizing in her, and ruling her--is necessary to a man's being a good Anglican. You must believe this, or you ought to go to Rome." "Impossible! my dear friend," said Bateman; "all our doctrine has been that Rome and we are sister Churches." "I say," said Campbell, "that without this strong repulsion you will not withstand the great claims, the overcoming attractions, of the Church of Rome. She is our mother--oh, that word 'mother!'--a mighty mother! She opens her arms--oh, the fragrance of that bosom! She is full of gifts--I feel it, I have long felt it. Why don't I rush into her arms? Because I feel that she is ruled by a spirit which is not she. But did that distrust of her go from me, was that certainty which I have of her corruption disproved, I should join her communion to-morrow." "This is not very edifying doctrine for Reding," thought Bateman. "Oh, my good Campbell," he said, "you are paradoxical to-day." "Not a bit of it," answered Campbell; "our Reformers felt that the only way in which they could break the tie of allegiance which bound us to Rome was the doctrine of her serious corruption. And so it is with our divines. If there is one doctrine in which they agree, it is that Rome is Antichrist, or an Antichrist. Depend upon it, that doctrine is necessary for our position." "I don't quite understand that language," said Reding; "I see it is used in various publications. It implies that controversy is a game, and that disputants are not looking out for truth, but for arguments." "You must not mistake me, Mr. Reding," answered Campbell; "all I mean is, that you have no leave to trifle with your conviction that Rome is antichristian, if you think so. For if it _is_ so, it is necessary to _say_ so. A poet says, 'Speak _gently_ of our sister's _fall_:' no, if it is a fall, we must not speak gently of it. At first one says, 'So great a Church! who am I, to speak against her?' Yes, you must, if your view of her is true: 'Tell truth and shame the Devil.' Recollect you don't use your own words; you are sanctioned, protected by all our divines. You must, else you can give no sufficient reason for not joining the Church of Rome. You must speak out, not what you _don't_ think, but what you _do_ think, _if_ you do think it." "Here's a doctrine!" thought Charles; "why it's putting the controversy into a nutshell." Bateman interposed. "My dear Campbell," he said, "you are behind the day. We have given up all that abuse against Rome." "Then the party is not so clever as I give them credit for being," answered Campbell; "be sure of this,--those who have given up their protests against Rome, either are looking towards her, or have no eyes to see." "All we say," answered Bateman, "is, as I said before, that _we_ don't wish to interfere with Rome; _we_ don't anathematize Rome--Rome anathematizes _us_." "It won't do," said Campbell; "those who resolve to remain in our Church, and are using sweet words of Romanism, will be forced back upon their proper ground in spite of themselves, and will get no thanks for their pains. No man can serve two masters; either go to Rome, or condemn Rome. For me, the Romish Church has a great deal in it which I can't get over; and thinking so, much as I admire it in parts, I can't help speaking, I can't help it. It would not be honest, and it would not be consistent." "Well, he has ended better than he began," thought Bateman; and he chimed in, "Oh yes, true, too true; it's painful to see it, but there's a great deal in the Church of Rome which no man of plain sense, no reader of the Fathers, no Scripture student, no true member of the Anglo-Catholic Church can possibly stomach." This put a corona on the discussion; and the rest of the dinner passed off pleasantly indeed, but not very intellectually. CHAPTER XVI. After dinner it occurred to them that the subject of Gregorians and Gothic had been left in the lurch. "How in the world did we get off it?" asked Charles. "Well, at least, we have found it," said Bateman; "and I really should like to hear what you have to say upon it, Campbell." "Oh, really, Bateman," answered he, "I am quite sick of the subject; every one seems to me to be going into extremes: what's the good of arguing about it? you won't agree with me." "I don't see that at all," answered Bateman; "people often think they differ, merely because they have not courage to talk to each other." "A good remark," thought Charles; "what a pity that Bateman, with so much sense, should have so little common sense!" "Well, then," said Campbell, "my quarrel with Gothic and Gregorians, when coupled together, is, that they are two ideas, not one. Have figured music in Gothic churches, keep your Gregorian for basilicas." "My good Campbell," said Bateman, "you seem oblivious that Gregorian chants and hymns have always accompanied Gothic aisles, Gothic copes, Gothic mitres, and Gothic chalices." "Our ancestors did what they could," answered Campbell; "they were great in architecture, small in music. They could not use what was not yet invented. They sang Gregorians because they had not Palestrina." "A paradox, a paradox!" cried Bateman. "Surely there is a close connexion," answered Campbell, "between the rise and nature of the basilica and of Gregorian unison.

windows

How many times the word 'windows' appears in the text?

what grief was, not so long ago; but not till now had she known anxiety. Charles's state of mind was a matter of simple astonishment to her. At first it quite frightened and shocked her; it was as if Charles had lost his identity, and had turned out some one else. It was like a great breach of trust. She had seen there was a good deal in the newspapers about the "Oxford party" and their doings; and at different places, where she had been on visits, she had heard of churches being done up in the new fashion, and clergymen being accused, in consequence, of Popery--a charge which she had laughed at. But now it was actually brought home to her door that there was something in it. Yet it was to her incomprehensible, and she hardly knew where she was. And that, of all persons in the world, her brother, her own Charles, with whom she had been one heart and soul all their lives--one so cheerful, so religious, so good, so sensible, so cautious,--that he should be the first specimen that crossed her path of the new opinions,--it bewildered her. And where _had_ he got his notions?--Notions! she could not call them notions; he had nothing to say for himself. It was an infatuation; he, so clever, so sharp-sighted, could say nothing better in defence of himself than that Mrs. Bishop of Monmouth was too pretty, and that old Dr. Stock sat upon a cushion. Oh, sad, sad indeed! How was it he could be so insensible to the blessings he gained from his Church, and had enjoyed all his life? What could he need? _She_ had no need at all: going to church was a pleasure to her. She liked to hear the Lessons and the Collects, coming round year after year, and marking the seasons. The historical books and prophets in summer; then the "stir-up" Collect just before Advent; the beautiful Collects in Advent itself, with the Lessons from Isaiah reaching on through Epiphany; they were quite music to the ear. Then the Psalms, varying with every Sunday; they were a perpetual solace to her, ever old yet ever new. The occasional additions, too--the Athanasian Creed, the Benedictus, Deus misereatur, and Omnia opera, which her father had been used to read at certain great feasts; and the beautiful Litany. What could he want more? where could he find so much? Well, it was a mystery to her; and she could only feel thankful that _she_ was not exposed to the temptations, whatever they were, which had acted on the powerful mind of her brother. Then, she had anticipated how pleasant it would be when Charles was a clergyman, and she should hear him preach; when there would be one whom she would have a right to ask questions and to consult whenever she wished. This prospect was at an end; she could no longer trust him: he had given a shake to her confidence which it never could recover; it was gone for ever. They were all of them women but he; he was their only stay, now that her father had been taken away. What was now to become of them? To be abandoned by her own brother! oh, how terrible! And how was she to break it to her mother? for broken it must be sooner or later. She could not deceive herself; she knew her brother well enough to feel sure that, when he had really got hold of a thing, he would not let it go again without convincing reasons; and what reasons there could be for letting it go she could not conceive, if there could be reasons for taking it up. The taking it up baffled all reason, all calculation. Well, but how was her mother to be told of it? Was it better to let her suspect it first, and so break it to her, or to wait till the event happened? The problem was too difficult for the present, and she must leave it. This was her state for several days, till her fever of mind gradually subsided into a state of which a dull anxiety was a latent but habitual element, leaving her as usual at ordinary times, but every now and then betraying itself by sudden sharp sighs or wanderings of thought. Neither brother nor sister, loving each other really as much as ever, had quite the same sweetness and evenness of temper as was natural to them; self-control became a duty, and the evening circle was duller than before, without any one being able to say why. Charles was more attentive to his mother; he no more brought his books into the drawing-room, but gave himself to her company. He read to them, but he had little to talk about; and Eliza and Caroline both wished his stupid examination, past and over, that he might be restored to his natural liveliness. As to Mrs. Reding, she did not observe more than that her son was a very hard student, and grudged himself a walk or ride, let the day be ever so fine. She was a mild, quiet person, of keen feelings and precise habits; not very quick at observation; and, having lived all her life in the country, and till her late loss having scarcely known what trouble was, she was singularly unable to comprehend how things could go on in any way but one. Charles had not told her the real cause of his spending the winter at home, thinking it would be a needless vexation to her; much less did he contemplate harassing her with the recital of his own religious difficulties, which were not appreciable by her, and issued in no definite result. To his sister he did attempt an explanation of his former conversation, with a view of softening the extreme misgivings which it had created in her mind. She received it thankfully, and professed to be relieved by it; but the blow was struck, the suspicion was lodged deep in her mind--he was still Charles, dear to her as ever, but she never could rid herself of the anticipation which on that occasion she had expressed. CHAPTER XIV. One morning he was told that a gentleman had asked for him, and been shown into the dining-room. Descending, he saw the tall slender figure of Bateman, now a clergyman, and lately appointed curate of a neighbouring parish. Charles had not seen him for a year and a half, and shook hands with him very warmly, complimenting him on his white neckcloth, which somehow, he said, altered him more than he could have expected. Bateman's manner certainly was altered; it might be the accident of the day, but he did not seem quite at his ease; it might be that he was in a strange house, and was likely soon to be precipitated into the company of ladies, to which he had never been used. If so, the trial was on the point of beginning, for Charles said instantly that he must come and see his mother, and of course meant to dine with them; the sky was clear, and there was an excellent footpath between Boughton and Melford. Bateman could not do this, but he would have the greatest pleasure in being introduced to Mrs. Reding; so he stumbled after Charles into the drawing-room, and was soon conversing with her and the young ladies. "A charming prospect you have here, ma'am," said Bateman, "when you are once inside the house. It does not promise outside so extensive a view." "No, it is shut in with trees," said Mrs. Reding; "and the brow of the hill changes its direction so much that at first I used to think the prospect ought to be from the opposite windows." "What is that high hill?" said Bateman. "It is Hart Hill," said Charles; "there's a Roman camp atop of it." "We can see eight steeples from our windows," said Mrs. Reding;--"ring the bell for luncheon, my dear." "Ah, our ancestors, Mrs. Reding," said Bateman, "thought more of building churches than we do; or rather than we have done, I should say, for now it is astonishing what efforts are made to add to our ecclesiastical structures." "Our ancestors did a good deal too," said Mrs. Reding; "how many churches, my dear, were built in London in Queen Anne's time? St. Martin's was one of them." "Fifty," said Eliza. "Fifty were intended," said Charles. "Yes, Mrs. Reding," said Bateman; "but by ancestors I meant the holy Bishops and other members of our Catholic Church previously to the Reformation. For, though the Reformation was a great blessing" (a glance at Charles), "yet we must not, in justice, forget what was done by English Churchmen before it." "Ah, poor creatures," said Mrs. Reding, "they did one good thing in building churches; it has saved us much trouble." "Is there much church-restoration going on in these parts?" said Bateman, taken rather aback. "My mother has but lately come here, like yourself," said Charles; "yes, there is some; Barton Church, you know," appealing to Mary. "Have your walks extended so far as Barton?" said Mary to Bateman. "Not yet, Miss Reding, not yet," answered he; "of course they are destroying the pews." "They are to put in seats," said Charles, "and of a very good pattern." "Pews are intolerable," said Bateman; "yet the last generation of incumbents contentedly bore them; it is wonderful!" A not unnatural silence followed this speech. Charles broke it by asking if Bateman intended to do anything in the improvement line at Melford. Bateman looked modest. "Nothing of any consequence," he said; "some few things were done; but he had a rector of the old school, poor man, who was an enemy to that sort of thing." It was with some malicious feeling, in consequence of his attack on clergymen of the past age, that Charles pressed his visitor to give an account of his own reforms. "Why," said Bateman, "much discretion is necessary in these matters, or you do as much harm as good; you get into hot water with churchwardens and vestries, as well as with old rectors, and again with the gentry of the place, and please no one. For this reason I have made no attempt to introduce the surplice into the pulpit except on the great festivals, intending to familiarize my parishioners to it by little and little. However, I wear a scarf or stole, and have taken care that it should be two inches broader than usual; and I always wear the cassock in my parish. I hope you approve of the cassock, Mrs. Reding?" "It is a very cold dress, sir--that's my opinion--when made of silk or bombazeen; and very unbecoming too, when worn by itself." "Particularly behind," said Charles; "it is quite unshapely." "Oh, I have remedied that," said Bateman; "you have noticed, Miss Reding, I dare say, the Bishop's short cassock. It comes to the knees, and looks much like a continuation of a waistcoat, the straight-cut coat being worn as usual. Well, Miss Reding, I have adopted the same plan with the long cassock; I put my coat over it." Mary had difficulty to keep from smiling; Charles laughed out. "Impossible, Bateman," he said; "you don't mean you wear your tailed French coat over your long straight cassock reaching to your ankles?" "Certainly," said Bateman gravely; "I thus consult for warmth and appearance too; and all my parishioners are sure to know me. I think this a great point, Miss Reding: I hear the little boys as I pass say, 'That's the parson.'" "I'll be bound they do," said Charles. "Well," said Mrs. Reding, surprised out of her propriety, "did one ever hear the like!" Bateman looked round at her, startled and frightened. "You were going to speak of your improvements in your church," said Mary, wishing to divert his attention from her mother. "Ah, true, Miss Reding, true," said Bateman, "thank you for reminding me; I have digressed to improvements in my own dress. I should have liked to have pulled down the galleries and lowered the high pews; that, however, I could not do. So I have lowered the pulpit some six feet. Now by doing so, first I give a pattern in my own person of the kind of condescension or lowliness to which I would persuade my people. But this is not all; for the consequence of lowering the pulpit is, that no one in the galleries can see or hear me preach; and this is a bonus on those who are below." "It's a broad hint, certainly," said Charles. "But it's a hint for those below also," continued Bateman; "for no one can see or hear me in the pews either, till the sides are lowered." "One thing only is wanting besides," said Charles, smiling and looking amiable, lest he should be saying too much; "since you are full tall, you must kneel when you preach, Bateman, else you will undo your own alterations." Bateman looked pleased. "I have anticipated you," he said; "I preach sitting. It is more comformable to antiquity and to reason to sit than to stand." "With these precautions," said Charles, "I really think you might have ventured on your surplice in the pulpit every Sunday. Are your parishioners contented?" "Oh, not at all, far from it," cried Bateman; "but they can do nothing. The alteration is so simple." "Nothing besides?" asked Charles. "Nothing in the architectural way," answered he; "but one thing more in the way of observances. I have fortunately picked up a very fair copy of Jewell, black-letter; and I have placed it in church, securing it with a chain to the wall, for any poor person who wishes to read it. Our church is emphatically the 'poor man's church,' Mrs. Reding." "Well," said Charles to himself, "I'll back the old parsons against the young ones any day, if this is to be their cut." Then aloud: "Come, you must see our garden; take up your hat, and let's have a turn in it. There's a very nice terrace-walk at the upper end." Bateman accordingly, having been thus trotted out for the amusement of the ladies, was now led off again, and was soon in the aforesaid terrace-walk, pacing up and down in earnest conversation with Charles. "Reding, my good fellow," said he, "what is the meaning of this report concerning you, which is everywhere about?" "I have not heard it," said Charles abruptly. "Why, it is this," said Bateman; "I wish to approach the subject with as great delicacy as possible: don't tell me if you don't like it, or tell me just as much as you like; yet you will excuse an old friend. They say you are going to leave the Church of your baptism for the Church of Rome." "Is it widely spread?" asked Charles coolly. "Oh, yes; I heard it in London; have had a letter mentioning it from Oxford; and a friend of mine heard it given out as positive at a visitation dinner in Wales." "So," thought Charles, "you are bringing _your_ witness against me as well as the rest." "Well but, my good Reding," said Bateman, "why are you silent? is it true--is it true?" "What true? that I am a Roman Catholic? Oh, certainly; don't you understand, that's why I am reading so hard for the schools?" said Charles. "Come, be serious for a moment, Reding," said Bateman, "do be serious. Will you empower me to contradict the report, or to negative it to a certain point, or in any respect?" "Oh, to be sure," said Charles, "contradict it, by all means, contradict it entirely." "May I give it a plain, unqualified, unconditional, categorical, flat denial?" asked Bateman. "Of course, of course." Bateman could not make him out, and had not a dream how he was teasing him. "I don't know where to find you," he said. They paced down the walk in silence. Bateman began again. "You see," he said, "it would be such a wonderful blindness, it would be so utterly inexcusable in a person like yourself, who had known _what_ the Church of England was; not a Dissenter, not an unlettered layman; but one who had been at Oxford, who had come across so many excellent men, who had seen what the Church of England could be, her grave beauty, her orderly and decent activity; who had seen churches decorated as they should be, with candlesticks, ciboriums, faldstools, lecterns, antependiums, piscinas, rood-lofts, and sedilia; who, in fact, had seen the Church Service _carried out_, and could desiderate nothing;--tell me, my dear good Reding," taking hold of his button-hole, "what is it you want--what is it? name it." "That you would take yourself off," Charles would have said, had he spoken his mind; he merely said, however, that really he desiderated nothing but to be believed when he said that he had no intention of leaving his own Church. Bateman was incredulous, and thought him close. "Perhaps you are not aware," he said, "how much is known of the circumstances of your being sent down. The old Principal was full of the subject." "What! I suppose he told people right and left," said Reding. "Oh, yes," answered Bateman; "a friend of mine knows him, and happening to call on him soon after you went down, had the whole story from him. He spoke most kindly of you, and in the highest terms; said that it was deplorable how much your mind was warped by the prevalent opinions, and that he should not be surprised if it turned out you were a Romanist even while you were at St. Saviour's; anyhow, that you would be one day a Romanist for certain, for that you held that the saints reigning with Christ interceded for us in heaven. But what was stronger, when the report got about, Sheffield said that he was not surprised at it, that he always prophesied it." "I am much obliged to him," said Charles. "However, you warrant me," said Bateman, "to contradict it--so I understand you--to contradict it peremptorily; that's enough for me. It's a great relief; it's very satisfactory. Well, I must be going." "I don't like to seem to drive you away," said Charles, "but really you must be going if you want to get home before nightfall. I hope you don't feel lonely or overworked where you are. If you are so at any time, don't scruple to drop in to dinner here; nay, we can take you in for a night, if you wish it." Bateman thanked him, and they proceeded to the hall-door together; when they were nearly parting, Bateman stopped and said, "Do you know, I should like to lend you some books to read. Let me send up to you Bramhall's Works, Thorndike, Barrow on the Unity of the Church, and Leslie's Dialogues on Romanism. I could name others, but content myself with these at present. They perfectly settle the matter; you can't help being convinced. I'll not say a word more; good-bye to you, good-bye." CHAPTER XV. Much as Charles loved and prized the company of his mother and sisters he was not sorry to have gentlemen's society, so he accepted with pleasure an invitation which Bateman sent him to dine with him at Melford. Also he wished to show Bateman, what no protestation could effect, how absurdly exaggerated were the reports which were circulated about him. And as the said Bateman, with all his want of common sense, was really a well-informed man, and well read in English divines, he thought he might incidentally hear something from him which he could turn to account. When he got to Melford he found a Mr. Campbell had been asked to meet him; a young Cambridge rector of a neighbouring parish, of the same religious sentiments on the whole as Bateman, and, though a little positive, a man of clear head and vigorous mind. They had been going over the church; and the conversation at dinner turned on the revival of Gothic architecture--an event which gave unmixed satisfaction to all parties. The subject would have died out, almost as soon as it was started, for want of a difference upon it, had not Bateman happily gone on boldly to declare that, if he had his will, there should be no architecture in the English churches but Gothic, and no music but Gregorian. This was a good thesis, distinctly put, and gave scope for a very pretty quarrel. Reding said that all these adjuncts of worship, whether music or architecture, were national; they were the mode in which religious feeling showed itself in particular times and places. He did not mean to say that the outward expression of religion in a country might not be guided, but it could not be forced; that it was as preposterous to make people worship in one's own way, as be merry in one's own way. "The Greeks," he said, "cut the hair in grief, the Romans let it grow; the Orientals veiled their heads in worship, the Greeks uncovered them; Christians take off their hats in a church, Mahometans their shoes; a long veil is a sign of modesty in Europe, of immodesty in Asia. You may as well try to change the size of people, as their forms of worship. Bateman, we must cut you down a foot, and then you shall begin your ecclesiastical reforms." "But surely, my worthy friend," answered Bateman, "you don't mean to say that there is no natural connexion between internal feeling and outward expression, so that one form is no better than another?" "Far from it," answered Charles; "but let those who confine their music to Gregorians put up crucifixes in the highways. Each is the representative of a particular place or time." "That's what I say of our good friend's short coat and long cassock," said Campbell; "it is a confusion of different times, ancient and modern." "Or of different ideas," said Charles, "the cassock Catholic, the coat Protestant." "The reverse," said Bateman; "the cassock is old Hooker's Anglican habit: the coat comes from Catholic France." "Anyhow, it is what Mr. Reding calls a mixture of ideas," said Campbell; "and that's the difficulty I find in uniting Gothic and Gregorians." "Oh, pardon me," said Bateman, "they are one idea; they are both eminently Catholic." "You can't be more Catholic than Rome, I suppose," said Campbell; "yet there's no Gothic there." "Rome is a peculiar place," said Bateman; "besides, my dear friend, if we do but consider that Rome has corrupted the pure apostolic doctrine, can we wonder that it should have a corrupt architecture?" "Why, then, go to Rome for Gregorians?" said Campbell; "I suspect they are called after Gregory I. Bishop of Rome, whom Protestants consider the first specimen of Antichrist." "It's nothing to us what Protestants think," answered Bateman. "Don't let us quarrel about terms," said Campbell; "both you and I think that Rome has corrupted the faith, whether she is Antichrist or not. You said so yourself just now." "It is true, I did," said Bateman; "but I make a little distinction. The Church of Rome has not _corrupted_ the faith, but has _admitted_ corruptions among her people." "It won't do," answered Campbell; "depend on it, we can't stand our ground in controversy unless we in our hearts think very severely of the Church of Rome." "Why, what's Rome to us?" asked Bateman; "we come from the old British Church; we don't meddle with Rome, and we wish Rome not to meddle with us, but she will." "Well," said Campbell, "you but read a bit of the history of the Reformation, and you will find that the doctrine that the Pope is Antichrist was the life of the movement." "With Ultra-Protestants, not with us," answered Bateman. "Such Ultra-Protestants as the writers of the Homilies," said Campbell; "but, I say again, I am not contending for names; I only mean, that as that doctrine was the life of the Reformation, so a belief, which I have and you too, that there is something bad, corrupt, perilous in the Church of Rome--that there is a spirit of Antichrist living in her, energizing in her, and ruling her--is necessary to a man's being a good Anglican. You must believe this, or you ought to go to Rome." "Impossible! my dear friend," said Bateman; "all our doctrine has been that Rome and we are sister Churches." "I say," said Campbell, "that without this strong repulsion you will not withstand the great claims, the overcoming attractions, of the Church of Rome. She is our mother--oh, that word 'mother!'--a mighty mother! She opens her arms--oh, the fragrance of that bosom! She is full of gifts--I feel it, I have long felt it. Why don't I rush into her arms? Because I feel that she is ruled by a spirit which is not she. But did that distrust of her go from me, was that certainty which I have of her corruption disproved, I should join her communion to-morrow." "This is not very edifying doctrine for Reding," thought Bateman. "Oh, my good Campbell," he said, "you are paradoxical to-day." "Not a bit of it," answered Campbell; "our Reformers felt that the only way in which they could break the tie of allegiance which bound us to Rome was the doctrine of her serious corruption. And so it is with our divines. If there is one doctrine in which they agree, it is that Rome is Antichrist, or an Antichrist. Depend upon it, that doctrine is necessary for our position." "I don't quite understand that language," said Reding; "I see it is used in various publications. It implies that controversy is a game, and that disputants are not looking out for truth, but for arguments." "You must not mistake me, Mr. Reding," answered Campbell; "all I mean is, that you have no leave to trifle with your conviction that Rome is antichristian, if you think so. For if it _is_ so, it is necessary to _say_ so. A poet says, 'Speak _gently_ of our sister's _fall_:' no, if it is a fall, we must not speak gently of it. At first one says, 'So great a Church! who am I, to speak against her?' Yes, you must, if your view of her is true: 'Tell truth and shame the Devil.' Recollect you don't use your own words; you are sanctioned, protected by all our divines. You must, else you can give no sufficient reason for not joining the Church of Rome. You must speak out, not what you _don't_ think, but what you _do_ think, _if_ you do think it." "Here's a doctrine!" thought Charles; "why it's putting the controversy into a nutshell." Bateman interposed. "My dear Campbell," he said, "you are behind the day. We have given up all that abuse against Rome." "Then the party is not so clever as I give them credit for being," answered Campbell; "be sure of this,--those who have given up their protests against Rome, either are looking towards her, or have no eyes to see." "All we say," answered Bateman, "is, as I said before, that _we_ don't wish to interfere with Rome; _we_ don't anathematize Rome--Rome anathematizes _us_." "It won't do," said Campbell; "those who resolve to remain in our Church, and are using sweet words of Romanism, will be forced back upon their proper ground in spite of themselves, and will get no thanks for their pains. No man can serve two masters; either go to Rome, or condemn Rome. For me, the Romish Church has a great deal in it which I can't get over; and thinking so, much as I admire it in parts, I can't help speaking, I can't help it. It would not be honest, and it would not be consistent." "Well, he has ended better than he began," thought Bateman; and he chimed in, "Oh yes, true, too true; it's painful to see it, but there's a great deal in the Church of Rome which no man of plain sense, no reader of the Fathers, no Scripture student, no true member of the Anglo-Catholic Church can possibly stomach." This put a corona on the discussion; and the rest of the dinner passed off pleasantly indeed, but not very intellectually. CHAPTER XVI. After dinner it occurred to them that the subject of Gregorians and Gothic had been left in the lurch. "How in the world did we get off it?" asked Charles. "Well, at least, we have found it," said Bateman; "and I really should like to hear what you have to say upon it, Campbell." "Oh, really, Bateman," answered he, "I am quite sick of the subject; every one seems to me to be going into extremes: what's the good of arguing about it? you won't agree with me." "I don't see that at all," answered Bateman; "people often think they differ, merely because they have not courage to talk to each other." "A good remark," thought Charles; "what a pity that Bateman, with so much sense, should have so little common sense!" "Well, then," said Campbell, "my quarrel with Gothic and Gregorians, when coupled together, is, that they are two ideas, not one. Have figured music in Gothic churches, keep your Gregorian for basilicas." "My good Campbell," said Bateman, "you seem oblivious that Gregorian chants and hymns have always accompanied Gothic aisles, Gothic copes, Gothic mitres, and Gothic chalices." "Our ancestors did what they could," answered Campbell; "they were great in architecture, small in music. They could not use what was not yet invented. They sang Gregorians because they had not Palestrina." "A paradox, a paradox!" cried Bateman. "Surely there is a close connexion," answered Campbell, "between the rise and nature of the basilica and of Gregorian unison.

again

How many times the word 'again' appears in the text?

what grief was, not so long ago; but not till now had she known anxiety. Charles's state of mind was a matter of simple astonishment to her. At first it quite frightened and shocked her; it was as if Charles had lost his identity, and had turned out some one else. It was like a great breach of trust. She had seen there was a good deal in the newspapers about the "Oxford party" and their doings; and at different places, where she had been on visits, she had heard of churches being done up in the new fashion, and clergymen being accused, in consequence, of Popery--a charge which she had laughed at. But now it was actually brought home to her door that there was something in it. Yet it was to her incomprehensible, and she hardly knew where she was. And that, of all persons in the world, her brother, her own Charles, with whom she had been one heart and soul all their lives--one so cheerful, so religious, so good, so sensible, so cautious,--that he should be the first specimen that crossed her path of the new opinions,--it bewildered her. And where _had_ he got his notions?--Notions! she could not call them notions; he had nothing to say for himself. It was an infatuation; he, so clever, so sharp-sighted, could say nothing better in defence of himself than that Mrs. Bishop of Monmouth was too pretty, and that old Dr. Stock sat upon a cushion. Oh, sad, sad indeed! How was it he could be so insensible to the blessings he gained from his Church, and had enjoyed all his life? What could he need? _She_ had no need at all: going to church was a pleasure to her. She liked to hear the Lessons and the Collects, coming round year after year, and marking the seasons. The historical books and prophets in summer; then the "stir-up" Collect just before Advent; the beautiful Collects in Advent itself, with the Lessons from Isaiah reaching on through Epiphany; they were quite music to the ear. Then the Psalms, varying with every Sunday; they were a perpetual solace to her, ever old yet ever new. The occasional additions, too--the Athanasian Creed, the Benedictus, Deus misereatur, and Omnia opera, which her father had been used to read at certain great feasts; and the beautiful Litany. What could he want more? where could he find so much? Well, it was a mystery to her; and she could only feel thankful that _she_ was not exposed to the temptations, whatever they were, which had acted on the powerful mind of her brother. Then, she had anticipated how pleasant it would be when Charles was a clergyman, and she should hear him preach; when there would be one whom she would have a right to ask questions and to consult whenever she wished. This prospect was at an end; she could no longer trust him: he had given a shake to her confidence which it never could recover; it was gone for ever. They were all of them women but he; he was their only stay, now that her father had been taken away. What was now to become of them? To be abandoned by her own brother! oh, how terrible! And how was she to break it to her mother? for broken it must be sooner or later. She could not deceive herself; she knew her brother well enough to feel sure that, when he had really got hold of a thing, he would not let it go again without convincing reasons; and what reasons there could be for letting it go she could not conceive, if there could be reasons for taking it up. The taking it up baffled all reason, all calculation. Well, but how was her mother to be told of it? Was it better to let her suspect it first, and so break it to her, or to wait till the event happened? The problem was too difficult for the present, and she must leave it. This was her state for several days, till her fever of mind gradually subsided into a state of which a dull anxiety was a latent but habitual element, leaving her as usual at ordinary times, but every now and then betraying itself by sudden sharp sighs or wanderings of thought. Neither brother nor sister, loving each other really as much as ever, had quite the same sweetness and evenness of temper as was natural to them; self-control became a duty, and the evening circle was duller than before, without any one being able to say why. Charles was more attentive to his mother; he no more brought his books into the drawing-room, but gave himself to her company. He read to them, but he had little to talk about; and Eliza and Caroline both wished his stupid examination, past and over, that he might be restored to his natural liveliness. As to Mrs. Reding, she did not observe more than that her son was a very hard student, and grudged himself a walk or ride, let the day be ever so fine. She was a mild, quiet person, of keen feelings and precise habits; not very quick at observation; and, having lived all her life in the country, and till her late loss having scarcely known what trouble was, she was singularly unable to comprehend how things could go on in any way but one. Charles had not told her the real cause of his spending the winter at home, thinking it would be a needless vexation to her; much less did he contemplate harassing her with the recital of his own religious difficulties, which were not appreciable by her, and issued in no definite result. To his sister he did attempt an explanation of his former conversation, with a view of softening the extreme misgivings which it had created in her mind. She received it thankfully, and professed to be relieved by it; but the blow was struck, the suspicion was lodged deep in her mind--he was still Charles, dear to her as ever, but she never could rid herself of the anticipation which on that occasion she had expressed. CHAPTER XIV. One morning he was told that a gentleman had asked for him, and been shown into the dining-room. Descending, he saw the tall slender figure of Bateman, now a clergyman, and lately appointed curate of a neighbouring parish. Charles had not seen him for a year and a half, and shook hands with him very warmly, complimenting him on his white neckcloth, which somehow, he said, altered him more than he could have expected. Bateman's manner certainly was altered; it might be the accident of the day, but he did not seem quite at his ease; it might be that he was in a strange house, and was likely soon to be precipitated into the company of ladies, to which he had never been used. If so, the trial was on the point of beginning, for Charles said instantly that he must come and see his mother, and of course meant to dine with them; the sky was clear, and there was an excellent footpath between Boughton and Melford. Bateman could not do this, but he would have the greatest pleasure in being introduced to Mrs. Reding; so he stumbled after Charles into the drawing-room, and was soon conversing with her and the young ladies. "A charming prospect you have here, ma'am," said Bateman, "when you are once inside the house. It does not promise outside so extensive a view." "No, it is shut in with trees," said Mrs. Reding; "and the brow of the hill changes its direction so much that at first I used to think the prospect ought to be from the opposite windows." "What is that high hill?" said Bateman. "It is Hart Hill," said Charles; "there's a Roman camp atop of it." "We can see eight steeples from our windows," said Mrs. Reding;--"ring the bell for luncheon, my dear." "Ah, our ancestors, Mrs. Reding," said Bateman, "thought more of building churches than we do; or rather than we have done, I should say, for now it is astonishing what efforts are made to add to our ecclesiastical structures." "Our ancestors did a good deal too," said Mrs. Reding; "how many churches, my dear, were built in London in Queen Anne's time? St. Martin's was one of them." "Fifty," said Eliza. "Fifty were intended," said Charles. "Yes, Mrs. Reding," said Bateman; "but by ancestors I meant the holy Bishops and other members of our Catholic Church previously to the Reformation. For, though the Reformation was a great blessing" (a glance at Charles), "yet we must not, in justice, forget what was done by English Churchmen before it." "Ah, poor creatures," said Mrs. Reding, "they did one good thing in building churches; it has saved us much trouble." "Is there much church-restoration going on in these parts?" said Bateman, taken rather aback. "My mother has but lately come here, like yourself," said Charles; "yes, there is some; Barton Church, you know," appealing to Mary. "Have your walks extended so far as Barton?" said Mary to Bateman. "Not yet, Miss Reding, not yet," answered he; "of course they are destroying the pews." "They are to put in seats," said Charles, "and of a very good pattern." "Pews are intolerable," said Bateman; "yet the last generation of incumbents contentedly bore them; it is wonderful!" A not unnatural silence followed this speech. Charles broke it by asking if Bateman intended to do anything in the improvement line at Melford. Bateman looked modest. "Nothing of any consequence," he said; "some few things were done; but he had a rector of the old school, poor man, who was an enemy to that sort of thing." It was with some malicious feeling, in consequence of his attack on clergymen of the past age, that Charles pressed his visitor to give an account of his own reforms. "Why," said Bateman, "much discretion is necessary in these matters, or you do as much harm as good; you get into hot water with churchwardens and vestries, as well as with old rectors, and again with the gentry of the place, and please no one. For this reason I have made no attempt to introduce the surplice into the pulpit except on the great festivals, intending to familiarize my parishioners to it by little and little. However, I wear a scarf or stole, and have taken care that it should be two inches broader than usual; and I always wear the cassock in my parish. I hope you approve of the cassock, Mrs. Reding?" "It is a very cold dress, sir--that's my opinion--when made of silk or bombazeen; and very unbecoming too, when worn by itself." "Particularly behind," said Charles; "it is quite unshapely." "Oh, I have remedied that," said Bateman; "you have noticed, Miss Reding, I dare say, the Bishop's short cassock. It comes to the knees, and looks much like a continuation of a waistcoat, the straight-cut coat being worn as usual. Well, Miss Reding, I have adopted the same plan with the long cassock; I put my coat over it." Mary had difficulty to keep from smiling; Charles laughed out. "Impossible, Bateman," he said; "you don't mean you wear your tailed French coat over your long straight cassock reaching to your ankles?" "Certainly," said Bateman gravely; "I thus consult for warmth and appearance too; and all my parishioners are sure to know me. I think this a great point, Miss Reding: I hear the little boys as I pass say, 'That's the parson.'" "I'll be bound they do," said Charles. "Well," said Mrs. Reding, surprised out of her propriety, "did one ever hear the like!" Bateman looked round at her, startled and frightened. "You were going to speak of your improvements in your church," said Mary, wishing to divert his attention from her mother. "Ah, true, Miss Reding, true," said Bateman, "thank you for reminding me; I have digressed to improvements in my own dress. I should have liked to have pulled down the galleries and lowered the high pews; that, however, I could not do. So I have lowered the pulpit some six feet. Now by doing so, first I give a pattern in my own person of the kind of condescension or lowliness to which I would persuade my people. But this is not all; for the consequence of lowering the pulpit is, that no one in the galleries can see or hear me preach; and this is a bonus on those who are below." "It's a broad hint, certainly," said Charles. "But it's a hint for those below also," continued Bateman; "for no one can see or hear me in the pews either, till the sides are lowered." "One thing only is wanting besides," said Charles, smiling and looking amiable, lest he should be saying too much; "since you are full tall, you must kneel when you preach, Bateman, else you will undo your own alterations." Bateman looked pleased. "I have anticipated you," he said; "I preach sitting. It is more comformable to antiquity and to reason to sit than to stand." "With these precautions," said Charles, "I really think you might have ventured on your surplice in the pulpit every Sunday. Are your parishioners contented?" "Oh, not at all, far from it," cried Bateman; "but they can do nothing. The alteration is so simple." "Nothing besides?" asked Charles. "Nothing in the architectural way," answered he; "but one thing more in the way of observances. I have fortunately picked up a very fair copy of Jewell, black-letter; and I have placed it in church, securing it with a chain to the wall, for any poor person who wishes to read it. Our church is emphatically the 'poor man's church,' Mrs. Reding." "Well," said Charles to himself, "I'll back the old parsons against the young ones any day, if this is to be their cut." Then aloud: "Come, you must see our garden; take up your hat, and let's have a turn in it. There's a very nice terrace-walk at the upper end." Bateman accordingly, having been thus trotted out for the amusement of the ladies, was now led off again, and was soon in the aforesaid terrace-walk, pacing up and down in earnest conversation with Charles. "Reding, my good fellow," said he, "what is the meaning of this report concerning you, which is everywhere about?" "I have not heard it," said Charles abruptly. "Why, it is this," said Bateman; "I wish to approach the subject with as great delicacy as possible: don't tell me if you don't like it, or tell me just as much as you like; yet you will excuse an old friend. They say you are going to leave the Church of your baptism for the Church of Rome." "Is it widely spread?" asked Charles coolly. "Oh, yes; I heard it in London; have had a letter mentioning it from Oxford; and a friend of mine heard it given out as positive at a visitation dinner in Wales." "So," thought Charles, "you are bringing _your_ witness against me as well as the rest." "Well but, my good Reding," said Bateman, "why are you silent? is it true--is it true?" "What true? that I am a Roman Catholic? Oh, certainly; don't you understand, that's why I am reading so hard for the schools?" said Charles. "Come, be serious for a moment, Reding," said Bateman, "do be serious. Will you empower me to contradict the report, or to negative it to a certain point, or in any respect?" "Oh, to be sure," said Charles, "contradict it, by all means, contradict it entirely." "May I give it a plain, unqualified, unconditional, categorical, flat denial?" asked Bateman. "Of course, of course." Bateman could not make him out, and had not a dream how he was teasing him. "I don't know where to find you," he said. They paced down the walk in silence. Bateman began again. "You see," he said, "it would be such a wonderful blindness, it would be so utterly inexcusable in a person like yourself, who had known _what_ the Church of England was; not a Dissenter, not an unlettered layman; but one who had been at Oxford, who had come across so many excellent men, who had seen what the Church of England could be, her grave beauty, her orderly and decent activity; who had seen churches decorated as they should be, with candlesticks, ciboriums, faldstools, lecterns, antependiums, piscinas, rood-lofts, and sedilia; who, in fact, had seen the Church Service _carried out_, and could desiderate nothing;--tell me, my dear good Reding," taking hold of his button-hole, "what is it you want--what is it? name it." "That you would take yourself off," Charles would have said, had he spoken his mind; he merely said, however, that really he desiderated nothing but to be believed when he said that he had no intention of leaving his own Church. Bateman was incredulous, and thought him close. "Perhaps you are not aware," he said, "how much is known of the circumstances of your being sent down. The old Principal was full of the subject." "What! I suppose he told people right and left," said Reding. "Oh, yes," answered Bateman; "a friend of mine knows him, and happening to call on him soon after you went down, had the whole story from him. He spoke most kindly of you, and in the highest terms; said that it was deplorable how much your mind was warped by the prevalent opinions, and that he should not be surprised if it turned out you were a Romanist even while you were at St. Saviour's; anyhow, that you would be one day a Romanist for certain, for that you held that the saints reigning with Christ interceded for us in heaven. But what was stronger, when the report got about, Sheffield said that he was not surprised at it, that he always prophesied it." "I am much obliged to him," said Charles. "However, you warrant me," said Bateman, "to contradict it--so I understand you--to contradict it peremptorily; that's enough for me. It's a great relief; it's very satisfactory. Well, I must be going." "I don't like to seem to drive you away," said Charles, "but really you must be going if you want to get home before nightfall. I hope you don't feel lonely or overworked where you are. If you are so at any time, don't scruple to drop in to dinner here; nay, we can take you in for a night, if you wish it." Bateman thanked him, and they proceeded to the hall-door together; when they were nearly parting, Bateman stopped and said, "Do you know, I should like to lend you some books to read. Let me send up to you Bramhall's Works, Thorndike, Barrow on the Unity of the Church, and Leslie's Dialogues on Romanism. I could name others, but content myself with these at present. They perfectly settle the matter; you can't help being convinced. I'll not say a word more; good-bye to you, good-bye." CHAPTER XV. Much as Charles loved and prized the company of his mother and sisters he was not sorry to have gentlemen's society, so he accepted with pleasure an invitation which Bateman sent him to dine with him at Melford. Also he wished to show Bateman, what no protestation could effect, how absurdly exaggerated were the reports which were circulated about him. And as the said Bateman, with all his want of common sense, was really a well-informed man, and well read in English divines, he thought he might incidentally hear something from him which he could turn to account. When he got to Melford he found a Mr. Campbell had been asked to meet him; a young Cambridge rector of a neighbouring parish, of the same religious sentiments on the whole as Bateman, and, though a little positive, a man of clear head and vigorous mind. They had been going over the church; and the conversation at dinner turned on the revival of Gothic architecture--an event which gave unmixed satisfaction to all parties. The subject would have died out, almost as soon as it was started, for want of a difference upon it, had not Bateman happily gone on boldly to declare that, if he had his will, there should be no architecture in the English churches but Gothic, and no music but Gregorian. This was a good thesis, distinctly put, and gave scope for a very pretty quarrel. Reding said that all these adjuncts of worship, whether music or architecture, were national; they were the mode in which religious feeling showed itself in particular times and places. He did not mean to say that the outward expression of religion in a country might not be guided, but it could not be forced; that it was as preposterous to make people worship in one's own way, as be merry in one's own way. "The Greeks," he said, "cut the hair in grief, the Romans let it grow; the Orientals veiled their heads in worship, the Greeks uncovered them; Christians take off their hats in a church, Mahometans their shoes; a long veil is a sign of modesty in Europe, of immodesty in Asia. You may as well try to change the size of people, as their forms of worship. Bateman, we must cut you down a foot, and then you shall begin your ecclesiastical reforms." "But surely, my worthy friend," answered Bateman, "you don't mean to say that there is no natural connexion between internal feeling and outward expression, so that one form is no better than another?" "Far from it," answered Charles; "but let those who confine their music to Gregorians put up crucifixes in the highways. Each is the representative of a particular place or time." "That's what I say of our good friend's short coat and long cassock," said Campbell; "it is a confusion of different times, ancient and modern." "Or of different ideas," said Charles, "the cassock Catholic, the coat Protestant." "The reverse," said Bateman; "the cassock is old Hooker's Anglican habit: the coat comes from Catholic France." "Anyhow, it is what Mr. Reding calls a mixture of ideas," said Campbell; "and that's the difficulty I find in uniting Gothic and Gregorians." "Oh, pardon me," said Bateman, "they are one idea; they are both eminently Catholic." "You can't be more Catholic than Rome, I suppose," said Campbell; "yet there's no Gothic there." "Rome is a peculiar place," said Bateman; "besides, my dear friend, if we do but consider that Rome has corrupted the pure apostolic doctrine, can we wonder that it should have a corrupt architecture?" "Why, then, go to Rome for Gregorians?" said Campbell; "I suspect they are called after Gregory I. Bishop of Rome, whom Protestants consider the first specimen of Antichrist." "It's nothing to us what Protestants think," answered Bateman. "Don't let us quarrel about terms," said Campbell; "both you and I think that Rome has corrupted the faith, whether she is Antichrist or not. You said so yourself just now." "It is true, I did," said Bateman; "but I make a little distinction. The Church of Rome has not _corrupted_ the faith, but has _admitted_ corruptions among her people." "It won't do," answered Campbell; "depend on it, we can't stand our ground in controversy unless we in our hearts think very severely of the Church of Rome." "Why, what's Rome to us?" asked Bateman; "we come from the old British Church; we don't meddle with Rome, and we wish Rome not to meddle with us, but she will." "Well," said Campbell, "you but read a bit of the history of the Reformation, and you will find that the doctrine that the Pope is Antichrist was the life of the movement." "With Ultra-Protestants, not with us," answered Bateman. "Such Ultra-Protestants as the writers of the Homilies," said Campbell; "but, I say again, I am not contending for names; I only mean, that as that doctrine was the life of the Reformation, so a belief, which I have and you too, that there is something bad, corrupt, perilous in the Church of Rome--that there is a spirit of Antichrist living in her, energizing in her, and ruling her--is necessary to a man's being a good Anglican. You must believe this, or you ought to go to Rome." "Impossible! my dear friend," said Bateman; "all our doctrine has been that Rome and we are sister Churches." "I say," said Campbell, "that without this strong repulsion you will not withstand the great claims, the overcoming attractions, of the Church of Rome. She is our mother--oh, that word 'mother!'--a mighty mother! She opens her arms--oh, the fragrance of that bosom! She is full of gifts--I feel it, I have long felt it. Why don't I rush into her arms? Because I feel that she is ruled by a spirit which is not she. But did that distrust of her go from me, was that certainty which I have of her corruption disproved, I should join her communion to-morrow." "This is not very edifying doctrine for Reding," thought Bateman. "Oh, my good Campbell," he said, "you are paradoxical to-day." "Not a bit of it," answered Campbell; "our Reformers felt that the only way in which they could break the tie of allegiance which bound us to Rome was the doctrine of her serious corruption. And so it is with our divines. If there is one doctrine in which they agree, it is that Rome is Antichrist, or an Antichrist. Depend upon it, that doctrine is necessary for our position." "I don't quite understand that language," said Reding; "I see it is used in various publications. It implies that controversy is a game, and that disputants are not looking out for truth, but for arguments." "You must not mistake me, Mr. Reding," answered Campbell; "all I mean is, that you have no leave to trifle with your conviction that Rome is antichristian, if you think so. For if it _is_ so, it is necessary to _say_ so. A poet says, 'Speak _gently_ of our sister's _fall_:' no, if it is a fall, we must not speak gently of it. At first one says, 'So great a Church! who am I, to speak against her?' Yes, you must, if your view of her is true: 'Tell truth and shame the Devil.' Recollect you don't use your own words; you are sanctioned, protected by all our divines. You must, else you can give no sufficient reason for not joining the Church of Rome. You must speak out, not what you _don't_ think, but what you _do_ think, _if_ you do think it." "Here's a doctrine!" thought Charles; "why it's putting the controversy into a nutshell." Bateman interposed. "My dear Campbell," he said, "you are behind the day. We have given up all that abuse against Rome." "Then the party is not so clever as I give them credit for being," answered Campbell; "be sure of this,--those who have given up their protests against Rome, either are looking towards her, or have no eyes to see." "All we say," answered Bateman, "is, as I said before, that _we_ don't wish to interfere with Rome; _we_ don't anathematize Rome--Rome anathematizes _us_." "It won't do," said Campbell; "those who resolve to remain in our Church, and are using sweet words of Romanism, will be forced back upon their proper ground in spite of themselves, and will get no thanks for their pains. No man can serve two masters; either go to Rome, or condemn Rome. For me, the Romish Church has a great deal in it which I can't get over; and thinking so, much as I admire it in parts, I can't help speaking, I can't help it. It would not be honest, and it would not be consistent." "Well, he has ended better than he began," thought Bateman; and he chimed in, "Oh yes, true, too true; it's painful to see it, but there's a great deal in the Church of Rome which no man of plain sense, no reader of the Fathers, no Scripture student, no true member of the Anglo-Catholic Church can possibly stomach." This put a corona on the discussion; and the rest of the dinner passed off pleasantly indeed, but not very intellectually. CHAPTER XVI. After dinner it occurred to them that the subject of Gregorians and Gothic had been left in the lurch. "How in the world did we get off it?" asked Charles. "Well, at least, we have found it," said Bateman; "and I really should like to hear what you have to say upon it, Campbell." "Oh, really, Bateman," answered he, "I am quite sick of the subject; every one seems to me to be going into extremes: what's the good of arguing about it? you won't agree with me." "I don't see that at all," answered Bateman; "people often think they differ, merely because they have not courage to talk to each other." "A good remark," thought Charles; "what a pity that Bateman, with so much sense, should have so little common sense!" "Well, then," said Campbell, "my quarrel with Gothic and Gregorians, when coupled together, is, that they are two ideas, not one. Have figured music in Gothic churches, keep your Gregorian for basilicas." "My good Campbell," said Bateman, "you seem oblivious that Gregorian chants and hymns have always accompanied Gothic aisles, Gothic copes, Gothic mitres, and Gothic chalices." "Our ancestors did what they could," answered Campbell; "they were great in architecture, small in music. They could not use what was not yet invented. They sang Gregorians because they had not Palestrina." "A paradox, a paradox!" cried Bateman. "Surely there is a close connexion," answered Campbell, "between the rise and nature of the basilica and of Gregorian unison.

blessings

How many times the word 'blessings' appears in the text?

what grief was, not so long ago; but not till now had she known anxiety. Charles's state of mind was a matter of simple astonishment to her. At first it quite frightened and shocked her; it was as if Charles had lost his identity, and had turned out some one else. It was like a great breach of trust. She had seen there was a good deal in the newspapers about the "Oxford party" and their doings; and at different places, where she had been on visits, she had heard of churches being done up in the new fashion, and clergymen being accused, in consequence, of Popery--a charge which she had laughed at. But now it was actually brought home to her door that there was something in it. Yet it was to her incomprehensible, and she hardly knew where she was. And that, of all persons in the world, her brother, her own Charles, with whom she had been one heart and soul all their lives--one so cheerful, so religious, so good, so sensible, so cautious,--that he should be the first specimen that crossed her path of the new opinions,--it bewildered her. And where _had_ he got his notions?--Notions! she could not call them notions; he had nothing to say for himself. It was an infatuation; he, so clever, so sharp-sighted, could say nothing better in defence of himself than that Mrs. Bishop of Monmouth was too pretty, and that old Dr. Stock sat upon a cushion. Oh, sad, sad indeed! How was it he could be so insensible to the blessings he gained from his Church, and had enjoyed all his life? What could he need? _She_ had no need at all: going to church was a pleasure to her. She liked to hear the Lessons and the Collects, coming round year after year, and marking the seasons. The historical books and prophets in summer; then the "stir-up" Collect just before Advent; the beautiful Collects in Advent itself, with the Lessons from Isaiah reaching on through Epiphany; they were quite music to the ear. Then the Psalms, varying with every Sunday; they were a perpetual solace to her, ever old yet ever new. The occasional additions, too--the Athanasian Creed, the Benedictus, Deus misereatur, and Omnia opera, which her father had been used to read at certain great feasts; and the beautiful Litany. What could he want more? where could he find so much? Well, it was a mystery to her; and she could only feel thankful that _she_ was not exposed to the temptations, whatever they were, which had acted on the powerful mind of her brother. Then, she had anticipated how pleasant it would be when Charles was a clergyman, and she should hear him preach; when there would be one whom she would have a right to ask questions and to consult whenever she wished. This prospect was at an end; she could no longer trust him: he had given a shake to her confidence which it never could recover; it was gone for ever. They were all of them women but he; he was their only stay, now that her father had been taken away. What was now to become of them? To be abandoned by her own brother! oh, how terrible! And how was she to break it to her mother? for broken it must be sooner or later. She could not deceive herself; she knew her brother well enough to feel sure that, when he had really got hold of a thing, he would not let it go again without convincing reasons; and what reasons there could be for letting it go she could not conceive, if there could be reasons for taking it up. The taking it up baffled all reason, all calculation. Well, but how was her mother to be told of it? Was it better to let her suspect it first, and so break it to her, or to wait till the event happened? The problem was too difficult for the present, and she must leave it. This was her state for several days, till her fever of mind gradually subsided into a state of which a dull anxiety was a latent but habitual element, leaving her as usual at ordinary times, but every now and then betraying itself by sudden sharp sighs or wanderings of thought. Neither brother nor sister, loving each other really as much as ever, had quite the same sweetness and evenness of temper as was natural to them; self-control became a duty, and the evening circle was duller than before, without any one being able to say why. Charles was more attentive to his mother; he no more brought his books into the drawing-room, but gave himself to her company. He read to them, but he had little to talk about; and Eliza and Caroline both wished his stupid examination, past and over, that he might be restored to his natural liveliness. As to Mrs. Reding, she did not observe more than that her son was a very hard student, and grudged himself a walk or ride, let the day be ever so fine. She was a mild, quiet person, of keen feelings and precise habits; not very quick at observation; and, having lived all her life in the country, and till her late loss having scarcely known what trouble was, she was singularly unable to comprehend how things could go on in any way but one. Charles had not told her the real cause of his spending the winter at home, thinking it would be a needless vexation to her; much less did he contemplate harassing her with the recital of his own religious difficulties, which were not appreciable by her, and issued in no definite result. To his sister he did attempt an explanation of his former conversation, with a view of softening the extreme misgivings which it had created in her mind. She received it thankfully, and professed to be relieved by it; but the blow was struck, the suspicion was lodged deep in her mind--he was still Charles, dear to her as ever, but she never could rid herself of the anticipation which on that occasion she had expressed. CHAPTER XIV. One morning he was told that a gentleman had asked for him, and been shown into the dining-room. Descending, he saw the tall slender figure of Bateman, now a clergyman, and lately appointed curate of a neighbouring parish. Charles had not seen him for a year and a half, and shook hands with him very warmly, complimenting him on his white neckcloth, which somehow, he said, altered him more than he could have expected. Bateman's manner certainly was altered; it might be the accident of the day, but he did not seem quite at his ease; it might be that he was in a strange house, and was likely soon to be precipitated into the company of ladies, to which he had never been used. If so, the trial was on the point of beginning, for Charles said instantly that he must come and see his mother, and of course meant to dine with them; the sky was clear, and there was an excellent footpath between Boughton and Melford. Bateman could not do this, but he would have the greatest pleasure in being introduced to Mrs. Reding; so he stumbled after Charles into the drawing-room, and was soon conversing with her and the young ladies. "A charming prospect you have here, ma'am," said Bateman, "when you are once inside the house. It does not promise outside so extensive a view." "No, it is shut in with trees," said Mrs. Reding; "and the brow of the hill changes its direction so much that at first I used to think the prospect ought to be from the opposite windows." "What is that high hill?" said Bateman. "It is Hart Hill," said Charles; "there's a Roman camp atop of it." "We can see eight steeples from our windows," said Mrs. Reding;--"ring the bell for luncheon, my dear." "Ah, our ancestors, Mrs. Reding," said Bateman, "thought more of building churches than we do; or rather than we have done, I should say, for now it is astonishing what efforts are made to add to our ecclesiastical structures." "Our ancestors did a good deal too," said Mrs. Reding; "how many churches, my dear, were built in London in Queen Anne's time? St. Martin's was one of them." "Fifty," said Eliza. "Fifty were intended," said Charles. "Yes, Mrs. Reding," said Bateman; "but by ancestors I meant the holy Bishops and other members of our Catholic Church previously to the Reformation. For, though the Reformation was a great blessing" (a glance at Charles), "yet we must not, in justice, forget what was done by English Churchmen before it." "Ah, poor creatures," said Mrs. Reding, "they did one good thing in building churches; it has saved us much trouble." "Is there much church-restoration going on in these parts?" said Bateman, taken rather aback. "My mother has but lately come here, like yourself," said Charles; "yes, there is some; Barton Church, you know," appealing to Mary. "Have your walks extended so far as Barton?" said Mary to Bateman. "Not yet, Miss Reding, not yet," answered he; "of course they are destroying the pews." "They are to put in seats," said Charles, "and of a very good pattern." "Pews are intolerable," said Bateman; "yet the last generation of incumbents contentedly bore them; it is wonderful!" A not unnatural silence followed this speech. Charles broke it by asking if Bateman intended to do anything in the improvement line at Melford. Bateman looked modest. "Nothing of any consequence," he said; "some few things were done; but he had a rector of the old school, poor man, who was an enemy to that sort of thing." It was with some malicious feeling, in consequence of his attack on clergymen of the past age, that Charles pressed his visitor to give an account of his own reforms. "Why," said Bateman, "much discretion is necessary in these matters, or you do as much harm as good; you get into hot water with churchwardens and vestries, as well as with old rectors, and again with the gentry of the place, and please no one. For this reason I have made no attempt to introduce the surplice into the pulpit except on the great festivals, intending to familiarize my parishioners to it by little and little. However, I wear a scarf or stole, and have taken care that it should be two inches broader than usual; and I always wear the cassock in my parish. I hope you approve of the cassock, Mrs. Reding?" "It is a very cold dress, sir--that's my opinion--when made of silk or bombazeen; and very unbecoming too, when worn by itself." "Particularly behind," said Charles; "it is quite unshapely." "Oh, I have remedied that," said Bateman; "you have noticed, Miss Reding, I dare say, the Bishop's short cassock. It comes to the knees, and looks much like a continuation of a waistcoat, the straight-cut coat being worn as usual. Well, Miss Reding, I have adopted the same plan with the long cassock; I put my coat over it." Mary had difficulty to keep from smiling; Charles laughed out. "Impossible, Bateman," he said; "you don't mean you wear your tailed French coat over your long straight cassock reaching to your ankles?" "Certainly," said Bateman gravely; "I thus consult for warmth and appearance too; and all my parishioners are sure to know me. I think this a great point, Miss Reding: I hear the little boys as I pass say, 'That's the parson.'" "I'll be bound they do," said Charles. "Well," said Mrs. Reding, surprised out of her propriety, "did one ever hear the like!" Bateman looked round at her, startled and frightened. "You were going to speak of your improvements in your church," said Mary, wishing to divert his attention from her mother. "Ah, true, Miss Reding, true," said Bateman, "thank you for reminding me; I have digressed to improvements in my own dress. I should have liked to have pulled down the galleries and lowered the high pews; that, however, I could not do. So I have lowered the pulpit some six feet. Now by doing so, first I give a pattern in my own person of the kind of condescension or lowliness to which I would persuade my people. But this is not all; for the consequence of lowering the pulpit is, that no one in the galleries can see or hear me preach; and this is a bonus on those who are below." "It's a broad hint, certainly," said Charles. "But it's a hint for those below also," continued Bateman; "for no one can see or hear me in the pews either, till the sides are lowered." "One thing only is wanting besides," said Charles, smiling and looking amiable, lest he should be saying too much; "since you are full tall, you must kneel when you preach, Bateman, else you will undo your own alterations." Bateman looked pleased. "I have anticipated you," he said; "I preach sitting. It is more comformable to antiquity and to reason to sit than to stand." "With these precautions," said Charles, "I really think you might have ventured on your surplice in the pulpit every Sunday. Are your parishioners contented?" "Oh, not at all, far from it," cried Bateman; "but they can do nothing. The alteration is so simple." "Nothing besides?" asked Charles. "Nothing in the architectural way," answered he; "but one thing more in the way of observances. I have fortunately picked up a very fair copy of Jewell, black-letter; and I have placed it in church, securing it with a chain to the wall, for any poor person who wishes to read it. Our church is emphatically the 'poor man's church,' Mrs. Reding." "Well," said Charles to himself, "I'll back the old parsons against the young ones any day, if this is to be their cut." Then aloud: "Come, you must see our garden; take up your hat, and let's have a turn in it. There's a very nice terrace-walk at the upper end." Bateman accordingly, having been thus trotted out for the amusement of the ladies, was now led off again, and was soon in the aforesaid terrace-walk, pacing up and down in earnest conversation with Charles. "Reding, my good fellow," said he, "what is the meaning of this report concerning you, which is everywhere about?" "I have not heard it," said Charles abruptly. "Why, it is this," said Bateman; "I wish to approach the subject with as great delicacy as possible: don't tell me if you don't like it, or tell me just as much as you like; yet you will excuse an old friend. They say you are going to leave the Church of your baptism for the Church of Rome." "Is it widely spread?" asked Charles coolly. "Oh, yes; I heard it in London; have had a letter mentioning it from Oxford; and a friend of mine heard it given out as positive at a visitation dinner in Wales." "So," thought Charles, "you are bringing _your_ witness against me as well as the rest." "Well but, my good Reding," said Bateman, "why are you silent? is it true--is it true?" "What true? that I am a Roman Catholic? Oh, certainly; don't you understand, that's why I am reading so hard for the schools?" said Charles. "Come, be serious for a moment, Reding," said Bateman, "do be serious. Will you empower me to contradict the report, or to negative it to a certain point, or in any respect?" "Oh, to be sure," said Charles, "contradict it, by all means, contradict it entirely." "May I give it a plain, unqualified, unconditional, categorical, flat denial?" asked Bateman. "Of course, of course." Bateman could not make him out, and had not a dream how he was teasing him. "I don't know where to find you," he said. They paced down the walk in silence. Bateman began again. "You see," he said, "it would be such a wonderful blindness, it would be so utterly inexcusable in a person like yourself, who had known _what_ the Church of England was; not a Dissenter, not an unlettered layman; but one who had been at Oxford, who had come across so many excellent men, who had seen what the Church of England could be, her grave beauty, her orderly and decent activity; who had seen churches decorated as they should be, with candlesticks, ciboriums, faldstools, lecterns, antependiums, piscinas, rood-lofts, and sedilia; who, in fact, had seen the Church Service _carried out_, and could desiderate nothing;--tell me, my dear good Reding," taking hold of his button-hole, "what is it you want--what is it? name it." "That you would take yourself off," Charles would have said, had he spoken his mind; he merely said, however, that really he desiderated nothing but to be believed when he said that he had no intention of leaving his own Church. Bateman was incredulous, and thought him close. "Perhaps you are not aware," he said, "how much is known of the circumstances of your being sent down. The old Principal was full of the subject." "What! I suppose he told people right and left," said Reding. "Oh, yes," answered Bateman; "a friend of mine knows him, and happening to call on him soon after you went down, had the whole story from him. He spoke most kindly of you, and in the highest terms; said that it was deplorable how much your mind was warped by the prevalent opinions, and that he should not be surprised if it turned out you were a Romanist even while you were at St. Saviour's; anyhow, that you would be one day a Romanist for certain, for that you held that the saints reigning with Christ interceded for us in heaven. But what was stronger, when the report got about, Sheffield said that he was not surprised at it, that he always prophesied it." "I am much obliged to him," said Charles. "However, you warrant me," said Bateman, "to contradict it--so I understand you--to contradict it peremptorily; that's enough for me. It's a great relief; it's very satisfactory. Well, I must be going." "I don't like to seem to drive you away," said Charles, "but really you must be going if you want to get home before nightfall. I hope you don't feel lonely or overworked where you are. If you are so at any time, don't scruple to drop in to dinner here; nay, we can take you in for a night, if you wish it." Bateman thanked him, and they proceeded to the hall-door together; when they were nearly parting, Bateman stopped and said, "Do you know, I should like to lend you some books to read. Let me send up to you Bramhall's Works, Thorndike, Barrow on the Unity of the Church, and Leslie's Dialogues on Romanism. I could name others, but content myself with these at present. They perfectly settle the matter; you can't help being convinced. I'll not say a word more; good-bye to you, good-bye." CHAPTER XV. Much as Charles loved and prized the company of his mother and sisters he was not sorry to have gentlemen's society, so he accepted with pleasure an invitation which Bateman sent him to dine with him at Melford. Also he wished to show Bateman, what no protestation could effect, how absurdly exaggerated were the reports which were circulated about him. And as the said Bateman, with all his want of common sense, was really a well-informed man, and well read in English divines, he thought he might incidentally hear something from him which he could turn to account. When he got to Melford he found a Mr. Campbell had been asked to meet him; a young Cambridge rector of a neighbouring parish, of the same religious sentiments on the whole as Bateman, and, though a little positive, a man of clear head and vigorous mind. They had been going over the church; and the conversation at dinner turned on the revival of Gothic architecture--an event which gave unmixed satisfaction to all parties. The subject would have died out, almost as soon as it was started, for want of a difference upon it, had not Bateman happily gone on boldly to declare that, if he had his will, there should be no architecture in the English churches but Gothic, and no music but Gregorian. This was a good thesis, distinctly put, and gave scope for a very pretty quarrel. Reding said that all these adjuncts of worship, whether music or architecture, were national; they were the mode in which religious feeling showed itself in particular times and places. He did not mean to say that the outward expression of religion in a country might not be guided, but it could not be forced; that it was as preposterous to make people worship in one's own way, as be merry in one's own way. "The Greeks," he said, "cut the hair in grief, the Romans let it grow; the Orientals veiled their heads in worship, the Greeks uncovered them; Christians take off their hats in a church, Mahometans their shoes; a long veil is a sign of modesty in Europe, of immodesty in Asia. You may as well try to change the size of people, as their forms of worship. Bateman, we must cut you down a foot, and then you shall begin your ecclesiastical reforms." "But surely, my worthy friend," answered Bateman, "you don't mean to say that there is no natural connexion between internal feeling and outward expression, so that one form is no better than another?" "Far from it," answered Charles; "but let those who confine their music to Gregorians put up crucifixes in the highways. Each is the representative of a particular place or time." "That's what I say of our good friend's short coat and long cassock," said Campbell; "it is a confusion of different times, ancient and modern." "Or of different ideas," said Charles, "the cassock Catholic, the coat Protestant." "The reverse," said Bateman; "the cassock is old Hooker's Anglican habit: the coat comes from Catholic France." "Anyhow, it is what Mr. Reding calls a mixture of ideas," said Campbell; "and that's the difficulty I find in uniting Gothic and Gregorians." "Oh, pardon me," said Bateman, "they are one idea; they are both eminently Catholic." "You can't be more Catholic than Rome, I suppose," said Campbell; "yet there's no Gothic there." "Rome is a peculiar place," said Bateman; "besides, my dear friend, if we do but consider that Rome has corrupted the pure apostolic doctrine, can we wonder that it should have a corrupt architecture?" "Why, then, go to Rome for Gregorians?" said Campbell; "I suspect they are called after Gregory I. Bishop of Rome, whom Protestants consider the first specimen of Antichrist." "It's nothing to us what Protestants think," answered Bateman. "Don't let us quarrel about terms," said Campbell; "both you and I think that Rome has corrupted the faith, whether she is Antichrist or not. You said so yourself just now." "It is true, I did," said Bateman; "but I make a little distinction. The Church of Rome has not _corrupted_ the faith, but has _admitted_ corruptions among her people." "It won't do," answered Campbell; "depend on it, we can't stand our ground in controversy unless we in our hearts think very severely of the Church of Rome." "Why, what's Rome to us?" asked Bateman; "we come from the old British Church; we don't meddle with Rome, and we wish Rome not to meddle with us, but she will." "Well," said Campbell, "you but read a bit of the history of the Reformation, and you will find that the doctrine that the Pope is Antichrist was the life of the movement." "With Ultra-Protestants, not with us," answered Bateman. "Such Ultra-Protestants as the writers of the Homilies," said Campbell; "but, I say again, I am not contending for names; I only mean, that as that doctrine was the life of the Reformation, so a belief, which I have and you too, that there is something bad, corrupt, perilous in the Church of Rome--that there is a spirit of Antichrist living in her, energizing in her, and ruling her--is necessary to a man's being a good Anglican. You must believe this, or you ought to go to Rome." "Impossible! my dear friend," said Bateman; "all our doctrine has been that Rome and we are sister Churches." "I say," said Campbell, "that without this strong repulsion you will not withstand the great claims, the overcoming attractions, of the Church of Rome. She is our mother--oh, that word 'mother!'--a mighty mother! She opens her arms--oh, the fragrance of that bosom! She is full of gifts--I feel it, I have long felt it. Why don't I rush into her arms? Because I feel that she is ruled by a spirit which is not she. But did that distrust of her go from me, was that certainty which I have of her corruption disproved, I should join her communion to-morrow." "This is not very edifying doctrine for Reding," thought Bateman. "Oh, my good Campbell," he said, "you are paradoxical to-day." "Not a bit of it," answered Campbell; "our Reformers felt that the only way in which they could break the tie of allegiance which bound us to Rome was the doctrine of her serious corruption. And so it is with our divines. If there is one doctrine in which they agree, it is that Rome is Antichrist, or an Antichrist. Depend upon it, that doctrine is necessary for our position." "I don't quite understand that language," said Reding; "I see it is used in various publications. It implies that controversy is a game, and that disputants are not looking out for truth, but for arguments." "You must not mistake me, Mr. Reding," answered Campbell; "all I mean is, that you have no leave to trifle with your conviction that Rome is antichristian, if you think so. For if it _is_ so, it is necessary to _say_ so. A poet says, 'Speak _gently_ of our sister's _fall_:' no, if it is a fall, we must not speak gently of it. At first one says, 'So great a Church! who am I, to speak against her?' Yes, you must, if your view of her is true: 'Tell truth and shame the Devil.' Recollect you don't use your own words; you are sanctioned, protected by all our divines. You must, else you can give no sufficient reason for not joining the Church of Rome. You must speak out, not what you _don't_ think, but what you _do_ think, _if_ you do think it." "Here's a doctrine!" thought Charles; "why it's putting the controversy into a nutshell." Bateman interposed. "My dear Campbell," he said, "you are behind the day. We have given up all that abuse against Rome." "Then the party is not so clever as I give them credit for being," answered Campbell; "be sure of this,--those who have given up their protests against Rome, either are looking towards her, or have no eyes to see." "All we say," answered Bateman, "is, as I said before, that _we_ don't wish to interfere with Rome; _we_ don't anathematize Rome--Rome anathematizes _us_." "It won't do," said Campbell; "those who resolve to remain in our Church, and are using sweet words of Romanism, will be forced back upon their proper ground in spite of themselves, and will get no thanks for their pains. No man can serve two masters; either go to Rome, or condemn Rome. For me, the Romish Church has a great deal in it which I can't get over; and thinking so, much as I admire it in parts, I can't help speaking, I can't help it. It would not be honest, and it would not be consistent." "Well, he has ended better than he began," thought Bateman; and he chimed in, "Oh yes, true, too true; it's painful to see it, but there's a great deal in the Church of Rome which no man of plain sense, no reader of the Fathers, no Scripture student, no true member of the Anglo-Catholic Church can possibly stomach." This put a corona on the discussion; and the rest of the dinner passed off pleasantly indeed, but not very intellectually. CHAPTER XVI. After dinner it occurred to them that the subject of Gregorians and Gothic had been left in the lurch. "How in the world did we get off it?" asked Charles. "Well, at least, we have found it," said Bateman; "and I really should like to hear what you have to say upon it, Campbell." "Oh, really, Bateman," answered he, "I am quite sick of the subject; every one seems to me to be going into extremes: what's the good of arguing about it? you won't agree with me." "I don't see that at all," answered Bateman; "people often think they differ, merely because they have not courage to talk to each other." "A good remark," thought Charles; "what a pity that Bateman, with so much sense, should have so little common sense!" "Well, then," said Campbell, "my quarrel with Gothic and Gregorians, when coupled together, is, that they are two ideas, not one. Have figured music in Gothic churches, keep your Gregorian for basilicas." "My good Campbell," said Bateman, "you seem oblivious that Gregorian chants and hymns have always accompanied Gothic aisles, Gothic copes, Gothic mitres, and Gothic chalices." "Our ancestors did what they could," answered Campbell; "they were great in architecture, small in music. They could not use what was not yet invented. They sang Gregorians because they had not Palestrina." "A paradox, a paradox!" cried Bateman. "Surely there is a close connexion," answered Campbell, "between the rise and nature of the basilica and of Gregorian unison.

consult

How many times the word 'consult' appears in the text?

what grief was, not so long ago; but not till now had she known anxiety. Charles's state of mind was a matter of simple astonishment to her. At first it quite frightened and shocked her; it was as if Charles had lost his identity, and had turned out some one else. It was like a great breach of trust. She had seen there was a good deal in the newspapers about the "Oxford party" and their doings; and at different places, where she had been on visits, she had heard of churches being done up in the new fashion, and clergymen being accused, in consequence, of Popery--a charge which she had laughed at. But now it was actually brought home to her door that there was something in it. Yet it was to her incomprehensible, and she hardly knew where she was. And that, of all persons in the world, her brother, her own Charles, with whom she had been one heart and soul all their lives--one so cheerful, so religious, so good, so sensible, so cautious,--that he should be the first specimen that crossed her path of the new opinions,--it bewildered her. And where _had_ he got his notions?--Notions! she could not call them notions; he had nothing to say for himself. It was an infatuation; he, so clever, so sharp-sighted, could say nothing better in defence of himself than that Mrs. Bishop of Monmouth was too pretty, and that old Dr. Stock sat upon a cushion. Oh, sad, sad indeed! How was it he could be so insensible to the blessings he gained from his Church, and had enjoyed all his life? What could he need? _She_ had no need at all: going to church was a pleasure to her. She liked to hear the Lessons and the Collects, coming round year after year, and marking the seasons. The historical books and prophets in summer; then the "stir-up" Collect just before Advent; the beautiful Collects in Advent itself, with the Lessons from Isaiah reaching on through Epiphany; they were quite music to the ear. Then the Psalms, varying with every Sunday; they were a perpetual solace to her, ever old yet ever new. The occasional additions, too--the Athanasian Creed, the Benedictus, Deus misereatur, and Omnia opera, which her father had been used to read at certain great feasts; and the beautiful Litany. What could he want more? where could he find so much? Well, it was a mystery to her; and she could only feel thankful that _she_ was not exposed to the temptations, whatever they were, which had acted on the powerful mind of her brother. Then, she had anticipated how pleasant it would be when Charles was a clergyman, and she should hear him preach; when there would be one whom she would have a right to ask questions and to consult whenever she wished. This prospect was at an end; she could no longer trust him: he had given a shake to her confidence which it never could recover; it was gone for ever. They were all of them women but he; he was their only stay, now that her father had been taken away. What was now to become of them? To be abandoned by her own brother! oh, how terrible! And how was she to break it to her mother? for broken it must be sooner or later. She could not deceive herself; she knew her brother well enough to feel sure that, when he had really got hold of a thing, he would not let it go again without convincing reasons; and what reasons there could be for letting it go she could not conceive, if there could be reasons for taking it up. The taking it up baffled all reason, all calculation. Well, but how was her mother to be told of it? Was it better to let her suspect it first, and so break it to her, or to wait till the event happened? The problem was too difficult for the present, and she must leave it. This was her state for several days, till her fever of mind gradually subsided into a state of which a dull anxiety was a latent but habitual element, leaving her as usual at ordinary times, but every now and then betraying itself by sudden sharp sighs or wanderings of thought. Neither brother nor sister, loving each other really as much as ever, had quite the same sweetness and evenness of temper as was natural to them; self-control became a duty, and the evening circle was duller than before, without any one being able to say why. Charles was more attentive to his mother; he no more brought his books into the drawing-room, but gave himself to her company. He read to them, but he had little to talk about; and Eliza and Caroline both wished his stupid examination, past and over, that he might be restored to his natural liveliness. As to Mrs. Reding, she did not observe more than that her son was a very hard student, and grudged himself a walk or ride, let the day be ever so fine. She was a mild, quiet person, of keen feelings and precise habits; not very quick at observation; and, having lived all her life in the country, and till her late loss having scarcely known what trouble was, she was singularly unable to comprehend how things could go on in any way but one. Charles had not told her the real cause of his spending the winter at home, thinking it would be a needless vexation to her; much less did he contemplate harassing her with the recital of his own religious difficulties, which were not appreciable by her, and issued in no definite result. To his sister he did attempt an explanation of his former conversation, with a view of softening the extreme misgivings which it had created in her mind. She received it thankfully, and professed to be relieved by it; but the blow was struck, the suspicion was lodged deep in her mind--he was still Charles, dear to her as ever, but she never could rid herself of the anticipation which on that occasion she had expressed. CHAPTER XIV. One morning he was told that a gentleman had asked for him, and been shown into the dining-room. Descending, he saw the tall slender figure of Bateman, now a clergyman, and lately appointed curate of a neighbouring parish. Charles had not seen him for a year and a half, and shook hands with him very warmly, complimenting him on his white neckcloth, which somehow, he said, altered him more than he could have expected. Bateman's manner certainly was altered; it might be the accident of the day, but he did not seem quite at his ease; it might be that he was in a strange house, and was likely soon to be precipitated into the company of ladies, to which he had never been used. If so, the trial was on the point of beginning, for Charles said instantly that he must come and see his mother, and of course meant to dine with them; the sky was clear, and there was an excellent footpath between Boughton and Melford. Bateman could not do this, but he would have the greatest pleasure in being introduced to Mrs. Reding; so he stumbled after Charles into the drawing-room, and was soon conversing with her and the young ladies. "A charming prospect you have here, ma'am," said Bateman, "when you are once inside the house. It does not promise outside so extensive a view." "No, it is shut in with trees," said Mrs. Reding; "and the brow of the hill changes its direction so much that at first I used to think the prospect ought to be from the opposite windows." "What is that high hill?" said Bateman. "It is Hart Hill," said Charles; "there's a Roman camp atop of it." "We can see eight steeples from our windows," said Mrs. Reding;--"ring the bell for luncheon, my dear." "Ah, our ancestors, Mrs. Reding," said Bateman, "thought more of building churches than we do; or rather than we have done, I should say, for now it is astonishing what efforts are made to add to our ecclesiastical structures." "Our ancestors did a good deal too," said Mrs. Reding; "how many churches, my dear, were built in London in Queen Anne's time? St. Martin's was one of them." "Fifty," said Eliza. "Fifty were intended," said Charles. "Yes, Mrs. Reding," said Bateman; "but by ancestors I meant the holy Bishops and other members of our Catholic Church previously to the Reformation. For, though the Reformation was a great blessing" (a glance at Charles), "yet we must not, in justice, forget what was done by English Churchmen before it." "Ah, poor creatures," said Mrs. Reding, "they did one good thing in building churches; it has saved us much trouble." "Is there much church-restoration going on in these parts?" said Bateman, taken rather aback. "My mother has but lately come here, like yourself," said Charles; "yes, there is some; Barton Church, you know," appealing to Mary. "Have your walks extended so far as Barton?" said Mary to Bateman. "Not yet, Miss Reding, not yet," answered he; "of course they are destroying the pews." "They are to put in seats," said Charles, "and of a very good pattern." "Pews are intolerable," said Bateman; "yet the last generation of incumbents contentedly bore them; it is wonderful!" A not unnatural silence followed this speech. Charles broke it by asking if Bateman intended to do anything in the improvement line at Melford. Bateman looked modest. "Nothing of any consequence," he said; "some few things were done; but he had a rector of the old school, poor man, who was an enemy to that sort of thing." It was with some malicious feeling, in consequence of his attack on clergymen of the past age, that Charles pressed his visitor to give an account of his own reforms. "Why," said Bateman, "much discretion is necessary in these matters, or you do as much harm as good; you get into hot water with churchwardens and vestries, as well as with old rectors, and again with the gentry of the place, and please no one. For this reason I have made no attempt to introduce the surplice into the pulpit except on the great festivals, intending to familiarize my parishioners to it by little and little. However, I wear a scarf or stole, and have taken care that it should be two inches broader than usual; and I always wear the cassock in my parish. I hope you approve of the cassock, Mrs. Reding?" "It is a very cold dress, sir--that's my opinion--when made of silk or bombazeen; and very unbecoming too, when worn by itself." "Particularly behind," said Charles; "it is quite unshapely." "Oh, I have remedied that," said Bateman; "you have noticed, Miss Reding, I dare say, the Bishop's short cassock. It comes to the knees, and looks much like a continuation of a waistcoat, the straight-cut coat being worn as usual. Well, Miss Reding, I have adopted the same plan with the long cassock; I put my coat over it." Mary had difficulty to keep from smiling; Charles laughed out. "Impossible, Bateman," he said; "you don't mean you wear your tailed French coat over your long straight cassock reaching to your ankles?" "Certainly," said Bateman gravely; "I thus consult for warmth and appearance too; and all my parishioners are sure to know me. I think this a great point, Miss Reding: I hear the little boys as I pass say, 'That's the parson.'" "I'll be bound they do," said Charles. "Well," said Mrs. Reding, surprised out of her propriety, "did one ever hear the like!" Bateman looked round at her, startled and frightened. "You were going to speak of your improvements in your church," said Mary, wishing to divert his attention from her mother. "Ah, true, Miss Reding, true," said Bateman, "thank you for reminding me; I have digressed to improvements in my own dress. I should have liked to have pulled down the galleries and lowered the high pews; that, however, I could not do. So I have lowered the pulpit some six feet. Now by doing so, first I give a pattern in my own person of the kind of condescension or lowliness to which I would persuade my people. But this is not all; for the consequence of lowering the pulpit is, that no one in the galleries can see or hear me preach; and this is a bonus on those who are below." "It's a broad hint, certainly," said Charles. "But it's a hint for those below also," continued Bateman; "for no one can see or hear me in the pews either, till the sides are lowered." "One thing only is wanting besides," said Charles, smiling and looking amiable, lest he should be saying too much; "since you are full tall, you must kneel when you preach, Bateman, else you will undo your own alterations." Bateman looked pleased. "I have anticipated you," he said; "I preach sitting. It is more comformable to antiquity and to reason to sit than to stand." "With these precautions," said Charles, "I really think you might have ventured on your surplice in the pulpit every Sunday. Are your parishioners contented?" "Oh, not at all, far from it," cried Bateman; "but they can do nothing. The alteration is so simple." "Nothing besides?" asked Charles. "Nothing in the architectural way," answered he; "but one thing more in the way of observances. I have fortunately picked up a very fair copy of Jewell, black-letter; and I have placed it in church, securing it with a chain to the wall, for any poor person who wishes to read it. Our church is emphatically the 'poor man's church,' Mrs. Reding." "Well," said Charles to himself, "I'll back the old parsons against the young ones any day, if this is to be their cut." Then aloud: "Come, you must see our garden; take up your hat, and let's have a turn in it. There's a very nice terrace-walk at the upper end." Bateman accordingly, having been thus trotted out for the amusement of the ladies, was now led off again, and was soon in the aforesaid terrace-walk, pacing up and down in earnest conversation with Charles. "Reding, my good fellow," said he, "what is the meaning of this report concerning you, which is everywhere about?" "I have not heard it," said Charles abruptly. "Why, it is this," said Bateman; "I wish to approach the subject with as great delicacy as possible: don't tell me if you don't like it, or tell me just as much as you like; yet you will excuse an old friend. They say you are going to leave the Church of your baptism for the Church of Rome." "Is it widely spread?" asked Charles coolly. "Oh, yes; I heard it in London; have had a letter mentioning it from Oxford; and a friend of mine heard it given out as positive at a visitation dinner in Wales." "So," thought Charles, "you are bringing _your_ witness against me as well as the rest." "Well but, my good Reding," said Bateman, "why are you silent? is it true--is it true?" "What true? that I am a Roman Catholic? Oh, certainly; don't you understand, that's why I am reading so hard for the schools?" said Charles. "Come, be serious for a moment, Reding," said Bateman, "do be serious. Will you empower me to contradict the report, or to negative it to a certain point, or in any respect?" "Oh, to be sure," said Charles, "contradict it, by all means, contradict it entirely." "May I give it a plain, unqualified, unconditional, categorical, flat denial?" asked Bateman. "Of course, of course." Bateman could not make him out, and had not a dream how he was teasing him. "I don't know where to find you," he said. They paced down the walk in silence. Bateman began again. "You see," he said, "it would be such a wonderful blindness, it would be so utterly inexcusable in a person like yourself, who had known _what_ the Church of England was; not a Dissenter, not an unlettered layman; but one who had been at Oxford, who had come across so many excellent men, who had seen what the Church of England could be, her grave beauty, her orderly and decent activity; who had seen churches decorated as they should be, with candlesticks, ciboriums, faldstools, lecterns, antependiums, piscinas, rood-lofts, and sedilia; who, in fact, had seen the Church Service _carried out_, and could desiderate nothing;--tell me, my dear good Reding," taking hold of his button-hole, "what is it you want--what is it? name it." "That you would take yourself off," Charles would have said, had he spoken his mind; he merely said, however, that really he desiderated nothing but to be believed when he said that he had no intention of leaving his own Church. Bateman was incredulous, and thought him close. "Perhaps you are not aware," he said, "how much is known of the circumstances of your being sent down. The old Principal was full of the subject." "What! I suppose he told people right and left," said Reding. "Oh, yes," answered Bateman; "a friend of mine knows him, and happening to call on him soon after you went down, had the whole story from him. He spoke most kindly of you, and in the highest terms; said that it was deplorable how much your mind was warped by the prevalent opinions, and that he should not be surprised if it turned out you were a Romanist even while you were at St. Saviour's; anyhow, that you would be one day a Romanist for certain, for that you held that the saints reigning with Christ interceded for us in heaven. But what was stronger, when the report got about, Sheffield said that he was not surprised at it, that he always prophesied it." "I am much obliged to him," said Charles. "However, you warrant me," said Bateman, "to contradict it--so I understand you--to contradict it peremptorily; that's enough for me. It's a great relief; it's very satisfactory. Well, I must be going." "I don't like to seem to drive you away," said Charles, "but really you must be going if you want to get home before nightfall. I hope you don't feel lonely or overworked where you are. If you are so at any time, don't scruple to drop in to dinner here; nay, we can take you in for a night, if you wish it." Bateman thanked him, and they proceeded to the hall-door together; when they were nearly parting, Bateman stopped and said, "Do you know, I should like to lend you some books to read. Let me send up to you Bramhall's Works, Thorndike, Barrow on the Unity of the Church, and Leslie's Dialogues on Romanism. I could name others, but content myself with these at present. They perfectly settle the matter; you can't help being convinced. I'll not say a word more; good-bye to you, good-bye." CHAPTER XV. Much as Charles loved and prized the company of his mother and sisters he was not sorry to have gentlemen's society, so he accepted with pleasure an invitation which Bateman sent him to dine with him at Melford. Also he wished to show Bateman, what no protestation could effect, how absurdly exaggerated were the reports which were circulated about him. And as the said Bateman, with all his want of common sense, was really a well-informed man, and well read in English divines, he thought he might incidentally hear something from him which he could turn to account. When he got to Melford he found a Mr. Campbell had been asked to meet him; a young Cambridge rector of a neighbouring parish, of the same religious sentiments on the whole as Bateman, and, though a little positive, a man of clear head and vigorous mind. They had been going over the church; and the conversation at dinner turned on the revival of Gothic architecture--an event which gave unmixed satisfaction to all parties. The subject would have died out, almost as soon as it was started, for want of a difference upon it, had not Bateman happily gone on boldly to declare that, if he had his will, there should be no architecture in the English churches but Gothic, and no music but Gregorian. This was a good thesis, distinctly put, and gave scope for a very pretty quarrel. Reding said that all these adjuncts of worship, whether music or architecture, were national; they were the mode in which religious feeling showed itself in particular times and places. He did not mean to say that the outward expression of religion in a country might not be guided, but it could not be forced; that it was as preposterous to make people worship in one's own way, as be merry in one's own way. "The Greeks," he said, "cut the hair in grief, the Romans let it grow; the Orientals veiled their heads in worship, the Greeks uncovered them; Christians take off their hats in a church, Mahometans their shoes; a long veil is a sign of modesty in Europe, of immodesty in Asia. You may as well try to change the size of people, as their forms of worship. Bateman, we must cut you down a foot, and then you shall begin your ecclesiastical reforms." "But surely, my worthy friend," answered Bateman, "you don't mean to say that there is no natural connexion between internal feeling and outward expression, so that one form is no better than another?" "Far from it," answered Charles; "but let those who confine their music to Gregorians put up crucifixes in the highways. Each is the representative of a particular place or time." "That's what I say of our good friend's short coat and long cassock," said Campbell; "it is a confusion of different times, ancient and modern." "Or of different ideas," said Charles, "the cassock Catholic, the coat Protestant." "The reverse," said Bateman; "the cassock is old Hooker's Anglican habit: the coat comes from Catholic France." "Anyhow, it is what Mr. Reding calls a mixture of ideas," said Campbell; "and that's the difficulty I find in uniting Gothic and Gregorians." "Oh, pardon me," said Bateman, "they are one idea; they are both eminently Catholic." "You can't be more Catholic than Rome, I suppose," said Campbell; "yet there's no Gothic there." "Rome is a peculiar place," said Bateman; "besides, my dear friend, if we do but consider that Rome has corrupted the pure apostolic doctrine, can we wonder that it should have a corrupt architecture?" "Why, then, go to Rome for Gregorians?" said Campbell; "I suspect they are called after Gregory I. Bishop of Rome, whom Protestants consider the first specimen of Antichrist." "It's nothing to us what Protestants think," answered Bateman. "Don't let us quarrel about terms," said Campbell; "both you and I think that Rome has corrupted the faith, whether she is Antichrist or not. You said so yourself just now." "It is true, I did," said Bateman; "but I make a little distinction. The Church of Rome has not _corrupted_ the faith, but has _admitted_ corruptions among her people." "It won't do," answered Campbell; "depend on it, we can't stand our ground in controversy unless we in our hearts think very severely of the Church of Rome." "Why, what's Rome to us?" asked Bateman; "we come from the old British Church; we don't meddle with Rome, and we wish Rome not to meddle with us, but she will." "Well," said Campbell, "you but read a bit of the history of the Reformation, and you will find that the doctrine that the Pope is Antichrist was the life of the movement." "With Ultra-Protestants, not with us," answered Bateman. "Such Ultra-Protestants as the writers of the Homilies," said Campbell; "but, I say again, I am not contending for names; I only mean, that as that doctrine was the life of the Reformation, so a belief, which I have and you too, that there is something bad, corrupt, perilous in the Church of Rome--that there is a spirit of Antichrist living in her, energizing in her, and ruling her--is necessary to a man's being a good Anglican. You must believe this, or you ought to go to Rome." "Impossible! my dear friend," said Bateman; "all our doctrine has been that Rome and we are sister Churches." "I say," said Campbell, "that without this strong repulsion you will not withstand the great claims, the overcoming attractions, of the Church of Rome. She is our mother--oh, that word 'mother!'--a mighty mother! She opens her arms--oh, the fragrance of that bosom! She is full of gifts--I feel it, I have long felt it. Why don't I rush into her arms? Because I feel that she is ruled by a spirit which is not she. But did that distrust of her go from me, was that certainty which I have of her corruption disproved, I should join her communion to-morrow." "This is not very edifying doctrine for Reding," thought Bateman. "Oh, my good Campbell," he said, "you are paradoxical to-day." "Not a bit of it," answered Campbell; "our Reformers felt that the only way in which they could break the tie of allegiance which bound us to Rome was the doctrine of her serious corruption. And so it is with our divines. If there is one doctrine in which they agree, it is that Rome is Antichrist, or an Antichrist. Depend upon it, that doctrine is necessary for our position." "I don't quite understand that language," said Reding; "I see it is used in various publications. It implies that controversy is a game, and that disputants are not looking out for truth, but for arguments." "You must not mistake me, Mr. Reding," answered Campbell; "all I mean is, that you have no leave to trifle with your conviction that Rome is antichristian, if you think so. For if it _is_ so, it is necessary to _say_ so. A poet says, 'Speak _gently_ of our sister's _fall_:' no, if it is a fall, we must not speak gently of it. At first one says, 'So great a Church! who am I, to speak against her?' Yes, you must, if your view of her is true: 'Tell truth and shame the Devil.' Recollect you don't use your own words; you are sanctioned, protected by all our divines. You must, else you can give no sufficient reason for not joining the Church of Rome. You must speak out, not what you _don't_ think, but what you _do_ think, _if_ you do think it." "Here's a doctrine!" thought Charles; "why it's putting the controversy into a nutshell." Bateman interposed. "My dear Campbell," he said, "you are behind the day. We have given up all that abuse against Rome." "Then the party is not so clever as I give them credit for being," answered Campbell; "be sure of this,--those who have given up their protests against Rome, either are looking towards her, or have no eyes to see." "All we say," answered Bateman, "is, as I said before, that _we_ don't wish to interfere with Rome; _we_ don't anathematize Rome--Rome anathematizes _us_." "It won't do," said Campbell; "those who resolve to remain in our Church, and are using sweet words of Romanism, will be forced back upon their proper ground in spite of themselves, and will get no thanks for their pains. No man can serve two masters; either go to Rome, or condemn Rome. For me, the Romish Church has a great deal in it which I can't get over; and thinking so, much as I admire it in parts, I can't help speaking, I can't help it. It would not be honest, and it would not be consistent." "Well, he has ended better than he began," thought Bateman; and he chimed in, "Oh yes, true, too true; it's painful to see it, but there's a great deal in the Church of Rome which no man of plain sense, no reader of the Fathers, no Scripture student, no true member of the Anglo-Catholic Church can possibly stomach." This put a corona on the discussion; and the rest of the dinner passed off pleasantly indeed, but not very intellectually. CHAPTER XVI. After dinner it occurred to them that the subject of Gregorians and Gothic had been left in the lurch. "How in the world did we get off it?" asked Charles. "Well, at least, we have found it," said Bateman; "and I really should like to hear what you have to say upon it, Campbell." "Oh, really, Bateman," answered he, "I am quite sick of the subject; every one seems to me to be going into extremes: what's the good of arguing about it? you won't agree with me." "I don't see that at all," answered Bateman; "people often think they differ, merely because they have not courage to talk to each other." "A good remark," thought Charles; "what a pity that Bateman, with so much sense, should have so little common sense!" "Well, then," said Campbell, "my quarrel with Gothic and Gregorians, when coupled together, is, that they are two ideas, not one. Have figured music in Gothic churches, keep your Gregorian for basilicas." "My good Campbell," said Bateman, "you seem oblivious that Gregorian chants and hymns have always accompanied Gothic aisles, Gothic copes, Gothic mitres, and Gothic chalices." "Our ancestors did what they could," answered Campbell; "they were great in architecture, small in music. They could not use what was not yet invented. They sang Gregorians because they had not Palestrina." "A paradox, a paradox!" cried Bateman. "Surely there is a close connexion," answered Campbell, "between the rise and nature of the basilica and of Gregorian unison.

voila

How many times the word 'voila' appears in the text?

what grief was, not so long ago; but not till now had she known anxiety. Charles's state of mind was a matter of simple astonishment to her. At first it quite frightened and shocked her; it was as if Charles had lost his identity, and had turned out some one else. It was like a great breach of trust. She had seen there was a good deal in the newspapers about the "Oxford party" and their doings; and at different places, where she had been on visits, she had heard of churches being done up in the new fashion, and clergymen being accused, in consequence, of Popery--a charge which she had laughed at. But now it was actually brought home to her door that there was something in it. Yet it was to her incomprehensible, and she hardly knew where she was. And that, of all persons in the world, her brother, her own Charles, with whom she had been one heart and soul all their lives--one so cheerful, so religious, so good, so sensible, so cautious,--that he should be the first specimen that crossed her path of the new opinions,--it bewildered her. And where _had_ he got his notions?--Notions! she could not call them notions; he had nothing to say for himself. It was an infatuation; he, so clever, so sharp-sighted, could say nothing better in defence of himself than that Mrs. Bishop of Monmouth was too pretty, and that old Dr. Stock sat upon a cushion. Oh, sad, sad indeed! How was it he could be so insensible to the blessings he gained from his Church, and had enjoyed all his life? What could he need? _She_ had no need at all: going to church was a pleasure to her. She liked to hear the Lessons and the Collects, coming round year after year, and marking the seasons. The historical books and prophets in summer; then the "stir-up" Collect just before Advent; the beautiful Collects in Advent itself, with the Lessons from Isaiah reaching on through Epiphany; they were quite music to the ear. Then the Psalms, varying with every Sunday; they were a perpetual solace to her, ever old yet ever new. The occasional additions, too--the Athanasian Creed, the Benedictus, Deus misereatur, and Omnia opera, which her father had been used to read at certain great feasts; and the beautiful Litany. What could he want more? where could he find so much? Well, it was a mystery to her; and she could only feel thankful that _she_ was not exposed to the temptations, whatever they were, which had acted on the powerful mind of her brother. Then, she had anticipated how pleasant it would be when Charles was a clergyman, and she should hear him preach; when there would be one whom she would have a right to ask questions and to consult whenever she wished. This prospect was at an end; she could no longer trust him: he had given a shake to her confidence which it never could recover; it was gone for ever. They were all of them women but he; he was their only stay, now that her father had been taken away. What was now to become of them? To be abandoned by her own brother! oh, how terrible! And how was she to break it to her mother? for broken it must be sooner or later. She could not deceive herself; she knew her brother well enough to feel sure that, when he had really got hold of a thing, he would not let it go again without convincing reasons; and what reasons there could be for letting it go she could not conceive, if there could be reasons for taking it up. The taking it up baffled all reason, all calculation. Well, but how was her mother to be told of it? Was it better to let her suspect it first, and so break it to her, or to wait till the event happened? The problem was too difficult for the present, and she must leave it. This was her state for several days, till her fever of mind gradually subsided into a state of which a dull anxiety was a latent but habitual element, leaving her as usual at ordinary times, but every now and then betraying itself by sudden sharp sighs or wanderings of thought. Neither brother nor sister, loving each other really as much as ever, had quite the same sweetness and evenness of temper as was natural to them; self-control became a duty, and the evening circle was duller than before, without any one being able to say why. Charles was more attentive to his mother; he no more brought his books into the drawing-room, but gave himself to her company. He read to them, but he had little to talk about; and Eliza and Caroline both wished his stupid examination, past and over, that he might be restored to his natural liveliness. As to Mrs. Reding, she did not observe more than that her son was a very hard student, and grudged himself a walk or ride, let the day be ever so fine. She was a mild, quiet person, of keen feelings and precise habits; not very quick at observation; and, having lived all her life in the country, and till her late loss having scarcely known what trouble was, she was singularly unable to comprehend how things could go on in any way but one. Charles had not told her the real cause of his spending the winter at home, thinking it would be a needless vexation to her; much less did he contemplate harassing her with the recital of his own religious difficulties, which were not appreciable by her, and issued in no definite result. To his sister he did attempt an explanation of his former conversation, with a view of softening the extreme misgivings which it had created in her mind. She received it thankfully, and professed to be relieved by it; but the blow was struck, the suspicion was lodged deep in her mind--he was still Charles, dear to her as ever, but she never could rid herself of the anticipation which on that occasion she had expressed. CHAPTER XIV. One morning he was told that a gentleman had asked for him, and been shown into the dining-room. Descending, he saw the tall slender figure of Bateman, now a clergyman, and lately appointed curate of a neighbouring parish. Charles had not seen him for a year and a half, and shook hands with him very warmly, complimenting him on his white neckcloth, which somehow, he said, altered him more than he could have expected. Bateman's manner certainly was altered; it might be the accident of the day, but he did not seem quite at his ease; it might be that he was in a strange house, and was likely soon to be precipitated into the company of ladies, to which he had never been used. If so, the trial was on the point of beginning, for Charles said instantly that he must come and see his mother, and of course meant to dine with them; the sky was clear, and there was an excellent footpath between Boughton and Melford. Bateman could not do this, but he would have the greatest pleasure in being introduced to Mrs. Reding; so he stumbled after Charles into the drawing-room, and was soon conversing with her and the young ladies. "A charming prospect you have here, ma'am," said Bateman, "when you are once inside the house. It does not promise outside so extensive a view." "No, it is shut in with trees," said Mrs. Reding; "and the brow of the hill changes its direction so much that at first I used to think the prospect ought to be from the opposite windows." "What is that high hill?" said Bateman. "It is Hart Hill," said Charles; "there's a Roman camp atop of it." "We can see eight steeples from our windows," said Mrs. Reding;--"ring the bell for luncheon, my dear." "Ah, our ancestors, Mrs. Reding," said Bateman, "thought more of building churches than we do; or rather than we have done, I should say, for now it is astonishing what efforts are made to add to our ecclesiastical structures." "Our ancestors did a good deal too," said Mrs. Reding; "how many churches, my dear, were built in London in Queen Anne's time? St. Martin's was one of them." "Fifty," said Eliza. "Fifty were intended," said Charles. "Yes, Mrs. Reding," said Bateman; "but by ancestors I meant the holy Bishops and other members of our Catholic Church previously to the Reformation. For, though the Reformation was a great blessing" (a glance at Charles), "yet we must not, in justice, forget what was done by English Churchmen before it." "Ah, poor creatures," said Mrs. Reding, "they did one good thing in building churches; it has saved us much trouble." "Is there much church-restoration going on in these parts?" said Bateman, taken rather aback. "My mother has but lately come here, like yourself," said Charles; "yes, there is some; Barton Church, you know," appealing to Mary. "Have your walks extended so far as Barton?" said Mary to Bateman. "Not yet, Miss Reding, not yet," answered he; "of course they are destroying the pews." "They are to put in seats," said Charles, "and of a very good pattern." "Pews are intolerable," said Bateman; "yet the last generation of incumbents contentedly bore them; it is wonderful!" A not unnatural silence followed this speech. Charles broke it by asking if Bateman intended to do anything in the improvement line at Melford. Bateman looked modest. "Nothing of any consequence," he said; "some few things were done; but he had a rector of the old school, poor man, who was an enemy to that sort of thing." It was with some malicious feeling, in consequence of his attack on clergymen of the past age, that Charles pressed his visitor to give an account of his own reforms. "Why," said Bateman, "much discretion is necessary in these matters, or you do as much harm as good; you get into hot water with churchwardens and vestries, as well as with old rectors, and again with the gentry of the place, and please no one. For this reason I have made no attempt to introduce the surplice into the pulpit except on the great festivals, intending to familiarize my parishioners to it by little and little. However, I wear a scarf or stole, and have taken care that it should be two inches broader than usual; and I always wear the cassock in my parish. I hope you approve of the cassock, Mrs. Reding?" "It is a very cold dress, sir--that's my opinion--when made of silk or bombazeen; and very unbecoming too, when worn by itself." "Particularly behind," said Charles; "it is quite unshapely." "Oh, I have remedied that," said Bateman; "you have noticed, Miss Reding, I dare say, the Bishop's short cassock. It comes to the knees, and looks much like a continuation of a waistcoat, the straight-cut coat being worn as usual. Well, Miss Reding, I have adopted the same plan with the long cassock; I put my coat over it." Mary had difficulty to keep from smiling; Charles laughed out. "Impossible, Bateman," he said; "you don't mean you wear your tailed French coat over your long straight cassock reaching to your ankles?" "Certainly," said Bateman gravely; "I thus consult for warmth and appearance too; and all my parishioners are sure to know me. I think this a great point, Miss Reding: I hear the little boys as I pass say, 'That's the parson.'" "I'll be bound they do," said Charles. "Well," said Mrs. Reding, surprised out of her propriety, "did one ever hear the like!" Bateman looked round at her, startled and frightened. "You were going to speak of your improvements in your church," said Mary, wishing to divert his attention from her mother. "Ah, true, Miss Reding, true," said Bateman, "thank you for reminding me; I have digressed to improvements in my own dress. I should have liked to have pulled down the galleries and lowered the high pews; that, however, I could not do. So I have lowered the pulpit some six feet. Now by doing so, first I give a pattern in my own person of the kind of condescension or lowliness to which I would persuade my people. But this is not all; for the consequence of lowering the pulpit is, that no one in the galleries can see or hear me preach; and this is a bonus on those who are below." "It's a broad hint, certainly," said Charles. "But it's a hint for those below also," continued Bateman; "for no one can see or hear me in the pews either, till the sides are lowered." "One thing only is wanting besides," said Charles, smiling and looking amiable, lest he should be saying too much; "since you are full tall, you must kneel when you preach, Bateman, else you will undo your own alterations." Bateman looked pleased. "I have anticipated you," he said; "I preach sitting. It is more comformable to antiquity and to reason to sit than to stand." "With these precautions," said Charles, "I really think you might have ventured on your surplice in the pulpit every Sunday. Are your parishioners contented?" "Oh, not at all, far from it," cried Bateman; "but they can do nothing. The alteration is so simple." "Nothing besides?" asked Charles. "Nothing in the architectural way," answered he; "but one thing more in the way of observances. I have fortunately picked up a very fair copy of Jewell, black-letter; and I have placed it in church, securing it with a chain to the wall, for any poor person who wishes to read it. Our church is emphatically the 'poor man's church,' Mrs. Reding." "Well," said Charles to himself, "I'll back the old parsons against the young ones any day, if this is to be their cut." Then aloud: "Come, you must see our garden; take up your hat, and let's have a turn in it. There's a very nice terrace-walk at the upper end." Bateman accordingly, having been thus trotted out for the amusement of the ladies, was now led off again, and was soon in the aforesaid terrace-walk, pacing up and down in earnest conversation with Charles. "Reding, my good fellow," said he, "what is the meaning of this report concerning you, which is everywhere about?" "I have not heard it," said Charles abruptly. "Why, it is this," said Bateman; "I wish to approach the subject with as great delicacy as possible: don't tell me if you don't like it, or tell me just as much as you like; yet you will excuse an old friend. They say you are going to leave the Church of your baptism for the Church of Rome." "Is it widely spread?" asked Charles coolly. "Oh, yes; I heard it in London; have had a letter mentioning it from Oxford; and a friend of mine heard it given out as positive at a visitation dinner in Wales." "So," thought Charles, "you are bringing _your_ witness against me as well as the rest." "Well but, my good Reding," said Bateman, "why are you silent? is it true--is it true?" "What true? that I am a Roman Catholic? Oh, certainly; don't you understand, that's why I am reading so hard for the schools?" said Charles. "Come, be serious for a moment, Reding," said Bateman, "do be serious. Will you empower me to contradict the report, or to negative it to a certain point, or in any respect?" "Oh, to be sure," said Charles, "contradict it, by all means, contradict it entirely." "May I give it a plain, unqualified, unconditional, categorical, flat denial?" asked Bateman. "Of course, of course." Bateman could not make him out, and had not a dream how he was teasing him. "I don't know where to find you," he said. They paced down the walk in silence. Bateman began again. "You see," he said, "it would be such a wonderful blindness, it would be so utterly inexcusable in a person like yourself, who had known _what_ the Church of England was; not a Dissenter, not an unlettered layman; but one who had been at Oxford, who had come across so many excellent men, who had seen what the Church of England could be, her grave beauty, her orderly and decent activity; who had seen churches decorated as they should be, with candlesticks, ciboriums, faldstools, lecterns, antependiums, piscinas, rood-lofts, and sedilia; who, in fact, had seen the Church Service _carried out_, and could desiderate nothing;--tell me, my dear good Reding," taking hold of his button-hole, "what is it you want--what is it? name it." "That you would take yourself off," Charles would have said, had he spoken his mind; he merely said, however, that really he desiderated nothing but to be believed when he said that he had no intention of leaving his own Church. Bateman was incredulous, and thought him close. "Perhaps you are not aware," he said, "how much is known of the circumstances of your being sent down. The old Principal was full of the subject." "What! I suppose he told people right and left," said Reding. "Oh, yes," answered Bateman; "a friend of mine knows him, and happening to call on him soon after you went down, had the whole story from him. He spoke most kindly of you, and in the highest terms; said that it was deplorable how much your mind was warped by the prevalent opinions, and that he should not be surprised if it turned out you were a Romanist even while you were at St. Saviour's; anyhow, that you would be one day a Romanist for certain, for that you held that the saints reigning with Christ interceded for us in heaven. But what was stronger, when the report got about, Sheffield said that he was not surprised at it, that he always prophesied it." "I am much obliged to him," said Charles. "However, you warrant me," said Bateman, "to contradict it--so I understand you--to contradict it peremptorily; that's enough for me. It's a great relief; it's very satisfactory. Well, I must be going." "I don't like to seem to drive you away," said Charles, "but really you must be going if you want to get home before nightfall. I hope you don't feel lonely or overworked where you are. If you are so at any time, don't scruple to drop in to dinner here; nay, we can take you in for a night, if you wish it." Bateman thanked him, and they proceeded to the hall-door together; when they were nearly parting, Bateman stopped and said, "Do you know, I should like to lend you some books to read. Let me send up to you Bramhall's Works, Thorndike, Barrow on the Unity of the Church, and Leslie's Dialogues on Romanism. I could name others, but content myself with these at present. They perfectly settle the matter; you can't help being convinced. I'll not say a word more; good-bye to you, good-bye." CHAPTER XV. Much as Charles loved and prized the company of his mother and sisters he was not sorry to have gentlemen's society, so he accepted with pleasure an invitation which Bateman sent him to dine with him at Melford. Also he wished to show Bateman, what no protestation could effect, how absurdly exaggerated were the reports which were circulated about him. And as the said Bateman, with all his want of common sense, was really a well-informed man, and well read in English divines, he thought he might incidentally hear something from him which he could turn to account. When he got to Melford he found a Mr. Campbell had been asked to meet him; a young Cambridge rector of a neighbouring parish, of the same religious sentiments on the whole as Bateman, and, though a little positive, a man of clear head and vigorous mind. They had been going over the church; and the conversation at dinner turned on the revival of Gothic architecture--an event which gave unmixed satisfaction to all parties. The subject would have died out, almost as soon as it was started, for want of a difference upon it, had not Bateman happily gone on boldly to declare that, if he had his will, there should be no architecture in the English churches but Gothic, and no music but Gregorian. This was a good thesis, distinctly put, and gave scope for a very pretty quarrel. Reding said that all these adjuncts of worship, whether music or architecture, were national; they were the mode in which religious feeling showed itself in particular times and places. He did not mean to say that the outward expression of religion in a country might not be guided, but it could not be forced; that it was as preposterous to make people worship in one's own way, as be merry in one's own way. "The Greeks," he said, "cut the hair in grief, the Romans let it grow; the Orientals veiled their heads in worship, the Greeks uncovered them; Christians take off their hats in a church, Mahometans their shoes; a long veil is a sign of modesty in Europe, of immodesty in Asia. You may as well try to change the size of people, as their forms of worship. Bateman, we must cut you down a foot, and then you shall begin your ecclesiastical reforms." "But surely, my worthy friend," answered Bateman, "you don't mean to say that there is no natural connexion between internal feeling and outward expression, so that one form is no better than another?" "Far from it," answered Charles; "but let those who confine their music to Gregorians put up crucifixes in the highways. Each is the representative of a particular place or time." "That's what I say of our good friend's short coat and long cassock," said Campbell; "it is a confusion of different times, ancient and modern." "Or of different ideas," said Charles, "the cassock Catholic, the coat Protestant." "The reverse," said Bateman; "the cassock is old Hooker's Anglican habit: the coat comes from Catholic France." "Anyhow, it is what Mr. Reding calls a mixture of ideas," said Campbell; "and that's the difficulty I find in uniting Gothic and Gregorians." "Oh, pardon me," said Bateman, "they are one idea; they are both eminently Catholic." "You can't be more Catholic than Rome, I suppose," said Campbell; "yet there's no Gothic there." "Rome is a peculiar place," said Bateman; "besides, my dear friend, if we do but consider that Rome has corrupted the pure apostolic doctrine, can we wonder that it should have a corrupt architecture?" "Why, then, go to Rome for Gregorians?" said Campbell; "I suspect they are called after Gregory I. Bishop of Rome, whom Protestants consider the first specimen of Antichrist." "It's nothing to us what Protestants think," answered Bateman. "Don't let us quarrel about terms," said Campbell; "both you and I think that Rome has corrupted the faith, whether she is Antichrist or not. You said so yourself just now." "It is true, I did," said Bateman; "but I make a little distinction. The Church of Rome has not _corrupted_ the faith, but has _admitted_ corruptions among her people." "It won't do," answered Campbell; "depend on it, we can't stand our ground in controversy unless we in our hearts think very severely of the Church of Rome." "Why, what's Rome to us?" asked Bateman; "we come from the old British Church; we don't meddle with Rome, and we wish Rome not to meddle with us, but she will." "Well," said Campbell, "you but read a bit of the history of the Reformation, and you will find that the doctrine that the Pope is Antichrist was the life of the movement." "With Ultra-Protestants, not with us," answered Bateman. "Such Ultra-Protestants as the writers of the Homilies," said Campbell; "but, I say again, I am not contending for names; I only mean, that as that doctrine was the life of the Reformation, so a belief, which I have and you too, that there is something bad, corrupt, perilous in the Church of Rome--that there is a spirit of Antichrist living in her, energizing in her, and ruling her--is necessary to a man's being a good Anglican. You must believe this, or you ought to go to Rome." "Impossible! my dear friend," said Bateman; "all our doctrine has been that Rome and we are sister Churches." "I say," said Campbell, "that without this strong repulsion you will not withstand the great claims, the overcoming attractions, of the Church of Rome. She is our mother--oh, that word 'mother!'--a mighty mother! She opens her arms--oh, the fragrance of that bosom! She is full of gifts--I feel it, I have long felt it. Why don't I rush into her arms? Because I feel that she is ruled by a spirit which is not she. But did that distrust of her go from me, was that certainty which I have of her corruption disproved, I should join her communion to-morrow." "This is not very edifying doctrine for Reding," thought Bateman. "Oh, my good Campbell," he said, "you are paradoxical to-day." "Not a bit of it," answered Campbell; "our Reformers felt that the only way in which they could break the tie of allegiance which bound us to Rome was the doctrine of her serious corruption. And so it is with our divines. If there is one doctrine in which they agree, it is that Rome is Antichrist, or an Antichrist. Depend upon it, that doctrine is necessary for our position." "I don't quite understand that language," said Reding; "I see it is used in various publications. It implies that controversy is a game, and that disputants are not looking out for truth, but for arguments." "You must not mistake me, Mr. Reding," answered Campbell; "all I mean is, that you have no leave to trifle with your conviction that Rome is antichristian, if you think so. For if it _is_ so, it is necessary to _say_ so. A poet says, 'Speak _gently_ of our sister's _fall_:' no, if it is a fall, we must not speak gently of it. At first one says, 'So great a Church! who am I, to speak against her?' Yes, you must, if your view of her is true: 'Tell truth and shame the Devil.' Recollect you don't use your own words; you are sanctioned, protected by all our divines. You must, else you can give no sufficient reason for not joining the Church of Rome. You must speak out, not what you _don't_ think, but what you _do_ think, _if_ you do think it." "Here's a doctrine!" thought Charles; "why it's putting the controversy into a nutshell." Bateman interposed. "My dear Campbell," he said, "you are behind the day. We have given up all that abuse against Rome." "Then the party is not so clever as I give them credit for being," answered Campbell; "be sure of this,--those who have given up their protests against Rome, either are looking towards her, or have no eyes to see." "All we say," answered Bateman, "is, as I said before, that _we_ don't wish to interfere with Rome; _we_ don't anathematize Rome--Rome anathematizes _us_." "It won't do," said Campbell; "those who resolve to remain in our Church, and are using sweet words of Romanism, will be forced back upon their proper ground in spite of themselves, and will get no thanks for their pains. No man can serve two masters; either go to Rome, or condemn Rome. For me, the Romish Church has a great deal in it which I can't get over; and thinking so, much as I admire it in parts, I can't help speaking, I can't help it. It would not be honest, and it would not be consistent." "Well, he has ended better than he began," thought Bateman; and he chimed in, "Oh yes, true, too true; it's painful to see it, but there's a great deal in the Church of Rome which no man of plain sense, no reader of the Fathers, no Scripture student, no true member of the Anglo-Catholic Church can possibly stomach." This put a corona on the discussion; and the rest of the dinner passed off pleasantly indeed, but not very intellectually. CHAPTER XVI. After dinner it occurred to them that the subject of Gregorians and Gothic had been left in the lurch. "How in the world did we get off it?" asked Charles. "Well, at least, we have found it," said Bateman; "and I really should like to hear what you have to say upon it, Campbell." "Oh, really, Bateman," answered he, "I am quite sick of the subject; every one seems to me to be going into extremes: what's the good of arguing about it? you won't agree with me." "I don't see that at all," answered Bateman; "people often think they differ, merely because they have not courage to talk to each other." "A good remark," thought Charles; "what a pity that Bateman, with so much sense, should have so little common sense!" "Well, then," said Campbell, "my quarrel with Gothic and Gregorians, when coupled together, is, that they are two ideas, not one. Have figured music in Gothic churches, keep your Gregorian for basilicas." "My good Campbell," said Bateman, "you seem oblivious that Gregorian chants and hymns have always accompanied Gothic aisles, Gothic copes, Gothic mitres, and Gothic chalices." "Our ancestors did what they could," answered Campbell; "they were great in architecture, small in music. They could not use what was not yet invented. They sang Gregorians because they had not Palestrina." "A paradox, a paradox!" cried Bateman. "Surely there is a close connexion," answered Campbell, "between the rise and nature of the basilica and of Gregorian unison.

wonderful

How many times the word 'wonderful' appears in the text?

what grief was, not so long ago; but not till now had she known anxiety. Charles's state of mind was a matter of simple astonishment to her. At first it quite frightened and shocked her; it was as if Charles had lost his identity, and had turned out some one else. It was like a great breach of trust. She had seen there was a good deal in the newspapers about the "Oxford party" and their doings; and at different places, where she had been on visits, she had heard of churches being done up in the new fashion, and clergymen being accused, in consequence, of Popery--a charge which she had laughed at. But now it was actually brought home to her door that there was something in it. Yet it was to her incomprehensible, and she hardly knew where she was. And that, of all persons in the world, her brother, her own Charles, with whom she had been one heart and soul all their lives--one so cheerful, so religious, so good, so sensible, so cautious,--that he should be the first specimen that crossed her path of the new opinions,--it bewildered her. And where _had_ he got his notions?--Notions! she could not call them notions; he had nothing to say for himself. It was an infatuation; he, so clever, so sharp-sighted, could say nothing better in defence of himself than that Mrs. Bishop of Monmouth was too pretty, and that old Dr. Stock sat upon a cushion. Oh, sad, sad indeed! How was it he could be so insensible to the blessings he gained from his Church, and had enjoyed all his life? What could he need? _She_ had no need at all: going to church was a pleasure to her. She liked to hear the Lessons and the Collects, coming round year after year, and marking the seasons. The historical books and prophets in summer; then the "stir-up" Collect just before Advent; the beautiful Collects in Advent itself, with the Lessons from Isaiah reaching on through Epiphany; they were quite music to the ear. Then the Psalms, varying with every Sunday; they were a perpetual solace to her, ever old yet ever new. The occasional additions, too--the Athanasian Creed, the Benedictus, Deus misereatur, and Omnia opera, which her father had been used to read at certain great feasts; and the beautiful Litany. What could he want more? where could he find so much? Well, it was a mystery to her; and she could only feel thankful that _she_ was not exposed to the temptations, whatever they were, which had acted on the powerful mind of her brother. Then, she had anticipated how pleasant it would be when Charles was a clergyman, and she should hear him preach; when there would be one whom she would have a right to ask questions and to consult whenever she wished. This prospect was at an end; she could no longer trust him: he had given a shake to her confidence which it never could recover; it was gone for ever. They were all of them women but he; he was their only stay, now that her father had been taken away. What was now to become of them? To be abandoned by her own brother! oh, how terrible! And how was she to break it to her mother? for broken it must be sooner or later. She could not deceive herself; she knew her brother well enough to feel sure that, when he had really got hold of a thing, he would not let it go again without convincing reasons; and what reasons there could be for letting it go she could not conceive, if there could be reasons for taking it up. The taking it up baffled all reason, all calculation. Well, but how was her mother to be told of it? Was it better to let her suspect it first, and so break it to her, or to wait till the event happened? The problem was too difficult for the present, and she must leave it. This was her state for several days, till her fever of mind gradually subsided into a state of which a dull anxiety was a latent but habitual element, leaving her as usual at ordinary times, but every now and then betraying itself by sudden sharp sighs or wanderings of thought. Neither brother nor sister, loving each other really as much as ever, had quite the same sweetness and evenness of temper as was natural to them; self-control became a duty, and the evening circle was duller than before, without any one being able to say why. Charles was more attentive to his mother; he no more brought his books into the drawing-room, but gave himself to her company. He read to them, but he had little to talk about; and Eliza and Caroline both wished his stupid examination, past and over, that he might be restored to his natural liveliness. As to Mrs. Reding, she did not observe more than that her son was a very hard student, and grudged himself a walk or ride, let the day be ever so fine. She was a mild, quiet person, of keen feelings and precise habits; not very quick at observation; and, having lived all her life in the country, and till her late loss having scarcely known what trouble was, she was singularly unable to comprehend how things could go on in any way but one. Charles had not told her the real cause of his spending the winter at home, thinking it would be a needless vexation to her; much less did he contemplate harassing her with the recital of his own religious difficulties, which were not appreciable by her, and issued in no definite result. To his sister he did attempt an explanation of his former conversation, with a view of softening the extreme misgivings which it had created in her mind. She received it thankfully, and professed to be relieved by it; but the blow was struck, the suspicion was lodged deep in her mind--he was still Charles, dear to her as ever, but she never could rid herself of the anticipation which on that occasion she had expressed. CHAPTER XIV. One morning he was told that a gentleman had asked for him, and been shown into the dining-room. Descending, he saw the tall slender figure of Bateman, now a clergyman, and lately appointed curate of a neighbouring parish. Charles had not seen him for a year and a half, and shook hands with him very warmly, complimenting him on his white neckcloth, which somehow, he said, altered him more than he could have expected. Bateman's manner certainly was altered; it might be the accident of the day, but he did not seem quite at his ease; it might be that he was in a strange house, and was likely soon to be precipitated into the company of ladies, to which he had never been used. If so, the trial was on the point of beginning, for Charles said instantly that he must come and see his mother, and of course meant to dine with them; the sky was clear, and there was an excellent footpath between Boughton and Melford. Bateman could not do this, but he would have the greatest pleasure in being introduced to Mrs. Reding; so he stumbled after Charles into the drawing-room, and was soon conversing with her and the young ladies. "A charming prospect you have here, ma'am," said Bateman, "when you are once inside the house. It does not promise outside so extensive a view." "No, it is shut in with trees," said Mrs. Reding; "and the brow of the hill changes its direction so much that at first I used to think the prospect ought to be from the opposite windows." "What is that high hill?" said Bateman. "It is Hart Hill," said Charles; "there's a Roman camp atop of it." "We can see eight steeples from our windows," said Mrs. Reding;--"ring the bell for luncheon, my dear." "Ah, our ancestors, Mrs. Reding," said Bateman, "thought more of building churches than we do; or rather than we have done, I should say, for now it is astonishing what efforts are made to add to our ecclesiastical structures." "Our ancestors did a good deal too," said Mrs. Reding; "how many churches, my dear, were built in London in Queen Anne's time? St. Martin's was one of them." "Fifty," said Eliza. "Fifty were intended," said Charles. "Yes, Mrs. Reding," said Bateman; "but by ancestors I meant the holy Bishops and other members of our Catholic Church previously to the Reformation. For, though the Reformation was a great blessing" (a glance at Charles), "yet we must not, in justice, forget what was done by English Churchmen before it." "Ah, poor creatures," said Mrs. Reding, "they did one good thing in building churches; it has saved us much trouble." "Is there much church-restoration going on in these parts?" said Bateman, taken rather aback. "My mother has but lately come here, like yourself," said Charles; "yes, there is some; Barton Church, you know," appealing to Mary. "Have your walks extended so far as Barton?" said Mary to Bateman. "Not yet, Miss Reding, not yet," answered he; "of course they are destroying the pews." "They are to put in seats," said Charles, "and of a very good pattern." "Pews are intolerable," said Bateman; "yet the last generation of incumbents contentedly bore them; it is wonderful!" A not unnatural silence followed this speech. Charles broke it by asking if Bateman intended to do anything in the improvement line at Melford. Bateman looked modest. "Nothing of any consequence," he said; "some few things were done; but he had a rector of the old school, poor man, who was an enemy to that sort of thing." It was with some malicious feeling, in consequence of his attack on clergymen of the past age, that Charles pressed his visitor to give an account of his own reforms. "Why," said Bateman, "much discretion is necessary in these matters, or you do as much harm as good; you get into hot water with churchwardens and vestries, as well as with old rectors, and again with the gentry of the place, and please no one. For this reason I have made no attempt to introduce the surplice into the pulpit except on the great festivals, intending to familiarize my parishioners to it by little and little. However, I wear a scarf or stole, and have taken care that it should be two inches broader than usual; and I always wear the cassock in my parish. I hope you approve of the cassock, Mrs. Reding?" "It is a very cold dress, sir--that's my opinion--when made of silk or bombazeen; and very unbecoming too, when worn by itself." "Particularly behind," said Charles; "it is quite unshapely." "Oh, I have remedied that," said Bateman; "you have noticed, Miss Reding, I dare say, the Bishop's short cassock. It comes to the knees, and looks much like a continuation of a waistcoat, the straight-cut coat being worn as usual. Well, Miss Reding, I have adopted the same plan with the long cassock; I put my coat over it." Mary had difficulty to keep from smiling; Charles laughed out. "Impossible, Bateman," he said; "you don't mean you wear your tailed French coat over your long straight cassock reaching to your ankles?" "Certainly," said Bateman gravely; "I thus consult for warmth and appearance too; and all my parishioners are sure to know me. I think this a great point, Miss Reding: I hear the little boys as I pass say, 'That's the parson.'" "I'll be bound they do," said Charles. "Well," said Mrs. Reding, surprised out of her propriety, "did one ever hear the like!" Bateman looked round at her, startled and frightened. "You were going to speak of your improvements in your church," said Mary, wishing to divert his attention from her mother. "Ah, true, Miss Reding, true," said Bateman, "thank you for reminding me; I have digressed to improvements in my own dress. I should have liked to have pulled down the galleries and lowered the high pews; that, however, I could not do. So I have lowered the pulpit some six feet. Now by doing so, first I give a pattern in my own person of the kind of condescension or lowliness to which I would persuade my people. But this is not all; for the consequence of lowering the pulpit is, that no one in the galleries can see or hear me preach; and this is a bonus on those who are below." "It's a broad hint, certainly," said Charles. "But it's a hint for those below also," continued Bateman; "for no one can see or hear me in the pews either, till the sides are lowered." "One thing only is wanting besides," said Charles, smiling and looking amiable, lest he should be saying too much; "since you are full tall, you must kneel when you preach, Bateman, else you will undo your own alterations." Bateman looked pleased. "I have anticipated you," he said; "I preach sitting. It is more comformable to antiquity and to reason to sit than to stand." "With these precautions," said Charles, "I really think you might have ventured on your surplice in the pulpit every Sunday. Are your parishioners contented?" "Oh, not at all, far from it," cried Bateman; "but they can do nothing. The alteration is so simple." "Nothing besides?" asked Charles. "Nothing in the architectural way," answered he; "but one thing more in the way of observances. I have fortunately picked up a very fair copy of Jewell, black-letter; and I have placed it in church, securing it with a chain to the wall, for any poor person who wishes to read it. Our church is emphatically the 'poor man's church,' Mrs. Reding." "Well," said Charles to himself, "I'll back the old parsons against the young ones any day, if this is to be their cut." Then aloud: "Come, you must see our garden; take up your hat, and let's have a turn in it. There's a very nice terrace-walk at the upper end." Bateman accordingly, having been thus trotted out for the amusement of the ladies, was now led off again, and was soon in the aforesaid terrace-walk, pacing up and down in earnest conversation with Charles. "Reding, my good fellow," said he, "what is the meaning of this report concerning you, which is everywhere about?" "I have not heard it," said Charles abruptly. "Why, it is this," said Bateman; "I wish to approach the subject with as great delicacy as possible: don't tell me if you don't like it, or tell me just as much as you like; yet you will excuse an old friend. They say you are going to leave the Church of your baptism for the Church of Rome." "Is it widely spread?" asked Charles coolly. "Oh, yes; I heard it in London; have had a letter mentioning it from Oxford; and a friend of mine heard it given out as positive at a visitation dinner in Wales." "So," thought Charles, "you are bringing _your_ witness against me as well as the rest." "Well but, my good Reding," said Bateman, "why are you silent? is it true--is it true?" "What true? that I am a Roman Catholic? Oh, certainly; don't you understand, that's why I am reading so hard for the schools?" said Charles. "Come, be serious for a moment, Reding," said Bateman, "do be serious. Will you empower me to contradict the report, or to negative it to a certain point, or in any respect?" "Oh, to be sure," said Charles, "contradict it, by all means, contradict it entirely." "May I give it a plain, unqualified, unconditional, categorical, flat denial?" asked Bateman. "Of course, of course." Bateman could not make him out, and had not a dream how he was teasing him. "I don't know where to find you," he said. They paced down the walk in silence. Bateman began again. "You see," he said, "it would be such a wonderful blindness, it would be so utterly inexcusable in a person like yourself, who had known _what_ the Church of England was; not a Dissenter, not an unlettered layman; but one who had been at Oxford, who had come across so many excellent men, who had seen what the Church of England could be, her grave beauty, her orderly and decent activity; who had seen churches decorated as they should be, with candlesticks, ciboriums, faldstools, lecterns, antependiums, piscinas, rood-lofts, and sedilia; who, in fact, had seen the Church Service _carried out_, and could desiderate nothing;--tell me, my dear good Reding," taking hold of his button-hole, "what is it you want--what is it? name it." "That you would take yourself off," Charles would have said, had he spoken his mind; he merely said, however, that really he desiderated nothing but to be believed when he said that he had no intention of leaving his own Church. Bateman was incredulous, and thought him close. "Perhaps you are not aware," he said, "how much is known of the circumstances of your being sent down. The old Principal was full of the subject." "What! I suppose he told people right and left," said Reding. "Oh, yes," answered Bateman; "a friend of mine knows him, and happening to call on him soon after you went down, had the whole story from him. He spoke most kindly of you, and in the highest terms; said that it was deplorable how much your mind was warped by the prevalent opinions, and that he should not be surprised if it turned out you were a Romanist even while you were at St. Saviour's; anyhow, that you would be one day a Romanist for certain, for that you held that the saints reigning with Christ interceded for us in heaven. But what was stronger, when the report got about, Sheffield said that he was not surprised at it, that he always prophesied it." "I am much obliged to him," said Charles. "However, you warrant me," said Bateman, "to contradict it--so I understand you--to contradict it peremptorily; that's enough for me. It's a great relief; it's very satisfactory. Well, I must be going." "I don't like to seem to drive you away," said Charles, "but really you must be going if you want to get home before nightfall. I hope you don't feel lonely or overworked where you are. If you are so at any time, don't scruple to drop in to dinner here; nay, we can take you in for a night, if you wish it." Bateman thanked him, and they proceeded to the hall-door together; when they were nearly parting, Bateman stopped and said, "Do you know, I should like to lend you some books to read. Let me send up to you Bramhall's Works, Thorndike, Barrow on the Unity of the Church, and Leslie's Dialogues on Romanism. I could name others, but content myself with these at present. They perfectly settle the matter; you can't help being convinced. I'll not say a word more; good-bye to you, good-bye." CHAPTER XV. Much as Charles loved and prized the company of his mother and sisters he was not sorry to have gentlemen's society, so he accepted with pleasure an invitation which Bateman sent him to dine with him at Melford. Also he wished to show Bateman, what no protestation could effect, how absurdly exaggerated were the reports which were circulated about him. And as the said Bateman, with all his want of common sense, was really a well-informed man, and well read in English divines, he thought he might incidentally hear something from him which he could turn to account. When he got to Melford he found a Mr. Campbell had been asked to meet him; a young Cambridge rector of a neighbouring parish, of the same religious sentiments on the whole as Bateman, and, though a little positive, a man of clear head and vigorous mind. They had been going over the church; and the conversation at dinner turned on the revival of Gothic architecture--an event which gave unmixed satisfaction to all parties. The subject would have died out, almost as soon as it was started, for want of a difference upon it, had not Bateman happily gone on boldly to declare that, if he had his will, there should be no architecture in the English churches but Gothic, and no music but Gregorian. This was a good thesis, distinctly put, and gave scope for a very pretty quarrel. Reding said that all these adjuncts of worship, whether music or architecture, were national; they were the mode in which religious feeling showed itself in particular times and places. He did not mean to say that the outward expression of religion in a country might not be guided, but it could not be forced; that it was as preposterous to make people worship in one's own way, as be merry in one's own way. "The Greeks," he said, "cut the hair in grief, the Romans let it grow; the Orientals veiled their heads in worship, the Greeks uncovered them; Christians take off their hats in a church, Mahometans their shoes; a long veil is a sign of modesty in Europe, of immodesty in Asia. You may as well try to change the size of people, as their forms of worship. Bateman, we must cut you down a foot, and then you shall begin your ecclesiastical reforms." "But surely, my worthy friend," answered Bateman, "you don't mean to say that there is no natural connexion between internal feeling and outward expression, so that one form is no better than another?" "Far from it," answered Charles; "but let those who confine their music to Gregorians put up crucifixes in the highways. Each is the representative of a particular place or time." "That's what I say of our good friend's short coat and long cassock," said Campbell; "it is a confusion of different times, ancient and modern." "Or of different ideas," said Charles, "the cassock Catholic, the coat Protestant." "The reverse," said Bateman; "the cassock is old Hooker's Anglican habit: the coat comes from Catholic France." "Anyhow, it is what Mr. Reding calls a mixture of ideas," said Campbell; "and that's the difficulty I find in uniting Gothic and Gregorians." "Oh, pardon me," said Bateman, "they are one idea; they are both eminently Catholic." "You can't be more Catholic than Rome, I suppose," said Campbell; "yet there's no Gothic there." "Rome is a peculiar place," said Bateman; "besides, my dear friend, if we do but consider that Rome has corrupted the pure apostolic doctrine, can we wonder that it should have a corrupt architecture?" "Why, then, go to Rome for Gregorians?" said Campbell; "I suspect they are called after Gregory I. Bishop of Rome, whom Protestants consider the first specimen of Antichrist." "It's nothing to us what Protestants think," answered Bateman. "Don't let us quarrel about terms," said Campbell; "both you and I think that Rome has corrupted the faith, whether she is Antichrist or not. You said so yourself just now." "It is true, I did," said Bateman; "but I make a little distinction. The Church of Rome has not _corrupted_ the faith, but has _admitted_ corruptions among her people." "It won't do," answered Campbell; "depend on it, we can't stand our ground in controversy unless we in our hearts think very severely of the Church of Rome." "Why, what's Rome to us?" asked Bateman; "we come from the old British Church; we don't meddle with Rome, and we wish Rome not to meddle with us, but she will." "Well," said Campbell, "you but read a bit of the history of the Reformation, and you will find that the doctrine that the Pope is Antichrist was the life of the movement." "With Ultra-Protestants, not with us," answered Bateman. "Such Ultra-Protestants as the writers of the Homilies," said Campbell; "but, I say again, I am not contending for names; I only mean, that as that doctrine was the life of the Reformation, so a belief, which I have and you too, that there is something bad, corrupt, perilous in the Church of Rome--that there is a spirit of Antichrist living in her, energizing in her, and ruling her--is necessary to a man's being a good Anglican. You must believe this, or you ought to go to Rome." "Impossible! my dear friend," said Bateman; "all our doctrine has been that Rome and we are sister Churches." "I say," said Campbell, "that without this strong repulsion you will not withstand the great claims, the overcoming attractions, of the Church of Rome. She is our mother--oh, that word 'mother!'--a mighty mother! She opens her arms--oh, the fragrance of that bosom! She is full of gifts--I feel it, I have long felt it. Why don't I rush into her arms? Because I feel that she is ruled by a spirit which is not she. But did that distrust of her go from me, was that certainty which I have of her corruption disproved, I should join her communion to-morrow." "This is not very edifying doctrine for Reding," thought Bateman. "Oh, my good Campbell," he said, "you are paradoxical to-day." "Not a bit of it," answered Campbell; "our Reformers felt that the only way in which they could break the tie of allegiance which bound us to Rome was the doctrine of her serious corruption. And so it is with our divines. If there is one doctrine in which they agree, it is that Rome is Antichrist, or an Antichrist. Depend upon it, that doctrine is necessary for our position." "I don't quite understand that language," said Reding; "I see it is used in various publications. It implies that controversy is a game, and that disputants are not looking out for truth, but for arguments." "You must not mistake me, Mr. Reding," answered Campbell; "all I mean is, that you have no leave to trifle with your conviction that Rome is antichristian, if you think so. For if it _is_ so, it is necessary to _say_ so. A poet says, 'Speak _gently_ of our sister's _fall_:' no, if it is a fall, we must not speak gently of it. At first one says, 'So great a Church! who am I, to speak against her?' Yes, you must, if your view of her is true: 'Tell truth and shame the Devil.' Recollect you don't use your own words; you are sanctioned, protected by all our divines. You must, else you can give no sufficient reason for not joining the Church of Rome. You must speak out, not what you _don't_ think, but what you _do_ think, _if_ you do think it." "Here's a doctrine!" thought Charles; "why it's putting the controversy into a nutshell." Bateman interposed. "My dear Campbell," he said, "you are behind the day. We have given up all that abuse against Rome." "Then the party is not so clever as I give them credit for being," answered Campbell; "be sure of this,--those who have given up their protests against Rome, either are looking towards her, or have no eyes to see." "All we say," answered Bateman, "is, as I said before, that _we_ don't wish to interfere with Rome; _we_ don't anathematize Rome--Rome anathematizes _us_." "It won't do," said Campbell; "those who resolve to remain in our Church, and are using sweet words of Romanism, will be forced back upon their proper ground in spite of themselves, and will get no thanks for their pains. No man can serve two masters; either go to Rome, or condemn Rome. For me, the Romish Church has a great deal in it which I can't get over; and thinking so, much as I admire it in parts, I can't help speaking, I can't help it. It would not be honest, and it would not be consistent." "Well, he has ended better than he began," thought Bateman; and he chimed in, "Oh yes, true, too true; it's painful to see it, but there's a great deal in the Church of Rome which no man of plain sense, no reader of the Fathers, no Scripture student, no true member of the Anglo-Catholic Church can possibly stomach." This put a corona on the discussion; and the rest of the dinner passed off pleasantly indeed, but not very intellectually. CHAPTER XVI. After dinner it occurred to them that the subject of Gregorians and Gothic had been left in the lurch. "How in the world did we get off it?" asked Charles. "Well, at least, we have found it," said Bateman; "and I really should like to hear what you have to say upon it, Campbell." "Oh, really, Bateman," answered he, "I am quite sick of the subject; every one seems to me to be going into extremes: what's the good of arguing about it? you won't agree with me." "I don't see that at all," answered Bateman; "people often think they differ, merely because they have not courage to talk to each other." "A good remark," thought Charles; "what a pity that Bateman, with so much sense, should have so little common sense!" "Well, then," said Campbell, "my quarrel with Gothic and Gregorians, when coupled together, is, that they are two ideas, not one. Have figured music in Gothic churches, keep your Gregorian for basilicas." "My good Campbell," said Bateman, "you seem oblivious that Gregorian chants and hymns have always accompanied Gothic aisles, Gothic copes, Gothic mitres, and Gothic chalices." "Our ancestors did what they could," answered Campbell; "they were great in architecture, small in music. They could not use what was not yet invented. They sang Gregorians because they had not Palestrina." "A paradox, a paradox!" cried Bateman. "Surely there is a close connexion," answered Campbell, "between the rise and nature of the basilica and of Gregorian unison.

prepare

How many times the word 'prepare' appears in the text?

what grief was, not so long ago; but not till now had she known anxiety. Charles's state of mind was a matter of simple astonishment to her. At first it quite frightened and shocked her; it was as if Charles had lost his identity, and had turned out some one else. It was like a great breach of trust. She had seen there was a good deal in the newspapers about the "Oxford party" and their doings; and at different places, where she had been on visits, she had heard of churches being done up in the new fashion, and clergymen being accused, in consequence, of Popery--a charge which she had laughed at. But now it was actually brought home to her door that there was something in it. Yet it was to her incomprehensible, and she hardly knew where she was. And that, of all persons in the world, her brother, her own Charles, with whom she had been one heart and soul all their lives--one so cheerful, so religious, so good, so sensible, so cautious,--that he should be the first specimen that crossed her path of the new opinions,--it bewildered her. And where _had_ he got his notions?--Notions! she could not call them notions; he had nothing to say for himself. It was an infatuation; he, so clever, so sharp-sighted, could say nothing better in defence of himself than that Mrs. Bishop of Monmouth was too pretty, and that old Dr. Stock sat upon a cushion. Oh, sad, sad indeed! How was it he could be so insensible to the blessings he gained from his Church, and had enjoyed all his life? What could he need? _She_ had no need at all: going to church was a pleasure to her. She liked to hear the Lessons and the Collects, coming round year after year, and marking the seasons. The historical books and prophets in summer; then the "stir-up" Collect just before Advent; the beautiful Collects in Advent itself, with the Lessons from Isaiah reaching on through Epiphany; they were quite music to the ear. Then the Psalms, varying with every Sunday; they were a perpetual solace to her, ever old yet ever new. The occasional additions, too--the Athanasian Creed, the Benedictus, Deus misereatur, and Omnia opera, which her father had been used to read at certain great feasts; and the beautiful Litany. What could he want more? where could he find so much? Well, it was a mystery to her; and she could only feel thankful that _she_ was not exposed to the temptations, whatever they were, which had acted on the powerful mind of her brother. Then, she had anticipated how pleasant it would be when Charles was a clergyman, and she should hear him preach; when there would be one whom she would have a right to ask questions and to consult whenever she wished. This prospect was at an end; she could no longer trust him: he had given a shake to her confidence which it never could recover; it was gone for ever. They were all of them women but he; he was their only stay, now that her father had been taken away. What was now to become of them? To be abandoned by her own brother! oh, how terrible! And how was she to break it to her mother? for broken it must be sooner or later. She could not deceive herself; she knew her brother well enough to feel sure that, when he had really got hold of a thing, he would not let it go again without convincing reasons; and what reasons there could be for letting it go she could not conceive, if there could be reasons for taking it up. The taking it up baffled all reason, all calculation. Well, but how was her mother to be told of it? Was it better to let her suspect it first, and so break it to her, or to wait till the event happened? The problem was too difficult for the present, and she must leave it. This was her state for several days, till her fever of mind gradually subsided into a state of which a dull anxiety was a latent but habitual element, leaving her as usual at ordinary times, but every now and then betraying itself by sudden sharp sighs or wanderings of thought. Neither brother nor sister, loving each other really as much as ever, had quite the same sweetness and evenness of temper as was natural to them; self-control became a duty, and the evening circle was duller than before, without any one being able to say why. Charles was more attentive to his mother; he no more brought his books into the drawing-room, but gave himself to her company. He read to them, but he had little to talk about; and Eliza and Caroline both wished his stupid examination, past and over, that he might be restored to his natural liveliness. As to Mrs. Reding, she did not observe more than that her son was a very hard student, and grudged himself a walk or ride, let the day be ever so fine. She was a mild, quiet person, of keen feelings and precise habits; not very quick at observation; and, having lived all her life in the country, and till her late loss having scarcely known what trouble was, she was singularly unable to comprehend how things could go on in any way but one. Charles had not told her the real cause of his spending the winter at home, thinking it would be a needless vexation to her; much less did he contemplate harassing her with the recital of his own religious difficulties, which were not appreciable by her, and issued in no definite result. To his sister he did attempt an explanation of his former conversation, with a view of softening the extreme misgivings which it had created in her mind. She received it thankfully, and professed to be relieved by it; but the blow was struck, the suspicion was lodged deep in her mind--he was still Charles, dear to her as ever, but she never could rid herself of the anticipation which on that occasion she had expressed. CHAPTER XIV. One morning he was told that a gentleman had asked for him, and been shown into the dining-room. Descending, he saw the tall slender figure of Bateman, now a clergyman, and lately appointed curate of a neighbouring parish. Charles had not seen him for a year and a half, and shook hands with him very warmly, complimenting him on his white neckcloth, which somehow, he said, altered him more than he could have expected. Bateman's manner certainly was altered; it might be the accident of the day, but he did not seem quite at his ease; it might be that he was in a strange house, and was likely soon to be precipitated into the company of ladies, to which he had never been used. If so, the trial was on the point of beginning, for Charles said instantly that he must come and see his mother, and of course meant to dine with them; the sky was clear, and there was an excellent footpath between Boughton and Melford. Bateman could not do this, but he would have the greatest pleasure in being introduced to Mrs. Reding; so he stumbled after Charles into the drawing-room, and was soon conversing with her and the young ladies. "A charming prospect you have here, ma'am," said Bateman, "when you are once inside the house. It does not promise outside so extensive a view." "No, it is shut in with trees," said Mrs. Reding; "and the brow of the hill changes its direction so much that at first I used to think the prospect ought to be from the opposite windows." "What is that high hill?" said Bateman. "It is Hart Hill," said Charles; "there's a Roman camp atop of it." "We can see eight steeples from our windows," said Mrs. Reding;--"ring the bell for luncheon, my dear." "Ah, our ancestors, Mrs. Reding," said Bateman, "thought more of building churches than we do; or rather than we have done, I should say, for now it is astonishing what efforts are made to add to our ecclesiastical structures." "Our ancestors did a good deal too," said Mrs. Reding; "how many churches, my dear, were built in London in Queen Anne's time? St. Martin's was one of them." "Fifty," said Eliza. "Fifty were intended," said Charles. "Yes, Mrs. Reding," said Bateman; "but by ancestors I meant the holy Bishops and other members of our Catholic Church previously to the Reformation. For, though the Reformation was a great blessing" (a glance at Charles), "yet we must not, in justice, forget what was done by English Churchmen before it." "Ah, poor creatures," said Mrs. Reding, "they did one good thing in building churches; it has saved us much trouble." "Is there much church-restoration going on in these parts?" said Bateman, taken rather aback. "My mother has but lately come here, like yourself," said Charles; "yes, there is some; Barton Church, you know," appealing to Mary. "Have your walks extended so far as Barton?" said Mary to Bateman. "Not yet, Miss Reding, not yet," answered he; "of course they are destroying the pews." "They are to put in seats," said Charles, "and of a very good pattern." "Pews are intolerable," said Bateman; "yet the last generation of incumbents contentedly bore them; it is wonderful!" A not unnatural silence followed this speech. Charles broke it by asking if Bateman intended to do anything in the improvement line at Melford. Bateman looked modest. "Nothing of any consequence," he said; "some few things were done; but he had a rector of the old school, poor man, who was an enemy to that sort of thing." It was with some malicious feeling, in consequence of his attack on clergymen of the past age, that Charles pressed his visitor to give an account of his own reforms. "Why," said Bateman, "much discretion is necessary in these matters, or you do as much harm as good; you get into hot water with churchwardens and vestries, as well as with old rectors, and again with the gentry of the place, and please no one. For this reason I have made no attempt to introduce the surplice into the pulpit except on the great festivals, intending to familiarize my parishioners to it by little and little. However, I wear a scarf or stole, and have taken care that it should be two inches broader than usual; and I always wear the cassock in my parish. I hope you approve of the cassock, Mrs. Reding?" "It is a very cold dress, sir--that's my opinion--when made of silk or bombazeen; and very unbecoming too, when worn by itself." "Particularly behind," said Charles; "it is quite unshapely." "Oh, I have remedied that," said Bateman; "you have noticed, Miss Reding, I dare say, the Bishop's short cassock. It comes to the knees, and looks much like a continuation of a waistcoat, the straight-cut coat being worn as usual. Well, Miss Reding, I have adopted the same plan with the long cassock; I put my coat over it." Mary had difficulty to keep from smiling; Charles laughed out. "Impossible, Bateman," he said; "you don't mean you wear your tailed French coat over your long straight cassock reaching to your ankles?" "Certainly," said Bateman gravely; "I thus consult for warmth and appearance too; and all my parishioners are sure to know me. I think this a great point, Miss Reding: I hear the little boys as I pass say, 'That's the parson.'" "I'll be bound they do," said Charles. "Well," said Mrs. Reding, surprised out of her propriety, "did one ever hear the like!" Bateman looked round at her, startled and frightened. "You were going to speak of your improvements in your church," said Mary, wishing to divert his attention from her mother. "Ah, true, Miss Reding, true," said Bateman, "thank you for reminding me; I have digressed to improvements in my own dress. I should have liked to have pulled down the galleries and lowered the high pews; that, however, I could not do. So I have lowered the pulpit some six feet. Now by doing so, first I give a pattern in my own person of the kind of condescension or lowliness to which I would persuade my people. But this is not all; for the consequence of lowering the pulpit is, that no one in the galleries can see or hear me preach; and this is a bonus on those who are below." "It's a broad hint, certainly," said Charles. "But it's a hint for those below also," continued Bateman; "for no one can see or hear me in the pews either, till the sides are lowered." "One thing only is wanting besides," said Charles, smiling and looking amiable, lest he should be saying too much; "since you are full tall, you must kneel when you preach, Bateman, else you will undo your own alterations." Bateman looked pleased. "I have anticipated you," he said; "I preach sitting. It is more comformable to antiquity and to reason to sit than to stand." "With these precautions," said Charles, "I really think you might have ventured on your surplice in the pulpit every Sunday. Are your parishioners contented?" "Oh, not at all, far from it," cried Bateman; "but they can do nothing. The alteration is so simple." "Nothing besides?" asked Charles. "Nothing in the architectural way," answered he; "but one thing more in the way of observances. I have fortunately picked up a very fair copy of Jewell, black-letter; and I have placed it in church, securing it with a chain to the wall, for any poor person who wishes to read it. Our church is emphatically the 'poor man's church,' Mrs. Reding." "Well," said Charles to himself, "I'll back the old parsons against the young ones any day, if this is to be their cut." Then aloud: "Come, you must see our garden; take up your hat, and let's have a turn in it. There's a very nice terrace-walk at the upper end." Bateman accordingly, having been thus trotted out for the amusement of the ladies, was now led off again, and was soon in the aforesaid terrace-walk, pacing up and down in earnest conversation with Charles. "Reding, my good fellow," said he, "what is the meaning of this report concerning you, which is everywhere about?" "I have not heard it," said Charles abruptly. "Why, it is this," said Bateman; "I wish to approach the subject with as great delicacy as possible: don't tell me if you don't like it, or tell me just as much as you like; yet you will excuse an old friend. They say you are going to leave the Church of your baptism for the Church of Rome." "Is it widely spread?" asked Charles coolly. "Oh, yes; I heard it in London; have had a letter mentioning it from Oxford; and a friend of mine heard it given out as positive at a visitation dinner in Wales." "So," thought Charles, "you are bringing _your_ witness against me as well as the rest." "Well but, my good Reding," said Bateman, "why are you silent? is it true--is it true?" "What true? that I am a Roman Catholic? Oh, certainly; don't you understand, that's why I am reading so hard for the schools?" said Charles. "Come, be serious for a moment, Reding," said Bateman, "do be serious. Will you empower me to contradict the report, or to negative it to a certain point, or in any respect?" "Oh, to be sure," said Charles, "contradict it, by all means, contradict it entirely." "May I give it a plain, unqualified, unconditional, categorical, flat denial?" asked Bateman. "Of course, of course." Bateman could not make him out, and had not a dream how he was teasing him. "I don't know where to find you," he said. They paced down the walk in silence. Bateman began again. "You see," he said, "it would be such a wonderful blindness, it would be so utterly inexcusable in a person like yourself, who had known _what_ the Church of England was; not a Dissenter, not an unlettered layman; but one who had been at Oxford, who had come across so many excellent men, who had seen what the Church of England could be, her grave beauty, her orderly and decent activity; who had seen churches decorated as they should be, with candlesticks, ciboriums, faldstools, lecterns, antependiums, piscinas, rood-lofts, and sedilia; who, in fact, had seen the Church Service _carried out_, and could desiderate nothing;--tell me, my dear good Reding," taking hold of his button-hole, "what is it you want--what is it? name it." "That you would take yourself off," Charles would have said, had he spoken his mind; he merely said, however, that really he desiderated nothing but to be believed when he said that he had no intention of leaving his own Church. Bateman was incredulous, and thought him close. "Perhaps you are not aware," he said, "how much is known of the circumstances of your being sent down. The old Principal was full of the subject." "What! I suppose he told people right and left," said Reding. "Oh, yes," answered Bateman; "a friend of mine knows him, and happening to call on him soon after you went down, had the whole story from him. He spoke most kindly of you, and in the highest terms; said that it was deplorable how much your mind was warped by the prevalent opinions, and that he should not be surprised if it turned out you were a Romanist even while you were at St. Saviour's; anyhow, that you would be one day a Romanist for certain, for that you held that the saints reigning with Christ interceded for us in heaven. But what was stronger, when the report got about, Sheffield said that he was not surprised at it, that he always prophesied it." "I am much obliged to him," said Charles. "However, you warrant me," said Bateman, "to contradict it--so I understand you--to contradict it peremptorily; that's enough for me. It's a great relief; it's very satisfactory. Well, I must be going." "I don't like to seem to drive you away," said Charles, "but really you must be going if you want to get home before nightfall. I hope you don't feel lonely or overworked where you are. If you are so at any time, don't scruple to drop in to dinner here; nay, we can take you in for a night, if you wish it." Bateman thanked him, and they proceeded to the hall-door together; when they were nearly parting, Bateman stopped and said, "Do you know, I should like to lend you some books to read. Let me send up to you Bramhall's Works, Thorndike, Barrow on the Unity of the Church, and Leslie's Dialogues on Romanism. I could name others, but content myself with these at present. They perfectly settle the matter; you can't help being convinced. I'll not say a word more; good-bye to you, good-bye." CHAPTER XV. Much as Charles loved and prized the company of his mother and sisters he was not sorry to have gentlemen's society, so he accepted with pleasure an invitation which Bateman sent him to dine with him at Melford. Also he wished to show Bateman, what no protestation could effect, how absurdly exaggerated were the reports which were circulated about him. And as the said Bateman, with all his want of common sense, was really a well-informed man, and well read in English divines, he thought he might incidentally hear something from him which he could turn to account. When he got to Melford he found a Mr. Campbell had been asked to meet him; a young Cambridge rector of a neighbouring parish, of the same religious sentiments on the whole as Bateman, and, though a little positive, a man of clear head and vigorous mind. They had been going over the church; and the conversation at dinner turned on the revival of Gothic architecture--an event which gave unmixed satisfaction to all parties. The subject would have died out, almost as soon as it was started, for want of a difference upon it, had not Bateman happily gone on boldly to declare that, if he had his will, there should be no architecture in the English churches but Gothic, and no music but Gregorian. This was a good thesis, distinctly put, and gave scope for a very pretty quarrel. Reding said that all these adjuncts of worship, whether music or architecture, were national; they were the mode in which religious feeling showed itself in particular times and places. He did not mean to say that the outward expression of religion in a country might not be guided, but it could not be forced; that it was as preposterous to make people worship in one's own way, as be merry in one's own way. "The Greeks," he said, "cut the hair in grief, the Romans let it grow; the Orientals veiled their heads in worship, the Greeks uncovered them; Christians take off their hats in a church, Mahometans their shoes; a long veil is a sign of modesty in Europe, of immodesty in Asia. You may as well try to change the size of people, as their forms of worship. Bateman, we must cut you down a foot, and then you shall begin your ecclesiastical reforms." "But surely, my worthy friend," answered Bateman, "you don't mean to say that there is no natural connexion between internal feeling and outward expression, so that one form is no better than another?" "Far from it," answered Charles; "but let those who confine their music to Gregorians put up crucifixes in the highways. Each is the representative of a particular place or time." "That's what I say of our good friend's short coat and long cassock," said Campbell; "it is a confusion of different times, ancient and modern." "Or of different ideas," said Charles, "the cassock Catholic, the coat Protestant." "The reverse," said Bateman; "the cassock is old Hooker's Anglican habit: the coat comes from Catholic France." "Anyhow, it is what Mr. Reding calls a mixture of ideas," said Campbell; "and that's the difficulty I find in uniting Gothic and Gregorians." "Oh, pardon me," said Bateman, "they are one idea; they are both eminently Catholic." "You can't be more Catholic than Rome, I suppose," said Campbell; "yet there's no Gothic there." "Rome is a peculiar place," said Bateman; "besides, my dear friend, if we do but consider that Rome has corrupted the pure apostolic doctrine, can we wonder that it should have a corrupt architecture?" "Why, then, go to Rome for Gregorians?" said Campbell; "I suspect they are called after Gregory I. Bishop of Rome, whom Protestants consider the first specimen of Antichrist." "It's nothing to us what Protestants think," answered Bateman. "Don't let us quarrel about terms," said Campbell; "both you and I think that Rome has corrupted the faith, whether she is Antichrist or not. You said so yourself just now." "It is true, I did," said Bateman; "but I make a little distinction. The Church of Rome has not _corrupted_ the faith, but has _admitted_ corruptions among her people." "It won't do," answered Campbell; "depend on it, we can't stand our ground in controversy unless we in our hearts think very severely of the Church of Rome." "Why, what's Rome to us?" asked Bateman; "we come from the old British Church; we don't meddle with Rome, and we wish Rome not to meddle with us, but she will." "Well," said Campbell, "you but read a bit of the history of the Reformation, and you will find that the doctrine that the Pope is Antichrist was the life of the movement." "With Ultra-Protestants, not with us," answered Bateman. "Such Ultra-Protestants as the writers of the Homilies," said Campbell; "but, I say again, I am not contending for names; I only mean, that as that doctrine was the life of the Reformation, so a belief, which I have and you too, that there is something bad, corrupt, perilous in the Church of Rome--that there is a spirit of Antichrist living in her, energizing in her, and ruling her--is necessary to a man's being a good Anglican. You must believe this, or you ought to go to Rome." "Impossible! my dear friend," said Bateman; "all our doctrine has been that Rome and we are sister Churches." "I say," said Campbell, "that without this strong repulsion you will not withstand the great claims, the overcoming attractions, of the Church of Rome. She is our mother--oh, that word 'mother!'--a mighty mother! She opens her arms--oh, the fragrance of that bosom! She is full of gifts--I feel it, I have long felt it. Why don't I rush into her arms? Because I feel that she is ruled by a spirit which is not she. But did that distrust of her go from me, was that certainty which I have of her corruption disproved, I should join her communion to-morrow." "This is not very edifying doctrine for Reding," thought Bateman. "Oh, my good Campbell," he said, "you are paradoxical to-day." "Not a bit of it," answered Campbell; "our Reformers felt that the only way in which they could break the tie of allegiance which bound us to Rome was the doctrine of her serious corruption. And so it is with our divines. If there is one doctrine in which they agree, it is that Rome is Antichrist, or an Antichrist. Depend upon it, that doctrine is necessary for our position." "I don't quite understand that language," said Reding; "I see it is used in various publications. It implies that controversy is a game, and that disputants are not looking out for truth, but for arguments." "You must not mistake me, Mr. Reding," answered Campbell; "all I mean is, that you have no leave to trifle with your conviction that Rome is antichristian, if you think so. For if it _is_ so, it is necessary to _say_ so. A poet says, 'Speak _gently_ of our sister's _fall_:' no, if it is a fall, we must not speak gently of it. At first one says, 'So great a Church! who am I, to speak against her?' Yes, you must, if your view of her is true: 'Tell truth and shame the Devil.' Recollect you don't use your own words; you are sanctioned, protected by all our divines. You must, else you can give no sufficient reason for not joining the Church of Rome. You must speak out, not what you _don't_ think, but what you _do_ think, _if_ you do think it." "Here's a doctrine!" thought Charles; "why it's putting the controversy into a nutshell." Bateman interposed. "My dear Campbell," he said, "you are behind the day. We have given up all that abuse against Rome." "Then the party is not so clever as I give them credit for being," answered Campbell; "be sure of this,--those who have given up their protests against Rome, either are looking towards her, or have no eyes to see." "All we say," answered Bateman, "is, as I said before, that _we_ don't wish to interfere with Rome; _we_ don't anathematize Rome--Rome anathematizes _us_." "It won't do," said Campbell; "those who resolve to remain in our Church, and are using sweet words of Romanism, will be forced back upon their proper ground in spite of themselves, and will get no thanks for their pains. No man can serve two masters; either go to Rome, or condemn Rome. For me, the Romish Church has a great deal in it which I can't get over; and thinking so, much as I admire it in parts, I can't help speaking, I can't help it. It would not be honest, and it would not be consistent." "Well, he has ended better than he began," thought Bateman; and he chimed in, "Oh yes, true, too true; it's painful to see it, but there's a great deal in the Church of Rome which no man of plain sense, no reader of the Fathers, no Scripture student, no true member of the Anglo-Catholic Church can possibly stomach." This put a corona on the discussion; and the rest of the dinner passed off pleasantly indeed, but not very intellectually. CHAPTER XVI. After dinner it occurred to them that the subject of Gregorians and Gothic had been left in the lurch. "How in the world did we get off it?" asked Charles. "Well, at least, we have found it," said Bateman; "and I really should like to hear what you have to say upon it, Campbell." "Oh, really, Bateman," answered he, "I am quite sick of the subject; every one seems to me to be going into extremes: what's the good of arguing about it? you won't agree with me." "I don't see that at all," answered Bateman; "people often think they differ, merely because they have not courage to talk to each other." "A good remark," thought Charles; "what a pity that Bateman, with so much sense, should have so little common sense!" "Well, then," said Campbell, "my quarrel with Gothic and Gregorians, when coupled together, is, that they are two ideas, not one. Have figured music in Gothic churches, keep your Gregorian for basilicas." "My good Campbell," said Bateman, "you seem oblivious that Gregorian chants and hymns have always accompanied Gothic aisles, Gothic copes, Gothic mitres, and Gothic chalices." "Our ancestors did what they could," answered Campbell; "they were great in architecture, small in music. They could not use what was not yet invented. They sang Gregorians because they had not Palestrina." "A paradox, a paradox!" cried Bateman. "Surely there is a close connexion," answered Campbell, "between the rise and nature of the basilica and of Gregorian unison.

point

How many times the word 'point' appears in the text?

what grief was, not so long ago; but not till now had she known anxiety. Charles's state of mind was a matter of simple astonishment to her. At first it quite frightened and shocked her; it was as if Charles had lost his identity, and had turned out some one else. It was like a great breach of trust. She had seen there was a good deal in the newspapers about the "Oxford party" and their doings; and at different places, where she had been on visits, she had heard of churches being done up in the new fashion, and clergymen being accused, in consequence, of Popery--a charge which she had laughed at. But now it was actually brought home to her door that there was something in it. Yet it was to her incomprehensible, and she hardly knew where she was. And that, of all persons in the world, her brother, her own Charles, with whom she had been one heart and soul all their lives--one so cheerful, so religious, so good, so sensible, so cautious,--that he should be the first specimen that crossed her path of the new opinions,--it bewildered her. And where _had_ he got his notions?--Notions! she could not call them notions; he had nothing to say for himself. It was an infatuation; he, so clever, so sharp-sighted, could say nothing better in defence of himself than that Mrs. Bishop of Monmouth was too pretty, and that old Dr. Stock sat upon a cushion. Oh, sad, sad indeed! How was it he could be so insensible to the blessings he gained from his Church, and had enjoyed all his life? What could he need? _She_ had no need at all: going to church was a pleasure to her. She liked to hear the Lessons and the Collects, coming round year after year, and marking the seasons. The historical books and prophets in summer; then the "stir-up" Collect just before Advent; the beautiful Collects in Advent itself, with the Lessons from Isaiah reaching on through Epiphany; they were quite music to the ear. Then the Psalms, varying with every Sunday; they were a perpetual solace to her, ever old yet ever new. The occasional additions, too--the Athanasian Creed, the Benedictus, Deus misereatur, and Omnia opera, which her father had been used to read at certain great feasts; and the beautiful Litany. What could he want more? where could he find so much? Well, it was a mystery to her; and she could only feel thankful that _she_ was not exposed to the temptations, whatever they were, which had acted on the powerful mind of her brother. Then, she had anticipated how pleasant it would be when Charles was a clergyman, and she should hear him preach; when there would be one whom she would have a right to ask questions and to consult whenever she wished. This prospect was at an end; she could no longer trust him: he had given a shake to her confidence which it never could recover; it was gone for ever. They were all of them women but he; he was their only stay, now that her father had been taken away. What was now to become of them? To be abandoned by her own brother! oh, how terrible! And how was she to break it to her mother? for broken it must be sooner or later. She could not deceive herself; she knew her brother well enough to feel sure that, when he had really got hold of a thing, he would not let it go again without convincing reasons; and what reasons there could be for letting it go she could not conceive, if there could be reasons for taking it up. The taking it up baffled all reason, all calculation. Well, but how was her mother to be told of it? Was it better to let her suspect it first, and so break it to her, or to wait till the event happened? The problem was too difficult for the present, and she must leave it. This was her state for several days, till her fever of mind gradually subsided into a state of which a dull anxiety was a latent but habitual element, leaving her as usual at ordinary times, but every now and then betraying itself by sudden sharp sighs or wanderings of thought. Neither brother nor sister, loving each other really as much as ever, had quite the same sweetness and evenness of temper as was natural to them; self-control became a duty, and the evening circle was duller than before, without any one being able to say why. Charles was more attentive to his mother; he no more brought his books into the drawing-room, but gave himself to her company. He read to them, but he had little to talk about; and Eliza and Caroline both wished his stupid examination, past and over, that he might be restored to his natural liveliness. As to Mrs. Reding, she did not observe more than that her son was a very hard student, and grudged himself a walk or ride, let the day be ever so fine. She was a mild, quiet person, of keen feelings and precise habits; not very quick at observation; and, having lived all her life in the country, and till her late loss having scarcely known what trouble was, she was singularly unable to comprehend how things could go on in any way but one. Charles had not told her the real cause of his spending the winter at home, thinking it would be a needless vexation to her; much less did he contemplate harassing her with the recital of his own religious difficulties, which were not appreciable by her, and issued in no definite result. To his sister he did attempt an explanation of his former conversation, with a view of softening the extreme misgivings which it had created in her mind. She received it thankfully, and professed to be relieved by it; but the blow was struck, the suspicion was lodged deep in her mind--he was still Charles, dear to her as ever, but she never could rid herself of the anticipation which on that occasion she had expressed. CHAPTER XIV. One morning he was told that a gentleman had asked for him, and been shown into the dining-room. Descending, he saw the tall slender figure of Bateman, now a clergyman, and lately appointed curate of a neighbouring parish. Charles had not seen him for a year and a half, and shook hands with him very warmly, complimenting him on his white neckcloth, which somehow, he said, altered him more than he could have expected. Bateman's manner certainly was altered; it might be the accident of the day, but he did not seem quite at his ease; it might be that he was in a strange house, and was likely soon to be precipitated into the company of ladies, to which he had never been used. If so, the trial was on the point of beginning, for Charles said instantly that he must come and see his mother, and of course meant to dine with them; the sky was clear, and there was an excellent footpath between Boughton and Melford. Bateman could not do this, but he would have the greatest pleasure in being introduced to Mrs. Reding; so he stumbled after Charles into the drawing-room, and was soon conversing with her and the young ladies. "A charming prospect you have here, ma'am," said Bateman, "when you are once inside the house. It does not promise outside so extensive a view." "No, it is shut in with trees," said Mrs. Reding; "and the brow of the hill changes its direction so much that at first I used to think the prospect ought to be from the opposite windows." "What is that high hill?" said Bateman. "It is Hart Hill," said Charles; "there's a Roman camp atop of it." "We can see eight steeples from our windows," said Mrs. Reding;--"ring the bell for luncheon, my dear." "Ah, our ancestors, Mrs. Reding," said Bateman, "thought more of building churches than we do; or rather than we have done, I should say, for now it is astonishing what efforts are made to add to our ecclesiastical structures." "Our ancestors did a good deal too," said Mrs. Reding; "how many churches, my dear, were built in London in Queen Anne's time? St. Martin's was one of them." "Fifty," said Eliza. "Fifty were intended," said Charles. "Yes, Mrs. Reding," said Bateman; "but by ancestors I meant the holy Bishops and other members of our Catholic Church previously to the Reformation. For, though the Reformation was a great blessing" (a glance at Charles), "yet we must not, in justice, forget what was done by English Churchmen before it." "Ah, poor creatures," said Mrs. Reding, "they did one good thing in building churches; it has saved us much trouble." "Is there much church-restoration going on in these parts?" said Bateman, taken rather aback. "My mother has but lately come here, like yourself," said Charles; "yes, there is some; Barton Church, you know," appealing to Mary. "Have your walks extended so far as Barton?" said Mary to Bateman. "Not yet, Miss Reding, not yet," answered he; "of course they are destroying the pews." "They are to put in seats," said Charles, "and of a very good pattern." "Pews are intolerable," said Bateman; "yet the last generation of incumbents contentedly bore them; it is wonderful!" A not unnatural silence followed this speech. Charles broke it by asking if Bateman intended to do anything in the improvement line at Melford. Bateman looked modest. "Nothing of any consequence," he said; "some few things were done; but he had a rector of the old school, poor man, who was an enemy to that sort of thing." It was with some malicious feeling, in consequence of his attack on clergymen of the past age, that Charles pressed his visitor to give an account of his own reforms. "Why," said Bateman, "much discretion is necessary in these matters, or you do as much harm as good; you get into hot water with churchwardens and vestries, as well as with old rectors, and again with the gentry of the place, and please no one. For this reason I have made no attempt to introduce the surplice into the pulpit except on the great festivals, intending to familiarize my parishioners to it by little and little. However, I wear a scarf or stole, and have taken care that it should be two inches broader than usual; and I always wear the cassock in my parish. I hope you approve of the cassock, Mrs. Reding?" "It is a very cold dress, sir--that's my opinion--when made of silk or bombazeen; and very unbecoming too, when worn by itself." "Particularly behind," said Charles; "it is quite unshapely." "Oh, I have remedied that," said Bateman; "you have noticed, Miss Reding, I dare say, the Bishop's short cassock. It comes to the knees, and looks much like a continuation of a waistcoat, the straight-cut coat being worn as usual. Well, Miss Reding, I have adopted the same plan with the long cassock; I put my coat over it." Mary had difficulty to keep from smiling; Charles laughed out. "Impossible, Bateman," he said; "you don't mean you wear your tailed French coat over your long straight cassock reaching to your ankles?" "Certainly," said Bateman gravely; "I thus consult for warmth and appearance too; and all my parishioners are sure to know me. I think this a great point, Miss Reding: I hear the little boys as I pass say, 'That's the parson.'" "I'll be bound they do," said Charles. "Well," said Mrs. Reding, surprised out of her propriety, "did one ever hear the like!" Bateman looked round at her, startled and frightened. "You were going to speak of your improvements in your church," said Mary, wishing to divert his attention from her mother. "Ah, true, Miss Reding, true," said Bateman, "thank you for reminding me; I have digressed to improvements in my own dress. I should have liked to have pulled down the galleries and lowered the high pews; that, however, I could not do. So I have lowered the pulpit some six feet. Now by doing so, first I give a pattern in my own person of the kind of condescension or lowliness to which I would persuade my people. But this is not all; for the consequence of lowering the pulpit is, that no one in the galleries can see or hear me preach; and this is a bonus on those who are below." "It's a broad hint, certainly," said Charles. "But it's a hint for those below also," continued Bateman; "for no one can see or hear me in the pews either, till the sides are lowered." "One thing only is wanting besides," said Charles, smiling and looking amiable, lest he should be saying too much; "since you are full tall, you must kneel when you preach, Bateman, else you will undo your own alterations." Bateman looked pleased. "I have anticipated you," he said; "I preach sitting. It is more comformable to antiquity and to reason to sit than to stand." "With these precautions," said Charles, "I really think you might have ventured on your surplice in the pulpit every Sunday. Are your parishioners contented?" "Oh, not at all, far from it," cried Bateman; "but they can do nothing. The alteration is so simple." "Nothing besides?" asked Charles. "Nothing in the architectural way," answered he; "but one thing more in the way of observances. I have fortunately picked up a very fair copy of Jewell, black-letter; and I have placed it in church, securing it with a chain to the wall, for any poor person who wishes to read it. Our church is emphatically the 'poor man's church,' Mrs. Reding." "Well," said Charles to himself, "I'll back the old parsons against the young ones any day, if this is to be their cut." Then aloud: "Come, you must see our garden; take up your hat, and let's have a turn in it. There's a very nice terrace-walk at the upper end." Bateman accordingly, having been thus trotted out for the amusement of the ladies, was now led off again, and was soon in the aforesaid terrace-walk, pacing up and down in earnest conversation with Charles. "Reding, my good fellow," said he, "what is the meaning of this report concerning you, which is everywhere about?" "I have not heard it," said Charles abruptly. "Why, it is this," said Bateman; "I wish to approach the subject with as great delicacy as possible: don't tell me if you don't like it, or tell me just as much as you like; yet you will excuse an old friend. They say you are going to leave the Church of your baptism for the Church of Rome." "Is it widely spread?" asked Charles coolly. "Oh, yes; I heard it in London; have had a letter mentioning it from Oxford; and a friend of mine heard it given out as positive at a visitation dinner in Wales." "So," thought Charles, "you are bringing _your_ witness against me as well as the rest." "Well but, my good Reding," said Bateman, "why are you silent? is it true--is it true?" "What true? that I am a Roman Catholic? Oh, certainly; don't you understand, that's why I am reading so hard for the schools?" said Charles. "Come, be serious for a moment, Reding," said Bateman, "do be serious. Will you empower me to contradict the report, or to negative it to a certain point, or in any respect?" "Oh, to be sure," said Charles, "contradict it, by all means, contradict it entirely." "May I give it a plain, unqualified, unconditional, categorical, flat denial?" asked Bateman. "Of course, of course." Bateman could not make him out, and had not a dream how he was teasing him. "I don't know where to find you," he said. They paced down the walk in silence. Bateman began again. "You see," he said, "it would be such a wonderful blindness, it would be so utterly inexcusable in a person like yourself, who had known _what_ the Church of England was; not a Dissenter, not an unlettered layman; but one who had been at Oxford, who had come across so many excellent men, who had seen what the Church of England could be, her grave beauty, her orderly and decent activity; who had seen churches decorated as they should be, with candlesticks, ciboriums, faldstools, lecterns, antependiums, piscinas, rood-lofts, and sedilia; who, in fact, had seen the Church Service _carried out_, and could desiderate nothing;--tell me, my dear good Reding," taking hold of his button-hole, "what is it you want--what is it? name it." "That you would take yourself off," Charles would have said, had he spoken his mind; he merely said, however, that really he desiderated nothing but to be believed when he said that he had no intention of leaving his own Church. Bateman was incredulous, and thought him close. "Perhaps you are not aware," he said, "how much is known of the circumstances of your being sent down. The old Principal was full of the subject." "What! I suppose he told people right and left," said Reding. "Oh, yes," answered Bateman; "a friend of mine knows him, and happening to call on him soon after you went down, had the whole story from him. He spoke most kindly of you, and in the highest terms; said that it was deplorable how much your mind was warped by the prevalent opinions, and that he should not be surprised if it turned out you were a Romanist even while you were at St. Saviour's; anyhow, that you would be one day a Romanist for certain, for that you held that the saints reigning with Christ interceded for us in heaven. But what was stronger, when the report got about, Sheffield said that he was not surprised at it, that he always prophesied it." "I am much obliged to him," said Charles. "However, you warrant me," said Bateman, "to contradict it--so I understand you--to contradict it peremptorily; that's enough for me. It's a great relief; it's very satisfactory. Well, I must be going." "I don't like to seem to drive you away," said Charles, "but really you must be going if you want to get home before nightfall. I hope you don't feel lonely or overworked where you are. If you are so at any time, don't scruple to drop in to dinner here; nay, we can take you in for a night, if you wish it." Bateman thanked him, and they proceeded to the hall-door together; when they were nearly parting, Bateman stopped and said, "Do you know, I should like to lend you some books to read. Let me send up to you Bramhall's Works, Thorndike, Barrow on the Unity of the Church, and Leslie's Dialogues on Romanism. I could name others, but content myself with these at present. They perfectly settle the matter; you can't help being convinced. I'll not say a word more; good-bye to you, good-bye." CHAPTER XV. Much as Charles loved and prized the company of his mother and sisters he was not sorry to have gentlemen's society, so he accepted with pleasure an invitation which Bateman sent him to dine with him at Melford. Also he wished to show Bateman, what no protestation could effect, how absurdly exaggerated were the reports which were circulated about him. And as the said Bateman, with all his want of common sense, was really a well-informed man, and well read in English divines, he thought he might incidentally hear something from him which he could turn to account. When he got to Melford he found a Mr. Campbell had been asked to meet him; a young Cambridge rector of a neighbouring parish, of the same religious sentiments on the whole as Bateman, and, though a little positive, a man of clear head and vigorous mind. They had been going over the church; and the conversation at dinner turned on the revival of Gothic architecture--an event which gave unmixed satisfaction to all parties. The subject would have died out, almost as soon as it was started, for want of a difference upon it, had not Bateman happily gone on boldly to declare that, if he had his will, there should be no architecture in the English churches but Gothic, and no music but Gregorian. This was a good thesis, distinctly put, and gave scope for a very pretty quarrel. Reding said that all these adjuncts of worship, whether music or architecture, were national; they were the mode in which religious feeling showed itself in particular times and places. He did not mean to say that the outward expression of religion in a country might not be guided, but it could not be forced; that it was as preposterous to make people worship in one's own way, as be merry in one's own way. "The Greeks," he said, "cut the hair in grief, the Romans let it grow; the Orientals veiled their heads in worship, the Greeks uncovered them; Christians take off their hats in a church, Mahometans their shoes; a long veil is a sign of modesty in Europe, of immodesty in Asia. You may as well try to change the size of people, as their forms of worship. Bateman, we must cut you down a foot, and then you shall begin your ecclesiastical reforms." "But surely, my worthy friend," answered Bateman, "you don't mean to say that there is no natural connexion between internal feeling and outward expression, so that one form is no better than another?" "Far from it," answered Charles; "but let those who confine their music to Gregorians put up crucifixes in the highways. Each is the representative of a particular place or time." "That's what I say of our good friend's short coat and long cassock," said Campbell; "it is a confusion of different times, ancient and modern." "Or of different ideas," said Charles, "the cassock Catholic, the coat Protestant." "The reverse," said Bateman; "the cassock is old Hooker's Anglican habit: the coat comes from Catholic France." "Anyhow, it is what Mr. Reding calls a mixture of ideas," said Campbell; "and that's the difficulty I find in uniting Gothic and Gregorians." "Oh, pardon me," said Bateman, "they are one idea; they are both eminently Catholic." "You can't be more Catholic than Rome, I suppose," said Campbell; "yet there's no Gothic there." "Rome is a peculiar place," said Bateman; "besides, my dear friend, if we do but consider that Rome has corrupted the pure apostolic doctrine, can we wonder that it should have a corrupt architecture?" "Why, then, go to Rome for Gregorians?" said Campbell; "I suspect they are called after Gregory I. Bishop of Rome, whom Protestants consider the first specimen of Antichrist." "It's nothing to us what Protestants think," answered Bateman. "Don't let us quarrel about terms," said Campbell; "both you and I think that Rome has corrupted the faith, whether she is Antichrist or not. You said so yourself just now." "It is true, I did," said Bateman; "but I make a little distinction. The Church of Rome has not _corrupted_ the faith, but has _admitted_ corruptions among her people." "It won't do," answered Campbell; "depend on it, we can't stand our ground in controversy unless we in our hearts think very severely of the Church of Rome." "Why, what's Rome to us?" asked Bateman; "we come from the old British Church; we don't meddle with Rome, and we wish Rome not to meddle with us, but she will." "Well," said Campbell, "you but read a bit of the history of the Reformation, and you will find that the doctrine that the Pope is Antichrist was the life of the movement." "With Ultra-Protestants, not with us," answered Bateman. "Such Ultra-Protestants as the writers of the Homilies," said Campbell; "but, I say again, I am not contending for names; I only mean, that as that doctrine was the life of the Reformation, so a belief, which I have and you too, that there is something bad, corrupt, perilous in the Church of Rome--that there is a spirit of Antichrist living in her, energizing in her, and ruling her--is necessary to a man's being a good Anglican. You must believe this, or you ought to go to Rome." "Impossible! my dear friend," said Bateman; "all our doctrine has been that Rome and we are sister Churches." "I say," said Campbell, "that without this strong repulsion you will not withstand the great claims, the overcoming attractions, of the Church of Rome. She is our mother--oh, that word 'mother!'--a mighty mother! She opens her arms--oh, the fragrance of that bosom! She is full of gifts--I feel it, I have long felt it. Why don't I rush into her arms? Because I feel that she is ruled by a spirit which is not she. But did that distrust of her go from me, was that certainty which I have of her corruption disproved, I should join her communion to-morrow." "This is not very edifying doctrine for Reding," thought Bateman. "Oh, my good Campbell," he said, "you are paradoxical to-day." "Not a bit of it," answered Campbell; "our Reformers felt that the only way in which they could break the tie of allegiance which bound us to Rome was the doctrine of her serious corruption. And so it is with our divines. If there is one doctrine in which they agree, it is that Rome is Antichrist, or an Antichrist. Depend upon it, that doctrine is necessary for our position." "I don't quite understand that language," said Reding; "I see it is used in various publications. It implies that controversy is a game, and that disputants are not looking out for truth, but for arguments." "You must not mistake me, Mr. Reding," answered Campbell; "all I mean is, that you have no leave to trifle with your conviction that Rome is antichristian, if you think so. For if it _is_ so, it is necessary to _say_ so. A poet says, 'Speak _gently_ of our sister's _fall_:' no, if it is a fall, we must not speak gently of it. At first one says, 'So great a Church! who am I, to speak against her?' Yes, you must, if your view of her is true: 'Tell truth and shame the Devil.' Recollect you don't use your own words; you are sanctioned, protected by all our divines. You must, else you can give no sufficient reason for not joining the Church of Rome. You must speak out, not what you _don't_ think, but what you _do_ think, _if_ you do think it." "Here's a doctrine!" thought Charles; "why it's putting the controversy into a nutshell." Bateman interposed. "My dear Campbell," he said, "you are behind the day. We have given up all that abuse against Rome." "Then the party is not so clever as I give them credit for being," answered Campbell; "be sure of this,--those who have given up their protests against Rome, either are looking towards her, or have no eyes to see." "All we say," answered Bateman, "is, as I said before, that _we_ don't wish to interfere with Rome; _we_ don't anathematize Rome--Rome anathematizes _us_." "It won't do," said Campbell; "those who resolve to remain in our Church, and are using sweet words of Romanism, will be forced back upon their proper ground in spite of themselves, and will get no thanks for their pains. No man can serve two masters; either go to Rome, or condemn Rome. For me, the Romish Church has a great deal in it which I can't get over; and thinking so, much as I admire it in parts, I can't help speaking, I can't help it. It would not be honest, and it would not be consistent." "Well, he has ended better than he began," thought Bateman; and he chimed in, "Oh yes, true, too true; it's painful to see it, but there's a great deal in the Church of Rome which no man of plain sense, no reader of the Fathers, no Scripture student, no true member of the Anglo-Catholic Church can possibly stomach." This put a corona on the discussion; and the rest of the dinner passed off pleasantly indeed, but not very intellectually. CHAPTER XVI. After dinner it occurred to them that the subject of Gregorians and Gothic had been left in the lurch. "How in the world did we get off it?" asked Charles. "Well, at least, we have found it," said Bateman; "and I really should like to hear what you have to say upon it, Campbell." "Oh, really, Bateman," answered he, "I am quite sick of the subject; every one seems to me to be going into extremes: what's the good of arguing about it? you won't agree with me." "I don't see that at all," answered Bateman; "people often think they differ, merely because they have not courage to talk to each other." "A good remark," thought Charles; "what a pity that Bateman, with so much sense, should have so little common sense!" "Well, then," said Campbell, "my quarrel with Gothic and Gregorians, when coupled together, is, that they are two ideas, not one. Have figured music in Gothic churches, keep your Gregorian for basilicas." "My good Campbell," said Bateman, "you seem oblivious that Gregorian chants and hymns have always accompanied Gothic aisles, Gothic copes, Gothic mitres, and Gothic chalices." "Our ancestors did what they could," answered Campbell; "they were great in architecture, small in music. They could not use what was not yet invented. They sang Gregorians because they had not Palestrina." "A paradox, a paradox!" cried Bateman. "Surely there is a close connexion," answered Campbell, "between the rise and nature of the basilica and of Gregorian unison.

need

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what grief was, not so long ago; but not till now had she known anxiety. Charles's state of mind was a matter of simple astonishment to her. At first it quite frightened and shocked her; it was as if Charles had lost his identity, and had turned out some one else. It was like a great breach of trust. She had seen there was a good deal in the newspapers about the "Oxford party" and their doings; and at different places, where she had been on visits, she had heard of churches being done up in the new fashion, and clergymen being accused, in consequence, of Popery--a charge which she had laughed at. But now it was actually brought home to her door that there was something in it. Yet it was to her incomprehensible, and she hardly knew where she was. And that, of all persons in the world, her brother, her own Charles, with whom she had been one heart and soul all their lives--one so cheerful, so religious, so good, so sensible, so cautious,--that he should be the first specimen that crossed her path of the new opinions,--it bewildered her. And where _had_ he got his notions?--Notions! she could not call them notions; he had nothing to say for himself. It was an infatuation; he, so clever, so sharp-sighted, could say nothing better in defence of himself than that Mrs. Bishop of Monmouth was too pretty, and that old Dr. Stock sat upon a cushion. Oh, sad, sad indeed! How was it he could be so insensible to the blessings he gained from his Church, and had enjoyed all his life? What could he need? _She_ had no need at all: going to church was a pleasure to her. She liked to hear the Lessons and the Collects, coming round year after year, and marking the seasons. The historical books and prophets in summer; then the "stir-up" Collect just before Advent; the beautiful Collects in Advent itself, with the Lessons from Isaiah reaching on through Epiphany; they were quite music to the ear. Then the Psalms, varying with every Sunday; they were a perpetual solace to her, ever old yet ever new. The occasional additions, too--the Athanasian Creed, the Benedictus, Deus misereatur, and Omnia opera, which her father had been used to read at certain great feasts; and the beautiful Litany. What could he want more? where could he find so much? Well, it was a mystery to her; and she could only feel thankful that _she_ was not exposed to the temptations, whatever they were, which had acted on the powerful mind of her brother. Then, she had anticipated how pleasant it would be when Charles was a clergyman, and she should hear him preach; when there would be one whom she would have a right to ask questions and to consult whenever she wished. This prospect was at an end; she could no longer trust him: he had given a shake to her confidence which it never could recover; it was gone for ever. They were all of them women but he; he was their only stay, now that her father had been taken away. What was now to become of them? To be abandoned by her own brother! oh, how terrible! And how was she to break it to her mother? for broken it must be sooner or later. She could not deceive herself; she knew her brother well enough to feel sure that, when he had really got hold of a thing, he would not let it go again without convincing reasons; and what reasons there could be for letting it go she could not conceive, if there could be reasons for taking it up. The taking it up baffled all reason, all calculation. Well, but how was her mother to be told of it? Was it better to let her suspect it first, and so break it to her, or to wait till the event happened? The problem was too difficult for the present, and she must leave it. This was her state for several days, till her fever of mind gradually subsided into a state of which a dull anxiety was a latent but habitual element, leaving her as usual at ordinary times, but every now and then betraying itself by sudden sharp sighs or wanderings of thought. Neither brother nor sister, loving each other really as much as ever, had quite the same sweetness and evenness of temper as was natural to them; self-control became a duty, and the evening circle was duller than before, without any one being able to say why. Charles was more attentive to his mother; he no more brought his books into the drawing-room, but gave himself to her company. He read to them, but he had little to talk about; and Eliza and Caroline both wished his stupid examination, past and over, that he might be restored to his natural liveliness. As to Mrs. Reding, she did not observe more than that her son was a very hard student, and grudged himself a walk or ride, let the day be ever so fine. She was a mild, quiet person, of keen feelings and precise habits; not very quick at observation; and, having lived all her life in the country, and till her late loss having scarcely known what trouble was, she was singularly unable to comprehend how things could go on in any way but one. Charles had not told her the real cause of his spending the winter at home, thinking it would be a needless vexation to her; much less did he contemplate harassing her with the recital of his own religious difficulties, which were not appreciable by her, and issued in no definite result. To his sister he did attempt an explanation of his former conversation, with a view of softening the extreme misgivings which it had created in her mind. She received it thankfully, and professed to be relieved by it; but the blow was struck, the suspicion was lodged deep in her mind--he was still Charles, dear to her as ever, but she never could rid herself of the anticipation which on that occasion she had expressed. CHAPTER XIV. One morning he was told that a gentleman had asked for him, and been shown into the dining-room. Descending, he saw the tall slender figure of Bateman, now a clergyman, and lately appointed curate of a neighbouring parish. Charles had not seen him for a year and a half, and shook hands with him very warmly, complimenting him on his white neckcloth, which somehow, he said, altered him more than he could have expected. Bateman's manner certainly was altered; it might be the accident of the day, but he did not seem quite at his ease; it might be that he was in a strange house, and was likely soon to be precipitated into the company of ladies, to which he had never been used. If so, the trial was on the point of beginning, for Charles said instantly that he must come and see his mother, and of course meant to dine with them; the sky was clear, and there was an excellent footpath between Boughton and Melford. Bateman could not do this, but he would have the greatest pleasure in being introduced to Mrs. Reding; so he stumbled after Charles into the drawing-room, and was soon conversing with her and the young ladies. "A charming prospect you have here, ma'am," said Bateman, "when you are once inside the house. It does not promise outside so extensive a view." "No, it is shut in with trees," said Mrs. Reding; "and the brow of the hill changes its direction so much that at first I used to think the prospect ought to be from the opposite windows." "What is that high hill?" said Bateman. "It is Hart Hill," said Charles; "there's a Roman camp atop of it." "We can see eight steeples from our windows," said Mrs. Reding;--"ring the bell for luncheon, my dear." "Ah, our ancestors, Mrs. Reding," said Bateman, "thought more of building churches than we do; or rather than we have done, I should say, for now it is astonishing what efforts are made to add to our ecclesiastical structures." "Our ancestors did a good deal too," said Mrs. Reding; "how many churches, my dear, were built in London in Queen Anne's time? St. Martin's was one of them." "Fifty," said Eliza. "Fifty were intended," said Charles. "Yes, Mrs. Reding," said Bateman; "but by ancestors I meant the holy Bishops and other members of our Catholic Church previously to the Reformation. For, though the Reformation was a great blessing" (a glance at Charles), "yet we must not, in justice, forget what was done by English Churchmen before it." "Ah, poor creatures," said Mrs. Reding, "they did one good thing in building churches; it has saved us much trouble." "Is there much church-restoration going on in these parts?" said Bateman, taken rather aback. "My mother has but lately come here, like yourself," said Charles; "yes, there is some; Barton Church, you know," appealing to Mary. "Have your walks extended so far as Barton?" said Mary to Bateman. "Not yet, Miss Reding, not yet," answered he; "of course they are destroying the pews." "They are to put in seats," said Charles, "and of a very good pattern." "Pews are intolerable," said Bateman; "yet the last generation of incumbents contentedly bore them; it is wonderful!" A not unnatural silence followed this speech. Charles broke it by asking if Bateman intended to do anything in the improvement line at Melford. Bateman looked modest. "Nothing of any consequence," he said; "some few things were done; but he had a rector of the old school, poor man, who was an enemy to that sort of thing." It was with some malicious feeling, in consequence of his attack on clergymen of the past age, that Charles pressed his visitor to give an account of his own reforms. "Why," said Bateman, "much discretion is necessary in these matters, or you do as much harm as good; you get into hot water with churchwardens and vestries, as well as with old rectors, and again with the gentry of the place, and please no one. For this reason I have made no attempt to introduce the surplice into the pulpit except on the great festivals, intending to familiarize my parishioners to it by little and little. However, I wear a scarf or stole, and have taken care that it should be two inches broader than usual; and I always wear the cassock in my parish. I hope you approve of the cassock, Mrs. Reding?" "It is a very cold dress, sir--that's my opinion--when made of silk or bombazeen; and very unbecoming too, when worn by itself." "Particularly behind," said Charles; "it is quite unshapely." "Oh, I have remedied that," said Bateman; "you have noticed, Miss Reding, I dare say, the Bishop's short cassock. It comes to the knees, and looks much like a continuation of a waistcoat, the straight-cut coat being worn as usual. Well, Miss Reding, I have adopted the same plan with the long cassock; I put my coat over it." Mary had difficulty to keep from smiling; Charles laughed out. "Impossible, Bateman," he said; "you don't mean you wear your tailed French coat over your long straight cassock reaching to your ankles?" "Certainly," said Bateman gravely; "I thus consult for warmth and appearance too; and all my parishioners are sure to know me. I think this a great point, Miss Reding: I hear the little boys as I pass say, 'That's the parson.'" "I'll be bound they do," said Charles. "Well," said Mrs. Reding, surprised out of her propriety, "did one ever hear the like!" Bateman looked round at her, startled and frightened. "You were going to speak of your improvements in your church," said Mary, wishing to divert his attention from her mother. "Ah, true, Miss Reding, true," said Bateman, "thank you for reminding me; I have digressed to improvements in my own dress. I should have liked to have pulled down the galleries and lowered the high pews; that, however, I could not do. So I have lowered the pulpit some six feet. Now by doing so, first I give a pattern in my own person of the kind of condescension or lowliness to which I would persuade my people. But this is not all; for the consequence of lowering the pulpit is, that no one in the galleries can see or hear me preach; and this is a bonus on those who are below." "It's a broad hint, certainly," said Charles. "But it's a hint for those below also," continued Bateman; "for no one can see or hear me in the pews either, till the sides are lowered." "One thing only is wanting besides," said Charles, smiling and looking amiable, lest he should be saying too much; "since you are full tall, you must kneel when you preach, Bateman, else you will undo your own alterations." Bateman looked pleased. "I have anticipated you," he said; "I preach sitting. It is more comformable to antiquity and to reason to sit than to stand." "With these precautions," said Charles, "I really think you might have ventured on your surplice in the pulpit every Sunday. Are your parishioners contented?" "Oh, not at all, far from it," cried Bateman; "but they can do nothing. The alteration is so simple." "Nothing besides?" asked Charles. "Nothing in the architectural way," answered he; "but one thing more in the way of observances. I have fortunately picked up a very fair copy of Jewell, black-letter; and I have placed it in church, securing it with a chain to the wall, for any poor person who wishes to read it. Our church is emphatically the 'poor man's church,' Mrs. Reding." "Well," said Charles to himself, "I'll back the old parsons against the young ones any day, if this is to be their cut." Then aloud: "Come, you must see our garden; take up your hat, and let's have a turn in it. There's a very nice terrace-walk at the upper end." Bateman accordingly, having been thus trotted out for the amusement of the ladies, was now led off again, and was soon in the aforesaid terrace-walk, pacing up and down in earnest conversation with Charles. "Reding, my good fellow," said he, "what is the meaning of this report concerning you, which is everywhere about?" "I have not heard it," said Charles abruptly. "Why, it is this," said Bateman; "I wish to approach the subject with as great delicacy as possible: don't tell me if you don't like it, or tell me just as much as you like; yet you will excuse an old friend. They say you are going to leave the Church of your baptism for the Church of Rome." "Is it widely spread?" asked Charles coolly. "Oh, yes; I heard it in London; have had a letter mentioning it from Oxford; and a friend of mine heard it given out as positive at a visitation dinner in Wales." "So," thought Charles, "you are bringing _your_ witness against me as well as the rest." "Well but, my good Reding," said Bateman, "why are you silent? is it true--is it true?" "What true? that I am a Roman Catholic? Oh, certainly; don't you understand, that's why I am reading so hard for the schools?" said Charles. "Come, be serious for a moment, Reding," said Bateman, "do be serious. Will you empower me to contradict the report, or to negative it to a certain point, or in any respect?" "Oh, to be sure," said Charles, "contradict it, by all means, contradict it entirely." "May I give it a plain, unqualified, unconditional, categorical, flat denial?" asked Bateman. "Of course, of course." Bateman could not make him out, and had not a dream how he was teasing him. "I don't know where to find you," he said. They paced down the walk in silence. Bateman began again. "You see," he said, "it would be such a wonderful blindness, it would be so utterly inexcusable in a person like yourself, who had known _what_ the Church of England was; not a Dissenter, not an unlettered layman; but one who had been at Oxford, who had come across so many excellent men, who had seen what the Church of England could be, her grave beauty, her orderly and decent activity; who had seen churches decorated as they should be, with candlesticks, ciboriums, faldstools, lecterns, antependiums, piscinas, rood-lofts, and sedilia; who, in fact, had seen the Church Service _carried out_, and could desiderate nothing;--tell me, my dear good Reding," taking hold of his button-hole, "what is it you want--what is it? name it." "That you would take yourself off," Charles would have said, had he spoken his mind; he merely said, however, that really he desiderated nothing but to be believed when he said that he had no intention of leaving his own Church. Bateman was incredulous, and thought him close. "Perhaps you are not aware," he said, "how much is known of the circumstances of your being sent down. The old Principal was full of the subject." "What! I suppose he told people right and left," said Reding. "Oh, yes," answered Bateman; "a friend of mine knows him, and happening to call on him soon after you went down, had the whole story from him. He spoke most kindly of you, and in the highest terms; said that it was deplorable how much your mind was warped by the prevalent opinions, and that he should not be surprised if it turned out you were a Romanist even while you were at St. Saviour's; anyhow, that you would be one day a Romanist for certain, for that you held that the saints reigning with Christ interceded for us in heaven. But what was stronger, when the report got about, Sheffield said that he was not surprised at it, that he always prophesied it." "I am much obliged to him," said Charles. "However, you warrant me," said Bateman, "to contradict it--so I understand you--to contradict it peremptorily; that's enough for me. It's a great relief; it's very satisfactory. Well, I must be going." "I don't like to seem to drive you away," said Charles, "but really you must be going if you want to get home before nightfall. I hope you don't feel lonely or overworked where you are. If you are so at any time, don't scruple to drop in to dinner here; nay, we can take you in for a night, if you wish it." Bateman thanked him, and they proceeded to the hall-door together; when they were nearly parting, Bateman stopped and said, "Do you know, I should like to lend you some books to read. Let me send up to you Bramhall's Works, Thorndike, Barrow on the Unity of the Church, and Leslie's Dialogues on Romanism. I could name others, but content myself with these at present. They perfectly settle the matter; you can't help being convinced. I'll not say a word more; good-bye to you, good-bye." CHAPTER XV. Much as Charles loved and prized the company of his mother and sisters he was not sorry to have gentlemen's society, so he accepted with pleasure an invitation which Bateman sent him to dine with him at Melford. Also he wished to show Bateman, what no protestation could effect, how absurdly exaggerated were the reports which were circulated about him. And as the said Bateman, with all his want of common sense, was really a well-informed man, and well read in English divines, he thought he might incidentally hear something from him which he could turn to account. When he got to Melford he found a Mr. Campbell had been asked to meet him; a young Cambridge rector of a neighbouring parish, of the same religious sentiments on the whole as Bateman, and, though a little positive, a man of clear head and vigorous mind. They had been going over the church; and the conversation at dinner turned on the revival of Gothic architecture--an event which gave unmixed satisfaction to all parties. The subject would have died out, almost as soon as it was started, for want of a difference upon it, had not Bateman happily gone on boldly to declare that, if he had his will, there should be no architecture in the English churches but Gothic, and no music but Gregorian. This was a good thesis, distinctly put, and gave scope for a very pretty quarrel. Reding said that all these adjuncts of worship, whether music or architecture, were national; they were the mode in which religious feeling showed itself in particular times and places. He did not mean to say that the outward expression of religion in a country might not be guided, but it could not be forced; that it was as preposterous to make people worship in one's own way, as be merry in one's own way. "The Greeks," he said, "cut the hair in grief, the Romans let it grow; the Orientals veiled their heads in worship, the Greeks uncovered them; Christians take off their hats in a church, Mahometans their shoes; a long veil is a sign of modesty in Europe, of immodesty in Asia. You may as well try to change the size of people, as their forms of worship. Bateman, we must cut you down a foot, and then you shall begin your ecclesiastical reforms." "But surely, my worthy friend," answered Bateman, "you don't mean to say that there is no natural connexion between internal feeling and outward expression, so that one form is no better than another?" "Far from it," answered Charles; "but let those who confine their music to Gregorians put up crucifixes in the highways. Each is the representative of a particular place or time." "That's what I say of our good friend's short coat and long cassock," said Campbell; "it is a confusion of different times, ancient and modern." "Or of different ideas," said Charles, "the cassock Catholic, the coat Protestant." "The reverse," said Bateman; "the cassock is old Hooker's Anglican habit: the coat comes from Catholic France." "Anyhow, it is what Mr. Reding calls a mixture of ideas," said Campbell; "and that's the difficulty I find in uniting Gothic and Gregorians." "Oh, pardon me," said Bateman, "they are one idea; they are both eminently Catholic." "You can't be more Catholic than Rome, I suppose," said Campbell; "yet there's no Gothic there." "Rome is a peculiar place," said Bateman; "besides, my dear friend, if we do but consider that Rome has corrupted the pure apostolic doctrine, can we wonder that it should have a corrupt architecture?" "Why, then, go to Rome for Gregorians?" said Campbell; "I suspect they are called after Gregory I. Bishop of Rome, whom Protestants consider the first specimen of Antichrist." "It's nothing to us what Protestants think," answered Bateman. "Don't let us quarrel about terms," said Campbell; "both you and I think that Rome has corrupted the faith, whether she is Antichrist or not. You said so yourself just now." "It is true, I did," said Bateman; "but I make a little distinction. The Church of Rome has not _corrupted_ the faith, but has _admitted_ corruptions among her people." "It won't do," answered Campbell; "depend on it, we can't stand our ground in controversy unless we in our hearts think very severely of the Church of Rome." "Why, what's Rome to us?" asked Bateman; "we come from the old British Church; we don't meddle with Rome, and we wish Rome not to meddle with us, but she will." "Well," said Campbell, "you but read a bit of the history of the Reformation, and you will find that the doctrine that the Pope is Antichrist was the life of the movement." "With Ultra-Protestants, not with us," answered Bateman. "Such Ultra-Protestants as the writers of the Homilies," said Campbell; "but, I say again, I am not contending for names; I only mean, that as that doctrine was the life of the Reformation, so a belief, which I have and you too, that there is something bad, corrupt, perilous in the Church of Rome--that there is a spirit of Antichrist living in her, energizing in her, and ruling her--is necessary to a man's being a good Anglican. You must believe this, or you ought to go to Rome." "Impossible! my dear friend," said Bateman; "all our doctrine has been that Rome and we are sister Churches." "I say," said Campbell, "that without this strong repulsion you will not withstand the great claims, the overcoming attractions, of the Church of Rome. She is our mother--oh, that word 'mother!'--a mighty mother! She opens her arms--oh, the fragrance of that bosom! She is full of gifts--I feel it, I have long felt it. Why don't I rush into her arms? Because I feel that she is ruled by a spirit which is not she. But did that distrust of her go from me, was that certainty which I have of her corruption disproved, I should join her communion to-morrow." "This is not very edifying doctrine for Reding," thought Bateman. "Oh, my good Campbell," he said, "you are paradoxical to-day." "Not a bit of it," answered Campbell; "our Reformers felt that the only way in which they could break the tie of allegiance which bound us to Rome was the doctrine of her serious corruption. And so it is with our divines. If there is one doctrine in which they agree, it is that Rome is Antichrist, or an Antichrist. Depend upon it, that doctrine is necessary for our position." "I don't quite understand that language," said Reding; "I see it is used in various publications. It implies that controversy is a game, and that disputants are not looking out for truth, but for arguments." "You must not mistake me, Mr. Reding," answered Campbell; "all I mean is, that you have no leave to trifle with your conviction that Rome is antichristian, if you think so. For if it _is_ so, it is necessary to _say_ so. A poet says, 'Speak _gently_ of our sister's _fall_:' no, if it is a fall, we must not speak gently of it. At first one says, 'So great a Church! who am I, to speak against her?' Yes, you must, if your view of her is true: 'Tell truth and shame the Devil.' Recollect you don't use your own words; you are sanctioned, protected by all our divines. You must, else you can give no sufficient reason for not joining the Church of Rome. You must speak out, not what you _don't_ think, but what you _do_ think, _if_ you do think it." "Here's a doctrine!" thought Charles; "why it's putting the controversy into a nutshell." Bateman interposed. "My dear Campbell," he said, "you are behind the day. We have given up all that abuse against Rome." "Then the party is not so clever as I give them credit for being," answered Campbell; "be sure of this,--those who have given up their protests against Rome, either are looking towards her, or have no eyes to see." "All we say," answered Bateman, "is, as I said before, that _we_ don't wish to interfere with Rome; _we_ don't anathematize Rome--Rome anathematizes _us_." "It won't do," said Campbell; "those who resolve to remain in our Church, and are using sweet words of Romanism, will be forced back upon their proper ground in spite of themselves, and will get no thanks for their pains. No man can serve two masters; either go to Rome, or condemn Rome. For me, the Romish Church has a great deal in it which I can't get over; and thinking so, much as I admire it in parts, I can't help speaking, I can't help it. It would not be honest, and it would not be consistent." "Well, he has ended better than he began," thought Bateman; and he chimed in, "Oh yes, true, too true; it's painful to see it, but there's a great deal in the Church of Rome which no man of plain sense, no reader of the Fathers, no Scripture student, no true member of the Anglo-Catholic Church can possibly stomach." This put a corona on the discussion; and the rest of the dinner passed off pleasantly indeed, but not very intellectually. CHAPTER XVI. After dinner it occurred to them that the subject of Gregorians and Gothic had been left in the lurch. "How in the world did we get off it?" asked Charles. "Well, at least, we have found it," said Bateman; "and I really should like to hear what you have to say upon it, Campbell." "Oh, really, Bateman," answered he, "I am quite sick of the subject; every one seems to me to be going into extremes: what's the good of arguing about it? you won't agree with me." "I don't see that at all," answered Bateman; "people often think they differ, merely because they have not courage to talk to each other." "A good remark," thought Charles; "what a pity that Bateman, with so much sense, should have so little common sense!" "Well, then," said Campbell, "my quarrel with Gothic and Gregorians, when coupled together, is, that they are two ideas, not one. Have figured music in Gothic churches, keep your Gregorian for basilicas." "My good Campbell," said Bateman, "you seem oblivious that Gregorian chants and hymns have always accompanied Gothic aisles, Gothic copes, Gothic mitres, and Gothic chalices." "Our ancestors did what they could," answered Campbell; "they were great in architecture, small in music. They could not use what was not yet invented. They sang Gregorians because they had not Palestrina." "A paradox, a paradox!" cried Bateman. "Surely there is a close connexion," answered Campbell, "between the rise and nature of the basilica and of Gregorian unison.

laughed

How many times the word 'laughed' appears in the text?

what grief was, not so long ago; but not till now had she known anxiety. Charles's state of mind was a matter of simple astonishment to her. At first it quite frightened and shocked her; it was as if Charles had lost his identity, and had turned out some one else. It was like a great breach of trust. She had seen there was a good deal in the newspapers about the "Oxford party" and their doings; and at different places, where she had been on visits, she had heard of churches being done up in the new fashion, and clergymen being accused, in consequence, of Popery--a charge which she had laughed at. But now it was actually brought home to her door that there was something in it. Yet it was to her incomprehensible, and she hardly knew where she was. And that, of all persons in the world, her brother, her own Charles, with whom she had been one heart and soul all their lives--one so cheerful, so religious, so good, so sensible, so cautious,--that he should be the first specimen that crossed her path of the new opinions,--it bewildered her. And where _had_ he got his notions?--Notions! she could not call them notions; he had nothing to say for himself. It was an infatuation; he, so clever, so sharp-sighted, could say nothing better in defence of himself than that Mrs. Bishop of Monmouth was too pretty, and that old Dr. Stock sat upon a cushion. Oh, sad, sad indeed! How was it he could be so insensible to the blessings he gained from his Church, and had enjoyed all his life? What could he need? _She_ had no need at all: going to church was a pleasure to her. She liked to hear the Lessons and the Collects, coming round year after year, and marking the seasons. The historical books and prophets in summer; then the "stir-up" Collect just before Advent; the beautiful Collects in Advent itself, with the Lessons from Isaiah reaching on through Epiphany; they were quite music to the ear. Then the Psalms, varying with every Sunday; they were a perpetual solace to her, ever old yet ever new. The occasional additions, too--the Athanasian Creed, the Benedictus, Deus misereatur, and Omnia opera, which her father had been used to read at certain great feasts; and the beautiful Litany. What could he want more? where could he find so much? Well, it was a mystery to her; and she could only feel thankful that _she_ was not exposed to the temptations, whatever they were, which had acted on the powerful mind of her brother. Then, she had anticipated how pleasant it would be when Charles was a clergyman, and she should hear him preach; when there would be one whom she would have a right to ask questions and to consult whenever she wished. This prospect was at an end; she could no longer trust him: he had given a shake to her confidence which it never could recover; it was gone for ever. They were all of them women but he; he was their only stay, now that her father had been taken away. What was now to become of them? To be abandoned by her own brother! oh, how terrible! And how was she to break it to her mother? for broken it must be sooner or later. She could not deceive herself; she knew her brother well enough to feel sure that, when he had really got hold of a thing, he would not let it go again without convincing reasons; and what reasons there could be for letting it go she could not conceive, if there could be reasons for taking it up. The taking it up baffled all reason, all calculation. Well, but how was her mother to be told of it? Was it better to let her suspect it first, and so break it to her, or to wait till the event happened? The problem was too difficult for the present, and she must leave it. This was her state for several days, till her fever of mind gradually subsided into a state of which a dull anxiety was a latent but habitual element, leaving her as usual at ordinary times, but every now and then betraying itself by sudden sharp sighs or wanderings of thought. Neither brother nor sister, loving each other really as much as ever, had quite the same sweetness and evenness of temper as was natural to them; self-control became a duty, and the evening circle was duller than before, without any one being able to say why. Charles was more attentive to his mother; he no more brought his books into the drawing-room, but gave himself to her company. He read to them, but he had little to talk about; and Eliza and Caroline both wished his stupid examination, past and over, that he might be restored to his natural liveliness. As to Mrs. Reding, she did not observe more than that her son was a very hard student, and grudged himself a walk or ride, let the day be ever so fine. She was a mild, quiet person, of keen feelings and precise habits; not very quick at observation; and, having lived all her life in the country, and till her late loss having scarcely known what trouble was, she was singularly unable to comprehend how things could go on in any way but one. Charles had not told her the real cause of his spending the winter at home, thinking it would be a needless vexation to her; much less did he contemplate harassing her with the recital of his own religious difficulties, which were not appreciable by her, and issued in no definite result. To his sister he did attempt an explanation of his former conversation, with a view of softening the extreme misgivings which it had created in her mind. She received it thankfully, and professed to be relieved by it; but the blow was struck, the suspicion was lodged deep in her mind--he was still Charles, dear to her as ever, but she never could rid herself of the anticipation which on that occasion she had expressed. CHAPTER XIV. One morning he was told that a gentleman had asked for him, and been shown into the dining-room. Descending, he saw the tall slender figure of Bateman, now a clergyman, and lately appointed curate of a neighbouring parish. Charles had not seen him for a year and a half, and shook hands with him very warmly, complimenting him on his white neckcloth, which somehow, he said, altered him more than he could have expected. Bateman's manner certainly was altered; it might be the accident of the day, but he did not seem quite at his ease; it might be that he was in a strange house, and was likely soon to be precipitated into the company of ladies, to which he had never been used. If so, the trial was on the point of beginning, for Charles said instantly that he must come and see his mother, and of course meant to dine with them; the sky was clear, and there was an excellent footpath between Boughton and Melford. Bateman could not do this, but he would have the greatest pleasure in being introduced to Mrs. Reding; so he stumbled after Charles into the drawing-room, and was soon conversing with her and the young ladies. "A charming prospect you have here, ma'am," said Bateman, "when you are once inside the house. It does not promise outside so extensive a view." "No, it is shut in with trees," said Mrs. Reding; "and the brow of the hill changes its direction so much that at first I used to think the prospect ought to be from the opposite windows." "What is that high hill?" said Bateman. "It is Hart Hill," said Charles; "there's a Roman camp atop of it." "We can see eight steeples from our windows," said Mrs. Reding;--"ring the bell for luncheon, my dear." "Ah, our ancestors, Mrs. Reding," said Bateman, "thought more of building churches than we do; or rather than we have done, I should say, for now it is astonishing what efforts are made to add to our ecclesiastical structures." "Our ancestors did a good deal too," said Mrs. Reding; "how many churches, my dear, were built in London in Queen Anne's time? St. Martin's was one of them." "Fifty," said Eliza. "Fifty were intended," said Charles. "Yes, Mrs. Reding," said Bateman; "but by ancestors I meant the holy Bishops and other members of our Catholic Church previously to the Reformation. For, though the Reformation was a great blessing" (a glance at Charles), "yet we must not, in justice, forget what was done by English Churchmen before it." "Ah, poor creatures," said Mrs. Reding, "they did one good thing in building churches; it has saved us much trouble." "Is there much church-restoration going on in these parts?" said Bateman, taken rather aback. "My mother has but lately come here, like yourself," said Charles; "yes, there is some; Barton Church, you know," appealing to Mary. "Have your walks extended so far as Barton?" said Mary to Bateman. "Not yet, Miss Reding, not yet," answered he; "of course they are destroying the pews." "They are to put in seats," said Charles, "and of a very good pattern." "Pews are intolerable," said Bateman; "yet the last generation of incumbents contentedly bore them; it is wonderful!" A not unnatural silence followed this speech. Charles broke it by asking if Bateman intended to do anything in the improvement line at Melford. Bateman looked modest. "Nothing of any consequence," he said; "some few things were done; but he had a rector of the old school, poor man, who was an enemy to that sort of thing." It was with some malicious feeling, in consequence of his attack on clergymen of the past age, that Charles pressed his visitor to give an account of his own reforms. "Why," said Bateman, "much discretion is necessary in these matters, or you do as much harm as good; you get into hot water with churchwardens and vestries, as well as with old rectors, and again with the gentry of the place, and please no one. For this reason I have made no attempt to introduce the surplice into the pulpit except on the great festivals, intending to familiarize my parishioners to it by little and little. However, I wear a scarf or stole, and have taken care that it should be two inches broader than usual; and I always wear the cassock in my parish. I hope you approve of the cassock, Mrs. Reding?" "It is a very cold dress, sir--that's my opinion--when made of silk or bombazeen; and very unbecoming too, when worn by itself." "Particularly behind," said Charles; "it is quite unshapely." "Oh, I have remedied that," said Bateman; "you have noticed, Miss Reding, I dare say, the Bishop's short cassock. It comes to the knees, and looks much like a continuation of a waistcoat, the straight-cut coat being worn as usual. Well, Miss Reding, I have adopted the same plan with the long cassock; I put my coat over it." Mary had difficulty to keep from smiling; Charles laughed out. "Impossible, Bateman," he said; "you don't mean you wear your tailed French coat over your long straight cassock reaching to your ankles?" "Certainly," said Bateman gravely; "I thus consult for warmth and appearance too; and all my parishioners are sure to know me. I think this a great point, Miss Reding: I hear the little boys as I pass say, 'That's the parson.'" "I'll be bound they do," said Charles. "Well," said Mrs. Reding, surprised out of her propriety, "did one ever hear the like!" Bateman looked round at her, startled and frightened. "You were going to speak of your improvements in your church," said Mary, wishing to divert his attention from her mother. "Ah, true, Miss Reding, true," said Bateman, "thank you for reminding me; I have digressed to improvements in my own dress. I should have liked to have pulled down the galleries and lowered the high pews; that, however, I could not do. So I have lowered the pulpit some six feet. Now by doing so, first I give a pattern in my own person of the kind of condescension or lowliness to which I would persuade my people. But this is not all; for the consequence of lowering the pulpit is, that no one in the galleries can see or hear me preach; and this is a bonus on those who are below." "It's a broad hint, certainly," said Charles. "But it's a hint for those below also," continued Bateman; "for no one can see or hear me in the pews either, till the sides are lowered." "One thing only is wanting besides," said Charles, smiling and looking amiable, lest he should be saying too much; "since you are full tall, you must kneel when you preach, Bateman, else you will undo your own alterations." Bateman looked pleased. "I have anticipated you," he said; "I preach sitting. It is more comformable to antiquity and to reason to sit than to stand." "With these precautions," said Charles, "I really think you might have ventured on your surplice in the pulpit every Sunday. Are your parishioners contented?" "Oh, not at all, far from it," cried Bateman; "but they can do nothing. The alteration is so simple." "Nothing besides?" asked Charles. "Nothing in the architectural way," answered he; "but one thing more in the way of observances. I have fortunately picked up a very fair copy of Jewell, black-letter; and I have placed it in church, securing it with a chain to the wall, for any poor person who wishes to read it. Our church is emphatically the 'poor man's church,' Mrs. Reding." "Well," said Charles to himself, "I'll back the old parsons against the young ones any day, if this is to be their cut." Then aloud: "Come, you must see our garden; take up your hat, and let's have a turn in it. There's a very nice terrace-walk at the upper end." Bateman accordingly, having been thus trotted out for the amusement of the ladies, was now led off again, and was soon in the aforesaid terrace-walk, pacing up and down in earnest conversation with Charles. "Reding, my good fellow," said he, "what is the meaning of this report concerning you, which is everywhere about?" "I have not heard it," said Charles abruptly. "Why, it is this," said Bateman; "I wish to approach the subject with as great delicacy as possible: don't tell me if you don't like it, or tell me just as much as you like; yet you will excuse an old friend. They say you are going to leave the Church of your baptism for the Church of Rome." "Is it widely spread?" asked Charles coolly. "Oh, yes; I heard it in London; have had a letter mentioning it from Oxford; and a friend of mine heard it given out as positive at a visitation dinner in Wales." "So," thought Charles, "you are bringing _your_ witness against me as well as the rest." "Well but, my good Reding," said Bateman, "why are you silent? is it true--is it true?" "What true? that I am a Roman Catholic? Oh, certainly; don't you understand, that's why I am reading so hard for the schools?" said Charles. "Come, be serious for a moment, Reding," said Bateman, "do be serious. Will you empower me to contradict the report, or to negative it to a certain point, or in any respect?" "Oh, to be sure," said Charles, "contradict it, by all means, contradict it entirely." "May I give it a plain, unqualified, unconditional, categorical, flat denial?" asked Bateman. "Of course, of course." Bateman could not make him out, and had not a dream how he was teasing him. "I don't know where to find you," he said. They paced down the walk in silence. Bateman began again. "You see," he said, "it would be such a wonderful blindness, it would be so utterly inexcusable in a person like yourself, who had known _what_ the Church of England was; not a Dissenter, not an unlettered layman; but one who had been at Oxford, who had come across so many excellent men, who had seen what the Church of England could be, her grave beauty, her orderly and decent activity; who had seen churches decorated as they should be, with candlesticks, ciboriums, faldstools, lecterns, antependiums, piscinas, rood-lofts, and sedilia; who, in fact, had seen the Church Service _carried out_, and could desiderate nothing;--tell me, my dear good Reding," taking hold of his button-hole, "what is it you want--what is it? name it." "That you would take yourself off," Charles would have said, had he spoken his mind; he merely said, however, that really he desiderated nothing but to be believed when he said that he had no intention of leaving his own Church. Bateman was incredulous, and thought him close. "Perhaps you are not aware," he said, "how much is known of the circumstances of your being sent down. The old Principal was full of the subject." "What! I suppose he told people right and left," said Reding. "Oh, yes," answered Bateman; "a friend of mine knows him, and happening to call on him soon after you went down, had the whole story from him. He spoke most kindly of you, and in the highest terms; said that it was deplorable how much your mind was warped by the prevalent opinions, and that he should not be surprised if it turned out you were a Romanist even while you were at St. Saviour's; anyhow, that you would be one day a Romanist for certain, for that you held that the saints reigning with Christ interceded for us in heaven. But what was stronger, when the report got about, Sheffield said that he was not surprised at it, that he always prophesied it." "I am much obliged to him," said Charles. "However, you warrant me," said Bateman, "to contradict it--so I understand you--to contradict it peremptorily; that's enough for me. It's a great relief; it's very satisfactory. Well, I must be going." "I don't like to seem to drive you away," said Charles, "but really you must be going if you want to get home before nightfall. I hope you don't feel lonely or overworked where you are. If you are so at any time, don't scruple to drop in to dinner here; nay, we can take you in for a night, if you wish it." Bateman thanked him, and they proceeded to the hall-door together; when they were nearly parting, Bateman stopped and said, "Do you know, I should like to lend you some books to read. Let me send up to you Bramhall's Works, Thorndike, Barrow on the Unity of the Church, and Leslie's Dialogues on Romanism. I could name others, but content myself with these at present. They perfectly settle the matter; you can't help being convinced. I'll not say a word more; good-bye to you, good-bye." CHAPTER XV. Much as Charles loved and prized the company of his mother and sisters he was not sorry to have gentlemen's society, so he accepted with pleasure an invitation which Bateman sent him to dine with him at Melford. Also he wished to show Bateman, what no protestation could effect, how absurdly exaggerated were the reports which were circulated about him. And as the said Bateman, with all his want of common sense, was really a well-informed man, and well read in English divines, he thought he might incidentally hear something from him which he could turn to account. When he got to Melford he found a Mr. Campbell had been asked to meet him; a young Cambridge rector of a neighbouring parish, of the same religious sentiments on the whole as Bateman, and, though a little positive, a man of clear head and vigorous mind. They had been going over the church; and the conversation at dinner turned on the revival of Gothic architecture--an event which gave unmixed satisfaction to all parties. The subject would have died out, almost as soon as it was started, for want of a difference upon it, had not Bateman happily gone on boldly to declare that, if he had his will, there should be no architecture in the English churches but Gothic, and no music but Gregorian. This was a good thesis, distinctly put, and gave scope for a very pretty quarrel. Reding said that all these adjuncts of worship, whether music or architecture, were national; they were the mode in which religious feeling showed itself in particular times and places. He did not mean to say that the outward expression of religion in a country might not be guided, but it could not be forced; that it was as preposterous to make people worship in one's own way, as be merry in one's own way. "The Greeks," he said, "cut the hair in grief, the Romans let it grow; the Orientals veiled their heads in worship, the Greeks uncovered them; Christians take off their hats in a church, Mahometans their shoes; a long veil is a sign of modesty in Europe, of immodesty in Asia. You may as well try to change the size of people, as their forms of worship. Bateman, we must cut you down a foot, and then you shall begin your ecclesiastical reforms." "But surely, my worthy friend," answered Bateman, "you don't mean to say that there is no natural connexion between internal feeling and outward expression, so that one form is no better than another?" "Far from it," answered Charles; "but let those who confine their music to Gregorians put up crucifixes in the highways. Each is the representative of a particular place or time." "That's what I say of our good friend's short coat and long cassock," said Campbell; "it is a confusion of different times, ancient and modern." "Or of different ideas," said Charles, "the cassock Catholic, the coat Protestant." "The reverse," said Bateman; "the cassock is old Hooker's Anglican habit: the coat comes from Catholic France." "Anyhow, it is what Mr. Reding calls a mixture of ideas," said Campbell; "and that's the difficulty I find in uniting Gothic and Gregorians." "Oh, pardon me," said Bateman, "they are one idea; they are both eminently Catholic." "You can't be more Catholic than Rome, I suppose," said Campbell; "yet there's no Gothic there." "Rome is a peculiar place," said Bateman; "besides, my dear friend, if we do but consider that Rome has corrupted the pure apostolic doctrine, can we wonder that it should have a corrupt architecture?" "Why, then, go to Rome for Gregorians?" said Campbell; "I suspect they are called after Gregory I. Bishop of Rome, whom Protestants consider the first specimen of Antichrist." "It's nothing to us what Protestants think," answered Bateman. "Don't let us quarrel about terms," said Campbell; "both you and I think that Rome has corrupted the faith, whether she is Antichrist or not. You said so yourself just now." "It is true, I did," said Bateman; "but I make a little distinction. The Church of Rome has not _corrupted_ the faith, but has _admitted_ corruptions among her people." "It won't do," answered Campbell; "depend on it, we can't stand our ground in controversy unless we in our hearts think very severely of the Church of Rome." "Why, what's Rome to us?" asked Bateman; "we come from the old British Church; we don't meddle with Rome, and we wish Rome not to meddle with us, but she will." "Well," said Campbell, "you but read a bit of the history of the Reformation, and you will find that the doctrine that the Pope is Antichrist was the life of the movement." "With Ultra-Protestants, not with us," answered Bateman. "Such Ultra-Protestants as the writers of the Homilies," said Campbell; "but, I say again, I am not contending for names; I only mean, that as that doctrine was the life of the Reformation, so a belief, which I have and you too, that there is something bad, corrupt, perilous in the Church of Rome--that there is a spirit of Antichrist living in her, energizing in her, and ruling her--is necessary to a man's being a good Anglican. You must believe this, or you ought to go to Rome." "Impossible! my dear friend," said Bateman; "all our doctrine has been that Rome and we are sister Churches." "I say," said Campbell, "that without this strong repulsion you will not withstand the great claims, the overcoming attractions, of the Church of Rome. She is our mother--oh, that word 'mother!'--a mighty mother! She opens her arms--oh, the fragrance of that bosom! She is full of gifts--I feel it, I have long felt it. Why don't I rush into her arms? Because I feel that she is ruled by a spirit which is not she. But did that distrust of her go from me, was that certainty which I have of her corruption disproved, I should join her communion to-morrow." "This is not very edifying doctrine for Reding," thought Bateman. "Oh, my good Campbell," he said, "you are paradoxical to-day." "Not a bit of it," answered Campbell; "our Reformers felt that the only way in which they could break the tie of allegiance which bound us to Rome was the doctrine of her serious corruption. And so it is with our divines. If there is one doctrine in which they agree, it is that Rome is Antichrist, or an Antichrist. Depend upon it, that doctrine is necessary for our position." "I don't quite understand that language," said Reding; "I see it is used in various publications. It implies that controversy is a game, and that disputants are not looking out for truth, but for arguments." "You must not mistake me, Mr. Reding," answered Campbell; "all I mean is, that you have no leave to trifle with your conviction that Rome is antichristian, if you think so. For if it _is_ so, it is necessary to _say_ so. A poet says, 'Speak _gently_ of our sister's _fall_:' no, if it is a fall, we must not speak gently of it. At first one says, 'So great a Church! who am I, to speak against her?' Yes, you must, if your view of her is true: 'Tell truth and shame the Devil.' Recollect you don't use your own words; you are sanctioned, protected by all our divines. You must, else you can give no sufficient reason for not joining the Church of Rome. You must speak out, not what you _don't_ think, but what you _do_ think, _if_ you do think it." "Here's a doctrine!" thought Charles; "why it's putting the controversy into a nutshell." Bateman interposed. "My dear Campbell," he said, "you are behind the day. We have given up all that abuse against Rome." "Then the party is not so clever as I give them credit for being," answered Campbell; "be sure of this,--those who have given up their protests against Rome, either are looking towards her, or have no eyes to see." "All we say," answered Bateman, "is, as I said before, that _we_ don't wish to interfere with Rome; _we_ don't anathematize Rome--Rome anathematizes _us_." "It won't do," said Campbell; "those who resolve to remain in our Church, and are using sweet words of Romanism, will be forced back upon their proper ground in spite of themselves, and will get no thanks for their pains. No man can serve two masters; either go to Rome, or condemn Rome. For me, the Romish Church has a great deal in it which I can't get over; and thinking so, much as I admire it in parts, I can't help speaking, I can't help it. It would not be honest, and it would not be consistent." "Well, he has ended better than he began," thought Bateman; and he chimed in, "Oh yes, true, too true; it's painful to see it, but there's a great deal in the Church of Rome which no man of plain sense, no reader of the Fathers, no Scripture student, no true member of the Anglo-Catholic Church can possibly stomach." This put a corona on the discussion; and the rest of the dinner passed off pleasantly indeed, but not very intellectually. CHAPTER XVI. After dinner it occurred to them that the subject of Gregorians and Gothic had been left in the lurch. "How in the world did we get off it?" asked Charles. "Well, at least, we have found it," said Bateman; "and I really should like to hear what you have to say upon it, Campbell." "Oh, really, Bateman," answered he, "I am quite sick of the subject; every one seems to me to be going into extremes: what's the good of arguing about it? you won't agree with me." "I don't see that at all," answered Bateman; "people often think they differ, merely because they have not courage to talk to each other." "A good remark," thought Charles; "what a pity that Bateman, with so much sense, should have so little common sense!" "Well, then," said Campbell, "my quarrel with Gothic and Gregorians, when coupled together, is, that they are two ideas, not one. Have figured music in Gothic churches, keep your Gregorian for basilicas." "My good Campbell," said Bateman, "you seem oblivious that Gregorian chants and hymns have always accompanied Gothic aisles, Gothic copes, Gothic mitres, and Gothic chalices." "Our ancestors did what they could," answered Campbell; "they were great in architecture, small in music. They could not use what was not yet invented. They sang Gregorians because they had not Palestrina." "A paradox, a paradox!" cried Bateman. "Surely there is a close connexion," answered Campbell, "between the rise and nature of the basilica and of Gregorian unison.

whilst

How many times the word 'whilst' appears in the text?

what grief was, not so long ago; but not till now had she known anxiety. Charles's state of mind was a matter of simple astonishment to her. At first it quite frightened and shocked her; it was as if Charles had lost his identity, and had turned out some one else. It was like a great breach of trust. She had seen there was a good deal in the newspapers about the "Oxford party" and their doings; and at different places, where she had been on visits, she had heard of churches being done up in the new fashion, and clergymen being accused, in consequence, of Popery--a charge which she had laughed at. But now it was actually brought home to her door that there was something in it. Yet it was to her incomprehensible, and she hardly knew where she was. And that, of all persons in the world, her brother, her own Charles, with whom she had been one heart and soul all their lives--one so cheerful, so religious, so good, so sensible, so cautious,--that he should be the first specimen that crossed her path of the new opinions,--it bewildered her. And where _had_ he got his notions?--Notions! she could not call them notions; he had nothing to say for himself. It was an infatuation; he, so clever, so sharp-sighted, could say nothing better in defence of himself than that Mrs. Bishop of Monmouth was too pretty, and that old Dr. Stock sat upon a cushion. Oh, sad, sad indeed! How was it he could be so insensible to the blessings he gained from his Church, and had enjoyed all his life? What could he need? _She_ had no need at all: going to church was a pleasure to her. She liked to hear the Lessons and the Collects, coming round year after year, and marking the seasons. The historical books and prophets in summer; then the "stir-up" Collect just before Advent; the beautiful Collects in Advent itself, with the Lessons from Isaiah reaching on through Epiphany; they were quite music to the ear. Then the Psalms, varying with every Sunday; they were a perpetual solace to her, ever old yet ever new. The occasional additions, too--the Athanasian Creed, the Benedictus, Deus misereatur, and Omnia opera, which her father had been used to read at certain great feasts; and the beautiful Litany. What could he want more? where could he find so much? Well, it was a mystery to her; and she could only feel thankful that _she_ was not exposed to the temptations, whatever they were, which had acted on the powerful mind of her brother. Then, she had anticipated how pleasant it would be when Charles was a clergyman, and she should hear him preach; when there would be one whom she would have a right to ask questions and to consult whenever she wished. This prospect was at an end; she could no longer trust him: he had given a shake to her confidence which it never could recover; it was gone for ever. They were all of them women but he; he was their only stay, now that her father had been taken away. What was now to become of them? To be abandoned by her own brother! oh, how terrible! And how was she to break it to her mother? for broken it must be sooner or later. She could not deceive herself; she knew her brother well enough to feel sure that, when he had really got hold of a thing, he would not let it go again without convincing reasons; and what reasons there could be for letting it go she could not conceive, if there could be reasons for taking it up. The taking it up baffled all reason, all calculation. Well, but how was her mother to be told of it? Was it better to let her suspect it first, and so break it to her, or to wait till the event happened? The problem was too difficult for the present, and she must leave it. This was her state for several days, till her fever of mind gradually subsided into a state of which a dull anxiety was a latent but habitual element, leaving her as usual at ordinary times, but every now and then betraying itself by sudden sharp sighs or wanderings of thought. Neither brother nor sister, loving each other really as much as ever, had quite the same sweetness and evenness of temper as was natural to them; self-control became a duty, and the evening circle was duller than before, without any one being able to say why. Charles was more attentive to his mother; he no more brought his books into the drawing-room, but gave himself to her company. He read to them, but he had little to talk about; and Eliza and Caroline both wished his stupid examination, past and over, that he might be restored to his natural liveliness. As to Mrs. Reding, she did not observe more than that her son was a very hard student, and grudged himself a walk or ride, let the day be ever so fine. She was a mild, quiet person, of keen feelings and precise habits; not very quick at observation; and, having lived all her life in the country, and till her late loss having scarcely known what trouble was, she was singularly unable to comprehend how things could go on in any way but one. Charles had not told her the real cause of his spending the winter at home, thinking it would be a needless vexation to her; much less did he contemplate harassing her with the recital of his own religious difficulties, which were not appreciable by her, and issued in no definite result. To his sister he did attempt an explanation of his former conversation, with a view of softening the extreme misgivings which it had created in her mind. She received it thankfully, and professed to be relieved by it; but the blow was struck, the suspicion was lodged deep in her mind--he was still Charles, dear to her as ever, but she never could rid herself of the anticipation which on that occasion she had expressed. CHAPTER XIV. One morning he was told that a gentleman had asked for him, and been shown into the dining-room. Descending, he saw the tall slender figure of Bateman, now a clergyman, and lately appointed curate of a neighbouring parish. Charles had not seen him for a year and a half, and shook hands with him very warmly, complimenting him on his white neckcloth, which somehow, he said, altered him more than he could have expected. Bateman's manner certainly was altered; it might be the accident of the day, but he did not seem quite at his ease; it might be that he was in a strange house, and was likely soon to be precipitated into the company of ladies, to which he had never been used. If so, the trial was on the point of beginning, for Charles said instantly that he must come and see his mother, and of course meant to dine with them; the sky was clear, and there was an excellent footpath between Boughton and Melford. Bateman could not do this, but he would have the greatest pleasure in being introduced to Mrs. Reding; so he stumbled after Charles into the drawing-room, and was soon conversing with her and the young ladies. "A charming prospect you have here, ma'am," said Bateman, "when you are once inside the house. It does not promise outside so extensive a view." "No, it is shut in with trees," said Mrs. Reding; "and the brow of the hill changes its direction so much that at first I used to think the prospect ought to be from the opposite windows." "What is that high hill?" said Bateman. "It is Hart Hill," said Charles; "there's a Roman camp atop of it." "We can see eight steeples from our windows," said Mrs. Reding;--"ring the bell for luncheon, my dear." "Ah, our ancestors, Mrs. Reding," said Bateman, "thought more of building churches than we do; or rather than we have done, I should say, for now it is astonishing what efforts are made to add to our ecclesiastical structures." "Our ancestors did a good deal too," said Mrs. Reding; "how many churches, my dear, were built in London in Queen Anne's time? St. Martin's was one of them." "Fifty," said Eliza. "Fifty were intended," said Charles. "Yes, Mrs. Reding," said Bateman; "but by ancestors I meant the holy Bishops and other members of our Catholic Church previously to the Reformation. For, though the Reformation was a great blessing" (a glance at Charles), "yet we must not, in justice, forget what was done by English Churchmen before it." "Ah, poor creatures," said Mrs. Reding, "they did one good thing in building churches; it has saved us much trouble." "Is there much church-restoration going on in these parts?" said Bateman, taken rather aback. "My mother has but lately come here, like yourself," said Charles; "yes, there is some; Barton Church, you know," appealing to Mary. "Have your walks extended so far as Barton?" said Mary to Bateman. "Not yet, Miss Reding, not yet," answered he; "of course they are destroying the pews." "They are to put in seats," said Charles, "and of a very good pattern." "Pews are intolerable," said Bateman; "yet the last generation of incumbents contentedly bore them; it is wonderful!" A not unnatural silence followed this speech. Charles broke it by asking if Bateman intended to do anything in the improvement line at Melford. Bateman looked modest. "Nothing of any consequence," he said; "some few things were done; but he had a rector of the old school, poor man, who was an enemy to that sort of thing." It was with some malicious feeling, in consequence of his attack on clergymen of the past age, that Charles pressed his visitor to give an account of his own reforms. "Why," said Bateman, "much discretion is necessary in these matters, or you do as much harm as good; you get into hot water with churchwardens and vestries, as well as with old rectors, and again with the gentry of the place, and please no one. For this reason I have made no attempt to introduce the surplice into the pulpit except on the great festivals, intending to familiarize my parishioners to it by little and little. However, I wear a scarf or stole, and have taken care that it should be two inches broader than usual; and I always wear the cassock in my parish. I hope you approve of the cassock, Mrs. Reding?" "It is a very cold dress, sir--that's my opinion--when made of silk or bombazeen; and very unbecoming too, when worn by itself." "Particularly behind," said Charles; "it is quite unshapely." "Oh, I have remedied that," said Bateman; "you have noticed, Miss Reding, I dare say, the Bishop's short cassock. It comes to the knees, and looks much like a continuation of a waistcoat, the straight-cut coat being worn as usual. Well, Miss Reding, I have adopted the same plan with the long cassock; I put my coat over it." Mary had difficulty to keep from smiling; Charles laughed out. "Impossible, Bateman," he said; "you don't mean you wear your tailed French coat over your long straight cassock reaching to your ankles?" "Certainly," said Bateman gravely; "I thus consult for warmth and appearance too; and all my parishioners are sure to know me. I think this a great point, Miss Reding: I hear the little boys as I pass say, 'That's the parson.'" "I'll be bound they do," said Charles. "Well," said Mrs. Reding, surprised out of her propriety, "did one ever hear the like!" Bateman looked round at her, startled and frightened. "You were going to speak of your improvements in your church," said Mary, wishing to divert his attention from her mother. "Ah, true, Miss Reding, true," said Bateman, "thank you for reminding me; I have digressed to improvements in my own dress. I should have liked to have pulled down the galleries and lowered the high pews; that, however, I could not do. So I have lowered the pulpit some six feet. Now by doing so, first I give a pattern in my own person of the kind of condescension or lowliness to which I would persuade my people. But this is not all; for the consequence of lowering the pulpit is, that no one in the galleries can see or hear me preach; and this is a bonus on those who are below." "It's a broad hint, certainly," said Charles. "But it's a hint for those below also," continued Bateman; "for no one can see or hear me in the pews either, till the sides are lowered." "One thing only is wanting besides," said Charles, smiling and looking amiable, lest he should be saying too much; "since you are full tall, you must kneel when you preach, Bateman, else you will undo your own alterations." Bateman looked pleased. "I have anticipated you," he said; "I preach sitting. It is more comformable to antiquity and to reason to sit than to stand." "With these precautions," said Charles, "I really think you might have ventured on your surplice in the pulpit every Sunday. Are your parishioners contented?" "Oh, not at all, far from it," cried Bateman; "but they can do nothing. The alteration is so simple." "Nothing besides?" asked Charles. "Nothing in the architectural way," answered he; "but one thing more in the way of observances. I have fortunately picked up a very fair copy of Jewell, black-letter; and I have placed it in church, securing it with a chain to the wall, for any poor person who wishes to read it. Our church is emphatically the 'poor man's church,' Mrs. Reding." "Well," said Charles to himself, "I'll back the old parsons against the young ones any day, if this is to be their cut." Then aloud: "Come, you must see our garden; take up your hat, and let's have a turn in it. There's a very nice terrace-walk at the upper end." Bateman accordingly, having been thus trotted out for the amusement of the ladies, was now led off again, and was soon in the aforesaid terrace-walk, pacing up and down in earnest conversation with Charles. "Reding, my good fellow," said he, "what is the meaning of this report concerning you, which is everywhere about?" "I have not heard it," said Charles abruptly. "Why, it is this," said Bateman; "I wish to approach the subject with as great delicacy as possible: don't tell me if you don't like it, or tell me just as much as you like; yet you will excuse an old friend. They say you are going to leave the Church of your baptism for the Church of Rome." "Is it widely spread?" asked Charles coolly. "Oh, yes; I heard it in London; have had a letter mentioning it from Oxford; and a friend of mine heard it given out as positive at a visitation dinner in Wales." "So," thought Charles, "you are bringing _your_ witness against me as well as the rest." "Well but, my good Reding," said Bateman, "why are you silent? is it true--is it true?" "What true? that I am a Roman Catholic? Oh, certainly; don't you understand, that's why I am reading so hard for the schools?" said Charles. "Come, be serious for a moment, Reding," said Bateman, "do be serious. Will you empower me to contradict the report, or to negative it to a certain point, or in any respect?" "Oh, to be sure," said Charles, "contradict it, by all means, contradict it entirely." "May I give it a plain, unqualified, unconditional, categorical, flat denial?" asked Bateman. "Of course, of course." Bateman could not make him out, and had not a dream how he was teasing him. "I don't know where to find you," he said. They paced down the walk in silence. Bateman began again. "You see," he said, "it would be such a wonderful blindness, it would be so utterly inexcusable in a person like yourself, who had known _what_ the Church of England was; not a Dissenter, not an unlettered layman; but one who had been at Oxford, who had come across so many excellent men, who had seen what the Church of England could be, her grave beauty, her orderly and decent activity; who had seen churches decorated as they should be, with candlesticks, ciboriums, faldstools, lecterns, antependiums, piscinas, rood-lofts, and sedilia; who, in fact, had seen the Church Service _carried out_, and could desiderate nothing;--tell me, my dear good Reding," taking hold of his button-hole, "what is it you want--what is it? name it." "That you would take yourself off," Charles would have said, had he spoken his mind; he merely said, however, that really he desiderated nothing but to be believed when he said that he had no intention of leaving his own Church. Bateman was incredulous, and thought him close. "Perhaps you are not aware," he said, "how much is known of the circumstances of your being sent down. The old Principal was full of the subject." "What! I suppose he told people right and left," said Reding. "Oh, yes," answered Bateman; "a friend of mine knows him, and happening to call on him soon after you went down, had the whole story from him. He spoke most kindly of you, and in the highest terms; said that it was deplorable how much your mind was warped by the prevalent opinions, and that he should not be surprised if it turned out you were a Romanist even while you were at St. Saviour's; anyhow, that you would be one day a Romanist for certain, for that you held that the saints reigning with Christ interceded for us in heaven. But what was stronger, when the report got about, Sheffield said that he was not surprised at it, that he always prophesied it." "I am much obliged to him," said Charles. "However, you warrant me," said Bateman, "to contradict it--so I understand you--to contradict it peremptorily; that's enough for me. It's a great relief; it's very satisfactory. Well, I must be going." "I don't like to seem to drive you away," said Charles, "but really you must be going if you want to get home before nightfall. I hope you don't feel lonely or overworked where you are. If you are so at any time, don't scruple to drop in to dinner here; nay, we can take you in for a night, if you wish it." Bateman thanked him, and they proceeded to the hall-door together; when they were nearly parting, Bateman stopped and said, "Do you know, I should like to lend you some books to read. Let me send up to you Bramhall's Works, Thorndike, Barrow on the Unity of the Church, and Leslie's Dialogues on Romanism. I could name others, but content myself with these at present. They perfectly settle the matter; you can't help being convinced. I'll not say a word more; good-bye to you, good-bye." CHAPTER XV. Much as Charles loved and prized the company of his mother and sisters he was not sorry to have gentlemen's society, so he accepted with pleasure an invitation which Bateman sent him to dine with him at Melford. Also he wished to show Bateman, what no protestation could effect, how absurdly exaggerated were the reports which were circulated about him. And as the said Bateman, with all his want of common sense, was really a well-informed man, and well read in English divines, he thought he might incidentally hear something from him which he could turn to account. When he got to Melford he found a Mr. Campbell had been asked to meet him; a young Cambridge rector of a neighbouring parish, of the same religious sentiments on the whole as Bateman, and, though a little positive, a man of clear head and vigorous mind. They had been going over the church; and the conversation at dinner turned on the revival of Gothic architecture--an event which gave unmixed satisfaction to all parties. The subject would have died out, almost as soon as it was started, for want of a difference upon it, had not Bateman happily gone on boldly to declare that, if he had his will, there should be no architecture in the English churches but Gothic, and no music but Gregorian. This was a good thesis, distinctly put, and gave scope for a very pretty quarrel. Reding said that all these adjuncts of worship, whether music or architecture, were national; they were the mode in which religious feeling showed itself in particular times and places. He did not mean to say that the outward expression of religion in a country might not be guided, but it could not be forced; that it was as preposterous to make people worship in one's own way, as be merry in one's own way. "The Greeks," he said, "cut the hair in grief, the Romans let it grow; the Orientals veiled their heads in worship, the Greeks uncovered them; Christians take off their hats in a church, Mahometans their shoes; a long veil is a sign of modesty in Europe, of immodesty in Asia. You may as well try to change the size of people, as their forms of worship. Bateman, we must cut you down a foot, and then you shall begin your ecclesiastical reforms." "But surely, my worthy friend," answered Bateman, "you don't mean to say that there is no natural connexion between internal feeling and outward expression, so that one form is no better than another?" "Far from it," answered Charles; "but let those who confine their music to Gregorians put up crucifixes in the highways. Each is the representative of a particular place or time." "That's what I say of our good friend's short coat and long cassock," said Campbell; "it is a confusion of different times, ancient and modern." "Or of different ideas," said Charles, "the cassock Catholic, the coat Protestant." "The reverse," said Bateman; "the cassock is old Hooker's Anglican habit: the coat comes from Catholic France." "Anyhow, it is what Mr. Reding calls a mixture of ideas," said Campbell; "and that's the difficulty I find in uniting Gothic and Gregorians." "Oh, pardon me," said Bateman, "they are one idea; they are both eminently Catholic." "You can't be more Catholic than Rome, I suppose," said Campbell; "yet there's no Gothic there." "Rome is a peculiar place," said Bateman; "besides, my dear friend, if we do but consider that Rome has corrupted the pure apostolic doctrine, can we wonder that it should have a corrupt architecture?" "Why, then, go to Rome for Gregorians?" said Campbell; "I suspect they are called after Gregory I. Bishop of Rome, whom Protestants consider the first specimen of Antichrist." "It's nothing to us what Protestants think," answered Bateman. "Don't let us quarrel about terms," said Campbell; "both you and I think that Rome has corrupted the faith, whether she is Antichrist or not. You said so yourself just now." "It is true, I did," said Bateman; "but I make a little distinction. The Church of Rome has not _corrupted_ the faith, but has _admitted_ corruptions among her people." "It won't do," answered Campbell; "depend on it, we can't stand our ground in controversy unless we in our hearts think very severely of the Church of Rome." "Why, what's Rome to us?" asked Bateman; "we come from the old British Church; we don't meddle with Rome, and we wish Rome not to meddle with us, but she will." "Well," said Campbell, "you but read a bit of the history of the Reformation, and you will find that the doctrine that the Pope is Antichrist was the life of the movement." "With Ultra-Protestants, not with us," answered Bateman. "Such Ultra-Protestants as the writers of the Homilies," said Campbell; "but, I say again, I am not contending for names; I only mean, that as that doctrine was the life of the Reformation, so a belief, which I have and you too, that there is something bad, corrupt, perilous in the Church of Rome--that there is a spirit of Antichrist living in her, energizing in her, and ruling her--is necessary to a man's being a good Anglican. You must believe this, or you ought to go to Rome." "Impossible! my dear friend," said Bateman; "all our doctrine has been that Rome and we are sister Churches." "I say," said Campbell, "that without this strong repulsion you will not withstand the great claims, the overcoming attractions, of the Church of Rome. She is our mother--oh, that word 'mother!'--a mighty mother! She opens her arms--oh, the fragrance of that bosom! She is full of gifts--I feel it, I have long felt it. Why don't I rush into her arms? Because I feel that she is ruled by a spirit which is not she. But did that distrust of her go from me, was that certainty which I have of her corruption disproved, I should join her communion to-morrow." "This is not very edifying doctrine for Reding," thought Bateman. "Oh, my good Campbell," he said, "you are paradoxical to-day." "Not a bit of it," answered Campbell; "our Reformers felt that the only way in which they could break the tie of allegiance which bound us to Rome was the doctrine of her serious corruption. And so it is with our divines. If there is one doctrine in which they agree, it is that Rome is Antichrist, or an Antichrist. Depend upon it, that doctrine is necessary for our position." "I don't quite understand that language," said Reding; "I see it is used in various publications. It implies that controversy is a game, and that disputants are not looking out for truth, but for arguments." "You must not mistake me, Mr. Reding," answered Campbell; "all I mean is, that you have no leave to trifle with your conviction that Rome is antichristian, if you think so. For if it _is_ so, it is necessary to _say_ so. A poet says, 'Speak _gently_ of our sister's _fall_:' no, if it is a fall, we must not speak gently of it. At first one says, 'So great a Church! who am I, to speak against her?' Yes, you must, if your view of her is true: 'Tell truth and shame the Devil.' Recollect you don't use your own words; you are sanctioned, protected by all our divines. You must, else you can give no sufficient reason for not joining the Church of Rome. You must speak out, not what you _don't_ think, but what you _do_ think, _if_ you do think it." "Here's a doctrine!" thought Charles; "why it's putting the controversy into a nutshell." Bateman interposed. "My dear Campbell," he said, "you are behind the day. We have given up all that abuse against Rome." "Then the party is not so clever as I give them credit for being," answered Campbell; "be sure of this,--those who have given up their protests against Rome, either are looking towards her, or have no eyes to see." "All we say," answered Bateman, "is, as I said before, that _we_ don't wish to interfere with Rome; _we_ don't anathematize Rome--Rome anathematizes _us_." "It won't do," said Campbell; "those who resolve to remain in our Church, and are using sweet words of Romanism, will be forced back upon their proper ground in spite of themselves, and will get no thanks for their pains. No man can serve two masters; either go to Rome, or condemn Rome. For me, the Romish Church has a great deal in it which I can't get over; and thinking so, much as I admire it in parts, I can't help speaking, I can't help it. It would not be honest, and it would not be consistent." "Well, he has ended better than he began," thought Bateman; and he chimed in, "Oh yes, true, too true; it's painful to see it, but there's a great deal in the Church of Rome which no man of plain sense, no reader of the Fathers, no Scripture student, no true member of the Anglo-Catholic Church can possibly stomach." This put a corona on the discussion; and the rest of the dinner passed off pleasantly indeed, but not very intellectually. CHAPTER XVI. After dinner it occurred to them that the subject of Gregorians and Gothic had been left in the lurch. "How in the world did we get off it?" asked Charles. "Well, at least, we have found it," said Bateman; "and I really should like to hear what you have to say upon it, Campbell." "Oh, really, Bateman," answered he, "I am quite sick of the subject; every one seems to me to be going into extremes: what's the good of arguing about it? you won't agree with me." "I don't see that at all," answered Bateman; "people often think they differ, merely because they have not courage to talk to each other." "A good remark," thought Charles; "what a pity that Bateman, with so much sense, should have so little common sense!" "Well, then," said Campbell, "my quarrel with Gothic and Gregorians, when coupled together, is, that they are two ideas, not one. Have figured music in Gothic churches, keep your Gregorian for basilicas." "My good Campbell," said Bateman, "you seem oblivious that Gregorian chants and hymns have always accompanied Gothic aisles, Gothic copes, Gothic mitres, and Gothic chalices." "Our ancestors did what they could," answered Campbell; "they were great in architecture, small in music. They could not use what was not yet invented. They sang Gregorians because they had not Palestrina." "A paradox, a paradox!" cried Bateman. "Surely there is a close connexion," answered Campbell, "between the rise and nature of the basilica and of Gregorian unison.

high

How many times the word 'high' appears in the text?

what grief was, not so long ago; but not till now had she known anxiety. Charles's state of mind was a matter of simple astonishment to her. At first it quite frightened and shocked her; it was as if Charles had lost his identity, and had turned out some one else. It was like a great breach of trust. She had seen there was a good deal in the newspapers about the "Oxford party" and their doings; and at different places, where she had been on visits, she had heard of churches being done up in the new fashion, and clergymen being accused, in consequence, of Popery--a charge which she had laughed at. But now it was actually brought home to her door that there was something in it. Yet it was to her incomprehensible, and she hardly knew where she was. And that, of all persons in the world, her brother, her own Charles, with whom she had been one heart and soul all their lives--one so cheerful, so religious, so good, so sensible, so cautious,--that he should be the first specimen that crossed her path of the new opinions,--it bewildered her. And where _had_ he got his notions?--Notions! she could not call them notions; he had nothing to say for himself. It was an infatuation; he, so clever, so sharp-sighted, could say nothing better in defence of himself than that Mrs. Bishop of Monmouth was too pretty, and that old Dr. Stock sat upon a cushion. Oh, sad, sad indeed! How was it he could be so insensible to the blessings he gained from his Church, and had enjoyed all his life? What could he need? _She_ had no need at all: going to church was a pleasure to her. She liked to hear the Lessons and the Collects, coming round year after year, and marking the seasons. The historical books and prophets in summer; then the "stir-up" Collect just before Advent; the beautiful Collects in Advent itself, with the Lessons from Isaiah reaching on through Epiphany; they were quite music to the ear. Then the Psalms, varying with every Sunday; they were a perpetual solace to her, ever old yet ever new. The occasional additions, too--the Athanasian Creed, the Benedictus, Deus misereatur, and Omnia opera, which her father had been used to read at certain great feasts; and the beautiful Litany. What could he want more? where could he find so much? Well, it was a mystery to her; and she could only feel thankful that _she_ was not exposed to the temptations, whatever they were, which had acted on the powerful mind of her brother. Then, she had anticipated how pleasant it would be when Charles was a clergyman, and she should hear him preach; when there would be one whom she would have a right to ask questions and to consult whenever she wished. This prospect was at an end; she could no longer trust him: he had given a shake to her confidence which it never could recover; it was gone for ever. They were all of them women but he; he was their only stay, now that her father had been taken away. What was now to become of them? To be abandoned by her own brother! oh, how terrible! And how was she to break it to her mother? for broken it must be sooner or later. She could not deceive herself; she knew her brother well enough to feel sure that, when he had really got hold of a thing, he would not let it go again without convincing reasons; and what reasons there could be for letting it go she could not conceive, if there could be reasons for taking it up. The taking it up baffled all reason, all calculation. Well, but how was her mother to be told of it? Was it better to let her suspect it first, and so break it to her, or to wait till the event happened? The problem was too difficult for the present, and she must leave it. This was her state for several days, till her fever of mind gradually subsided into a state of which a dull anxiety was a latent but habitual element, leaving her as usual at ordinary times, but every now and then betraying itself by sudden sharp sighs or wanderings of thought. Neither brother nor sister, loving each other really as much as ever, had quite the same sweetness and evenness of temper as was natural to them; self-control became a duty, and the evening circle was duller than before, without any one being able to say why. Charles was more attentive to his mother; he no more brought his books into the drawing-room, but gave himself to her company. He read to them, but he had little to talk about; and Eliza and Caroline both wished his stupid examination, past and over, that he might be restored to his natural liveliness. As to Mrs. Reding, she did not observe more than that her son was a very hard student, and grudged himself a walk or ride, let the day be ever so fine. She was a mild, quiet person, of keen feelings and precise habits; not very quick at observation; and, having lived all her life in the country, and till her late loss having scarcely known what trouble was, she was singularly unable to comprehend how things could go on in any way but one. Charles had not told her the real cause of his spending the winter at home, thinking it would be a needless vexation to her; much less did he contemplate harassing her with the recital of his own religious difficulties, which were not appreciable by her, and issued in no definite result. To his sister he did attempt an explanation of his former conversation, with a view of softening the extreme misgivings which it had created in her mind. She received it thankfully, and professed to be relieved by it; but the blow was struck, the suspicion was lodged deep in her mind--he was still Charles, dear to her as ever, but she never could rid herself of the anticipation which on that occasion she had expressed. CHAPTER XIV. One morning he was told that a gentleman had asked for him, and been shown into the dining-room. Descending, he saw the tall slender figure of Bateman, now a clergyman, and lately appointed curate of a neighbouring parish. Charles had not seen him for a year and a half, and shook hands with him very warmly, complimenting him on his white neckcloth, which somehow, he said, altered him more than he could have expected. Bateman's manner certainly was altered; it might be the accident of the day, but he did not seem quite at his ease; it might be that he was in a strange house, and was likely soon to be precipitated into the company of ladies, to which he had never been used. If so, the trial was on the point of beginning, for Charles said instantly that he must come and see his mother, and of course meant to dine with them; the sky was clear, and there was an excellent footpath between Boughton and Melford. Bateman could not do this, but he would have the greatest pleasure in being introduced to Mrs. Reding; so he stumbled after Charles into the drawing-room, and was soon conversing with her and the young ladies. "A charming prospect you have here, ma'am," said Bateman, "when you are once inside the house. It does not promise outside so extensive a view." "No, it is shut in with trees," said Mrs. Reding; "and the brow of the hill changes its direction so much that at first I used to think the prospect ought to be from the opposite windows." "What is that high hill?" said Bateman. "It is Hart Hill," said Charles; "there's a Roman camp atop of it." "We can see eight steeples from our windows," said Mrs. Reding;--"ring the bell for luncheon, my dear." "Ah, our ancestors, Mrs. Reding," said Bateman, "thought more of building churches than we do; or rather than we have done, I should say, for now it is astonishing what efforts are made to add to our ecclesiastical structures." "Our ancestors did a good deal too," said Mrs. Reding; "how many churches, my dear, were built in London in Queen Anne's time? St. Martin's was one of them." "Fifty," said Eliza. "Fifty were intended," said Charles. "Yes, Mrs. Reding," said Bateman; "but by ancestors I meant the holy Bishops and other members of our Catholic Church previously to the Reformation. For, though the Reformation was a great blessing" (a glance at Charles), "yet we must not, in justice, forget what was done by English Churchmen before it." "Ah, poor creatures," said Mrs. Reding, "they did one good thing in building churches; it has saved us much trouble." "Is there much church-restoration going on in these parts?" said Bateman, taken rather aback. "My mother has but lately come here, like yourself," said Charles; "yes, there is some; Barton Church, you know," appealing to Mary. "Have your walks extended so far as Barton?" said Mary to Bateman. "Not yet, Miss Reding, not yet," answered he; "of course they are destroying the pews." "They are to put in seats," said Charles, "and of a very good pattern." "Pews are intolerable," said Bateman; "yet the last generation of incumbents contentedly bore them; it is wonderful!" A not unnatural silence followed this speech. Charles broke it by asking if Bateman intended to do anything in the improvement line at Melford. Bateman looked modest. "Nothing of any consequence," he said; "some few things were done; but he had a rector of the old school, poor man, who was an enemy to that sort of thing." It was with some malicious feeling, in consequence of his attack on clergymen of the past age, that Charles pressed his visitor to give an account of his own reforms. "Why," said Bateman, "much discretion is necessary in these matters, or you do as much harm as good; you get into hot water with churchwardens and vestries, as well as with old rectors, and again with the gentry of the place, and please no one. For this reason I have made no attempt to introduce the surplice into the pulpit except on the great festivals, intending to familiarize my parishioners to it by little and little. However, I wear a scarf or stole, and have taken care that it should be two inches broader than usual; and I always wear the cassock in my parish. I hope you approve of the cassock, Mrs. Reding?" "It is a very cold dress, sir--that's my opinion--when made of silk or bombazeen; and very unbecoming too, when worn by itself." "Particularly behind," said Charles; "it is quite unshapely." "Oh, I have remedied that," said Bateman; "you have noticed, Miss Reding, I dare say, the Bishop's short cassock. It comes to the knees, and looks much like a continuation of a waistcoat, the straight-cut coat being worn as usual. Well, Miss Reding, I have adopted the same plan with the long cassock; I put my coat over it." Mary had difficulty to keep from smiling; Charles laughed out. "Impossible, Bateman," he said; "you don't mean you wear your tailed French coat over your long straight cassock reaching to your ankles?" "Certainly," said Bateman gravely; "I thus consult for warmth and appearance too; and all my parishioners are sure to know me. I think this a great point, Miss Reding: I hear the little boys as I pass say, 'That's the parson.'" "I'll be bound they do," said Charles. "Well," said Mrs. Reding, surprised out of her propriety, "did one ever hear the like!" Bateman looked round at her, startled and frightened. "You were going to speak of your improvements in your church," said Mary, wishing to divert his attention from her mother. "Ah, true, Miss Reding, true," said Bateman, "thank you for reminding me; I have digressed to improvements in my own dress. I should have liked to have pulled down the galleries and lowered the high pews; that, however, I could not do. So I have lowered the pulpit some six feet. Now by doing so, first I give a pattern in my own person of the kind of condescension or lowliness to which I would persuade my people. But this is not all; for the consequence of lowering the pulpit is, that no one in the galleries can see or hear me preach; and this is a bonus on those who are below." "It's a broad hint, certainly," said Charles. "But it's a hint for those below also," continued Bateman; "for no one can see or hear me in the pews either, till the sides are lowered." "One thing only is wanting besides," said Charles, smiling and looking amiable, lest he should be saying too much; "since you are full tall, you must kneel when you preach, Bateman, else you will undo your own alterations." Bateman looked pleased. "I have anticipated you," he said; "I preach sitting. It is more comformable to antiquity and to reason to sit than to stand." "With these precautions," said Charles, "I really think you might have ventured on your surplice in the pulpit every Sunday. Are your parishioners contented?" "Oh, not at all, far from it," cried Bateman; "but they can do nothing. The alteration is so simple." "Nothing besides?" asked Charles. "Nothing in the architectural way," answered he; "but one thing more in the way of observances. I have fortunately picked up a very fair copy of Jewell, black-letter; and I have placed it in church, securing it with a chain to the wall, for any poor person who wishes to read it. Our church is emphatically the 'poor man's church,' Mrs. Reding." "Well," said Charles to himself, "I'll back the old parsons against the young ones any day, if this is to be their cut." Then aloud: "Come, you must see our garden; take up your hat, and let's have a turn in it. There's a very nice terrace-walk at the upper end." Bateman accordingly, having been thus trotted out for the amusement of the ladies, was now led off again, and was soon in the aforesaid terrace-walk, pacing up and down in earnest conversation with Charles. "Reding, my good fellow," said he, "what is the meaning of this report concerning you, which is everywhere about?" "I have not heard it," said Charles abruptly. "Why, it is this," said Bateman; "I wish to approach the subject with as great delicacy as possible: don't tell me if you don't like it, or tell me just as much as you like; yet you will excuse an old friend. They say you are going to leave the Church of your baptism for the Church of Rome." "Is it widely spread?" asked Charles coolly. "Oh, yes; I heard it in London; have had a letter mentioning it from Oxford; and a friend of mine heard it given out as positive at a visitation dinner in Wales." "So," thought Charles, "you are bringing _your_ witness against me as well as the rest." "Well but, my good Reding," said Bateman, "why are you silent? is it true--is it true?" "What true? that I am a Roman Catholic? Oh, certainly; don't you understand, that's why I am reading so hard for the schools?" said Charles. "Come, be serious for a moment, Reding," said Bateman, "do be serious. Will you empower me to contradict the report, or to negative it to a certain point, or in any respect?" "Oh, to be sure," said Charles, "contradict it, by all means, contradict it entirely." "May I give it a plain, unqualified, unconditional, categorical, flat denial?" asked Bateman. "Of course, of course." Bateman could not make him out, and had not a dream how he was teasing him. "I don't know where to find you," he said. They paced down the walk in silence. Bateman began again. "You see," he said, "it would be such a wonderful blindness, it would be so utterly inexcusable in a person like yourself, who had known _what_ the Church of England was; not a Dissenter, not an unlettered layman; but one who had been at Oxford, who had come across so many excellent men, who had seen what the Church of England could be, her grave beauty, her orderly and decent activity; who had seen churches decorated as they should be, with candlesticks, ciboriums, faldstools, lecterns, antependiums, piscinas, rood-lofts, and sedilia; who, in fact, had seen the Church Service _carried out_, and could desiderate nothing;--tell me, my dear good Reding," taking hold of his button-hole, "what is it you want--what is it? name it." "That you would take yourself off," Charles would have said, had he spoken his mind; he merely said, however, that really he desiderated nothing but to be believed when he said that he had no intention of leaving his own Church. Bateman was incredulous, and thought him close. "Perhaps you are not aware," he said, "how much is known of the circumstances of your being sent down. The old Principal was full of the subject." "What! I suppose he told people right and left," said Reding. "Oh, yes," answered Bateman; "a friend of mine knows him, and happening to call on him soon after you went down, had the whole story from him. He spoke most kindly of you, and in the highest terms; said that it was deplorable how much your mind was warped by the prevalent opinions, and that he should not be surprised if it turned out you were a Romanist even while you were at St. Saviour's; anyhow, that you would be one day a Romanist for certain, for that you held that the saints reigning with Christ interceded for us in heaven. But what was stronger, when the report got about, Sheffield said that he was not surprised at it, that he always prophesied it." "I am much obliged to him," said Charles. "However, you warrant me," said Bateman, "to contradict it--so I understand you--to contradict it peremptorily; that's enough for me. It's a great relief; it's very satisfactory. Well, I must be going." "I don't like to seem to drive you away," said Charles, "but really you must be going if you want to get home before nightfall. I hope you don't feel lonely or overworked where you are. If you are so at any time, don't scruple to drop in to dinner here; nay, we can take you in for a night, if you wish it." Bateman thanked him, and they proceeded to the hall-door together; when they were nearly parting, Bateman stopped and said, "Do you know, I should like to lend you some books to read. Let me send up to you Bramhall's Works, Thorndike, Barrow on the Unity of the Church, and Leslie's Dialogues on Romanism. I could name others, but content myself with these at present. They perfectly settle the matter; you can't help being convinced. I'll not say a word more; good-bye to you, good-bye." CHAPTER XV. Much as Charles loved and prized the company of his mother and sisters he was not sorry to have gentlemen's society, so he accepted with pleasure an invitation which Bateman sent him to dine with him at Melford. Also he wished to show Bateman, what no protestation could effect, how absurdly exaggerated were the reports which were circulated about him. And as the said Bateman, with all his want of common sense, was really a well-informed man, and well read in English divines, he thought he might incidentally hear something from him which he could turn to account. When he got to Melford he found a Mr. Campbell had been asked to meet him; a young Cambridge rector of a neighbouring parish, of the same religious sentiments on the whole as Bateman, and, though a little positive, a man of clear head and vigorous mind. They had been going over the church; and the conversation at dinner turned on the revival of Gothic architecture--an event which gave unmixed satisfaction to all parties. The subject would have died out, almost as soon as it was started, for want of a difference upon it, had not Bateman happily gone on boldly to declare that, if he had his will, there should be no architecture in the English churches but Gothic, and no music but Gregorian. This was a good thesis, distinctly put, and gave scope for a very pretty quarrel. Reding said that all these adjuncts of worship, whether music or architecture, were national; they were the mode in which religious feeling showed itself in particular times and places. He did not mean to say that the outward expression of religion in a country might not be guided, but it could not be forced; that it was as preposterous to make people worship in one's own way, as be merry in one's own way. "The Greeks," he said, "cut the hair in grief, the Romans let it grow; the Orientals veiled their heads in worship, the Greeks uncovered them; Christians take off their hats in a church, Mahometans their shoes; a long veil is a sign of modesty in Europe, of immodesty in Asia. You may as well try to change the size of people, as their forms of worship. Bateman, we must cut you down a foot, and then you shall begin your ecclesiastical reforms." "But surely, my worthy friend," answered Bateman, "you don't mean to say that there is no natural connexion between internal feeling and outward expression, so that one form is no better than another?" "Far from it," answered Charles; "but let those who confine their music to Gregorians put up crucifixes in the highways. Each is the representative of a particular place or time." "That's what I say of our good friend's short coat and long cassock," said Campbell; "it is a confusion of different times, ancient and modern." "Or of different ideas," said Charles, "the cassock Catholic, the coat Protestant." "The reverse," said Bateman; "the cassock is old Hooker's Anglican habit: the coat comes from Catholic France." "Anyhow, it is what Mr. Reding calls a mixture of ideas," said Campbell; "and that's the difficulty I find in uniting Gothic and Gregorians." "Oh, pardon me," said Bateman, "they are one idea; they are both eminently Catholic." "You can't be more Catholic than Rome, I suppose," said Campbell; "yet there's no Gothic there." "Rome is a peculiar place," said Bateman; "besides, my dear friend, if we do but consider that Rome has corrupted the pure apostolic doctrine, can we wonder that it should have a corrupt architecture?" "Why, then, go to Rome for Gregorians?" said Campbell; "I suspect they are called after Gregory I. Bishop of Rome, whom Protestants consider the first specimen of Antichrist." "It's nothing to us what Protestants think," answered Bateman. "Don't let us quarrel about terms," said Campbell; "both you and I think that Rome has corrupted the faith, whether she is Antichrist or not. You said so yourself just now." "It is true, I did," said Bateman; "but I make a little distinction. The Church of Rome has not _corrupted_ the faith, but has _admitted_ corruptions among her people." "It won't do," answered Campbell; "depend on it, we can't stand our ground in controversy unless we in our hearts think very severely of the Church of Rome." "Why, what's Rome to us?" asked Bateman; "we come from the old British Church; we don't meddle with Rome, and we wish Rome not to meddle with us, but she will." "Well," said Campbell, "you but read a bit of the history of the Reformation, and you will find that the doctrine that the Pope is Antichrist was the life of the movement." "With Ultra-Protestants, not with us," answered Bateman. "Such Ultra-Protestants as the writers of the Homilies," said Campbell; "but, I say again, I am not contending for names; I only mean, that as that doctrine was the life of the Reformation, so a belief, which I have and you too, that there is something bad, corrupt, perilous in the Church of Rome--that there is a spirit of Antichrist living in her, energizing in her, and ruling her--is necessary to a man's being a good Anglican. You must believe this, or you ought to go to Rome." "Impossible! my dear friend," said Bateman; "all our doctrine has been that Rome and we are sister Churches." "I say," said Campbell, "that without this strong repulsion you will not withstand the great claims, the overcoming attractions, of the Church of Rome. She is our mother--oh, that word 'mother!'--a mighty mother! She opens her arms--oh, the fragrance of that bosom! She is full of gifts--I feel it, I have long felt it. Why don't I rush into her arms? Because I feel that she is ruled by a spirit which is not she. But did that distrust of her go from me, was that certainty which I have of her corruption disproved, I should join her communion to-morrow." "This is not very edifying doctrine for Reding," thought Bateman. "Oh, my good Campbell," he said, "you are paradoxical to-day." "Not a bit of it," answered Campbell; "our Reformers felt that the only way in which they could break the tie of allegiance which bound us to Rome was the doctrine of her serious corruption. And so it is with our divines. If there is one doctrine in which they agree, it is that Rome is Antichrist, or an Antichrist. Depend upon it, that doctrine is necessary for our position." "I don't quite understand that language," said Reding; "I see it is used in various publications. It implies that controversy is a game, and that disputants are not looking out for truth, but for arguments." "You must not mistake me, Mr. Reding," answered Campbell; "all I mean is, that you have no leave to trifle with your conviction that Rome is antichristian, if you think so. For if it _is_ so, it is necessary to _say_ so. A poet says, 'Speak _gently_ of our sister's _fall_:' no, if it is a fall, we must not speak gently of it. At first one says, 'So great a Church! who am I, to speak against her?' Yes, you must, if your view of her is true: 'Tell truth and shame the Devil.' Recollect you don't use your own words; you are sanctioned, protected by all our divines. You must, else you can give no sufficient reason for not joining the Church of Rome. You must speak out, not what you _don't_ think, but what you _do_ think, _if_ you do think it." "Here's a doctrine!" thought Charles; "why it's putting the controversy into a nutshell." Bateman interposed. "My dear Campbell," he said, "you are behind the day. We have given up all that abuse against Rome." "Then the party is not so clever as I give them credit for being," answered Campbell; "be sure of this,--those who have given up their protests against Rome, either are looking towards her, or have no eyes to see." "All we say," answered Bateman, "is, as I said before, that _we_ don't wish to interfere with Rome; _we_ don't anathematize Rome--Rome anathematizes _us_." "It won't do," said Campbell; "those who resolve to remain in our Church, and are using sweet words of Romanism, will be forced back upon their proper ground in spite of themselves, and will get no thanks for their pains. No man can serve two masters; either go to Rome, or condemn Rome. For me, the Romish Church has a great deal in it which I can't get over; and thinking so, much as I admire it in parts, I can't help speaking, I can't help it. It would not be honest, and it would not be consistent." "Well, he has ended better than he began," thought Bateman; and he chimed in, "Oh yes, true, too true; it's painful to see it, but there's a great deal in the Church of Rome which no man of plain sense, no reader of the Fathers, no Scripture student, no true member of the Anglo-Catholic Church can possibly stomach." This put a corona on the discussion; and the rest of the dinner passed off pleasantly indeed, but not very intellectually. CHAPTER XVI. After dinner it occurred to them that the subject of Gregorians and Gothic had been left in the lurch. "How in the world did we get off it?" asked Charles. "Well, at least, we have found it," said Bateman; "and I really should like to hear what you have to say upon it, Campbell." "Oh, really, Bateman," answered he, "I am quite sick of the subject; every one seems to me to be going into extremes: what's the good of arguing about it? you won't agree with me." "I don't see that at all," answered Bateman; "people often think they differ, merely because they have not courage to talk to each other." "A good remark," thought Charles; "what a pity that Bateman, with so much sense, should have so little common sense!" "Well, then," said Campbell, "my quarrel with Gothic and Gregorians, when coupled together, is, that they are two ideas, not one. Have figured music in Gothic churches, keep your Gregorian for basilicas." "My good Campbell," said Bateman, "you seem oblivious that Gregorian chants and hymns have always accompanied Gothic aisles, Gothic copes, Gothic mitres, and Gothic chalices." "Our ancestors did what they could," answered Campbell; "they were great in architecture, small in music. They could not use what was not yet invented. They sang Gregorians because they had not Palestrina." "A paradox, a paradox!" cried Bateman. "Surely there is a close connexion," answered Campbell, "between the rise and nature of the basilica and of Gregorian unison.

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what grief was, not so long ago; but not till now had she known anxiety. Charles's state of mind was a matter of simple astonishment to her. At first it quite frightened and shocked her; it was as if Charles had lost his identity, and had turned out some one else. It was like a great breach of trust. She had seen there was a good deal in the newspapers about the "Oxford party" and their doings; and at different places, where she had been on visits, she had heard of churches being done up in the new fashion, and clergymen being accused, in consequence, of Popery--a charge which she had laughed at. But now it was actually brought home to her door that there was something in it. Yet it was to her incomprehensible, and she hardly knew where she was. And that, of all persons in the world, her brother, her own Charles, with whom she had been one heart and soul all their lives--one so cheerful, so religious, so good, so sensible, so cautious,--that he should be the first specimen that crossed her path of the new opinions,--it bewildered her. And where _had_ he got his notions?--Notions! she could not call them notions; he had nothing to say for himself. It was an infatuation; he, so clever, so sharp-sighted, could say nothing better in defence of himself than that Mrs. Bishop of Monmouth was too pretty, and that old Dr. Stock sat upon a cushion. Oh, sad, sad indeed! How was it he could be so insensible to the blessings he gained from his Church, and had enjoyed all his life? What could he need? _She_ had no need at all: going to church was a pleasure to her. She liked to hear the Lessons and the Collects, coming round year after year, and marking the seasons. The historical books and prophets in summer; then the "stir-up" Collect just before Advent; the beautiful Collects in Advent itself, with the Lessons from Isaiah reaching on through Epiphany; they were quite music to the ear. Then the Psalms, varying with every Sunday; they were a perpetual solace to her, ever old yet ever new. The occasional additions, too--the Athanasian Creed, the Benedictus, Deus misereatur, and Omnia opera, which her father had been used to read at certain great feasts; and the beautiful Litany. What could he want more? where could he find so much? Well, it was a mystery to her; and she could only feel thankful that _she_ was not exposed to the temptations, whatever they were, which had acted on the powerful mind of her brother. Then, she had anticipated how pleasant it would be when Charles was a clergyman, and she should hear him preach; when there would be one whom she would have a right to ask questions and to consult whenever she wished. This prospect was at an end; she could no longer trust him: he had given a shake to her confidence which it never could recover; it was gone for ever. They were all of them women but he; he was their only stay, now that her father had been taken away. What was now to become of them? To be abandoned by her own brother! oh, how terrible! And how was she to break it to her mother? for broken it must be sooner or later. She could not deceive herself; she knew her brother well enough to feel sure that, when he had really got hold of a thing, he would not let it go again without convincing reasons; and what reasons there could be for letting it go she could not conceive, if there could be reasons for taking it up. The taking it up baffled all reason, all calculation. Well, but how was her mother to be told of it? Was it better to let her suspect it first, and so break it to her, or to wait till the event happened? The problem was too difficult for the present, and she must leave it. This was her state for several days, till her fever of mind gradually subsided into a state of which a dull anxiety was a latent but habitual element, leaving her as usual at ordinary times, but every now and then betraying itself by sudden sharp sighs or wanderings of thought. Neither brother nor sister, loving each other really as much as ever, had quite the same sweetness and evenness of temper as was natural to them; self-control became a duty, and the evening circle was duller than before, without any one being able to say why. Charles was more attentive to his mother; he no more brought his books into the drawing-room, but gave himself to her company. He read to them, but he had little to talk about; and Eliza and Caroline both wished his stupid examination, past and over, that he might be restored to his natural liveliness. As to Mrs. Reding, she did not observe more than that her son was a very hard student, and grudged himself a walk or ride, let the day be ever so fine. She was a mild, quiet person, of keen feelings and precise habits; not very quick at observation; and, having lived all her life in the country, and till her late loss having scarcely known what trouble was, she was singularly unable to comprehend how things could go on in any way but one. Charles had not told her the real cause of his spending the winter at home, thinking it would be a needless vexation to her; much less did he contemplate harassing her with the recital of his own religious difficulties, which were not appreciable by her, and issued in no definite result. To his sister he did attempt an explanation of his former conversation, with a view of softening the extreme misgivings which it had created in her mind. She received it thankfully, and professed to be relieved by it; but the blow was struck, the suspicion was lodged deep in her mind--he was still Charles, dear to her as ever, but she never could rid herself of the anticipation which on that occasion she had expressed. CHAPTER XIV. One morning he was told that a gentleman had asked for him, and been shown into the dining-room. Descending, he saw the tall slender figure of Bateman, now a clergyman, and lately appointed curate of a neighbouring parish. Charles had not seen him for a year and a half, and shook hands with him very warmly, complimenting him on his white neckcloth, which somehow, he said, altered him more than he could have expected. Bateman's manner certainly was altered; it might be the accident of the day, but he did not seem quite at his ease; it might be that he was in a strange house, and was likely soon to be precipitated into the company of ladies, to which he had never been used. If so, the trial was on the point of beginning, for Charles said instantly that he must come and see his mother, and of course meant to dine with them; the sky was clear, and there was an excellent footpath between Boughton and Melford. Bateman could not do this, but he would have the greatest pleasure in being introduced to Mrs. Reding; so he stumbled after Charles into the drawing-room, and was soon conversing with her and the young ladies. "A charming prospect you have here, ma'am," said Bateman, "when you are once inside the house. It does not promise outside so extensive a view." "No, it is shut in with trees," said Mrs. Reding; "and the brow of the hill changes its direction so much that at first I used to think the prospect ought to be from the opposite windows." "What is that high hill?" said Bateman. "It is Hart Hill," said Charles; "there's a Roman camp atop of it." "We can see eight steeples from our windows," said Mrs. Reding;--"ring the bell for luncheon, my dear." "Ah, our ancestors, Mrs. Reding," said Bateman, "thought more of building churches than we do; or rather than we have done, I should say, for now it is astonishing what efforts are made to add to our ecclesiastical structures." "Our ancestors did a good deal too," said Mrs. Reding; "how many churches, my dear, were built in London in Queen Anne's time? St. Martin's was one of them." "Fifty," said Eliza. "Fifty were intended," said Charles. "Yes, Mrs. Reding," said Bateman; "but by ancestors I meant the holy Bishops and other members of our Catholic Church previously to the Reformation. For, though the Reformation was a great blessing" (a glance at Charles), "yet we must not, in justice, forget what was done by English Churchmen before it." "Ah, poor creatures," said Mrs. Reding, "they did one good thing in building churches; it has saved us much trouble." "Is there much church-restoration going on in these parts?" said Bateman, taken rather aback. "My mother has but lately come here, like yourself," said Charles; "yes, there is some; Barton Church, you know," appealing to Mary. "Have your walks extended so far as Barton?" said Mary to Bateman. "Not yet, Miss Reding, not yet," answered he; "of course they are destroying the pews." "They are to put in seats," said Charles, "and of a very good pattern." "Pews are intolerable," said Bateman; "yet the last generation of incumbents contentedly bore them; it is wonderful!" A not unnatural silence followed this speech. Charles broke it by asking if Bateman intended to do anything in the improvement line at Melford. Bateman looked modest. "Nothing of any consequence," he said; "some few things were done; but he had a rector of the old school, poor man, who was an enemy to that sort of thing." It was with some malicious feeling, in consequence of his attack on clergymen of the past age, that Charles pressed his visitor to give an account of his own reforms. "Why," said Bateman, "much discretion is necessary in these matters, or you do as much harm as good; you get into hot water with churchwardens and vestries, as well as with old rectors, and again with the gentry of the place, and please no one. For this reason I have made no attempt to introduce the surplice into the pulpit except on the great festivals, intending to familiarize my parishioners to it by little and little. However, I wear a scarf or stole, and have taken care that it should be two inches broader than usual; and I always wear the cassock in my parish. I hope you approve of the cassock, Mrs. Reding?" "It is a very cold dress, sir--that's my opinion--when made of silk or bombazeen; and very unbecoming too, when worn by itself." "Particularly behind," said Charles; "it is quite unshapely." "Oh, I have remedied that," said Bateman; "you have noticed, Miss Reding, I dare say, the Bishop's short cassock. It comes to the knees, and looks much like a continuation of a waistcoat, the straight-cut coat being worn as usual. Well, Miss Reding, I have adopted the same plan with the long cassock; I put my coat over it." Mary had difficulty to keep from smiling; Charles laughed out. "Impossible, Bateman," he said; "you don't mean you wear your tailed French coat over your long straight cassock reaching to your ankles?" "Certainly," said Bateman gravely; "I thus consult for warmth and appearance too; and all my parishioners are sure to know me. I think this a great point, Miss Reding: I hear the little boys as I pass say, 'That's the parson.'" "I'll be bound they do," said Charles. "Well," said Mrs. Reding, surprised out of her propriety, "did one ever hear the like!" Bateman looked round at her, startled and frightened. "You were going to speak of your improvements in your church," said Mary, wishing to divert his attention from her mother. "Ah, true, Miss Reding, true," said Bateman, "thank you for reminding me; I have digressed to improvements in my own dress. I should have liked to have pulled down the galleries and lowered the high pews; that, however, I could not do. So I have lowered the pulpit some six feet. Now by doing so, first I give a pattern in my own person of the kind of condescension or lowliness to which I would persuade my people. But this is not all; for the consequence of lowering the pulpit is, that no one in the galleries can see or hear me preach; and this is a bonus on those who are below." "It's a broad hint, certainly," said Charles. "But it's a hint for those below also," continued Bateman; "for no one can see or hear me in the pews either, till the sides are lowered." "One thing only is wanting besides," said Charles, smiling and looking amiable, lest he should be saying too much; "since you are full tall, you must kneel when you preach, Bateman, else you will undo your own alterations." Bateman looked pleased. "I have anticipated you," he said; "I preach sitting. It is more comformable to antiquity and to reason to sit than to stand." "With these precautions," said Charles, "I really think you might have ventured on your surplice in the pulpit every Sunday. Are your parishioners contented?" "Oh, not at all, far from it," cried Bateman; "but they can do nothing. The alteration is so simple." "Nothing besides?" asked Charles. "Nothing in the architectural way," answered he; "but one thing more in the way of observances. I have fortunately picked up a very fair copy of Jewell, black-letter; and I have placed it in church, securing it with a chain to the wall, for any poor person who wishes to read it. Our church is emphatically the 'poor man's church,' Mrs. Reding." "Well," said Charles to himself, "I'll back the old parsons against the young ones any day, if this is to be their cut." Then aloud: "Come, you must see our garden; take up your hat, and let's have a turn in it. There's a very nice terrace-walk at the upper end." Bateman accordingly, having been thus trotted out for the amusement of the ladies, was now led off again, and was soon in the aforesaid terrace-walk, pacing up and down in earnest conversation with Charles. "Reding, my good fellow," said he, "what is the meaning of this report concerning you, which is everywhere about?" "I have not heard it," said Charles abruptly. "Why, it is this," said Bateman; "I wish to approach the subject with as great delicacy as possible: don't tell me if you don't like it, or tell me just as much as you like; yet you will excuse an old friend. They say you are going to leave the Church of your baptism for the Church of Rome." "Is it widely spread?" asked Charles coolly. "Oh, yes; I heard it in London; have had a letter mentioning it from Oxford; and a friend of mine heard it given out as positive at a visitation dinner in Wales." "So," thought Charles, "you are bringing _your_ witness against me as well as the rest." "Well but, my good Reding," said Bateman, "why are you silent? is it true--is it true?" "What true? that I am a Roman Catholic? Oh, certainly; don't you understand, that's why I am reading so hard for the schools?" said Charles. "Come, be serious for a moment, Reding," said Bateman, "do be serious. Will you empower me to contradict the report, or to negative it to a certain point, or in any respect?" "Oh, to be sure," said Charles, "contradict it, by all means, contradict it entirely." "May I give it a plain, unqualified, unconditional, categorical, flat denial?" asked Bateman. "Of course, of course." Bateman could not make him out, and had not a dream how he was teasing him. "I don't know where to find you," he said. They paced down the walk in silence. Bateman began again. "You see," he said, "it would be such a wonderful blindness, it would be so utterly inexcusable in a person like yourself, who had known _what_ the Church of England was; not a Dissenter, not an unlettered layman; but one who had been at Oxford, who had come across so many excellent men, who had seen what the Church of England could be, her grave beauty, her orderly and decent activity; who had seen churches decorated as they should be, with candlesticks, ciboriums, faldstools, lecterns, antependiums, piscinas, rood-lofts, and sedilia; who, in fact, had seen the Church Service _carried out_, and could desiderate nothing;--tell me, my dear good Reding," taking hold of his button-hole, "what is it you want--what is it? name it." "That you would take yourself off," Charles would have said, had he spoken his mind; he merely said, however, that really he desiderated nothing but to be believed when he said that he had no intention of leaving his own Church. Bateman was incredulous, and thought him close. "Perhaps you are not aware," he said, "how much is known of the circumstances of your being sent down. The old Principal was full of the subject." "What! I suppose he told people right and left," said Reding. "Oh, yes," answered Bateman; "a friend of mine knows him, and happening to call on him soon after you went down, had the whole story from him. He spoke most kindly of you, and in the highest terms; said that it was deplorable how much your mind was warped by the prevalent opinions, and that he should not be surprised if it turned out you were a Romanist even while you were at St. Saviour's; anyhow, that you would be one day a Romanist for certain, for that you held that the saints reigning with Christ interceded for us in heaven. But what was stronger, when the report got about, Sheffield said that he was not surprised at it, that he always prophesied it." "I am much obliged to him," said Charles. "However, you warrant me," said Bateman, "to contradict it--so I understand you--to contradict it peremptorily; that's enough for me. It's a great relief; it's very satisfactory. Well, I must be going." "I don't like to seem to drive you away," said Charles, "but really you must be going if you want to get home before nightfall. I hope you don't feel lonely or overworked where you are. If you are so at any time, don't scruple to drop in to dinner here; nay, we can take you in for a night, if you wish it." Bateman thanked him, and they proceeded to the hall-door together; when they were nearly parting, Bateman stopped and said, "Do you know, I should like to lend you some books to read. Let me send up to you Bramhall's Works, Thorndike, Barrow on the Unity of the Church, and Leslie's Dialogues on Romanism. I could name others, but content myself with these at present. They perfectly settle the matter; you can't help being convinced. I'll not say a word more; good-bye to you, good-bye." CHAPTER XV. Much as Charles loved and prized the company of his mother and sisters he was not sorry to have gentlemen's society, so he accepted with pleasure an invitation which Bateman sent him to dine with him at Melford. Also he wished to show Bateman, what no protestation could effect, how absurdly exaggerated were the reports which were circulated about him. And as the said Bateman, with all his want of common sense, was really a well-informed man, and well read in English divines, he thought he might incidentally hear something from him which he could turn to account. When he got to Melford he found a Mr. Campbell had been asked to meet him; a young Cambridge rector of a neighbouring parish, of the same religious sentiments on the whole as Bateman, and, though a little positive, a man of clear head and vigorous mind. They had been going over the church; and the conversation at dinner turned on the revival of Gothic architecture--an event which gave unmixed satisfaction to all parties. The subject would have died out, almost as soon as it was started, for want of a difference upon it, had not Bateman happily gone on boldly to declare that, if he had his will, there should be no architecture in the English churches but Gothic, and no music but Gregorian. This was a good thesis, distinctly put, and gave scope for a very pretty quarrel. Reding said that all these adjuncts of worship, whether music or architecture, were national; they were the mode in which religious feeling showed itself in particular times and places. He did not mean to say that the outward expression of religion in a country might not be guided, but it could not be forced; that it was as preposterous to make people worship in one's own way, as be merry in one's own way. "The Greeks," he said, "cut the hair in grief, the Romans let it grow; the Orientals veiled their heads in worship, the Greeks uncovered them; Christians take off their hats in a church, Mahometans their shoes; a long veil is a sign of modesty in Europe, of immodesty in Asia. You may as well try to change the size of people, as their forms of worship. Bateman, we must cut you down a foot, and then you shall begin your ecclesiastical reforms." "But surely, my worthy friend," answered Bateman, "you don't mean to say that there is no natural connexion between internal feeling and outward expression, so that one form is no better than another?" "Far from it," answered Charles; "but let those who confine their music to Gregorians put up crucifixes in the highways. Each is the representative of a particular place or time." "That's what I say of our good friend's short coat and long cassock," said Campbell; "it is a confusion of different times, ancient and modern." "Or of different ideas," said Charles, "the cassock Catholic, the coat Protestant." "The reverse," said Bateman; "the cassock is old Hooker's Anglican habit: the coat comes from Catholic France." "Anyhow, it is what Mr. Reding calls a mixture of ideas," said Campbell; "and that's the difficulty I find in uniting Gothic and Gregorians." "Oh, pardon me," said Bateman, "they are one idea; they are both eminently Catholic." "You can't be more Catholic than Rome, I suppose," said Campbell; "yet there's no Gothic there." "Rome is a peculiar place," said Bateman; "besides, my dear friend, if we do but consider that Rome has corrupted the pure apostolic doctrine, can we wonder that it should have a corrupt architecture?" "Why, then, go to Rome for Gregorians?" said Campbell; "I suspect they are called after Gregory I. Bishop of Rome, whom Protestants consider the first specimen of Antichrist." "It's nothing to us what Protestants think," answered Bateman. "Don't let us quarrel about terms," said Campbell; "both you and I think that Rome has corrupted the faith, whether she is Antichrist or not. You said so yourself just now." "It is true, I did," said Bateman; "but I make a little distinction. The Church of Rome has not _corrupted_ the faith, but has _admitted_ corruptions among her people." "It won't do," answered Campbell; "depend on it, we can't stand our ground in controversy unless we in our hearts think very severely of the Church of Rome." "Why, what's Rome to us?" asked Bateman; "we come from the old British Church; we don't meddle with Rome, and we wish Rome not to meddle with us, but she will." "Well," said Campbell, "you but read a bit of the history of the Reformation, and you will find that the doctrine that the Pope is Antichrist was the life of the movement." "With Ultra-Protestants, not with us," answered Bateman. "Such Ultra-Protestants as the writers of the Homilies," said Campbell; "but, I say again, I am not contending for names; I only mean, that as that doctrine was the life of the Reformation, so a belief, which I have and you too, that there is something bad, corrupt, perilous in the Church of Rome--that there is a spirit of Antichrist living in her, energizing in her, and ruling her--is necessary to a man's being a good Anglican. You must believe this, or you ought to go to Rome." "Impossible! my dear friend," said Bateman; "all our doctrine has been that Rome and we are sister Churches." "I say," said Campbell, "that without this strong repulsion you will not withstand the great claims, the overcoming attractions, of the Church of Rome. She is our mother--oh, that word 'mother!'--a mighty mother! She opens her arms--oh, the fragrance of that bosom! She is full of gifts--I feel it, I have long felt it. Why don't I rush into her arms? Because I feel that she is ruled by a spirit which is not she. But did that distrust of her go from me, was that certainty which I have of her corruption disproved, I should join her communion to-morrow." "This is not very edifying doctrine for Reding," thought Bateman. "Oh, my good Campbell," he said, "you are paradoxical to-day." "Not a bit of it," answered Campbell; "our Reformers felt that the only way in which they could break the tie of allegiance which bound us to Rome was the doctrine of her serious corruption. And so it is with our divines. If there is one doctrine in which they agree, it is that Rome is Antichrist, or an Antichrist. Depend upon it, that doctrine is necessary for our position." "I don't quite understand that language," said Reding; "I see it is used in various publications. It implies that controversy is a game, and that disputants are not looking out for truth, but for arguments." "You must not mistake me, Mr. Reding," answered Campbell; "all I mean is, that you have no leave to trifle with your conviction that Rome is antichristian, if you think so. For if it _is_ so, it is necessary to _say_ so. A poet says, 'Speak _gently_ of our sister's _fall_:' no, if it is a fall, we must not speak gently of it. At first one says, 'So great a Church! who am I, to speak against her?' Yes, you must, if your view of her is true: 'Tell truth and shame the Devil.' Recollect you don't use your own words; you are sanctioned, protected by all our divines. You must, else you can give no sufficient reason for not joining the Church of Rome. You must speak out, not what you _don't_ think, but what you _do_ think, _if_ you do think it." "Here's a doctrine!" thought Charles; "why it's putting the controversy into a nutshell." Bateman interposed. "My dear Campbell," he said, "you are behind the day. We have given up all that abuse against Rome." "Then the party is not so clever as I give them credit for being," answered Campbell; "be sure of this,--those who have given up their protests against Rome, either are looking towards her, or have no eyes to see." "All we say," answered Bateman, "is, as I said before, that _we_ don't wish to interfere with Rome; _we_ don't anathematize Rome--Rome anathematizes _us_." "It won't do," said Campbell; "those who resolve to remain in our Church, and are using sweet words of Romanism, will be forced back upon their proper ground in spite of themselves, and will get no thanks for their pains. No man can serve two masters; either go to Rome, or condemn Rome. For me, the Romish Church has a great deal in it which I can't get over; and thinking so, much as I admire it in parts, I can't help speaking, I can't help it. It would not be honest, and it would not be consistent." "Well, he has ended better than he began," thought Bateman; and he chimed in, "Oh yes, true, too true; it's painful to see it, but there's a great deal in the Church of Rome which no man of plain sense, no reader of the Fathers, no Scripture student, no true member of the Anglo-Catholic Church can possibly stomach." This put a corona on the discussion; and the rest of the dinner passed off pleasantly indeed, but not very intellectually. CHAPTER XVI. After dinner it occurred to them that the subject of Gregorians and Gothic had been left in the lurch. "How in the world did we get off it?" asked Charles. "Well, at least, we have found it," said Bateman; "and I really should like to hear what you have to say upon it, Campbell." "Oh, really, Bateman," answered he, "I am quite sick of the subject; every one seems to me to be going into extremes: what's the good of arguing about it? you won't agree with me." "I don't see that at all," answered Bateman; "people often think they differ, merely because they have not courage to talk to each other." "A good remark," thought Charles; "what a pity that Bateman, with so much sense, should have so little common sense!" "Well, then," said Campbell, "my quarrel with Gothic and Gregorians, when coupled together, is, that they are two ideas, not one. Have figured music in Gothic churches, keep your Gregorian for basilicas." "My good Campbell," said Bateman, "you seem oblivious that Gregorian chants and hymns have always accompanied Gothic aisles, Gothic copes, Gothic mitres, and Gothic chalices." "Our ancestors did what they could," answered Campbell; "they were great in architecture, small in music. They could not use what was not yet invented. They sang Gregorians because they had not Palestrina." "A paradox, a paradox!" cried Bateman. "Surely there is a close connexion," answered Campbell, "between the rise and nature of the basilica and of Gregorian unison.

offended

How many times the word 'offended' appears in the text?

what immediately followed of the basis of their disagreement, and his persisting to act in direct opposition to Jane Fairfax's sense of right, he made a fuller pause to say, "This is very bad.--He had induced her to place herself, for his sake, in a situation of extreme difficulty and uneasiness, and it should have been his first object to prevent her from suffering unnecessarily.--She must have had much more to contend with, in carrying on the correspondence, than he could. He should have respected even unreasonable scruples, had there been such; but hers were all reasonable. We must look to her one fault, and remember that she had done a wrong thing in consenting to the engagement, to bear that she should have been in such a state of punishment." Emma knew that he was now getting to the Box Hill party, and grew uncomfortable. Her own behaviour had been so very improper! She was deeply ashamed, and a little afraid of his next look. It was all read, however, steadily, attentively, and without the smallest remark; and, excepting one momentary glance at her, instantly withdrawn, in the fear of giving pain--no remembrance of Box Hill seemed to exist. "There is no saying much for the delicacy of our good friends, the Eltons," was his next observation.--"His feelings are natural.--What! actually resolve to break with him entirely!--She felt the engagement to be a source of repentance and misery to each--she dissolved it.--What a view this gives of her sense of his behaviour!--Well, he must be a most extraordinary--" "Nay, nay, read on.--You will find how very much he suffers." "I hope he does," replied Mr. Knightley coolly, and resuming the letter. "'Smallridge!'--What does this mean? What is all this?" "She had engaged to go as governess to Mrs. Smallridge's children--a dear friend of Mrs. Elton's--a neighbour of Maple Grove; and, by the bye, I wonder how Mrs. Elton bears the disappointment?" "Say nothing, my dear Emma, while you oblige me to read--not even of Mrs. Elton. Only one page more. I shall soon have done. What a letter the man writes!" "I wish you would read it with a kinder spirit towards him." "Well, there _is_ feeling here.--He does seem to have suffered in finding her ill.--Certainly, I can have no doubt of his being fond of her. 'Dearer, much dearer than ever.' I hope he may long continue to feel all the value of such a reconciliation.--He is a very liberal thanker, with his thousands and tens of thousands.--'Happier than I deserve.' Come, he knows himself there. 'Miss Woodhouse calls me the child of good fortune.'--Those were Miss Woodhouse's words, were they?-- And a fine ending--and there is the letter. The child of good fortune! That was your name for him, was it?" "You do not appear so well satisfied with his letter as I am; but still you must, at least I hope you must, think the better of him for it. I hope it does him some service with you." "Yes, certainly it does. He has had great faults, faults of inconsideration and thoughtlessness; and I am very much of his opinion in thinking him likely to be happier than he deserves: but still as he is, beyond a doubt, really attached to Miss Fairfax, and will soon, it may be hoped, have the advantage of being constantly with her, I am very ready to believe his character will improve, and acquire from hers the steadiness and delicacy of principle that it wants. And now, let me talk to you of something else. I have another person's interest at present so much at heart, that I cannot think any longer about Frank Churchill. Ever since I left you this morning, Emma, my mind has been hard at work on one subject." The subject followed; it was in plain, unaffected, gentlemanlike English, such as Mr. Knightley used even to the woman he was in love with, how to be able to ask her to marry him, without attacking the happiness of her father. Emma's answer was ready at the first word. "While her dear father lived, any change of condition must be impossible for her. She could never quit him." Part only of this answer, however, was admitted. The impossibility of her quitting her father, Mr. Knightley felt as strongly as herself; but the inadmissibility of any other change, he could not agree to. He had been thinking it over most deeply, most intently; he had at first hoped to induce Mr. Woodhouse to remove with her to Donwell; he had wanted to believe it feasible, but his knowledge of Mr. Woodhouse would not suffer him to deceive himself long; and now he confessed his persuasion, that such a transplantation would be a risk of her father's comfort, perhaps even of his life, which must not be hazarded. Mr. Woodhouse taken from Hartfield!--No, he felt that it ought not to be attempted. But the plan which had arisen on the sacrifice of this, he trusted his dearest Emma would not find in any respect objectionable; it was, that he should be received at Hartfield; that so long as her father's happiness--in other words, his life--required Hartfield to continue her home, it should be his likewise. Of their all removing to Donwell, Emma had already had her own passing thoughts. Like him, she had tried the scheme and rejected it; but such an alternative as this had not occurred to her. She was sensible of all the affection it evinced. She felt that, in quitting Donwell, he must be sacrificing a great deal of independence of hours and habits; that in living constantly with her father, and in no house of his own, there would be much, very much, to be borne with. She promised to think of it, and advised him to think of it more; but he was fully convinced, that no reflection could alter his wishes or his opinion on the subject. He had given it, he could assure her, very long and calm consideration; he had been walking away from William Larkins the whole morning, to have his thoughts to himself. "Ah! there is one difficulty unprovided for," cried Emma. "I am sure William Larkins will not like it. You must get his consent before you ask mine." She promised, however, to think of it; and pretty nearly promised, moreover, to think of it, with the intention of finding it a very good scheme. It is remarkable, that Emma, in the many, very many, points of view in which she was now beginning to consider Donwell Abbey, was never struck with any sense of injury to her nephew Henry, whose rights as heir-expectant had formerly been so tenaciously regarded. Think she must of the possible difference to the poor little boy; and yet she only gave herself a saucy conscious smile about it, and found amusement in detecting the real cause of that violent dislike of Mr. Knightley's marrying Jane Fairfax, or any body else, which at the time she had wholly imputed to the amiable solicitude of the sister and the aunt. This proposal of his, this plan of marrying and continuing at Hartfield--the more she contemplated it, the more pleasing it became. His evils seemed to lessen, her own advantages to increase, their mutual good to outweigh every drawback. Such a companion for herself in the periods of anxiety and cheerlessness before her!--Such a partner in all those duties and cares to which time must be giving increase of melancholy! She would have been too happy but for poor Harriet; but every blessing of her own seemed to involve and advance the sufferings of her friend, who must now be even excluded from Hartfield. The delightful family party which Emma was securing for herself, poor Harriet must, in mere charitable caution, be kept at a distance from. She would be a loser in every way. Emma could not deplore her future absence as any deduction from her own enjoyment. In such a party, Harriet would be rather a dead weight than otherwise; but for the poor girl herself, it seemed a peculiarly cruel necessity that was to be placing her in such a state of unmerited punishment. In time, of course, Mr. Knightley would be forgotten, that is, supplanted; but this could not be expected to happen very early. Mr. Knightley himself would be doing nothing to assist the cure;--not like Mr. Elton. Mr. Knightley, always so kind, so feeling, so truly considerate for every body, would never deserve to be less worshipped than now; and it really was too much to hope even of Harriet, that she could be in love with more than _three_ men in one year. CHAPTER XVI It was a very great relief to Emma to find Harriet as desirous as herself to avoid a meeting. Their intercourse was painful enough by letter. How much worse, had they been obliged to meet! Harriet expressed herself very much as might be supposed, without reproaches, or apparent sense of ill-usage; and yet Emma fancied there was a something of resentment, a something bordering on it in her style, which increased the desirableness of their being separate.--It might be only her own consciousness; but it seemed as if an angel only could have been quite without resentment under such a stroke. She had no difficulty in procuring Isabella's invitation; and she was fortunate in having a sufficient reason for asking it, without resorting to invention.--There was a tooth amiss. Harriet really wished, and had wished some time, to consult a dentist. Mrs. John Knightley was delighted to be of use; any thing of ill health was a recommendation to her--and though not so fond of a dentist as of a Mr. Wingfield, she was quite eager to have Harriet under her care.--When it was thus settled on her sister's side, Emma proposed it to her friend, and found her very persuadable.--Harriet was to go; she was invited for at least a fortnight; she was to be conveyed in Mr. Woodhouse's carriage.--It was all arranged, it was all completed, and Harriet was safe in Brunswick Square. Now Emma could, indeed, enjoy Mr. Knightley's visits; now she could talk, and she could listen with true happiness, unchecked by that sense of injustice, of guilt, of something most painful, which had haunted her when remembering how disappointed a heart was near her, how much might at that moment, and at a little distance, be enduring by the feelings which she had led astray herself. The difference of Harriet at Mrs. Goddard's, or in London, made perhaps an unreasonable difference in Emma's sensations; but she could not think of her in London without objects of curiosity and employment, which must be averting the past, and carrying her out of herself. She would not allow any other anxiety to succeed directly to the place in her mind which Harriet had occupied. There was a communication before her, one which _she_ only could be competent to make--the confession of her engagement to her father; but she would have nothing to do with it at present.--She had resolved to defer the disclosure till Mrs. Weston were safe and well. No additional agitation should be thrown at this period among those she loved--and the evil should not act on herself by anticipation before the appointed time.--A fortnight, at least, of leisure and peace of mind, to crown every warmer, but more agitating, delight, should be hers. She soon resolved, equally as a duty and a pleasure, to employ half an hour of this holiday of spirits in calling on Miss Fairfax.--She ought to go--and she was longing to see her; the resemblance of their present situations increasing every other motive of goodwill. It would be a _secret_ satisfaction; but the consciousness of a similarity of prospect would certainly add to the interest with which she should attend to any thing Jane might communicate. She went--she had driven once unsuccessfully to the door, but had not been into the house since the morning after Box Hill, when poor Jane had been in such distress as had filled her with compassion, though all the worst of her sufferings had been unsuspected.--The fear of being still unwelcome, determined her, though assured of their being at home, to wait in the passage, and send up her name.--She heard Patty announcing it; but no such bustle succeeded as poor Miss Bates had before made so happily intelligible.--No; she heard nothing but the instant reply of, "Beg her to walk up;"--and a moment afterwards she was met on the stairs by Jane herself, coming eagerly forward, as if no other reception of her were felt sufficient.--Emma had never seen her look so well, so lovely, so engaging. There was consciousness, animation, and warmth; there was every thing which her countenance or manner could ever have wanted.-- She came forward with an offered hand; and said, in a low, but very feeling tone, "This is most kind, indeed!--Miss Woodhouse, it is impossible for me to express--I hope you will believe--Excuse me for being so entirely without words." Emma was gratified, and would soon have shewn no want of words, if the sound of Mrs. Elton's voice from the sitting-room had not checked her, and made it expedient to compress all her friendly and all her congratulatory sensations into a very, very earnest shake of the hand. Mrs. Bates and Mrs. Elton were together. Miss Bates was out, which accounted for the previous tranquillity. Emma could have wished Mrs. Elton elsewhere; but she was in a humour to have patience with every body; and as Mrs. Elton met her with unusual graciousness, she hoped the rencontre would do them no harm. She soon believed herself to penetrate Mrs. Elton's thoughts, and understand why she was, like herself, in happy spirits; it was being in Miss Fairfax's confidence, and fancying herself acquainted with what was still a secret to other people. Emma saw symptoms of it immediately in the expression of her face; and while paying her own compliments to Mrs. Bates, and appearing to attend to the good old lady's replies, she saw her with a sort of anxious parade of mystery fold up a letter which she had apparently been reading aloud to Miss Fairfax, and return it into the purple and gold reticule by her side, saying, with significant nods, "We can finish this some other time, you know. You and I shall not want opportunities. And, in fact, you have heard all the essential already. I only wanted to prove to you that Mrs. S. admits our apology, and is not offended. You see how delightfully she writes. Oh! she is a sweet creature! You would have doated on her, had you gone.--But not a word more. Let us be discreet--quite on our good behaviour.--Hush!--You remember those lines--I forget the poem at this moment: "For when a lady's in the case, "You know all other things give place." Now I say, my dear, in _our_ case, for _lady_, read----mum! a word to the wise.--I am in a fine flow of spirits, an't I? But I want to set your heart at ease as to Mrs. S.--_My_ representation, you see, has quite appeased her." And again, on Emma's merely turning her head to look at Mrs. Bates's knitting, she added, in a half whisper, "I mentioned no _names_, you will observe.--Oh! no; cautious as a minister of state. I managed it extremely well." Emma could not doubt. It was a palpable display, repeated on every possible occasion. When they had all talked a little while in harmony of the weather and Mrs. Weston, she found herself abruptly addressed with, "Do not you think, Miss Woodhouse, our saucy little friend here is charmingly recovered?--Do not you think her cure does Perry the highest credit?--(here was a side-glance of great meaning at Jane.) Upon my word, Perry has restored her in a wonderful short time!--Oh! if you had seen her, as I did, when she was at the worst!"--And when Mrs. Bates was saying something to Emma, whispered farther, "We do not say a word of any _assistance_ that Perry might have; not a word of a certain young physician from Windsor.--Oh! no; Perry shall have all the credit." "I have scarce had the pleasure of seeing you, Miss Woodhouse," she shortly afterwards began, "since the party to Box Hill. Very pleasant party. But yet I think there was something wanting. Things did not seem--that is, there seemed a little cloud upon the spirits of some.--So it appeared to me at least, but I might be mistaken. However, I think it answered so far as to tempt one to go again. What say you both to our collecting the same party, and exploring to Box Hill again, while the fine weather lasts?--It must be the same party, you know, quite the same party, not _one_ exception." Soon after this Miss Bates came in, and Emma could not help being diverted by the perplexity of her first answer to herself, resulting, she supposed, from doubt of what might be said, and impatience to say every thing. "Thank you, dear Miss Woodhouse, you are all kindness.--It is impossible to say--Yes, indeed, I quite understand--dearest Jane's prospects--that is, I do not mean.--But she is charmingly recovered.--How is Mr. Woodhouse?--I am so glad.--Quite out of my power.--Such a happy little circle as you find us here.--Yes, indeed.--Charming young man!--that is--so very friendly; I mean good Mr. Perry!--such attention to Jane!"--And from her great, her more than commonly thankful delight towards Mrs. Elton for being there, Emma guessed that there had been a little show of resentment towards Jane, from the vicarage quarter, which was now graciously overcome.--After a few whispers, indeed, which placed it beyond a guess, Mrs. Elton, speaking louder, said, "Yes, here I am, my good friend; and here I have been so long, that anywhere else I should think it necessary to apologise; but, the truth is, that I am waiting for my lord and master. He promised to join me here, and pay his respects to you." "What! are we to have the pleasure of a call from Mr. Elton?--That will be a favour indeed! for I know gentlemen do not like morning visits, and Mr. Elton's time is so engaged." "Upon my word it is, Miss Bates.--He really is engaged from morning to night.--There is no end of people's coming to him, on some pretence or other.--The magistrates, and overseers, and churchwardens, are always wanting his opinion. They seem not able to do any thing without him.--'Upon my word, Mr. E.,' I often say, 'rather you than I.--I do not know what would become of my crayons and my instrument, if I had half so many applicants.'--Bad enough as it is, for I absolutely neglect them both to an unpardonable degree.--I believe I have not played a bar this fortnight.--However, he is coming, I assure you: yes, indeed, on purpose to wait on you all." And putting up her hand to screen her words from Emma--"A congratulatory visit, you know.--Oh! yes, quite indispensable." Miss Bates looked about her, so happily--! "He promised to come to me as soon as he could disengage himself from Knightley; but he and Knightley are shut up together in deep consultation.--Mr. E. is Knightley's right hand." Emma would not have smiled for the world, and only said, "Is Mr. Elton gone on foot to Donwell?--He will have a hot walk." "Oh! no, it is a meeting at the Crown, a regular meeting. Weston and Cole will be there too; but one is apt to speak only of those who lead.--I fancy Mr. E. and Knightley have every thing their own way." "Have not you mistaken the day?" said Emma. "I am almost certain that the meeting at the Crown is not till to-morrow.--Mr. Knightley was at Hartfield yesterday, and spoke of it as for Saturday." "Oh! no, the meeting is certainly to-day," was the abrupt answer, which denoted the impossibility of any blunder on Mrs. Elton's side.--"I do believe," she continued, "this is the most troublesome parish that ever was. We never heard of such things at Maple Grove." "Your parish there was small," said Jane. "Upon my word, my dear, I do not know, for I never heard the subject talked of." "But it is proved by the smallness of the school, which I have heard you speak of, as under the patronage of your sister and Mrs. Bragge; the only school, and not more than five-and-twenty children." "Ah! you clever creature, that's very true. What a thinking brain you have! I say, Jane, what a perfect character you and I should make, if we could be shaken together. My liveliness and your solidity would produce perfection.--Not that I presume to insinuate, however, that _some_ people may not think _you_ perfection already.--But hush!--not a word, if you please." It seemed an unnecessary caution; Jane was wanting to give her words, not to Mrs. Elton, but to Miss Woodhouse, as the latter plainly saw. The wish of distinguishing her, as far as civility permitted, was very evident, though it could not often proceed beyond a look. Mr. Elton made his appearance. His lady greeted him with some of her sparkling vivacity. "Very pretty, sir, upon my word; to send me on here, to be an encumbrance to my friends, so long before you vouchsafe to come!--But you knew what a dutiful creature you had to deal with. You knew I should not stir till my lord and master appeared.--Here have I been sitting this hour, giving these young ladies a sample of true conjugal obedience--for who can say, you know, how soon it may be wanted?" Mr. Elton was so hot and tired, that all this wit seemed thrown away. His civilities to the other ladies must be paid; but his subsequent object was to lament over himself for the heat he was suffering, and the walk he had had for nothing. "When I got to Donwell," said he, "Knightley could not be found. Very odd! very unaccountable! after the note I sent him this morning, and the message he returned, that he should certainly be at home till one." "Donwell!" cried his wife.--"My dear Mr. E., you have not been to Donwell!--You mean the Crown; you come from the meeting at the Crown." "No, no, that's to-morrow; and I particularly wanted to see Knightley to-day on that very account.--Such a dreadful broiling morning!--I went over the fields too--(speaking in a tone of great ill-usage,) which made it so much the worse. And then not to find him at home! I assure you I am not at all pleased. And no apology left, no message for me. The housekeeper declared she knew nothing of my being expected.--Very extraordinary!--And nobody knew at all which way he was gone. Perhaps to Hartfield, perhaps to the Abbey Mill, perhaps into his woods.--Miss Woodhouse, this is not like our friend Knightley!--Can you explain it?" Emma amused herself by protesting that it was very extraordinary, indeed, and that she had not a syllable to say for him. "I cannot imagine," said Mrs. Elton, (feeling the indignity as a wife ought to do,) "I cannot imagine how he could do such a thing by you, of all people in the world! The very last person whom one should expect to be forgotten!--My dear Mr. E., he must have left a message for you, I am sure he must.--Not even Knightley could be so very eccentric;--and his servants forgot it. Depend upon it, that was the case: and very likely to happen with the Donwell servants, who are all, I have often observed, extremely awkward and remiss.--I am sure I would not have such a creature as his Harry stand at our sideboard for any consideration. And as for Mrs. Hodges, Wright holds her very cheap indeed.--She promised Wright a receipt, and never sent it." "I met William Larkins," continued Mr. Elton, "as I got near the house, and he told me I should not find his master at home, but I did not believe him.--William seemed rather out of humour. He did not know what was come to his master lately, he said, but he could hardly ever get the speech of him. I have nothing to do with William's wants, but it really is of very great importance that _I_ should see Knightley to-day; and it becomes a matter, therefore, of very serious inconvenience that I should have had this hot walk to no purpose." Emma felt that she could not do better than go home directly. In all probability she was at this very time waited for there; and Mr. Knightley might be preserved from sinking deeper in aggression towards Mr. Elton, if not towards William Larkins. She was pleased, on taking leave, to find Miss Fairfax determined to attend her out of the room, to go with her even downstairs; it gave her an opportunity which she immediately made use of, to say, "It is as well, perhaps, that I have not had the possibility. Had you not been surrounded by other friends, I might have been tempted to introduce a subject, to ask questions, to speak more openly than might have been strictly correct.--I feel that I should certainly have been impertinent." "Oh!" cried Jane, with a blush and an hesitation which Emma thought infinitely more becoming to her than all the elegance of all her usual composure--"there would have been no danger. The danger would have been of my wearying you. You could not have gratified me more than by expressing an interest--. Indeed, Miss Woodhouse, (speaking more collectedly,) with the consciousness which I have of misconduct, very great misconduct, it is particularly consoling to me to know that those of my friends, whose good opinion is most worth preserving, are not disgusted to such a degree as to--I have not time for half that I could wish to say. I long to make apologies, excuses, to urge something for myself. I feel it so very due. But, unfortunately--in short, if your compassion does not stand my friend--" "Oh! you are too scrupulous, indeed you are," cried Emma warmly, and taking her hand. "You owe me no apologies; and every body to whom you might be supposed to owe them, is so perfectly satisfied, so delighted even--" "You are very kind, but I know what my manners were to you.--So cold and artificial!--I had always a part to act.--It was a life of deceit!--I know that I must have disgusted you." "Pray say no more. I feel that all the apologies should be on my side. Let us forgive each other at once. We must do whatever is to be done quickest, and I think our feelings will lose no time there. I hope you have pleasant accounts from Windsor?" "Very." "And the next news, I suppose, will be, that we are to lose you--just as I begin to know you." "Oh! as to all that, of course nothing can be thought of yet. I am here till claimed by Colonel and Mrs. Campbell." "Nothing can be actually settled yet, perhaps," replied Emma, smiling--"but, excuse me, it must be thought of." The smile was returned as Jane answered, "You are very right; it has been thought of. And I will own to you, (I am sure it will be safe), that so far as our living with Mr. Churchill at Enscombe, it is settled. There must be three months, at least, of deep mourning; but when they are over, I imagine there will be nothing more to wait for." "Thank you, thank you.--This is just what I wanted to be assured of.--Oh! if you knew how much I love every thing that is decided and open!--Good-bye, good-bye." CHAPTER XVII Mrs. Weston's friends were all made happy by her safety; and if the satisfaction of her well-doing could be increased to Emma, it was by knowing her to be the mother of a little girl. She had been decided in wishing for a Miss Weston. She would not acknowledge that it was with any view of making a match for her, hereafter, with either of Isabella's sons; but she was convinced that a daughter would suit both father and mother best. It would be a great comfort to Mr. Weston, as he grew older--and even Mr. Weston might be growing older ten years hence--to have his fireside enlivened by the sports and the nonsense, the freaks and the fancies of a child never banished from home; and Mrs. Weston--no one could doubt that a daughter would be most to her; and it would be quite a pity that any one who so well knew how to teach, should not have their powers in exercise again. "She has had the advantage, you know, of practising on me," she continued--"like La Baronne d'Almane on La Comtesse d'Ostalis, in Madame de Genlis' Adelaide and Theodore, and we shall now see her own little Adelaide educated on a more perfect plan." "That is," replied Mr. Knightley, "she will indulge her even more than she did you, and believe that she does not indulge her at all. It will be the only difference." "Poor child!" cried Emma; "at that rate, what will become of her?" "Nothing very bad.--The fate of thousands. She will be disagreeable in infancy, and correct herself as she grows older. I am losing all my bitterness against spoilt children, my dearest Emma. I, who am owing all my happiness to _you_, would not it be horrible ingratitude in me to be severe on them?" Emma laughed, and replied: "But I had the assistance of all your endeavours to counteract the indulgence of other people. I doubt whether my own sense would have corrected me without it." "Do you?--I have no doubt. Nature gave

really

How many times the word 'really' appears in the text?

what immediately followed of the basis of their disagreement, and his persisting to act in direct opposition to Jane Fairfax's sense of right, he made a fuller pause to say, "This is very bad.--He had induced her to place herself, for his sake, in a situation of extreme difficulty and uneasiness, and it should have been his first object to prevent her from suffering unnecessarily.--She must have had much more to contend with, in carrying on the correspondence, than he could. He should have respected even unreasonable scruples, had there been such; but hers were all reasonable. We must look to her one fault, and remember that she had done a wrong thing in consenting to the engagement, to bear that she should have been in such a state of punishment." Emma knew that he was now getting to the Box Hill party, and grew uncomfortable. Her own behaviour had been so very improper! She was deeply ashamed, and a little afraid of his next look. It was all read, however, steadily, attentively, and without the smallest remark; and, excepting one momentary glance at her, instantly withdrawn, in the fear of giving pain--no remembrance of Box Hill seemed to exist. "There is no saying much for the delicacy of our good friends, the Eltons," was his next observation.--"His feelings are natural.--What! actually resolve to break with him entirely!--She felt the engagement to be a source of repentance and misery to each--she dissolved it.--What a view this gives of her sense of his behaviour!--Well, he must be a most extraordinary--" "Nay, nay, read on.--You will find how very much he suffers." "I hope he does," replied Mr. Knightley coolly, and resuming the letter. "'Smallridge!'--What does this mean? What is all this?" "She had engaged to go as governess to Mrs. Smallridge's children--a dear friend of Mrs. Elton's--a neighbour of Maple Grove; and, by the bye, I wonder how Mrs. Elton bears the disappointment?" "Say nothing, my dear Emma, while you oblige me to read--not even of Mrs. Elton. Only one page more. I shall soon have done. What a letter the man writes!" "I wish you would read it with a kinder spirit towards him." "Well, there _is_ feeling here.--He does seem to have suffered in finding her ill.--Certainly, I can have no doubt of his being fond of her. 'Dearer, much dearer than ever.' I hope he may long continue to feel all the value of such a reconciliation.--He is a very liberal thanker, with his thousands and tens of thousands.--'Happier than I deserve.' Come, he knows himself there. 'Miss Woodhouse calls me the child of good fortune.'--Those were Miss Woodhouse's words, were they?-- And a fine ending--and there is the letter. The child of good fortune! That was your name for him, was it?" "You do not appear so well satisfied with his letter as I am; but still you must, at least I hope you must, think the better of him for it. I hope it does him some service with you." "Yes, certainly it does. He has had great faults, faults of inconsideration and thoughtlessness; and I am very much of his opinion in thinking him likely to be happier than he deserves: but still as he is, beyond a doubt, really attached to Miss Fairfax, and will soon, it may be hoped, have the advantage of being constantly with her, I am very ready to believe his character will improve, and acquire from hers the steadiness and delicacy of principle that it wants. And now, let me talk to you of something else. I have another person's interest at present so much at heart, that I cannot think any longer about Frank Churchill. Ever since I left you this morning, Emma, my mind has been hard at work on one subject." The subject followed; it was in plain, unaffected, gentlemanlike English, such as Mr. Knightley used even to the woman he was in love with, how to be able to ask her to marry him, without attacking the happiness of her father. Emma's answer was ready at the first word. "While her dear father lived, any change of condition must be impossible for her. She could never quit him." Part only of this answer, however, was admitted. The impossibility of her quitting her father, Mr. Knightley felt as strongly as herself; but the inadmissibility of any other change, he could not agree to. He had been thinking it over most deeply, most intently; he had at first hoped to induce Mr. Woodhouse to remove with her to Donwell; he had wanted to believe it feasible, but his knowledge of Mr. Woodhouse would not suffer him to deceive himself long; and now he confessed his persuasion, that such a transplantation would be a risk of her father's comfort, perhaps even of his life, which must not be hazarded. Mr. Woodhouse taken from Hartfield!--No, he felt that it ought not to be attempted. But the plan which had arisen on the sacrifice of this, he trusted his dearest Emma would not find in any respect objectionable; it was, that he should be received at Hartfield; that so long as her father's happiness--in other words, his life--required Hartfield to continue her home, it should be his likewise. Of their all removing to Donwell, Emma had already had her own passing thoughts. Like him, she had tried the scheme and rejected it; but such an alternative as this had not occurred to her. She was sensible of all the affection it evinced. She felt that, in quitting Donwell, he must be sacrificing a great deal of independence of hours and habits; that in living constantly with her father, and in no house of his own, there would be much, very much, to be borne with. She promised to think of it, and advised him to think of it more; but he was fully convinced, that no reflection could alter his wishes or his opinion on the subject. He had given it, he could assure her, very long and calm consideration; he had been walking away from William Larkins the whole morning, to have his thoughts to himself. "Ah! there is one difficulty unprovided for," cried Emma. "I am sure William Larkins will not like it. You must get his consent before you ask mine." She promised, however, to think of it; and pretty nearly promised, moreover, to think of it, with the intention of finding it a very good scheme. It is remarkable, that Emma, in the many, very many, points of view in which she was now beginning to consider Donwell Abbey, was never struck with any sense of injury to her nephew Henry, whose rights as heir-expectant had formerly been so tenaciously regarded. Think she must of the possible difference to the poor little boy; and yet she only gave herself a saucy conscious smile about it, and found amusement in detecting the real cause of that violent dislike of Mr. Knightley's marrying Jane Fairfax, or any body else, which at the time she had wholly imputed to the amiable solicitude of the sister and the aunt. This proposal of his, this plan of marrying and continuing at Hartfield--the more she contemplated it, the more pleasing it became. His evils seemed to lessen, her own advantages to increase, their mutual good to outweigh every drawback. Such a companion for herself in the periods of anxiety and cheerlessness before her!--Such a partner in all those duties and cares to which time must be giving increase of melancholy! She would have been too happy but for poor Harriet; but every blessing of her own seemed to involve and advance the sufferings of her friend, who must now be even excluded from Hartfield. The delightful family party which Emma was securing for herself, poor Harriet must, in mere charitable caution, be kept at a distance from. She would be a loser in every way. Emma could not deplore her future absence as any deduction from her own enjoyment. In such a party, Harriet would be rather a dead weight than otherwise; but for the poor girl herself, it seemed a peculiarly cruel necessity that was to be placing her in such a state of unmerited punishment. In time, of course, Mr. Knightley would be forgotten, that is, supplanted; but this could not be expected to happen very early. Mr. Knightley himself would be doing nothing to assist the cure;--not like Mr. Elton. Mr. Knightley, always so kind, so feeling, so truly considerate for every body, would never deserve to be less worshipped than now; and it really was too much to hope even of Harriet, that she could be in love with more than _three_ men in one year. CHAPTER XVI It was a very great relief to Emma to find Harriet as desirous as herself to avoid a meeting. Their intercourse was painful enough by letter. How much worse, had they been obliged to meet! Harriet expressed herself very much as might be supposed, without reproaches, or apparent sense of ill-usage; and yet Emma fancied there was a something of resentment, a something bordering on it in her style, which increased the desirableness of their being separate.--It might be only her own consciousness; but it seemed as if an angel only could have been quite without resentment under such a stroke. She had no difficulty in procuring Isabella's invitation; and she was fortunate in having a sufficient reason for asking it, without resorting to invention.--There was a tooth amiss. Harriet really wished, and had wished some time, to consult a dentist. Mrs. John Knightley was delighted to be of use; any thing of ill health was a recommendation to her--and though not so fond of a dentist as of a Mr. Wingfield, she was quite eager to have Harriet under her care.--When it was thus settled on her sister's side, Emma proposed it to her friend, and found her very persuadable.--Harriet was to go; she was invited for at least a fortnight; she was to be conveyed in Mr. Woodhouse's carriage.--It was all arranged, it was all completed, and Harriet was safe in Brunswick Square. Now Emma could, indeed, enjoy Mr. Knightley's visits; now she could talk, and she could listen with true happiness, unchecked by that sense of injustice, of guilt, of something most painful, which had haunted her when remembering how disappointed a heart was near her, how much might at that moment, and at a little distance, be enduring by the feelings which she had led astray herself. The difference of Harriet at Mrs. Goddard's, or in London, made perhaps an unreasonable difference in Emma's sensations; but she could not think of her in London without objects of curiosity and employment, which must be averting the past, and carrying her out of herself. She would not allow any other anxiety to succeed directly to the place in her mind which Harriet had occupied. There was a communication before her, one which _she_ only could be competent to make--the confession of her engagement to her father; but she would have nothing to do with it at present.--She had resolved to defer the disclosure till Mrs. Weston were safe and well. No additional agitation should be thrown at this period among those she loved--and the evil should not act on herself by anticipation before the appointed time.--A fortnight, at least, of leisure and peace of mind, to crown every warmer, but more agitating, delight, should be hers. She soon resolved, equally as a duty and a pleasure, to employ half an hour of this holiday of spirits in calling on Miss Fairfax.--She ought to go--and she was longing to see her; the resemblance of their present situations increasing every other motive of goodwill. It would be a _secret_ satisfaction; but the consciousness of a similarity of prospect would certainly add to the interest with which she should attend to any thing Jane might communicate. She went--she had driven once unsuccessfully to the door, but had not been into the house since the morning after Box Hill, when poor Jane had been in such distress as had filled her with compassion, though all the worst of her sufferings had been unsuspected.--The fear of being still unwelcome, determined her, though assured of their being at home, to wait in the passage, and send up her name.--She heard Patty announcing it; but no such bustle succeeded as poor Miss Bates had before made so happily intelligible.--No; she heard nothing but the instant reply of, "Beg her to walk up;"--and a moment afterwards she was met on the stairs by Jane herself, coming eagerly forward, as if no other reception of her were felt sufficient.--Emma had never seen her look so well, so lovely, so engaging. There was consciousness, animation, and warmth; there was every thing which her countenance or manner could ever have wanted.-- She came forward with an offered hand; and said, in a low, but very feeling tone, "This is most kind, indeed!--Miss Woodhouse, it is impossible for me to express--I hope you will believe--Excuse me for being so entirely without words." Emma was gratified, and would soon have shewn no want of words, if the sound of Mrs. Elton's voice from the sitting-room had not checked her, and made it expedient to compress all her friendly and all her congratulatory sensations into a very, very earnest shake of the hand. Mrs. Bates and Mrs. Elton were together. Miss Bates was out, which accounted for the previous tranquillity. Emma could have wished Mrs. Elton elsewhere; but she was in a humour to have patience with every body; and as Mrs. Elton met her with unusual graciousness, she hoped the rencontre would do them no harm. She soon believed herself to penetrate Mrs. Elton's thoughts, and understand why she was, like herself, in happy spirits; it was being in Miss Fairfax's confidence, and fancying herself acquainted with what was still a secret to other people. Emma saw symptoms of it immediately in the expression of her face; and while paying her own compliments to Mrs. Bates, and appearing to attend to the good old lady's replies, she saw her with a sort of anxious parade of mystery fold up a letter which she had apparently been reading aloud to Miss Fairfax, and return it into the purple and gold reticule by her side, saying, with significant nods, "We can finish this some other time, you know. You and I shall not want opportunities. And, in fact, you have heard all the essential already. I only wanted to prove to you that Mrs. S. admits our apology, and is not offended. You see how delightfully she writes. Oh! she is a sweet creature! You would have doated on her, had you gone.--But not a word more. Let us be discreet--quite on our good behaviour.--Hush!--You remember those lines--I forget the poem at this moment: "For when a lady's in the case, "You know all other things give place." Now I say, my dear, in _our_ case, for _lady_, read----mum! a word to the wise.--I am in a fine flow of spirits, an't I? But I want to set your heart at ease as to Mrs. S.--_My_ representation, you see, has quite appeased her." And again, on Emma's merely turning her head to look at Mrs. Bates's knitting, she added, in a half whisper, "I mentioned no _names_, you will observe.--Oh! no; cautious as a minister of state. I managed it extremely well." Emma could not doubt. It was a palpable display, repeated on every possible occasion. When they had all talked a little while in harmony of the weather and Mrs. Weston, she found herself abruptly addressed with, "Do not you think, Miss Woodhouse, our saucy little friend here is charmingly recovered?--Do not you think her cure does Perry the highest credit?--(here was a side-glance of great meaning at Jane.) Upon my word, Perry has restored her in a wonderful short time!--Oh! if you had seen her, as I did, when she was at the worst!"--And when Mrs. Bates was saying something to Emma, whispered farther, "We do not say a word of any _assistance_ that Perry might have; not a word of a certain young physician from Windsor.--Oh! no; Perry shall have all the credit." "I have scarce had the pleasure of seeing you, Miss Woodhouse," she shortly afterwards began, "since the party to Box Hill. Very pleasant party. But yet I think there was something wanting. Things did not seem--that is, there seemed a little cloud upon the spirits of some.--So it appeared to me at least, but I might be mistaken. However, I think it answered so far as to tempt one to go again. What say you both to our collecting the same party, and exploring to Box Hill again, while the fine weather lasts?--It must be the same party, you know, quite the same party, not _one_ exception." Soon after this Miss Bates came in, and Emma could not help being diverted by the perplexity of her first answer to herself, resulting, she supposed, from doubt of what might be said, and impatience to say every thing. "Thank you, dear Miss Woodhouse, you are all kindness.--It is impossible to say--Yes, indeed, I quite understand--dearest Jane's prospects--that is, I do not mean.--But she is charmingly recovered.--How is Mr. Woodhouse?--I am so glad.--Quite out of my power.--Such a happy little circle as you find us here.--Yes, indeed.--Charming young man!--that is--so very friendly; I mean good Mr. Perry!--such attention to Jane!"--And from her great, her more than commonly thankful delight towards Mrs. Elton for being there, Emma guessed that there had been a little show of resentment towards Jane, from the vicarage quarter, which was now graciously overcome.--After a few whispers, indeed, which placed it beyond a guess, Mrs. Elton, speaking louder, said, "Yes, here I am, my good friend; and here I have been so long, that anywhere else I should think it necessary to apologise; but, the truth is, that I am waiting for my lord and master. He promised to join me here, and pay his respects to you." "What! are we to have the pleasure of a call from Mr. Elton?--That will be a favour indeed! for I know gentlemen do not like morning visits, and Mr. Elton's time is so engaged." "Upon my word it is, Miss Bates.--He really is engaged from morning to night.--There is no end of people's coming to him, on some pretence or other.--The magistrates, and overseers, and churchwardens, are always wanting his opinion. They seem not able to do any thing without him.--'Upon my word, Mr. E.,' I often say, 'rather you than I.--I do not know what would become of my crayons and my instrument, if I had half so many applicants.'--Bad enough as it is, for I absolutely neglect them both to an unpardonable degree.--I believe I have not played a bar this fortnight.--However, he is coming, I assure you: yes, indeed, on purpose to wait on you all." And putting up her hand to screen her words from Emma--"A congratulatory visit, you know.--Oh! yes, quite indispensable." Miss Bates looked about her, so happily--! "He promised to come to me as soon as he could disengage himself from Knightley; but he and Knightley are shut up together in deep consultation.--Mr. E. is Knightley's right hand." Emma would not have smiled for the world, and only said, "Is Mr. Elton gone on foot to Donwell?--He will have a hot walk." "Oh! no, it is a meeting at the Crown, a regular meeting. Weston and Cole will be there too; but one is apt to speak only of those who lead.--I fancy Mr. E. and Knightley have every thing their own way." "Have not you mistaken the day?" said Emma. "I am almost certain that the meeting at the Crown is not till to-morrow.--Mr. Knightley was at Hartfield yesterday, and spoke of it as for Saturday." "Oh! no, the meeting is certainly to-day," was the abrupt answer, which denoted the impossibility of any blunder on Mrs. Elton's side.--"I do believe," she continued, "this is the most troublesome parish that ever was. We never heard of such things at Maple Grove." "Your parish there was small," said Jane. "Upon my word, my dear, I do not know, for I never heard the subject talked of." "But it is proved by the smallness of the school, which I have heard you speak of, as under the patronage of your sister and Mrs. Bragge; the only school, and not more than five-and-twenty children." "Ah! you clever creature, that's very true. What a thinking brain you have! I say, Jane, what a perfect character you and I should make, if we could be shaken together. My liveliness and your solidity would produce perfection.--Not that I presume to insinuate, however, that _some_ people may not think _you_ perfection already.--But hush!--not a word, if you please." It seemed an unnecessary caution; Jane was wanting to give her words, not to Mrs. Elton, but to Miss Woodhouse, as the latter plainly saw. The wish of distinguishing her, as far as civility permitted, was very evident, though it could not often proceed beyond a look. Mr. Elton made his appearance. His lady greeted him with some of her sparkling vivacity. "Very pretty, sir, upon my word; to send me on here, to be an encumbrance to my friends, so long before you vouchsafe to come!--But you knew what a dutiful creature you had to deal with. You knew I should not stir till my lord and master appeared.--Here have I been sitting this hour, giving these young ladies a sample of true conjugal obedience--for who can say, you know, how soon it may be wanted?" Mr. Elton was so hot and tired, that all this wit seemed thrown away. His civilities to the other ladies must be paid; but his subsequent object was to lament over himself for the heat he was suffering, and the walk he had had for nothing. "When I got to Donwell," said he, "Knightley could not be found. Very odd! very unaccountable! after the note I sent him this morning, and the message he returned, that he should certainly be at home till one." "Donwell!" cried his wife.--"My dear Mr. E., you have not been to Donwell!--You mean the Crown; you come from the meeting at the Crown." "No, no, that's to-morrow; and I particularly wanted to see Knightley to-day on that very account.--Such a dreadful broiling morning!--I went over the fields too--(speaking in a tone of great ill-usage,) which made it so much the worse. And then not to find him at home! I assure you I am not at all pleased. And no apology left, no message for me. The housekeeper declared she knew nothing of my being expected.--Very extraordinary!--And nobody knew at all which way he was gone. Perhaps to Hartfield, perhaps to the Abbey Mill, perhaps into his woods.--Miss Woodhouse, this is not like our friend Knightley!--Can you explain it?" Emma amused herself by protesting that it was very extraordinary, indeed, and that she had not a syllable to say for him. "I cannot imagine," said Mrs. Elton, (feeling the indignity as a wife ought to do,) "I cannot imagine how he could do such a thing by you, of all people in the world! The very last person whom one should expect to be forgotten!--My dear Mr. E., he must have left a message for you, I am sure he must.--Not even Knightley could be so very eccentric;--and his servants forgot it. Depend upon it, that was the case: and very likely to happen with the Donwell servants, who are all, I have often observed, extremely awkward and remiss.--I am sure I would not have such a creature as his Harry stand at our sideboard for any consideration. And as for Mrs. Hodges, Wright holds her very cheap indeed.--She promised Wright a receipt, and never sent it." "I met William Larkins," continued Mr. Elton, "as I got near the house, and he told me I should not find his master at home, but I did not believe him.--William seemed rather out of humour. He did not know what was come to his master lately, he said, but he could hardly ever get the speech of him. I have nothing to do with William's wants, but it really is of very great importance that _I_ should see Knightley to-day; and it becomes a matter, therefore, of very serious inconvenience that I should have had this hot walk to no purpose." Emma felt that she could not do better than go home directly. In all probability she was at this very time waited for there; and Mr. Knightley might be preserved from sinking deeper in aggression towards Mr. Elton, if not towards William Larkins. She was pleased, on taking leave, to find Miss Fairfax determined to attend her out of the room, to go with her even downstairs; it gave her an opportunity which she immediately made use of, to say, "It is as well, perhaps, that I have not had the possibility. Had you not been surrounded by other friends, I might have been tempted to introduce a subject, to ask questions, to speak more openly than might have been strictly correct.--I feel that I should certainly have been impertinent." "Oh!" cried Jane, with a blush and an hesitation which Emma thought infinitely more becoming to her than all the elegance of all her usual composure--"there would have been no danger. The danger would have been of my wearying you. You could not have gratified me more than by expressing an interest--. Indeed, Miss Woodhouse, (speaking more collectedly,) with the consciousness which I have of misconduct, very great misconduct, it is particularly consoling to me to know that those of my friends, whose good opinion is most worth preserving, are not disgusted to such a degree as to--I have not time for half that I could wish to say. I long to make apologies, excuses, to urge something for myself. I feel it so very due. But, unfortunately--in short, if your compassion does not stand my friend--" "Oh! you are too scrupulous, indeed you are," cried Emma warmly, and taking her hand. "You owe me no apologies; and every body to whom you might be supposed to owe them, is so perfectly satisfied, so delighted even--" "You are very kind, but I know what my manners were to you.--So cold and artificial!--I had always a part to act.--It was a life of deceit!--I know that I must have disgusted you." "Pray say no more. I feel that all the apologies should be on my side. Let us forgive each other at once. We must do whatever is to be done quickest, and I think our feelings will lose no time there. I hope you have pleasant accounts from Windsor?" "Very." "And the next news, I suppose, will be, that we are to lose you--just as I begin to know you." "Oh! as to all that, of course nothing can be thought of yet. I am here till claimed by Colonel and Mrs. Campbell." "Nothing can be actually settled yet, perhaps," replied Emma, smiling--"but, excuse me, it must be thought of." The smile was returned as Jane answered, "You are very right; it has been thought of. And I will own to you, (I am sure it will be safe), that so far as our living with Mr. Churchill at Enscombe, it is settled. There must be three months, at least, of deep mourning; but when they are over, I imagine there will be nothing more to wait for." "Thank you, thank you.--This is just what I wanted to be assured of.--Oh! if you knew how much I love every thing that is decided and open!--Good-bye, good-bye." CHAPTER XVII Mrs. Weston's friends were all made happy by her safety; and if the satisfaction of her well-doing could be increased to Emma, it was by knowing her to be the mother of a little girl. She had been decided in wishing for a Miss Weston. She would not acknowledge that it was with any view of making a match for her, hereafter, with either of Isabella's sons; but she was convinced that a daughter would suit both father and mother best. It would be a great comfort to Mr. Weston, as he grew older--and even Mr. Weston might be growing older ten years hence--to have his fireside enlivened by the sports and the nonsense, the freaks and the fancies of a child never banished from home; and Mrs. Weston--no one could doubt that a daughter would be most to her; and it would be quite a pity that any one who so well knew how to teach, should not have their powers in exercise again. "She has had the advantage, you know, of practising on me," she continued--"like La Baronne d'Almane on La Comtesse d'Ostalis, in Madame de Genlis' Adelaide and Theodore, and we shall now see her own little Adelaide educated on a more perfect plan." "That is," replied Mr. Knightley, "she will indulge her even more than she did you, and believe that she does not indulge her at all. It will be the only difference." "Poor child!" cried Emma; "at that rate, what will become of her?" "Nothing very bad.--The fate of thousands. She will be disagreeable in infancy, and correct herself as she grows older. I am losing all my bitterness against spoilt children, my dearest Emma. I, who am owing all my happiness to _you_, would not it be horrible ingratitude in me to be severe on them?" Emma laughed, and replied: "But I had the assistance of all your endeavours to counteract the indulgence of other people. I doubt whether my own sense would have corrected me without it." "Do you?--I have no doubt. Nature gave

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what immediately followed of the basis of their disagreement, and his persisting to act in direct opposition to Jane Fairfax's sense of right, he made a fuller pause to say, "This is very bad.--He had induced her to place herself, for his sake, in a situation of extreme difficulty and uneasiness, and it should have been his first object to prevent her from suffering unnecessarily.--She must have had much more to contend with, in carrying on the correspondence, than he could. He should have respected even unreasonable scruples, had there been such; but hers were all reasonable. We must look to her one fault, and remember that she had done a wrong thing in consenting to the engagement, to bear that she should have been in such a state of punishment." Emma knew that he was now getting to the Box Hill party, and grew uncomfortable. Her own behaviour had been so very improper! She was deeply ashamed, and a little afraid of his next look. It was all read, however, steadily, attentively, and without the smallest remark; and, excepting one momentary glance at her, instantly withdrawn, in the fear of giving pain--no remembrance of Box Hill seemed to exist. "There is no saying much for the delicacy of our good friends, the Eltons," was his next observation.--"His feelings are natural.--What! actually resolve to break with him entirely!--She felt the engagement to be a source of repentance and misery to each--she dissolved it.--What a view this gives of her sense of his behaviour!--Well, he must be a most extraordinary--" "Nay, nay, read on.--You will find how very much he suffers." "I hope he does," replied Mr. Knightley coolly, and resuming the letter. "'Smallridge!'--What does this mean? What is all this?" "She had engaged to go as governess to Mrs. Smallridge's children--a dear friend of Mrs. Elton's--a neighbour of Maple Grove; and, by the bye, I wonder how Mrs. Elton bears the disappointment?" "Say nothing, my dear Emma, while you oblige me to read--not even of Mrs. Elton. Only one page more. I shall soon have done. What a letter the man writes!" "I wish you would read it with a kinder spirit towards him." "Well, there _is_ feeling here.--He does seem to have suffered in finding her ill.--Certainly, I can have no doubt of his being fond of her. 'Dearer, much dearer than ever.' I hope he may long continue to feel all the value of such a reconciliation.--He is a very liberal thanker, with his thousands and tens of thousands.--'Happier than I deserve.' Come, he knows himself there. 'Miss Woodhouse calls me the child of good fortune.'--Those were Miss Woodhouse's words, were they?-- And a fine ending--and there is the letter. The child of good fortune! That was your name for him, was it?" "You do not appear so well satisfied with his letter as I am; but still you must, at least I hope you must, think the better of him for it. I hope it does him some service with you." "Yes, certainly it does. He has had great faults, faults of inconsideration and thoughtlessness; and I am very much of his opinion in thinking him likely to be happier than he deserves: but still as he is, beyond a doubt, really attached to Miss Fairfax, and will soon, it may be hoped, have the advantage of being constantly with her, I am very ready to believe his character will improve, and acquire from hers the steadiness and delicacy of principle that it wants. And now, let me talk to you of something else. I have another person's interest at present so much at heart, that I cannot think any longer about Frank Churchill. Ever since I left you this morning, Emma, my mind has been hard at work on one subject." The subject followed; it was in plain, unaffected, gentlemanlike English, such as Mr. Knightley used even to the woman he was in love with, how to be able to ask her to marry him, without attacking the happiness of her father. Emma's answer was ready at the first word. "While her dear father lived, any change of condition must be impossible for her. She could never quit him." Part only of this answer, however, was admitted. The impossibility of her quitting her father, Mr. Knightley felt as strongly as herself; but the inadmissibility of any other change, he could not agree to. He had been thinking it over most deeply, most intently; he had at first hoped to induce Mr. Woodhouse to remove with her to Donwell; he had wanted to believe it feasible, but his knowledge of Mr. Woodhouse would not suffer him to deceive himself long; and now he confessed his persuasion, that such a transplantation would be a risk of her father's comfort, perhaps even of his life, which must not be hazarded. Mr. Woodhouse taken from Hartfield!--No, he felt that it ought not to be attempted. But the plan which had arisen on the sacrifice of this, he trusted his dearest Emma would not find in any respect objectionable; it was, that he should be received at Hartfield; that so long as her father's happiness--in other words, his life--required Hartfield to continue her home, it should be his likewise. Of their all removing to Donwell, Emma had already had her own passing thoughts. Like him, she had tried the scheme and rejected it; but such an alternative as this had not occurred to her. She was sensible of all the affection it evinced. She felt that, in quitting Donwell, he must be sacrificing a great deal of independence of hours and habits; that in living constantly with her father, and in no house of his own, there would be much, very much, to be borne with. She promised to think of it, and advised him to think of it more; but he was fully convinced, that no reflection could alter his wishes or his opinion on the subject. He had given it, he could assure her, very long and calm consideration; he had been walking away from William Larkins the whole morning, to have his thoughts to himself. "Ah! there is one difficulty unprovided for," cried Emma. "I am sure William Larkins will not like it. You must get his consent before you ask mine." She promised, however, to think of it; and pretty nearly promised, moreover, to think of it, with the intention of finding it a very good scheme. It is remarkable, that Emma, in the many, very many, points of view in which she was now beginning to consider Donwell Abbey, was never struck with any sense of injury to her nephew Henry, whose rights as heir-expectant had formerly been so tenaciously regarded. Think she must of the possible difference to the poor little boy; and yet she only gave herself a saucy conscious smile about it, and found amusement in detecting the real cause of that violent dislike of Mr. Knightley's marrying Jane Fairfax, or any body else, which at the time she had wholly imputed to the amiable solicitude of the sister and the aunt. This proposal of his, this plan of marrying and continuing at Hartfield--the more she contemplated it, the more pleasing it became. His evils seemed to lessen, her own advantages to increase, their mutual good to outweigh every drawback. Such a companion for herself in the periods of anxiety and cheerlessness before her!--Such a partner in all those duties and cares to which time must be giving increase of melancholy! She would have been too happy but for poor Harriet; but every blessing of her own seemed to involve and advance the sufferings of her friend, who must now be even excluded from Hartfield. The delightful family party which Emma was securing for herself, poor Harriet must, in mere charitable caution, be kept at a distance from. She would be a loser in every way. Emma could not deplore her future absence as any deduction from her own enjoyment. In such a party, Harriet would be rather a dead weight than otherwise; but for the poor girl herself, it seemed a peculiarly cruel necessity that was to be placing her in such a state of unmerited punishment. In time, of course, Mr. Knightley would be forgotten, that is, supplanted; but this could not be expected to happen very early. Mr. Knightley himself would be doing nothing to assist the cure;--not like Mr. Elton. Mr. Knightley, always so kind, so feeling, so truly considerate for every body, would never deserve to be less worshipped than now; and it really was too much to hope even of Harriet, that she could be in love with more than _three_ men in one year. CHAPTER XVI It was a very great relief to Emma to find Harriet as desirous as herself to avoid a meeting. Their intercourse was painful enough by letter. How much worse, had they been obliged to meet! Harriet expressed herself very much as might be supposed, without reproaches, or apparent sense of ill-usage; and yet Emma fancied there was a something of resentment, a something bordering on it in her style, which increased the desirableness of their being separate.--It might be only her own consciousness; but it seemed as if an angel only could have been quite without resentment under such a stroke. She had no difficulty in procuring Isabella's invitation; and she was fortunate in having a sufficient reason for asking it, without resorting to invention.--There was a tooth amiss. Harriet really wished, and had wished some time, to consult a dentist. Mrs. John Knightley was delighted to be of use; any thing of ill health was a recommendation to her--and though not so fond of a dentist as of a Mr. Wingfield, she was quite eager to have Harriet under her care.--When it was thus settled on her sister's side, Emma proposed it to her friend, and found her very persuadable.--Harriet was to go; she was invited for at least a fortnight; she was to be conveyed in Mr. Woodhouse's carriage.--It was all arranged, it was all completed, and Harriet was safe in Brunswick Square. Now Emma could, indeed, enjoy Mr. Knightley's visits; now she could talk, and she could listen with true happiness, unchecked by that sense of injustice, of guilt, of something most painful, which had haunted her when remembering how disappointed a heart was near her, how much might at that moment, and at a little distance, be enduring by the feelings which she had led astray herself. The difference of Harriet at Mrs. Goddard's, or in London, made perhaps an unreasonable difference in Emma's sensations; but she could not think of her in London without objects of curiosity and employment, which must be averting the past, and carrying her out of herself. She would not allow any other anxiety to succeed directly to the place in her mind which Harriet had occupied. There was a communication before her, one which _she_ only could be competent to make--the confession of her engagement to her father; but she would have nothing to do with it at present.--She had resolved to defer the disclosure till Mrs. Weston were safe and well. No additional agitation should be thrown at this period among those she loved--and the evil should not act on herself by anticipation before the appointed time.--A fortnight, at least, of leisure and peace of mind, to crown every warmer, but more agitating, delight, should be hers. She soon resolved, equally as a duty and a pleasure, to employ half an hour of this holiday of spirits in calling on Miss Fairfax.--She ought to go--and she was longing to see her; the resemblance of their present situations increasing every other motive of goodwill. It would be a _secret_ satisfaction; but the consciousness of a similarity of prospect would certainly add to the interest with which she should attend to any thing Jane might communicate. She went--she had driven once unsuccessfully to the door, but had not been into the house since the morning after Box Hill, when poor Jane had been in such distress as had filled her with compassion, though all the worst of her sufferings had been unsuspected.--The fear of being still unwelcome, determined her, though assured of their being at home, to wait in the passage, and send up her name.--She heard Patty announcing it; but no such bustle succeeded as poor Miss Bates had before made so happily intelligible.--No; she heard nothing but the instant reply of, "Beg her to walk up;"--and a moment afterwards she was met on the stairs by Jane herself, coming eagerly forward, as if no other reception of her were felt sufficient.--Emma had never seen her look so well, so lovely, so engaging. There was consciousness, animation, and warmth; there was every thing which her countenance or manner could ever have wanted.-- She came forward with an offered hand; and said, in a low, but very feeling tone, "This is most kind, indeed!--Miss Woodhouse, it is impossible for me to express--I hope you will believe--Excuse me for being so entirely without words." Emma was gratified, and would soon have shewn no want of words, if the sound of Mrs. Elton's voice from the sitting-room had not checked her, and made it expedient to compress all her friendly and all her congratulatory sensations into a very, very earnest shake of the hand. Mrs. Bates and Mrs. Elton were together. Miss Bates was out, which accounted for the previous tranquillity. Emma could have wished Mrs. Elton elsewhere; but she was in a humour to have patience with every body; and as Mrs. Elton met her with unusual graciousness, she hoped the rencontre would do them no harm. She soon believed herself to penetrate Mrs. Elton's thoughts, and understand why she was, like herself, in happy spirits; it was being in Miss Fairfax's confidence, and fancying herself acquainted with what was still a secret to other people. Emma saw symptoms of it immediately in the expression of her face; and while paying her own compliments to Mrs. Bates, and appearing to attend to the good old lady's replies, she saw her with a sort of anxious parade of mystery fold up a letter which she had apparently been reading aloud to Miss Fairfax, and return it into the purple and gold reticule by her side, saying, with significant nods, "We can finish this some other time, you know. You and I shall not want opportunities. And, in fact, you have heard all the essential already. I only wanted to prove to you that Mrs. S. admits our apology, and is not offended. You see how delightfully she writes. Oh! she is a sweet creature! You would have doated on her, had you gone.--But not a word more. Let us be discreet--quite on our good behaviour.--Hush!--You remember those lines--I forget the poem at this moment: "For when a lady's in the case, "You know all other things give place." Now I say, my dear, in _our_ case, for _lady_, read----mum! a word to the wise.--I am in a fine flow of spirits, an't I? But I want to set your heart at ease as to Mrs. S.--_My_ representation, you see, has quite appeased her." And again, on Emma's merely turning her head to look at Mrs. Bates's knitting, she added, in a half whisper, "I mentioned no _names_, you will observe.--Oh! no; cautious as a minister of state. I managed it extremely well." Emma could not doubt. It was a palpable display, repeated on every possible occasion. When they had all talked a little while in harmony of the weather and Mrs. Weston, she found herself abruptly addressed with, "Do not you think, Miss Woodhouse, our saucy little friend here is charmingly recovered?--Do not you think her cure does Perry the highest credit?--(here was a side-glance of great meaning at Jane.) Upon my word, Perry has restored her in a wonderful short time!--Oh! if you had seen her, as I did, when she was at the worst!"--And when Mrs. Bates was saying something to Emma, whispered farther, "We do not say a word of any _assistance_ that Perry might have; not a word of a certain young physician from Windsor.--Oh! no; Perry shall have all the credit." "I have scarce had the pleasure of seeing you, Miss Woodhouse," she shortly afterwards began, "since the party to Box Hill. Very pleasant party. But yet I think there was something wanting. Things did not seem--that is, there seemed a little cloud upon the spirits of some.--So it appeared to me at least, but I might be mistaken. However, I think it answered so far as to tempt one to go again. What say you both to our collecting the same party, and exploring to Box Hill again, while the fine weather lasts?--It must be the same party, you know, quite the same party, not _one_ exception." Soon after this Miss Bates came in, and Emma could not help being diverted by the perplexity of her first answer to herself, resulting, she supposed, from doubt of what might be said, and impatience to say every thing. "Thank you, dear Miss Woodhouse, you are all kindness.--It is impossible to say--Yes, indeed, I quite understand--dearest Jane's prospects--that is, I do not mean.--But she is charmingly recovered.--How is Mr. Woodhouse?--I am so glad.--Quite out of my power.--Such a happy little circle as you find us here.--Yes, indeed.--Charming young man!--that is--so very friendly; I mean good Mr. Perry!--such attention to Jane!"--And from her great, her more than commonly thankful delight towards Mrs. Elton for being there, Emma guessed that there had been a little show of resentment towards Jane, from the vicarage quarter, which was now graciously overcome.--After a few whispers, indeed, which placed it beyond a guess, Mrs. Elton, speaking louder, said, "Yes, here I am, my good friend; and here I have been so long, that anywhere else I should think it necessary to apologise; but, the truth is, that I am waiting for my lord and master. He promised to join me here, and pay his respects to you." "What! are we to have the pleasure of a call from Mr. Elton?--That will be a favour indeed! for I know gentlemen do not like morning visits, and Mr. Elton's time is so engaged." "Upon my word it is, Miss Bates.--He really is engaged from morning to night.--There is no end of people's coming to him, on some pretence or other.--The magistrates, and overseers, and churchwardens, are always wanting his opinion. They seem not able to do any thing without him.--'Upon my word, Mr. E.,' I often say, 'rather you than I.--I do not know what would become of my crayons and my instrument, if I had half so many applicants.'--Bad enough as it is, for I absolutely neglect them both to an unpardonable degree.--I believe I have not played a bar this fortnight.--However, he is coming, I assure you: yes, indeed, on purpose to wait on you all." And putting up her hand to screen her words from Emma--"A congratulatory visit, you know.--Oh! yes, quite indispensable." Miss Bates looked about her, so happily--! "He promised to come to me as soon as he could disengage himself from Knightley; but he and Knightley are shut up together in deep consultation.--Mr. E. is Knightley's right hand." Emma would not have smiled for the world, and only said, "Is Mr. Elton gone on foot to Donwell?--He will have a hot walk." "Oh! no, it is a meeting at the Crown, a regular meeting. Weston and Cole will be there too; but one is apt to speak only of those who lead.--I fancy Mr. E. and Knightley have every thing their own way." "Have not you mistaken the day?" said Emma. "I am almost certain that the meeting at the Crown is not till to-morrow.--Mr. Knightley was at Hartfield yesterday, and spoke of it as for Saturday." "Oh! no, the meeting is certainly to-day," was the abrupt answer, which denoted the impossibility of any blunder on Mrs. Elton's side.--"I do believe," she continued, "this is the most troublesome parish that ever was. We never heard of such things at Maple Grove." "Your parish there was small," said Jane. "Upon my word, my dear, I do not know, for I never heard the subject talked of." "But it is proved by the smallness of the school, which I have heard you speak of, as under the patronage of your sister and Mrs. Bragge; the only school, and not more than five-and-twenty children." "Ah! you clever creature, that's very true. What a thinking brain you have! I say, Jane, what a perfect character you and I should make, if we could be shaken together. My liveliness and your solidity would produce perfection.--Not that I presume to insinuate, however, that _some_ people may not think _you_ perfection already.--But hush!--not a word, if you please." It seemed an unnecessary caution; Jane was wanting to give her words, not to Mrs. Elton, but to Miss Woodhouse, as the latter plainly saw. The wish of distinguishing her, as far as civility permitted, was very evident, though it could not often proceed beyond a look. Mr. Elton made his appearance. His lady greeted him with some of her sparkling vivacity. "Very pretty, sir, upon my word; to send me on here, to be an encumbrance to my friends, so long before you vouchsafe to come!--But you knew what a dutiful creature you had to deal with. You knew I should not stir till my lord and master appeared.--Here have I been sitting this hour, giving these young ladies a sample of true conjugal obedience--for who can say, you know, how soon it may be wanted?" Mr. Elton was so hot and tired, that all this wit seemed thrown away. His civilities to the other ladies must be paid; but his subsequent object was to lament over himself for the heat he was suffering, and the walk he had had for nothing. "When I got to Donwell," said he, "Knightley could not be found. Very odd! very unaccountable! after the note I sent him this morning, and the message he returned, that he should certainly be at home till one." "Donwell!" cried his wife.--"My dear Mr. E., you have not been to Donwell!--You mean the Crown; you come from the meeting at the Crown." "No, no, that's to-morrow; and I particularly wanted to see Knightley to-day on that very account.--Such a dreadful broiling morning!--I went over the fields too--(speaking in a tone of great ill-usage,) which made it so much the worse. And then not to find him at home! I assure you I am not at all pleased. And no apology left, no message for me. The housekeeper declared she knew nothing of my being expected.--Very extraordinary!--And nobody knew at all which way he was gone. Perhaps to Hartfield, perhaps to the Abbey Mill, perhaps into his woods.--Miss Woodhouse, this is not like our friend Knightley!--Can you explain it?" Emma amused herself by protesting that it was very extraordinary, indeed, and that she had not a syllable to say for him. "I cannot imagine," said Mrs. Elton, (feeling the indignity as a wife ought to do,) "I cannot imagine how he could do such a thing by you, of all people in the world! The very last person whom one should expect to be forgotten!--My dear Mr. E., he must have left a message for you, I am sure he must.--Not even Knightley could be so very eccentric;--and his servants forgot it. Depend upon it, that was the case: and very likely to happen with the Donwell servants, who are all, I have often observed, extremely awkward and remiss.--I am sure I would not have such a creature as his Harry stand at our sideboard for any consideration. And as for Mrs. Hodges, Wright holds her very cheap indeed.--She promised Wright a receipt, and never sent it." "I met William Larkins," continued Mr. Elton, "as I got near the house, and he told me I should not find his master at home, but I did not believe him.--William seemed rather out of humour. He did not know what was come to his master lately, he said, but he could hardly ever get the speech of him. I have nothing to do with William's wants, but it really is of very great importance that _I_ should see Knightley to-day; and it becomes a matter, therefore, of very serious inconvenience that I should have had this hot walk to no purpose." Emma felt that she could not do better than go home directly. In all probability she was at this very time waited for there; and Mr. Knightley might be preserved from sinking deeper in aggression towards Mr. Elton, if not towards William Larkins. She was pleased, on taking leave, to find Miss Fairfax determined to attend her out of the room, to go with her even downstairs; it gave her an opportunity which she immediately made use of, to say, "It is as well, perhaps, that I have not had the possibility. Had you not been surrounded by other friends, I might have been tempted to introduce a subject, to ask questions, to speak more openly than might have been strictly correct.--I feel that I should certainly have been impertinent." "Oh!" cried Jane, with a blush and an hesitation which Emma thought infinitely more becoming to her than all the elegance of all her usual composure--"there would have been no danger. The danger would have been of my wearying you. You could not have gratified me more than by expressing an interest--. Indeed, Miss Woodhouse, (speaking more collectedly,) with the consciousness which I have of misconduct, very great misconduct, it is particularly consoling to me to know that those of my friends, whose good opinion is most worth preserving, are not disgusted to such a degree as to--I have not time for half that I could wish to say. I long to make apologies, excuses, to urge something for myself. I feel it so very due. But, unfortunately--in short, if your compassion does not stand my friend--" "Oh! you are too scrupulous, indeed you are," cried Emma warmly, and taking her hand. "You owe me no apologies; and every body to whom you might be supposed to owe them, is so perfectly satisfied, so delighted even--" "You are very kind, but I know what my manners were to you.--So cold and artificial!--I had always a part to act.--It was a life of deceit!--I know that I must have disgusted you." "Pray say no more. I feel that all the apologies should be on my side. Let us forgive each other at once. We must do whatever is to be done quickest, and I think our feelings will lose no time there. I hope you have pleasant accounts from Windsor?" "Very." "And the next news, I suppose, will be, that we are to lose you--just as I begin to know you." "Oh! as to all that, of course nothing can be thought of yet. I am here till claimed by Colonel and Mrs. Campbell." "Nothing can be actually settled yet, perhaps," replied Emma, smiling--"but, excuse me, it must be thought of." The smile was returned as Jane answered, "You are very right; it has been thought of. And I will own to you, (I am sure it will be safe), that so far as our living with Mr. Churchill at Enscombe, it is settled. There must be three months, at least, of deep mourning; but when they are over, I imagine there will be nothing more to wait for." "Thank you, thank you.--This is just what I wanted to be assured of.--Oh! if you knew how much I love every thing that is decided and open!--Good-bye, good-bye." CHAPTER XVII Mrs. Weston's friends were all made happy by her safety; and if the satisfaction of her well-doing could be increased to Emma, it was by knowing her to be the mother of a little girl. She had been decided in wishing for a Miss Weston. She would not acknowledge that it was with any view of making a match for her, hereafter, with either of Isabella's sons; but she was convinced that a daughter would suit both father and mother best. It would be a great comfort to Mr. Weston, as he grew older--and even Mr. Weston might be growing older ten years hence--to have his fireside enlivened by the sports and the nonsense, the freaks and the fancies of a child never banished from home; and Mrs. Weston--no one could doubt that a daughter would be most to her; and it would be quite a pity that any one who so well knew how to teach, should not have their powers in exercise again. "She has had the advantage, you know, of practising on me," she continued--"like La Baronne d'Almane on La Comtesse d'Ostalis, in Madame de Genlis' Adelaide and Theodore, and we shall now see her own little Adelaide educated on a more perfect plan." "That is," replied Mr. Knightley, "she will indulge her even more than she did you, and believe that she does not indulge her at all. It will be the only difference." "Poor child!" cried Emma; "at that rate, what will become of her?" "Nothing very bad.--The fate of thousands. She will be disagreeable in infancy, and correct herself as she grows older. I am losing all my bitterness against spoilt children, my dearest Emma. I, who am owing all my happiness to _you_, would not it be horrible ingratitude in me to be severe on them?" Emma laughed, and replied: "But I had the assistance of all your endeavours to counteract the indulgence of other people. I doubt whether my own sense would have corrected me without it." "Do you?--I have no doubt. Nature gave

appeased

How many times the word 'appeased' appears in the text?

what immediately followed of the basis of their disagreement, and his persisting to act in direct opposition to Jane Fairfax's sense of right, he made a fuller pause to say, "This is very bad.--He had induced her to place herself, for his sake, in a situation of extreme difficulty and uneasiness, and it should have been his first object to prevent her from suffering unnecessarily.--She must have had much more to contend with, in carrying on the correspondence, than he could. He should have respected even unreasonable scruples, had there been such; but hers were all reasonable. We must look to her one fault, and remember that she had done a wrong thing in consenting to the engagement, to bear that she should have been in such a state of punishment." Emma knew that he was now getting to the Box Hill party, and grew uncomfortable. Her own behaviour had been so very improper! She was deeply ashamed, and a little afraid of his next look. It was all read, however, steadily, attentively, and without the smallest remark; and, excepting one momentary glance at her, instantly withdrawn, in the fear of giving pain--no remembrance of Box Hill seemed to exist. "There is no saying much for the delicacy of our good friends, the Eltons," was his next observation.--"His feelings are natural.--What! actually resolve to break with him entirely!--She felt the engagement to be a source of repentance and misery to each--she dissolved it.--What a view this gives of her sense of his behaviour!--Well, he must be a most extraordinary--" "Nay, nay, read on.--You will find how very much he suffers." "I hope he does," replied Mr. Knightley coolly, and resuming the letter. "'Smallridge!'--What does this mean? What is all this?" "She had engaged to go as governess to Mrs. Smallridge's children--a dear friend of Mrs. Elton's--a neighbour of Maple Grove; and, by the bye, I wonder how Mrs. Elton bears the disappointment?" "Say nothing, my dear Emma, while you oblige me to read--not even of Mrs. Elton. Only one page more. I shall soon have done. What a letter the man writes!" "I wish you would read it with a kinder spirit towards him." "Well, there _is_ feeling here.--He does seem to have suffered in finding her ill.--Certainly, I can have no doubt of his being fond of her. 'Dearer, much dearer than ever.' I hope he may long continue to feel all the value of such a reconciliation.--He is a very liberal thanker, with his thousands and tens of thousands.--'Happier than I deserve.' Come, he knows himself there. 'Miss Woodhouse calls me the child of good fortune.'--Those were Miss Woodhouse's words, were they?-- And a fine ending--and there is the letter. The child of good fortune! That was your name for him, was it?" "You do not appear so well satisfied with his letter as I am; but still you must, at least I hope you must, think the better of him for it. I hope it does him some service with you." "Yes, certainly it does. He has had great faults, faults of inconsideration and thoughtlessness; and I am very much of his opinion in thinking him likely to be happier than he deserves: but still as he is, beyond a doubt, really attached to Miss Fairfax, and will soon, it may be hoped, have the advantage of being constantly with her, I am very ready to believe his character will improve, and acquire from hers the steadiness and delicacy of principle that it wants. And now, let me talk to you of something else. I have another person's interest at present so much at heart, that I cannot think any longer about Frank Churchill. Ever since I left you this morning, Emma, my mind has been hard at work on one subject." The subject followed; it was in plain, unaffected, gentlemanlike English, such as Mr. Knightley used even to the woman he was in love with, how to be able to ask her to marry him, without attacking the happiness of her father. Emma's answer was ready at the first word. "While her dear father lived, any change of condition must be impossible for her. She could never quit him." Part only of this answer, however, was admitted. The impossibility of her quitting her father, Mr. Knightley felt as strongly as herself; but the inadmissibility of any other change, he could not agree to. He had been thinking it over most deeply, most intently; he had at first hoped to induce Mr. Woodhouse to remove with her to Donwell; he had wanted to believe it feasible, but his knowledge of Mr. Woodhouse would not suffer him to deceive himself long; and now he confessed his persuasion, that such a transplantation would be a risk of her father's comfort, perhaps even of his life, which must not be hazarded. Mr. Woodhouse taken from Hartfield!--No, he felt that it ought not to be attempted. But the plan which had arisen on the sacrifice of this, he trusted his dearest Emma would not find in any respect objectionable; it was, that he should be received at Hartfield; that so long as her father's happiness--in other words, his life--required Hartfield to continue her home, it should be his likewise. Of their all removing to Donwell, Emma had already had her own passing thoughts. Like him, she had tried the scheme and rejected it; but such an alternative as this had not occurred to her. She was sensible of all the affection it evinced. She felt that, in quitting Donwell, he must be sacrificing a great deal of independence of hours and habits; that in living constantly with her father, and in no house of his own, there would be much, very much, to be borne with. She promised to think of it, and advised him to think of it more; but he was fully convinced, that no reflection could alter his wishes or his opinion on the subject. He had given it, he could assure her, very long and calm consideration; he had been walking away from William Larkins the whole morning, to have his thoughts to himself. "Ah! there is one difficulty unprovided for," cried Emma. "I am sure William Larkins will not like it. You must get his consent before you ask mine." She promised, however, to think of it; and pretty nearly promised, moreover, to think of it, with the intention of finding it a very good scheme. It is remarkable, that Emma, in the many, very many, points of view in which she was now beginning to consider Donwell Abbey, was never struck with any sense of injury to her nephew Henry, whose rights as heir-expectant had formerly been so tenaciously regarded. Think she must of the possible difference to the poor little boy; and yet she only gave herself a saucy conscious smile about it, and found amusement in detecting the real cause of that violent dislike of Mr. Knightley's marrying Jane Fairfax, or any body else, which at the time she had wholly imputed to the amiable solicitude of the sister and the aunt. This proposal of his, this plan of marrying and continuing at Hartfield--the more she contemplated it, the more pleasing it became. His evils seemed to lessen, her own advantages to increase, their mutual good to outweigh every drawback. Such a companion for herself in the periods of anxiety and cheerlessness before her!--Such a partner in all those duties and cares to which time must be giving increase of melancholy! She would have been too happy but for poor Harriet; but every blessing of her own seemed to involve and advance the sufferings of her friend, who must now be even excluded from Hartfield. The delightful family party which Emma was securing for herself, poor Harriet must, in mere charitable caution, be kept at a distance from. She would be a loser in every way. Emma could not deplore her future absence as any deduction from her own enjoyment. In such a party, Harriet would be rather a dead weight than otherwise; but for the poor girl herself, it seemed a peculiarly cruel necessity that was to be placing her in such a state of unmerited punishment. In time, of course, Mr. Knightley would be forgotten, that is, supplanted; but this could not be expected to happen very early. Mr. Knightley himself would be doing nothing to assist the cure;--not like Mr. Elton. Mr. Knightley, always so kind, so feeling, so truly considerate for every body, would never deserve to be less worshipped than now; and it really was too much to hope even of Harriet, that she could be in love with more than _three_ men in one year. CHAPTER XVI It was a very great relief to Emma to find Harriet as desirous as herself to avoid a meeting. Their intercourse was painful enough by letter. How much worse, had they been obliged to meet! Harriet expressed herself very much as might be supposed, without reproaches, or apparent sense of ill-usage; and yet Emma fancied there was a something of resentment, a something bordering on it in her style, which increased the desirableness of their being separate.--It might be only her own consciousness; but it seemed as if an angel only could have been quite without resentment under such a stroke. She had no difficulty in procuring Isabella's invitation; and she was fortunate in having a sufficient reason for asking it, without resorting to invention.--There was a tooth amiss. Harriet really wished, and had wished some time, to consult a dentist. Mrs. John Knightley was delighted to be of use; any thing of ill health was a recommendation to her--and though not so fond of a dentist as of a Mr. Wingfield, she was quite eager to have Harriet under her care.--When it was thus settled on her sister's side, Emma proposed it to her friend, and found her very persuadable.--Harriet was to go; she was invited for at least a fortnight; she was to be conveyed in Mr. Woodhouse's carriage.--It was all arranged, it was all completed, and Harriet was safe in Brunswick Square. Now Emma could, indeed, enjoy Mr. Knightley's visits; now she could talk, and she could listen with true happiness, unchecked by that sense of injustice, of guilt, of something most painful, which had haunted her when remembering how disappointed a heart was near her, how much might at that moment, and at a little distance, be enduring by the feelings which she had led astray herself. The difference of Harriet at Mrs. Goddard's, or in London, made perhaps an unreasonable difference in Emma's sensations; but she could not think of her in London without objects of curiosity and employment, which must be averting the past, and carrying her out of herself. She would not allow any other anxiety to succeed directly to the place in her mind which Harriet had occupied. There was a communication before her, one which _she_ only could be competent to make--the confession of her engagement to her father; but she would have nothing to do with it at present.--She had resolved to defer the disclosure till Mrs. Weston were safe and well. No additional agitation should be thrown at this period among those she loved--and the evil should not act on herself by anticipation before the appointed time.--A fortnight, at least, of leisure and peace of mind, to crown every warmer, but more agitating, delight, should be hers. She soon resolved, equally as a duty and a pleasure, to employ half an hour of this holiday of spirits in calling on Miss Fairfax.--She ought to go--and she was longing to see her; the resemblance of their present situations increasing every other motive of goodwill. It would be a _secret_ satisfaction; but the consciousness of a similarity of prospect would certainly add to the interest with which she should attend to any thing Jane might communicate. She went--she had driven once unsuccessfully to the door, but had not been into the house since the morning after Box Hill, when poor Jane had been in such distress as had filled her with compassion, though all the worst of her sufferings had been unsuspected.--The fear of being still unwelcome, determined her, though assured of their being at home, to wait in the passage, and send up her name.--She heard Patty announcing it; but no such bustle succeeded as poor Miss Bates had before made so happily intelligible.--No; she heard nothing but the instant reply of, "Beg her to walk up;"--and a moment afterwards she was met on the stairs by Jane herself, coming eagerly forward, as if no other reception of her were felt sufficient.--Emma had never seen her look so well, so lovely, so engaging. There was consciousness, animation, and warmth; there was every thing which her countenance or manner could ever have wanted.-- She came forward with an offered hand; and said, in a low, but very feeling tone, "This is most kind, indeed!--Miss Woodhouse, it is impossible for me to express--I hope you will believe--Excuse me for being so entirely without words." Emma was gratified, and would soon have shewn no want of words, if the sound of Mrs. Elton's voice from the sitting-room had not checked her, and made it expedient to compress all her friendly and all her congratulatory sensations into a very, very earnest shake of the hand. Mrs. Bates and Mrs. Elton were together. Miss Bates was out, which accounted for the previous tranquillity. Emma could have wished Mrs. Elton elsewhere; but she was in a humour to have patience with every body; and as Mrs. Elton met her with unusual graciousness, she hoped the rencontre would do them no harm. She soon believed herself to penetrate Mrs. Elton's thoughts, and understand why she was, like herself, in happy spirits; it was being in Miss Fairfax's confidence, and fancying herself acquainted with what was still a secret to other people. Emma saw symptoms of it immediately in the expression of her face; and while paying her own compliments to Mrs. Bates, and appearing to attend to the good old lady's replies, she saw her with a sort of anxious parade of mystery fold up a letter which she had apparently been reading aloud to Miss Fairfax, and return it into the purple and gold reticule by her side, saying, with significant nods, "We can finish this some other time, you know. You and I shall not want opportunities. And, in fact, you have heard all the essential already. I only wanted to prove to you that Mrs. S. admits our apology, and is not offended. You see how delightfully she writes. Oh! she is a sweet creature! You would have doated on her, had you gone.--But not a word more. Let us be discreet--quite on our good behaviour.--Hush!--You remember those lines--I forget the poem at this moment: "For when a lady's in the case, "You know all other things give place." Now I say, my dear, in _our_ case, for _lady_, read----mum! a word to the wise.--I am in a fine flow of spirits, an't I? But I want to set your heart at ease as to Mrs. S.--_My_ representation, you see, has quite appeased her." And again, on Emma's merely turning her head to look at Mrs. Bates's knitting, she added, in a half whisper, "I mentioned no _names_, you will observe.--Oh! no; cautious as a minister of state. I managed it extremely well." Emma could not doubt. It was a palpable display, repeated on every possible occasion. When they had all talked a little while in harmony of the weather and Mrs. Weston, she found herself abruptly addressed with, "Do not you think, Miss Woodhouse, our saucy little friend here is charmingly recovered?--Do not you think her cure does Perry the highest credit?--(here was a side-glance of great meaning at Jane.) Upon my word, Perry has restored her in a wonderful short time!--Oh! if you had seen her, as I did, when she was at the worst!"--And when Mrs. Bates was saying something to Emma, whispered farther, "We do not say a word of any _assistance_ that Perry might have; not a word of a certain young physician from Windsor.--Oh! no; Perry shall have all the credit." "I have scarce had the pleasure of seeing you, Miss Woodhouse," she shortly afterwards began, "since the party to Box Hill. Very pleasant party. But yet I think there was something wanting. Things did not seem--that is, there seemed a little cloud upon the spirits of some.--So it appeared to me at least, but I might be mistaken. However, I think it answered so far as to tempt one to go again. What say you both to our collecting the same party, and exploring to Box Hill again, while the fine weather lasts?--It must be the same party, you know, quite the same party, not _one_ exception." Soon after this Miss Bates came in, and Emma could not help being diverted by the perplexity of her first answer to herself, resulting, she supposed, from doubt of what might be said, and impatience to say every thing. "Thank you, dear Miss Woodhouse, you are all kindness.--It is impossible to say--Yes, indeed, I quite understand--dearest Jane's prospects--that is, I do not mean.--But she is charmingly recovered.--How is Mr. Woodhouse?--I am so glad.--Quite out of my power.--Such a happy little circle as you find us here.--Yes, indeed.--Charming young man!--that is--so very friendly; I mean good Mr. Perry!--such attention to Jane!"--And from her great, her more than commonly thankful delight towards Mrs. Elton for being there, Emma guessed that there had been a little show of resentment towards Jane, from the vicarage quarter, which was now graciously overcome.--After a few whispers, indeed, which placed it beyond a guess, Mrs. Elton, speaking louder, said, "Yes, here I am, my good friend; and here I have been so long, that anywhere else I should think it necessary to apologise; but, the truth is, that I am waiting for my lord and master. He promised to join me here, and pay his respects to you." "What! are we to have the pleasure of a call from Mr. Elton?--That will be a favour indeed! for I know gentlemen do not like morning visits, and Mr. Elton's time is so engaged." "Upon my word it is, Miss Bates.--He really is engaged from morning to night.--There is no end of people's coming to him, on some pretence or other.--The magistrates, and overseers, and churchwardens, are always wanting his opinion. They seem not able to do any thing without him.--'Upon my word, Mr. E.,' I often say, 'rather you than I.--I do not know what would become of my crayons and my instrument, if I had half so many applicants.'--Bad enough as it is, for I absolutely neglect them both to an unpardonable degree.--I believe I have not played a bar this fortnight.--However, he is coming, I assure you: yes, indeed, on purpose to wait on you all." And putting up her hand to screen her words from Emma--"A congratulatory visit, you know.--Oh! yes, quite indispensable." Miss Bates looked about her, so happily--! "He promised to come to me as soon as he could disengage himself from Knightley; but he and Knightley are shut up together in deep consultation.--Mr. E. is Knightley's right hand." Emma would not have smiled for the world, and only said, "Is Mr. Elton gone on foot to Donwell?--He will have a hot walk." "Oh! no, it is a meeting at the Crown, a regular meeting. Weston and Cole will be there too; but one is apt to speak only of those who lead.--I fancy Mr. E. and Knightley have every thing their own way." "Have not you mistaken the day?" said Emma. "I am almost certain that the meeting at the Crown is not till to-morrow.--Mr. Knightley was at Hartfield yesterday, and spoke of it as for Saturday." "Oh! no, the meeting is certainly to-day," was the abrupt answer, which denoted the impossibility of any blunder on Mrs. Elton's side.--"I do believe," she continued, "this is the most troublesome parish that ever was. We never heard of such things at Maple Grove." "Your parish there was small," said Jane. "Upon my word, my dear, I do not know, for I never heard the subject talked of." "But it is proved by the smallness of the school, which I have heard you speak of, as under the patronage of your sister and Mrs. Bragge; the only school, and not more than five-and-twenty children." "Ah! you clever creature, that's very true. What a thinking brain you have! I say, Jane, what a perfect character you and I should make, if we could be shaken together. My liveliness and your solidity would produce perfection.--Not that I presume to insinuate, however, that _some_ people may not think _you_ perfection already.--But hush!--not a word, if you please." It seemed an unnecessary caution; Jane was wanting to give her words, not to Mrs. Elton, but to Miss Woodhouse, as the latter plainly saw. The wish of distinguishing her, as far as civility permitted, was very evident, though it could not often proceed beyond a look. Mr. Elton made his appearance. His lady greeted him with some of her sparkling vivacity. "Very pretty, sir, upon my word; to send me on here, to be an encumbrance to my friends, so long before you vouchsafe to come!--But you knew what a dutiful creature you had to deal with. You knew I should not stir till my lord and master appeared.--Here have I been sitting this hour, giving these young ladies a sample of true conjugal obedience--for who can say, you know, how soon it may be wanted?" Mr. Elton was so hot and tired, that all this wit seemed thrown away. His civilities to the other ladies must be paid; but his subsequent object was to lament over himself for the heat he was suffering, and the walk he had had for nothing. "When I got to Donwell," said he, "Knightley could not be found. Very odd! very unaccountable! after the note I sent him this morning, and the message he returned, that he should certainly be at home till one." "Donwell!" cried his wife.--"My dear Mr. E., you have not been to Donwell!--You mean the Crown; you come from the meeting at the Crown." "No, no, that's to-morrow; and I particularly wanted to see Knightley to-day on that very account.--Such a dreadful broiling morning!--I went over the fields too--(speaking in a tone of great ill-usage,) which made it so much the worse. And then not to find him at home! I assure you I am not at all pleased. And no apology left, no message for me. The housekeeper declared she knew nothing of my being expected.--Very extraordinary!--And nobody knew at all which way he was gone. Perhaps to Hartfield, perhaps to the Abbey Mill, perhaps into his woods.--Miss Woodhouse, this is not like our friend Knightley!--Can you explain it?" Emma amused herself by protesting that it was very extraordinary, indeed, and that she had not a syllable to say for him. "I cannot imagine," said Mrs. Elton, (feeling the indignity as a wife ought to do,) "I cannot imagine how he could do such a thing by you, of all people in the world! The very last person whom one should expect to be forgotten!--My dear Mr. E., he must have left a message for you, I am sure he must.--Not even Knightley could be so very eccentric;--and his servants forgot it. Depend upon it, that was the case: and very likely to happen with the Donwell servants, who are all, I have often observed, extremely awkward and remiss.--I am sure I would not have such a creature as his Harry stand at our sideboard for any consideration. And as for Mrs. Hodges, Wright holds her very cheap indeed.--She promised Wright a receipt, and never sent it." "I met William Larkins," continued Mr. Elton, "as I got near the house, and he told me I should not find his master at home, but I did not believe him.--William seemed rather out of humour. He did not know what was come to his master lately, he said, but he could hardly ever get the speech of him. I have nothing to do with William's wants, but it really is of very great importance that _I_ should see Knightley to-day; and it becomes a matter, therefore, of very serious inconvenience that I should have had this hot walk to no purpose." Emma felt that she could not do better than go home directly. In all probability she was at this very time waited for there; and Mr. Knightley might be preserved from sinking deeper in aggression towards Mr. Elton, if not towards William Larkins. She was pleased, on taking leave, to find Miss Fairfax determined to attend her out of the room, to go with her even downstairs; it gave her an opportunity which she immediately made use of, to say, "It is as well, perhaps, that I have not had the possibility. Had you not been surrounded by other friends, I might have been tempted to introduce a subject, to ask questions, to speak more openly than might have been strictly correct.--I feel that I should certainly have been impertinent." "Oh!" cried Jane, with a blush and an hesitation which Emma thought infinitely more becoming to her than all the elegance of all her usual composure--"there would have been no danger. The danger would have been of my wearying you. You could not have gratified me more than by expressing an interest--. Indeed, Miss Woodhouse, (speaking more collectedly,) with the consciousness which I have of misconduct, very great misconduct, it is particularly consoling to me to know that those of my friends, whose good opinion is most worth preserving, are not disgusted to such a degree as to--I have not time for half that I could wish to say. I long to make apologies, excuses, to urge something for myself. I feel it so very due. But, unfortunately--in short, if your compassion does not stand my friend--" "Oh! you are too scrupulous, indeed you are," cried Emma warmly, and taking her hand. "You owe me no apologies; and every body to whom you might be supposed to owe them, is so perfectly satisfied, so delighted even--" "You are very kind, but I know what my manners were to you.--So cold and artificial!--I had always a part to act.--It was a life of deceit!--I know that I must have disgusted you." "Pray say no more. I feel that all the apologies should be on my side. Let us forgive each other at once. We must do whatever is to be done quickest, and I think our feelings will lose no time there. I hope you have pleasant accounts from Windsor?" "Very." "And the next news, I suppose, will be, that we are to lose you--just as I begin to know you." "Oh! as to all that, of course nothing can be thought of yet. I am here till claimed by Colonel and Mrs. Campbell." "Nothing can be actually settled yet, perhaps," replied Emma, smiling--"but, excuse me, it must be thought of." The smile was returned as Jane answered, "You are very right; it has been thought of. And I will own to you, (I am sure it will be safe), that so far as our living with Mr. Churchill at Enscombe, it is settled. There must be three months, at least, of deep mourning; but when they are over, I imagine there will be nothing more to wait for." "Thank you, thank you.--This is just what I wanted to be assured of.--Oh! if you knew how much I love every thing that is decided and open!--Good-bye, good-bye." CHAPTER XVII Mrs. Weston's friends were all made happy by her safety; and if the satisfaction of her well-doing could be increased to Emma, it was by knowing her to be the mother of a little girl. She had been decided in wishing for a Miss Weston. She would not acknowledge that it was with any view of making a match for her, hereafter, with either of Isabella's sons; but she was convinced that a daughter would suit both father and mother best. It would be a great comfort to Mr. Weston, as he grew older--and even Mr. Weston might be growing older ten years hence--to have his fireside enlivened by the sports and the nonsense, the freaks and the fancies of a child never banished from home; and Mrs. Weston--no one could doubt that a daughter would be most to her; and it would be quite a pity that any one who so well knew how to teach, should not have their powers in exercise again. "She has had the advantage, you know, of practising on me," she continued--"like La Baronne d'Almane on La Comtesse d'Ostalis, in Madame de Genlis' Adelaide and Theodore, and we shall now see her own little Adelaide educated on a more perfect plan." "That is," replied Mr. Knightley, "she will indulge her even more than she did you, and believe that she does not indulge her at all. It will be the only difference." "Poor child!" cried Emma; "at that rate, what will become of her?" "Nothing very bad.--The fate of thousands. She will be disagreeable in infancy, and correct herself as she grows older. I am losing all my bitterness against spoilt children, my dearest Emma. I, who am owing all my happiness to _you_, would not it be horrible ingratitude in me to be severe on them?" Emma laughed, and replied: "But I had the assistance of all your endeavours to counteract the indulgence of other people. I doubt whether my own sense would have corrected me without it." "Do you?--I have no doubt. Nature gave

shewn

How many times the word 'shewn' appears in the text?

what immediately followed of the basis of their disagreement, and his persisting to act in direct opposition to Jane Fairfax's sense of right, he made a fuller pause to say, "This is very bad.--He had induced her to place herself, for his sake, in a situation of extreme difficulty and uneasiness, and it should have been his first object to prevent her from suffering unnecessarily.--She must have had much more to contend with, in carrying on the correspondence, than he could. He should have respected even unreasonable scruples, had there been such; but hers were all reasonable. We must look to her one fault, and remember that she had done a wrong thing in consenting to the engagement, to bear that she should have been in such a state of punishment." Emma knew that he was now getting to the Box Hill party, and grew uncomfortable. Her own behaviour had been so very improper! She was deeply ashamed, and a little afraid of his next look. It was all read, however, steadily, attentively, and without the smallest remark; and, excepting one momentary glance at her, instantly withdrawn, in the fear of giving pain--no remembrance of Box Hill seemed to exist. "There is no saying much for the delicacy of our good friends, the Eltons," was his next observation.--"His feelings are natural.--What! actually resolve to break with him entirely!--She felt the engagement to be a source of repentance and misery to each--she dissolved it.--What a view this gives of her sense of his behaviour!--Well, he must be a most extraordinary--" "Nay, nay, read on.--You will find how very much he suffers." "I hope he does," replied Mr. Knightley coolly, and resuming the letter. "'Smallridge!'--What does this mean? What is all this?" "She had engaged to go as governess to Mrs. Smallridge's children--a dear friend of Mrs. Elton's--a neighbour of Maple Grove; and, by the bye, I wonder how Mrs. Elton bears the disappointment?" "Say nothing, my dear Emma, while you oblige me to read--not even of Mrs. Elton. Only one page more. I shall soon have done. What a letter the man writes!" "I wish you would read it with a kinder spirit towards him." "Well, there _is_ feeling here.--He does seem to have suffered in finding her ill.--Certainly, I can have no doubt of his being fond of her. 'Dearer, much dearer than ever.' I hope he may long continue to feel all the value of such a reconciliation.--He is a very liberal thanker, with his thousands and tens of thousands.--'Happier than I deserve.' Come, he knows himself there. 'Miss Woodhouse calls me the child of good fortune.'--Those were Miss Woodhouse's words, were they?-- And a fine ending--and there is the letter. The child of good fortune! That was your name for him, was it?" "You do not appear so well satisfied with his letter as I am; but still you must, at least I hope you must, think the better of him for it. I hope it does him some service with you." "Yes, certainly it does. He has had great faults, faults of inconsideration and thoughtlessness; and I am very much of his opinion in thinking him likely to be happier than he deserves: but still as he is, beyond a doubt, really attached to Miss Fairfax, and will soon, it may be hoped, have the advantage of being constantly with her, I am very ready to believe his character will improve, and acquire from hers the steadiness and delicacy of principle that it wants. And now, let me talk to you of something else. I have another person's interest at present so much at heart, that I cannot think any longer about Frank Churchill. Ever since I left you this morning, Emma, my mind has been hard at work on one subject." The subject followed; it was in plain, unaffected, gentlemanlike English, such as Mr. Knightley used even to the woman he was in love with, how to be able to ask her to marry him, without attacking the happiness of her father. Emma's answer was ready at the first word. "While her dear father lived, any change of condition must be impossible for her. She could never quit him." Part only of this answer, however, was admitted. The impossibility of her quitting her father, Mr. Knightley felt as strongly as herself; but the inadmissibility of any other change, he could not agree to. He had been thinking it over most deeply, most intently; he had at first hoped to induce Mr. Woodhouse to remove with her to Donwell; he had wanted to believe it feasible, but his knowledge of Mr. Woodhouse would not suffer him to deceive himself long; and now he confessed his persuasion, that such a transplantation would be a risk of her father's comfort, perhaps even of his life, which must not be hazarded. Mr. Woodhouse taken from Hartfield!--No, he felt that it ought not to be attempted. But the plan which had arisen on the sacrifice of this, he trusted his dearest Emma would not find in any respect objectionable; it was, that he should be received at Hartfield; that so long as her father's happiness--in other words, his life--required Hartfield to continue her home, it should be his likewise. Of their all removing to Donwell, Emma had already had her own passing thoughts. Like him, she had tried the scheme and rejected it; but such an alternative as this had not occurred to her. She was sensible of all the affection it evinced. She felt that, in quitting Donwell, he must be sacrificing a great deal of independence of hours and habits; that in living constantly with her father, and in no house of his own, there would be much, very much, to be borne with. She promised to think of it, and advised him to think of it more; but he was fully convinced, that no reflection could alter his wishes or his opinion on the subject. He had given it, he could assure her, very long and calm consideration; he had been walking away from William Larkins the whole morning, to have his thoughts to himself. "Ah! there is one difficulty unprovided for," cried Emma. "I am sure William Larkins will not like it. You must get his consent before you ask mine." She promised, however, to think of it; and pretty nearly promised, moreover, to think of it, with the intention of finding it a very good scheme. It is remarkable, that Emma, in the many, very many, points of view in which she was now beginning to consider Donwell Abbey, was never struck with any sense of injury to her nephew Henry, whose rights as heir-expectant had formerly been so tenaciously regarded. Think she must of the possible difference to the poor little boy; and yet she only gave herself a saucy conscious smile about it, and found amusement in detecting the real cause of that violent dislike of Mr. Knightley's marrying Jane Fairfax, or any body else, which at the time she had wholly imputed to the amiable solicitude of the sister and the aunt. This proposal of his, this plan of marrying and continuing at Hartfield--the more she contemplated it, the more pleasing it became. His evils seemed to lessen, her own advantages to increase, their mutual good to outweigh every drawback. Such a companion for herself in the periods of anxiety and cheerlessness before her!--Such a partner in all those duties and cares to which time must be giving increase of melancholy! She would have been too happy but for poor Harriet; but every blessing of her own seemed to involve and advance the sufferings of her friend, who must now be even excluded from Hartfield. The delightful family party which Emma was securing for herself, poor Harriet must, in mere charitable caution, be kept at a distance from. She would be a loser in every way. Emma could not deplore her future absence as any deduction from her own enjoyment. In such a party, Harriet would be rather a dead weight than otherwise; but for the poor girl herself, it seemed a peculiarly cruel necessity that was to be placing her in such a state of unmerited punishment. In time, of course, Mr. Knightley would be forgotten, that is, supplanted; but this could not be expected to happen very early. Mr. Knightley himself would be doing nothing to assist the cure;--not like Mr. Elton. Mr. Knightley, always so kind, so feeling, so truly considerate for every body, would never deserve to be less worshipped than now; and it really was too much to hope even of Harriet, that she could be in love with more than _three_ men in one year. CHAPTER XVI It was a very great relief to Emma to find Harriet as desirous as herself to avoid a meeting. Their intercourse was painful enough by letter. How much worse, had they been obliged to meet! Harriet expressed herself very much as might be supposed, without reproaches, or apparent sense of ill-usage; and yet Emma fancied there was a something of resentment, a something bordering on it in her style, which increased the desirableness of their being separate.--It might be only her own consciousness; but it seemed as if an angel only could have been quite without resentment under such a stroke. She had no difficulty in procuring Isabella's invitation; and she was fortunate in having a sufficient reason for asking it, without resorting to invention.--There was a tooth amiss. Harriet really wished, and had wished some time, to consult a dentist. Mrs. John Knightley was delighted to be of use; any thing of ill health was a recommendation to her--and though not so fond of a dentist as of a Mr. Wingfield, she was quite eager to have Harriet under her care.--When it was thus settled on her sister's side, Emma proposed it to her friend, and found her very persuadable.--Harriet was to go; she was invited for at least a fortnight; she was to be conveyed in Mr. Woodhouse's carriage.--It was all arranged, it was all completed, and Harriet was safe in Brunswick Square. Now Emma could, indeed, enjoy Mr. Knightley's visits; now she could talk, and she could listen with true happiness, unchecked by that sense of injustice, of guilt, of something most painful, which had haunted her when remembering how disappointed a heart was near her, how much might at that moment, and at a little distance, be enduring by the feelings which she had led astray herself. The difference of Harriet at Mrs. Goddard's, or in London, made perhaps an unreasonable difference in Emma's sensations; but she could not think of her in London without objects of curiosity and employment, which must be averting the past, and carrying her out of herself. She would not allow any other anxiety to succeed directly to the place in her mind which Harriet had occupied. There was a communication before her, one which _she_ only could be competent to make--the confession of her engagement to her father; but she would have nothing to do with it at present.--She had resolved to defer the disclosure till Mrs. Weston were safe and well. No additional agitation should be thrown at this period among those she loved--and the evil should not act on herself by anticipation before the appointed time.--A fortnight, at least, of leisure and peace of mind, to crown every warmer, but more agitating, delight, should be hers. She soon resolved, equally as a duty and a pleasure, to employ half an hour of this holiday of spirits in calling on Miss Fairfax.--She ought to go--and she was longing to see her; the resemblance of their present situations increasing every other motive of goodwill. It would be a _secret_ satisfaction; but the consciousness of a similarity of prospect would certainly add to the interest with which she should attend to any thing Jane might communicate. She went--she had driven once unsuccessfully to the door, but had not been into the house since the morning after Box Hill, when poor Jane had been in such distress as had filled her with compassion, though all the worst of her sufferings had been unsuspected.--The fear of being still unwelcome, determined her, though assured of their being at home, to wait in the passage, and send up her name.--She heard Patty announcing it; but no such bustle succeeded as poor Miss Bates had before made so happily intelligible.--No; she heard nothing but the instant reply of, "Beg her to walk up;"--and a moment afterwards she was met on the stairs by Jane herself, coming eagerly forward, as if no other reception of her were felt sufficient.--Emma had never seen her look so well, so lovely, so engaging. There was consciousness, animation, and warmth; there was every thing which her countenance or manner could ever have wanted.-- She came forward with an offered hand; and said, in a low, but very feeling tone, "This is most kind, indeed!--Miss Woodhouse, it is impossible for me to express--I hope you will believe--Excuse me for being so entirely without words." Emma was gratified, and would soon have shewn no want of words, if the sound of Mrs. Elton's voice from the sitting-room had not checked her, and made it expedient to compress all her friendly and all her congratulatory sensations into a very, very earnest shake of the hand. Mrs. Bates and Mrs. Elton were together. Miss Bates was out, which accounted for the previous tranquillity. Emma could have wished Mrs. Elton elsewhere; but she was in a humour to have patience with every body; and as Mrs. Elton met her with unusual graciousness, she hoped the rencontre would do them no harm. She soon believed herself to penetrate Mrs. Elton's thoughts, and understand why she was, like herself, in happy spirits; it was being in Miss Fairfax's confidence, and fancying herself acquainted with what was still a secret to other people. Emma saw symptoms of it immediately in the expression of her face; and while paying her own compliments to Mrs. Bates, and appearing to attend to the good old lady's replies, she saw her with a sort of anxious parade of mystery fold up a letter which she had apparently been reading aloud to Miss Fairfax, and return it into the purple and gold reticule by her side, saying, with significant nods, "We can finish this some other time, you know. You and I shall not want opportunities. And, in fact, you have heard all the essential already. I only wanted to prove to you that Mrs. S. admits our apology, and is not offended. You see how delightfully she writes. Oh! she is a sweet creature! You would have doated on her, had you gone.--But not a word more. Let us be discreet--quite on our good behaviour.--Hush!--You remember those lines--I forget the poem at this moment: "For when a lady's in the case, "You know all other things give place." Now I say, my dear, in _our_ case, for _lady_, read----mum! a word to the wise.--I am in a fine flow of spirits, an't I? But I want to set your heart at ease as to Mrs. S.--_My_ representation, you see, has quite appeased her." And again, on Emma's merely turning her head to look at Mrs. Bates's knitting, she added, in a half whisper, "I mentioned no _names_, you will observe.--Oh! no; cautious as a minister of state. I managed it extremely well." Emma could not doubt. It was a palpable display, repeated on every possible occasion. When they had all talked a little while in harmony of the weather and Mrs. Weston, she found herself abruptly addressed with, "Do not you think, Miss Woodhouse, our saucy little friend here is charmingly recovered?--Do not you think her cure does Perry the highest credit?--(here was a side-glance of great meaning at Jane.) Upon my word, Perry has restored her in a wonderful short time!--Oh! if you had seen her, as I did, when she was at the worst!"--And when Mrs. Bates was saying something to Emma, whispered farther, "We do not say a word of any _assistance_ that Perry might have; not a word of a certain young physician from Windsor.--Oh! no; Perry shall have all the credit." "I have scarce had the pleasure of seeing you, Miss Woodhouse," she shortly afterwards began, "since the party to Box Hill. Very pleasant party. But yet I think there was something wanting. Things did not seem--that is, there seemed a little cloud upon the spirits of some.--So it appeared to me at least, but I might be mistaken. However, I think it answered so far as to tempt one to go again. What say you both to our collecting the same party, and exploring to Box Hill again, while the fine weather lasts?--It must be the same party, you know, quite the same party, not _one_ exception." Soon after this Miss Bates came in, and Emma could not help being diverted by the perplexity of her first answer to herself, resulting, she supposed, from doubt of what might be said, and impatience to say every thing. "Thank you, dear Miss Woodhouse, you are all kindness.--It is impossible to say--Yes, indeed, I quite understand--dearest Jane's prospects--that is, I do not mean.--But she is charmingly recovered.--How is Mr. Woodhouse?--I am so glad.--Quite out of my power.--Such a happy little circle as you find us here.--Yes, indeed.--Charming young man!--that is--so very friendly; I mean good Mr. Perry!--such attention to Jane!"--And from her great, her more than commonly thankful delight towards Mrs. Elton for being there, Emma guessed that there had been a little show of resentment towards Jane, from the vicarage quarter, which was now graciously overcome.--After a few whispers, indeed, which placed it beyond a guess, Mrs. Elton, speaking louder, said, "Yes, here I am, my good friend; and here I have been so long, that anywhere else I should think it necessary to apologise; but, the truth is, that I am waiting for my lord and master. He promised to join me here, and pay his respects to you." "What! are we to have the pleasure of a call from Mr. Elton?--That will be a favour indeed! for I know gentlemen do not like morning visits, and Mr. Elton's time is so engaged." "Upon my word it is, Miss Bates.--He really is engaged from morning to night.--There is no end of people's coming to him, on some pretence or other.--The magistrates, and overseers, and churchwardens, are always wanting his opinion. They seem not able to do any thing without him.--'Upon my word, Mr. E.,' I often say, 'rather you than I.--I do not know what would become of my crayons and my instrument, if I had half so many applicants.'--Bad enough as it is, for I absolutely neglect them both to an unpardonable degree.--I believe I have not played a bar this fortnight.--However, he is coming, I assure you: yes, indeed, on purpose to wait on you all." And putting up her hand to screen her words from Emma--"A congratulatory visit, you know.--Oh! yes, quite indispensable." Miss Bates looked about her, so happily--! "He promised to come to me as soon as he could disengage himself from Knightley; but he and Knightley are shut up together in deep consultation.--Mr. E. is Knightley's right hand." Emma would not have smiled for the world, and only said, "Is Mr. Elton gone on foot to Donwell?--He will have a hot walk." "Oh! no, it is a meeting at the Crown, a regular meeting. Weston and Cole will be there too; but one is apt to speak only of those who lead.--I fancy Mr. E. and Knightley have every thing their own way." "Have not you mistaken the day?" said Emma. "I am almost certain that the meeting at the Crown is not till to-morrow.--Mr. Knightley was at Hartfield yesterday, and spoke of it as for Saturday." "Oh! no, the meeting is certainly to-day," was the abrupt answer, which denoted the impossibility of any blunder on Mrs. Elton's side.--"I do believe," she continued, "this is the most troublesome parish that ever was. We never heard of such things at Maple Grove." "Your parish there was small," said Jane. "Upon my word, my dear, I do not know, for I never heard the subject talked of." "But it is proved by the smallness of the school, which I have heard you speak of, as under the patronage of your sister and Mrs. Bragge; the only school, and not more than five-and-twenty children." "Ah! you clever creature, that's very true. What a thinking brain you have! I say, Jane, what a perfect character you and I should make, if we could be shaken together. My liveliness and your solidity would produce perfection.--Not that I presume to insinuate, however, that _some_ people may not think _you_ perfection already.--But hush!--not a word, if you please." It seemed an unnecessary caution; Jane was wanting to give her words, not to Mrs. Elton, but to Miss Woodhouse, as the latter plainly saw. The wish of distinguishing her, as far as civility permitted, was very evident, though it could not often proceed beyond a look. Mr. Elton made his appearance. His lady greeted him with some of her sparkling vivacity. "Very pretty, sir, upon my word; to send me on here, to be an encumbrance to my friends, so long before you vouchsafe to come!--But you knew what a dutiful creature you had to deal with. You knew I should not stir till my lord and master appeared.--Here have I been sitting this hour, giving these young ladies a sample of true conjugal obedience--for who can say, you know, how soon it may be wanted?" Mr. Elton was so hot and tired, that all this wit seemed thrown away. His civilities to the other ladies must be paid; but his subsequent object was to lament over himself for the heat he was suffering, and the walk he had had for nothing. "When I got to Donwell," said he, "Knightley could not be found. Very odd! very unaccountable! after the note I sent him this morning, and the message he returned, that he should certainly be at home till one." "Donwell!" cried his wife.--"My dear Mr. E., you have not been to Donwell!--You mean the Crown; you come from the meeting at the Crown." "No, no, that's to-morrow; and I particularly wanted to see Knightley to-day on that very account.--Such a dreadful broiling morning!--I went over the fields too--(speaking in a tone of great ill-usage,) which made it so much the worse. And then not to find him at home! I assure you I am not at all pleased. And no apology left, no message for me. The housekeeper declared she knew nothing of my being expected.--Very extraordinary!--And nobody knew at all which way he was gone. Perhaps to Hartfield, perhaps to the Abbey Mill, perhaps into his woods.--Miss Woodhouse, this is not like our friend Knightley!--Can you explain it?" Emma amused herself by protesting that it was very extraordinary, indeed, and that she had not a syllable to say for him. "I cannot imagine," said Mrs. Elton, (feeling the indignity as a wife ought to do,) "I cannot imagine how he could do such a thing by you, of all people in the world! The very last person whom one should expect to be forgotten!--My dear Mr. E., he must have left a message for you, I am sure he must.--Not even Knightley could be so very eccentric;--and his servants forgot it. Depend upon it, that was the case: and very likely to happen with the Donwell servants, who are all, I have often observed, extremely awkward and remiss.--I am sure I would not have such a creature as his Harry stand at our sideboard for any consideration. And as for Mrs. Hodges, Wright holds her very cheap indeed.--She promised Wright a receipt, and never sent it." "I met William Larkins," continued Mr. Elton, "as I got near the house, and he told me I should not find his master at home, but I did not believe him.--William seemed rather out of humour. He did not know what was come to his master lately, he said, but he could hardly ever get the speech of him. I have nothing to do with William's wants, but it really is of very great importance that _I_ should see Knightley to-day; and it becomes a matter, therefore, of very serious inconvenience that I should have had this hot walk to no purpose." Emma felt that she could not do better than go home directly. In all probability she was at this very time waited for there; and Mr. Knightley might be preserved from sinking deeper in aggression towards Mr. Elton, if not towards William Larkins. She was pleased, on taking leave, to find Miss Fairfax determined to attend her out of the room, to go with her even downstairs; it gave her an opportunity which she immediately made use of, to say, "It is as well, perhaps, that I have not had the possibility. Had you not been surrounded by other friends, I might have been tempted to introduce a subject, to ask questions, to speak more openly than might have been strictly correct.--I feel that I should certainly have been impertinent." "Oh!" cried Jane, with a blush and an hesitation which Emma thought infinitely more becoming to her than all the elegance of all her usual composure--"there would have been no danger. The danger would have been of my wearying you. You could not have gratified me more than by expressing an interest--. Indeed, Miss Woodhouse, (speaking more collectedly,) with the consciousness which I have of misconduct, very great misconduct, it is particularly consoling to me to know that those of my friends, whose good opinion is most worth preserving, are not disgusted to such a degree as to--I have not time for half that I could wish to say. I long to make apologies, excuses, to urge something for myself. I feel it so very due. But, unfortunately--in short, if your compassion does not stand my friend--" "Oh! you are too scrupulous, indeed you are," cried Emma warmly, and taking her hand. "You owe me no apologies; and every body to whom you might be supposed to owe them, is so perfectly satisfied, so delighted even--" "You are very kind, but I know what my manners were to you.--So cold and artificial!--I had always a part to act.--It was a life of deceit!--I know that I must have disgusted you." "Pray say no more. I feel that all the apologies should be on my side. Let us forgive each other at once. We must do whatever is to be done quickest, and I think our feelings will lose no time there. I hope you have pleasant accounts from Windsor?" "Very." "And the next news, I suppose, will be, that we are to lose you--just as I begin to know you." "Oh! as to all that, of course nothing can be thought of yet. I am here till claimed by Colonel and Mrs. Campbell." "Nothing can be actually settled yet, perhaps," replied Emma, smiling--"but, excuse me, it must be thought of." The smile was returned as Jane answered, "You are very right; it has been thought of. And I will own to you, (I am sure it will be safe), that so far as our living with Mr. Churchill at Enscombe, it is settled. There must be three months, at least, of deep mourning; but when they are over, I imagine there will be nothing more to wait for." "Thank you, thank you.--This is just what I wanted to be assured of.--Oh! if you knew how much I love every thing that is decided and open!--Good-bye, good-bye." CHAPTER XVII Mrs. Weston's friends were all made happy by her safety; and if the satisfaction of her well-doing could be increased to Emma, it was by knowing her to be the mother of a little girl. She had been decided in wishing for a Miss Weston. She would not acknowledge that it was with any view of making a match for her, hereafter, with either of Isabella's sons; but she was convinced that a daughter would suit both father and mother best. It would be a great comfort to Mr. Weston, as he grew older--and even Mr. Weston might be growing older ten years hence--to have his fireside enlivened by the sports and the nonsense, the freaks and the fancies of a child never banished from home; and Mrs. Weston--no one could doubt that a daughter would be most to her; and it would be quite a pity that any one who so well knew how to teach, should not have their powers in exercise again. "She has had the advantage, you know, of practising on me," she continued--"like La Baronne d'Almane on La Comtesse d'Ostalis, in Madame de Genlis' Adelaide and Theodore, and we shall now see her own little Adelaide educated on a more perfect plan." "That is," replied Mr. Knightley, "she will indulge her even more than she did you, and believe that she does not indulge her at all. It will be the only difference." "Poor child!" cried Emma; "at that rate, what will become of her?" "Nothing very bad.--The fate of thousands. She will be disagreeable in infancy, and correct herself as she grows older. I am losing all my bitterness against spoilt children, my dearest Emma. I, who am owing all my happiness to _you_, would not it be horrible ingratitude in me to be severe on them?" Emma laughed, and replied: "But I had the assistance of all your endeavours to counteract the indulgence of other people. I doubt whether my own sense would have corrected me without it." "Do you?--I have no doubt. Nature gave

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what immediately followed of the basis of their disagreement, and his persisting to act in direct opposition to Jane Fairfax's sense of right, he made a fuller pause to say, "This is very bad.--He had induced her to place herself, for his sake, in a situation of extreme difficulty and uneasiness, and it should have been his first object to prevent her from suffering unnecessarily.--She must have had much more to contend with, in carrying on the correspondence, than he could. He should have respected even unreasonable scruples, had there been such; but hers were all reasonable. We must look to her one fault, and remember that she had done a wrong thing in consenting to the engagement, to bear that she should have been in such a state of punishment." Emma knew that he was now getting to the Box Hill party, and grew uncomfortable. Her own behaviour had been so very improper! She was deeply ashamed, and a little afraid of his next look. It was all read, however, steadily, attentively, and without the smallest remark; and, excepting one momentary glance at her, instantly withdrawn, in the fear of giving pain--no remembrance of Box Hill seemed to exist. "There is no saying much for the delicacy of our good friends, the Eltons," was his next observation.--"His feelings are natural.--What! actually resolve to break with him entirely!--She felt the engagement to be a source of repentance and misery to each--she dissolved it.--What a view this gives of her sense of his behaviour!--Well, he must be a most extraordinary--" "Nay, nay, read on.--You will find how very much he suffers." "I hope he does," replied Mr. Knightley coolly, and resuming the letter. "'Smallridge!'--What does this mean? What is all this?" "She had engaged to go as governess to Mrs. Smallridge's children--a dear friend of Mrs. Elton's--a neighbour of Maple Grove; and, by the bye, I wonder how Mrs. Elton bears the disappointment?" "Say nothing, my dear Emma, while you oblige me to read--not even of Mrs. Elton. Only one page more. I shall soon have done. What a letter the man writes!" "I wish you would read it with a kinder spirit towards him." "Well, there _is_ feeling here.--He does seem to have suffered in finding her ill.--Certainly, I can have no doubt of his being fond of her. 'Dearer, much dearer than ever.' I hope he may long continue to feel all the value of such a reconciliation.--He is a very liberal thanker, with his thousands and tens of thousands.--'Happier than I deserve.' Come, he knows himself there. 'Miss Woodhouse calls me the child of good fortune.'--Those were Miss Woodhouse's words, were they?-- And a fine ending--and there is the letter. The child of good fortune! That was your name for him, was it?" "You do not appear so well satisfied with his letter as I am; but still you must, at least I hope you must, think the better of him for it. I hope it does him some service with you." "Yes, certainly it does. He has had great faults, faults of inconsideration and thoughtlessness; and I am very much of his opinion in thinking him likely to be happier than he deserves: but still as he is, beyond a doubt, really attached to Miss Fairfax, and will soon, it may be hoped, have the advantage of being constantly with her, I am very ready to believe his character will improve, and acquire from hers the steadiness and delicacy of principle that it wants. And now, let me talk to you of something else. I have another person's interest at present so much at heart, that I cannot think any longer about Frank Churchill. Ever since I left you this morning, Emma, my mind has been hard at work on one subject." The subject followed; it was in plain, unaffected, gentlemanlike English, such as Mr. Knightley used even to the woman he was in love with, how to be able to ask her to marry him, without attacking the happiness of her father. Emma's answer was ready at the first word. "While her dear father lived, any change of condition must be impossible for her. She could never quit him." Part only of this answer, however, was admitted. The impossibility of her quitting her father, Mr. Knightley felt as strongly as herself; but the inadmissibility of any other change, he could not agree to. He had been thinking it over most deeply, most intently; he had at first hoped to induce Mr. Woodhouse to remove with her to Donwell; he had wanted to believe it feasible, but his knowledge of Mr. Woodhouse would not suffer him to deceive himself long; and now he confessed his persuasion, that such a transplantation would be a risk of her father's comfort, perhaps even of his life, which must not be hazarded. Mr. Woodhouse taken from Hartfield!--No, he felt that it ought not to be attempted. But the plan which had arisen on the sacrifice of this, he trusted his dearest Emma would not find in any respect objectionable; it was, that he should be received at Hartfield; that so long as her father's happiness--in other words, his life--required Hartfield to continue her home, it should be his likewise. Of their all removing to Donwell, Emma had already had her own passing thoughts. Like him, she had tried the scheme and rejected it; but such an alternative as this had not occurred to her. She was sensible of all the affection it evinced. She felt that, in quitting Donwell, he must be sacrificing a great deal of independence of hours and habits; that in living constantly with her father, and in no house of his own, there would be much, very much, to be borne with. She promised to think of it, and advised him to think of it more; but he was fully convinced, that no reflection could alter his wishes or his opinion on the subject. He had given it, he could assure her, very long and calm consideration; he had been walking away from William Larkins the whole morning, to have his thoughts to himself. "Ah! there is one difficulty unprovided for," cried Emma. "I am sure William Larkins will not like it. You must get his consent before you ask mine." She promised, however, to think of it; and pretty nearly promised, moreover, to think of it, with the intention of finding it a very good scheme. It is remarkable, that Emma, in the many, very many, points of view in which she was now beginning to consider Donwell Abbey, was never struck with any sense of injury to her nephew Henry, whose rights as heir-expectant had formerly been so tenaciously regarded. Think she must of the possible difference to the poor little boy; and yet she only gave herself a saucy conscious smile about it, and found amusement in detecting the real cause of that violent dislike of Mr. Knightley's marrying Jane Fairfax, or any body else, which at the time she had wholly imputed to the amiable solicitude of the sister and the aunt. This proposal of his, this plan of marrying and continuing at Hartfield--the more she contemplated it, the more pleasing it became. His evils seemed to lessen, her own advantages to increase, their mutual good to outweigh every drawback. Such a companion for herself in the periods of anxiety and cheerlessness before her!--Such a partner in all those duties and cares to which time must be giving increase of melancholy! She would have been too happy but for poor Harriet; but every blessing of her own seemed to involve and advance the sufferings of her friend, who must now be even excluded from Hartfield. The delightful family party which Emma was securing for herself, poor Harriet must, in mere charitable caution, be kept at a distance from. She would be a loser in every way. Emma could not deplore her future absence as any deduction from her own enjoyment. In such a party, Harriet would be rather a dead weight than otherwise; but for the poor girl herself, it seemed a peculiarly cruel necessity that was to be placing her in such a state of unmerited punishment. In time, of course, Mr. Knightley would be forgotten, that is, supplanted; but this could not be expected to happen very early. Mr. Knightley himself would be doing nothing to assist the cure;--not like Mr. Elton. Mr. Knightley, always so kind, so feeling, so truly considerate for every body, would never deserve to be less worshipped than now; and it really was too much to hope even of Harriet, that she could be in love with more than _three_ men in one year. CHAPTER XVI It was a very great relief to Emma to find Harriet as desirous as herself to avoid a meeting. Their intercourse was painful enough by letter. How much worse, had they been obliged to meet! Harriet expressed herself very much as might be supposed, without reproaches, or apparent sense of ill-usage; and yet Emma fancied there was a something of resentment, a something bordering on it in her style, which increased the desirableness of their being separate.--It might be only her own consciousness; but it seemed as if an angel only could have been quite without resentment under such a stroke. She had no difficulty in procuring Isabella's invitation; and she was fortunate in having a sufficient reason for asking it, without resorting to invention.--There was a tooth amiss. Harriet really wished, and had wished some time, to consult a dentist. Mrs. John Knightley was delighted to be of use; any thing of ill health was a recommendation to her--and though not so fond of a dentist as of a Mr. Wingfield, she was quite eager to have Harriet under her care.--When it was thus settled on her sister's side, Emma proposed it to her friend, and found her very persuadable.--Harriet was to go; she was invited for at least a fortnight; she was to be conveyed in Mr. Woodhouse's carriage.--It was all arranged, it was all completed, and Harriet was safe in Brunswick Square. Now Emma could, indeed, enjoy Mr. Knightley's visits; now she could talk, and she could listen with true happiness, unchecked by that sense of injustice, of guilt, of something most painful, which had haunted her when remembering how disappointed a heart was near her, how much might at that moment, and at a little distance, be enduring by the feelings which she had led astray herself. The difference of Harriet at Mrs. Goddard's, or in London, made perhaps an unreasonable difference in Emma's sensations; but she could not think of her in London without objects of curiosity and employment, which must be averting the past, and carrying her out of herself. She would not allow any other anxiety to succeed directly to the place in her mind which Harriet had occupied. There was a communication before her, one which _she_ only could be competent to make--the confession of her engagement to her father; but she would have nothing to do with it at present.--She had resolved to defer the disclosure till Mrs. Weston were safe and well. No additional agitation should be thrown at this period among those she loved--and the evil should not act on herself by anticipation before the appointed time.--A fortnight, at least, of leisure and peace of mind, to crown every warmer, but more agitating, delight, should be hers. She soon resolved, equally as a duty and a pleasure, to employ half an hour of this holiday of spirits in calling on Miss Fairfax.--She ought to go--and she was longing to see her; the resemblance of their present situations increasing every other motive of goodwill. It would be a _secret_ satisfaction; but the consciousness of a similarity of prospect would certainly add to the interest with which she should attend to any thing Jane might communicate. She went--she had driven once unsuccessfully to the door, but had not been into the house since the morning after Box Hill, when poor Jane had been in such distress as had filled her with compassion, though all the worst of her sufferings had been unsuspected.--The fear of being still unwelcome, determined her, though assured of their being at home, to wait in the passage, and send up her name.--She heard Patty announcing it; but no such bustle succeeded as poor Miss Bates had before made so happily intelligible.--No; she heard nothing but the instant reply of, "Beg her to walk up;"--and a moment afterwards she was met on the stairs by Jane herself, coming eagerly forward, as if no other reception of her were felt sufficient.--Emma had never seen her look so well, so lovely, so engaging. There was consciousness, animation, and warmth; there was every thing which her countenance or manner could ever have wanted.-- She came forward with an offered hand; and said, in a low, but very feeling tone, "This is most kind, indeed!--Miss Woodhouse, it is impossible for me to express--I hope you will believe--Excuse me for being so entirely without words." Emma was gratified, and would soon have shewn no want of words, if the sound of Mrs. Elton's voice from the sitting-room had not checked her, and made it expedient to compress all her friendly and all her congratulatory sensations into a very, very earnest shake of the hand. Mrs. Bates and Mrs. Elton were together. Miss Bates was out, which accounted for the previous tranquillity. Emma could have wished Mrs. Elton elsewhere; but she was in a humour to have patience with every body; and as Mrs. Elton met her with unusual graciousness, she hoped the rencontre would do them no harm. She soon believed herself to penetrate Mrs. Elton's thoughts, and understand why she was, like herself, in happy spirits; it was being in Miss Fairfax's confidence, and fancying herself acquainted with what was still a secret to other people. Emma saw symptoms of it immediately in the expression of her face; and while paying her own compliments to Mrs. Bates, and appearing to attend to the good old lady's replies, she saw her with a sort of anxious parade of mystery fold up a letter which she had apparently been reading aloud to Miss Fairfax, and return it into the purple and gold reticule by her side, saying, with significant nods, "We can finish this some other time, you know. You and I shall not want opportunities. And, in fact, you have heard all the essential already. I only wanted to prove to you that Mrs. S. admits our apology, and is not offended. You see how delightfully she writes. Oh! she is a sweet creature! You would have doated on her, had you gone.--But not a word more. Let us be discreet--quite on our good behaviour.--Hush!--You remember those lines--I forget the poem at this moment: "For when a lady's in the case, "You know all other things give place." Now I say, my dear, in _our_ case, for _lady_, read----mum! a word to the wise.--I am in a fine flow of spirits, an't I? But I want to set your heart at ease as to Mrs. S.--_My_ representation, you see, has quite appeased her." And again, on Emma's merely turning her head to look at Mrs. Bates's knitting, she added, in a half whisper, "I mentioned no _names_, you will observe.--Oh! no; cautious as a minister of state. I managed it extremely well." Emma could not doubt. It was a palpable display, repeated on every possible occasion. When they had all talked a little while in harmony of the weather and Mrs. Weston, she found herself abruptly addressed with, "Do not you think, Miss Woodhouse, our saucy little friend here is charmingly recovered?--Do not you think her cure does Perry the highest credit?--(here was a side-glance of great meaning at Jane.) Upon my word, Perry has restored her in a wonderful short time!--Oh! if you had seen her, as I did, when she was at the worst!"--And when Mrs. Bates was saying something to Emma, whispered farther, "We do not say a word of any _assistance_ that Perry might have; not a word of a certain young physician from Windsor.--Oh! no; Perry shall have all the credit." "I have scarce had the pleasure of seeing you, Miss Woodhouse," she shortly afterwards began, "since the party to Box Hill. Very pleasant party. But yet I think there was something wanting. Things did not seem--that is, there seemed a little cloud upon the spirits of some.--So it appeared to me at least, but I might be mistaken. However, I think it answered so far as to tempt one to go again. What say you both to our collecting the same party, and exploring to Box Hill again, while the fine weather lasts?--It must be the same party, you know, quite the same party, not _one_ exception." Soon after this Miss Bates came in, and Emma could not help being diverted by the perplexity of her first answer to herself, resulting, she supposed, from doubt of what might be said, and impatience to say every thing. "Thank you, dear Miss Woodhouse, you are all kindness.--It is impossible to say--Yes, indeed, I quite understand--dearest Jane's prospects--that is, I do not mean.--But she is charmingly recovered.--How is Mr. Woodhouse?--I am so glad.--Quite out of my power.--Such a happy little circle as you find us here.--Yes, indeed.--Charming young man!--that is--so very friendly; I mean good Mr. Perry!--such attention to Jane!"--And from her great, her more than commonly thankful delight towards Mrs. Elton for being there, Emma guessed that there had been a little show of resentment towards Jane, from the vicarage quarter, which was now graciously overcome.--After a few whispers, indeed, which placed it beyond a guess, Mrs. Elton, speaking louder, said, "Yes, here I am, my good friend; and here I have been so long, that anywhere else I should think it necessary to apologise; but, the truth is, that I am waiting for my lord and master. He promised to join me here, and pay his respects to you." "What! are we to have the pleasure of a call from Mr. Elton?--That will be a favour indeed! for I know gentlemen do not like morning visits, and Mr. Elton's time is so engaged." "Upon my word it is, Miss Bates.--He really is engaged from morning to night.--There is no end of people's coming to him, on some pretence or other.--The magistrates, and overseers, and churchwardens, are always wanting his opinion. They seem not able to do any thing without him.--'Upon my word, Mr. E.,' I often say, 'rather you than I.--I do not know what would become of my crayons and my instrument, if I had half so many applicants.'--Bad enough as it is, for I absolutely neglect them both to an unpardonable degree.--I believe I have not played a bar this fortnight.--However, he is coming, I assure you: yes, indeed, on purpose to wait on you all." And putting up her hand to screen her words from Emma--"A congratulatory visit, you know.--Oh! yes, quite indispensable." Miss Bates looked about her, so happily--! "He promised to come to me as soon as he could disengage himself from Knightley; but he and Knightley are shut up together in deep consultation.--Mr. E. is Knightley's right hand." Emma would not have smiled for the world, and only said, "Is Mr. Elton gone on foot to Donwell?--He will have a hot walk." "Oh! no, it is a meeting at the Crown, a regular meeting. Weston and Cole will be there too; but one is apt to speak only of those who lead.--I fancy Mr. E. and Knightley have every thing their own way." "Have not you mistaken the day?" said Emma. "I am almost certain that the meeting at the Crown is not till to-morrow.--Mr. Knightley was at Hartfield yesterday, and spoke of it as for Saturday." "Oh! no, the meeting is certainly to-day," was the abrupt answer, which denoted the impossibility of any blunder on Mrs. Elton's side.--"I do believe," she continued, "this is the most troublesome parish that ever was. We never heard of such things at Maple Grove." "Your parish there was small," said Jane. "Upon my word, my dear, I do not know, for I never heard the subject talked of." "But it is proved by the smallness of the school, which I have heard you speak of, as under the patronage of your sister and Mrs. Bragge; the only school, and not more than five-and-twenty children." "Ah! you clever creature, that's very true. What a thinking brain you have! I say, Jane, what a perfect character you and I should make, if we could be shaken together. My liveliness and your solidity would produce perfection.--Not that I presume to insinuate, however, that _some_ people may not think _you_ perfection already.--But hush!--not a word, if you please." It seemed an unnecessary caution; Jane was wanting to give her words, not to Mrs. Elton, but to Miss Woodhouse, as the latter plainly saw. The wish of distinguishing her, as far as civility permitted, was very evident, though it could not often proceed beyond a look. Mr. Elton made his appearance. His lady greeted him with some of her sparkling vivacity. "Very pretty, sir, upon my word; to send me on here, to be an encumbrance to my friends, so long before you vouchsafe to come!--But you knew what a dutiful creature you had to deal with. You knew I should not stir till my lord and master appeared.--Here have I been sitting this hour, giving these young ladies a sample of true conjugal obedience--for who can say, you know, how soon it may be wanted?" Mr. Elton was so hot and tired, that all this wit seemed thrown away. His civilities to the other ladies must be paid; but his subsequent object was to lament over himself for the heat he was suffering, and the walk he had had for nothing. "When I got to Donwell," said he, "Knightley could not be found. Very odd! very unaccountable! after the note I sent him this morning, and the message he returned, that he should certainly be at home till one." "Donwell!" cried his wife.--"My dear Mr. E., you have not been to Donwell!--You mean the Crown; you come from the meeting at the Crown." "No, no, that's to-morrow; and I particularly wanted to see Knightley to-day on that very account.--Such a dreadful broiling morning!--I went over the fields too--(speaking in a tone of great ill-usage,) which made it so much the worse. And then not to find him at home! I assure you I am not at all pleased. And no apology left, no message for me. The housekeeper declared she knew nothing of my being expected.--Very extraordinary!--And nobody knew at all which way he was gone. Perhaps to Hartfield, perhaps to the Abbey Mill, perhaps into his woods.--Miss Woodhouse, this is not like our friend Knightley!--Can you explain it?" Emma amused herself by protesting that it was very extraordinary, indeed, and that she had not a syllable to say for him. "I cannot imagine," said Mrs. Elton, (feeling the indignity as a wife ought to do,) "I cannot imagine how he could do such a thing by you, of all people in the world! The very last person whom one should expect to be forgotten!--My dear Mr. E., he must have left a message for you, I am sure he must.--Not even Knightley could be so very eccentric;--and his servants forgot it. Depend upon it, that was the case: and very likely to happen with the Donwell servants, who are all, I have often observed, extremely awkward and remiss.--I am sure I would not have such a creature as his Harry stand at our sideboard for any consideration. And as for Mrs. Hodges, Wright holds her very cheap indeed.--She promised Wright a receipt, and never sent it." "I met William Larkins," continued Mr. Elton, "as I got near the house, and he told me I should not find his master at home, but I did not believe him.--William seemed rather out of humour. He did not know what was come to his master lately, he said, but he could hardly ever get the speech of him. I have nothing to do with William's wants, but it really is of very great importance that _I_ should see Knightley to-day; and it becomes a matter, therefore, of very serious inconvenience that I should have had this hot walk to no purpose." Emma felt that she could not do better than go home directly. In all probability she was at this very time waited for there; and Mr. Knightley might be preserved from sinking deeper in aggression towards Mr. Elton, if not towards William Larkins. She was pleased, on taking leave, to find Miss Fairfax determined to attend her out of the room, to go with her even downstairs; it gave her an opportunity which she immediately made use of, to say, "It is as well, perhaps, that I have not had the possibility. Had you not been surrounded by other friends, I might have been tempted to introduce a subject, to ask questions, to speak more openly than might have been strictly correct.--I feel that I should certainly have been impertinent." "Oh!" cried Jane, with a blush and an hesitation which Emma thought infinitely more becoming to her than all the elegance of all her usual composure--"there would have been no danger. The danger would have been of my wearying you. You could not have gratified me more than by expressing an interest--. Indeed, Miss Woodhouse, (speaking more collectedly,) with the consciousness which I have of misconduct, very great misconduct, it is particularly consoling to me to know that those of my friends, whose good opinion is most worth preserving, are not disgusted to such a degree as to--I have not time for half that I could wish to say. I long to make apologies, excuses, to urge something for myself. I feel it so very due. But, unfortunately--in short, if your compassion does not stand my friend--" "Oh! you are too scrupulous, indeed you are," cried Emma warmly, and taking her hand. "You owe me no apologies; and every body to whom you might be supposed to owe them, is so perfectly satisfied, so delighted even--" "You are very kind, but I know what my manners were to you.--So cold and artificial!--I had always a part to act.--It was a life of deceit!--I know that I must have disgusted you." "Pray say no more. I feel that all the apologies should be on my side. Let us forgive each other at once. We must do whatever is to be done quickest, and I think our feelings will lose no time there. I hope you have pleasant accounts from Windsor?" "Very." "And the next news, I suppose, will be, that we are to lose you--just as I begin to know you." "Oh! as to all that, of course nothing can be thought of yet. I am here till claimed by Colonel and Mrs. Campbell." "Nothing can be actually settled yet, perhaps," replied Emma, smiling--"but, excuse me, it must be thought of." The smile was returned as Jane answered, "You are very right; it has been thought of. And I will own to you, (I am sure it will be safe), that so far as our living with Mr. Churchill at Enscombe, it is settled. There must be three months, at least, of deep mourning; but when they are over, I imagine there will be nothing more to wait for." "Thank you, thank you.--This is just what I wanted to be assured of.--Oh! if you knew how much I love every thing that is decided and open!--Good-bye, good-bye." CHAPTER XVII Mrs. Weston's friends were all made happy by her safety; and if the satisfaction of her well-doing could be increased to Emma, it was by knowing her to be the mother of a little girl. She had been decided in wishing for a Miss Weston. She would not acknowledge that it was with any view of making a match for her, hereafter, with either of Isabella's sons; but she was convinced that a daughter would suit both father and mother best. It would be a great comfort to Mr. Weston, as he grew older--and even Mr. Weston might be growing older ten years hence--to have his fireside enlivened by the sports and the nonsense, the freaks and the fancies of a child never banished from home; and Mrs. Weston--no one could doubt that a daughter would be most to her; and it would be quite a pity that any one who so well knew how to teach, should not have their powers in exercise again. "She has had the advantage, you know, of practising on me," she continued--"like La Baronne d'Almane on La Comtesse d'Ostalis, in Madame de Genlis' Adelaide and Theodore, and we shall now see her own little Adelaide educated on a more perfect plan." "That is," replied Mr. Knightley, "she will indulge her even more than she did you, and believe that she does not indulge her at all. It will be the only difference." "Poor child!" cried Emma; "at that rate, what will become of her?" "Nothing very bad.--The fate of thousands. She will be disagreeable in infancy, and correct herself as she grows older. I am losing all my bitterness against spoilt children, my dearest Emma. I, who am owing all my happiness to _you_, would not it be horrible ingratitude in me to be severe on them?" Emma laughed, and replied: "But I had the assistance of all your endeavours to counteract the indulgence of other people. I doubt whether my own sense would have corrected me without it." "Do you?--I have no doubt. Nature gave

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what immediately followed of the basis of their disagreement, and his persisting to act in direct opposition to Jane Fairfax's sense of right, he made a fuller pause to say, "This is very bad.--He had induced her to place herself, for his sake, in a situation of extreme difficulty and uneasiness, and it should have been his first object to prevent her from suffering unnecessarily.--She must have had much more to contend with, in carrying on the correspondence, than he could. He should have respected even unreasonable scruples, had there been such; but hers were all reasonable. We must look to her one fault, and remember that she had done a wrong thing in consenting to the engagement, to bear that she should have been in such a state of punishment." Emma knew that he was now getting to the Box Hill party, and grew uncomfortable. Her own behaviour had been so very improper! She was deeply ashamed, and a little afraid of his next look. It was all read, however, steadily, attentively, and without the smallest remark; and, excepting one momentary glance at her, instantly withdrawn, in the fear of giving pain--no remembrance of Box Hill seemed to exist. "There is no saying much for the delicacy of our good friends, the Eltons," was his next observation.--"His feelings are natural.--What! actually resolve to break with him entirely!--She felt the engagement to be a source of repentance and misery to each--she dissolved it.--What a view this gives of her sense of his behaviour!--Well, he must be a most extraordinary--" "Nay, nay, read on.--You will find how very much he suffers." "I hope he does," replied Mr. Knightley coolly, and resuming the letter. "'Smallridge!'--What does this mean? What is all this?" "She had engaged to go as governess to Mrs. Smallridge's children--a dear friend of Mrs. Elton's--a neighbour of Maple Grove; and, by the bye, I wonder how Mrs. Elton bears the disappointment?" "Say nothing, my dear Emma, while you oblige me to read--not even of Mrs. Elton. Only one page more. I shall soon have done. What a letter the man writes!" "I wish you would read it with a kinder spirit towards him." "Well, there _is_ feeling here.--He does seem to have suffered in finding her ill.--Certainly, I can have no doubt of his being fond of her. 'Dearer, much dearer than ever.' I hope he may long continue to feel all the value of such a reconciliation.--He is a very liberal thanker, with his thousands and tens of thousands.--'Happier than I deserve.' Come, he knows himself there. 'Miss Woodhouse calls me the child of good fortune.'--Those were Miss Woodhouse's words, were they?-- And a fine ending--and there is the letter. The child of good fortune! That was your name for him, was it?" "You do not appear so well satisfied with his letter as I am; but still you must, at least I hope you must, think the better of him for it. I hope it does him some service with you." "Yes, certainly it does. He has had great faults, faults of inconsideration and thoughtlessness; and I am very much of his opinion in thinking him likely to be happier than he deserves: but still as he is, beyond a doubt, really attached to Miss Fairfax, and will soon, it may be hoped, have the advantage of being constantly with her, I am very ready to believe his character will improve, and acquire from hers the steadiness and delicacy of principle that it wants. And now, let me talk to you of something else. I have another person's interest at present so much at heart, that I cannot think any longer about Frank Churchill. Ever since I left you this morning, Emma, my mind has been hard at work on one subject." The subject followed; it was in plain, unaffected, gentlemanlike English, such as Mr. Knightley used even to the woman he was in love with, how to be able to ask her to marry him, without attacking the happiness of her father. Emma's answer was ready at the first word. "While her dear father lived, any change of condition must be impossible for her. She could never quit him." Part only of this answer, however, was admitted. The impossibility of her quitting her father, Mr. Knightley felt as strongly as herself; but the inadmissibility of any other change, he could not agree to. He had been thinking it over most deeply, most intently; he had at first hoped to induce Mr. Woodhouse to remove with her to Donwell; he had wanted to believe it feasible, but his knowledge of Mr. Woodhouse would not suffer him to deceive himself long; and now he confessed his persuasion, that such a transplantation would be a risk of her father's comfort, perhaps even of his life, which must not be hazarded. Mr. Woodhouse taken from Hartfield!--No, he felt that it ought not to be attempted. But the plan which had arisen on the sacrifice of this, he trusted his dearest Emma would not find in any respect objectionable; it was, that he should be received at Hartfield; that so long as her father's happiness--in other words, his life--required Hartfield to continue her home, it should be his likewise. Of their all removing to Donwell, Emma had already had her own passing thoughts. Like him, she had tried the scheme and rejected it; but such an alternative as this had not occurred to her. She was sensible of all the affection it evinced. She felt that, in quitting Donwell, he must be sacrificing a great deal of independence of hours and habits; that in living constantly with her father, and in no house of his own, there would be much, very much, to be borne with. She promised to think of it, and advised him to think of it more; but he was fully convinced, that no reflection could alter his wishes or his opinion on the subject. He had given it, he could assure her, very long and calm consideration; he had been walking away from William Larkins the whole morning, to have his thoughts to himself. "Ah! there is one difficulty unprovided for," cried Emma. "I am sure William Larkins will not like it. You must get his consent before you ask mine." She promised, however, to think of it; and pretty nearly promised, moreover, to think of it, with the intention of finding it a very good scheme. It is remarkable, that Emma, in the many, very many, points of view in which she was now beginning to consider Donwell Abbey, was never struck with any sense of injury to her nephew Henry, whose rights as heir-expectant had formerly been so tenaciously regarded. Think she must of the possible difference to the poor little boy; and yet she only gave herself a saucy conscious smile about it, and found amusement in detecting the real cause of that violent dislike of Mr. Knightley's marrying Jane Fairfax, or any body else, which at the time she had wholly imputed to the amiable solicitude of the sister and the aunt. This proposal of his, this plan of marrying and continuing at Hartfield--the more she contemplated it, the more pleasing it became. His evils seemed to lessen, her own advantages to increase, their mutual good to outweigh every drawback. Such a companion for herself in the periods of anxiety and cheerlessness before her!--Such a partner in all those duties and cares to which time must be giving increase of melancholy! She would have been too happy but for poor Harriet; but every blessing of her own seemed to involve and advance the sufferings of her friend, who must now be even excluded from Hartfield. The delightful family party which Emma was securing for herself, poor Harriet must, in mere charitable caution, be kept at a distance from. She would be a loser in every way. Emma could not deplore her future absence as any deduction from her own enjoyment. In such a party, Harriet would be rather a dead weight than otherwise; but for the poor girl herself, it seemed a peculiarly cruel necessity that was to be placing her in such a state of unmerited punishment. In time, of course, Mr. Knightley would be forgotten, that is, supplanted; but this could not be expected to happen very early. Mr. Knightley himself would be doing nothing to assist the cure;--not like Mr. Elton. Mr. Knightley, always so kind, so feeling, so truly considerate for every body, would never deserve to be less worshipped than now; and it really was too much to hope even of Harriet, that she could be in love with more than _three_ men in one year. CHAPTER XVI It was a very great relief to Emma to find Harriet as desirous as herself to avoid a meeting. Their intercourse was painful enough by letter. How much worse, had they been obliged to meet! Harriet expressed herself very much as might be supposed, without reproaches, or apparent sense of ill-usage; and yet Emma fancied there was a something of resentment, a something bordering on it in her style, which increased the desirableness of their being separate.--It might be only her own consciousness; but it seemed as if an angel only could have been quite without resentment under such a stroke. She had no difficulty in procuring Isabella's invitation; and she was fortunate in having a sufficient reason for asking it, without resorting to invention.--There was a tooth amiss. Harriet really wished, and had wished some time, to consult a dentist. Mrs. John Knightley was delighted to be of use; any thing of ill health was a recommendation to her--and though not so fond of a dentist as of a Mr. Wingfield, she was quite eager to have Harriet under her care.--When it was thus settled on her sister's side, Emma proposed it to her friend, and found her very persuadable.--Harriet was to go; she was invited for at least a fortnight; she was to be conveyed in Mr. Woodhouse's carriage.--It was all arranged, it was all completed, and Harriet was safe in Brunswick Square. Now Emma could, indeed, enjoy Mr. Knightley's visits; now she could talk, and she could listen with true happiness, unchecked by that sense of injustice, of guilt, of something most painful, which had haunted her when remembering how disappointed a heart was near her, how much might at that moment, and at a little distance, be enduring by the feelings which she had led astray herself. The difference of Harriet at Mrs. Goddard's, or in London, made perhaps an unreasonable difference in Emma's sensations; but she could not think of her in London without objects of curiosity and employment, which must be averting the past, and carrying her out of herself. She would not allow any other anxiety to succeed directly to the place in her mind which Harriet had occupied. There was a communication before her, one which _she_ only could be competent to make--the confession of her engagement to her father; but she would have nothing to do with it at present.--She had resolved to defer the disclosure till Mrs. Weston were safe and well. No additional agitation should be thrown at this period among those she loved--and the evil should not act on herself by anticipation before the appointed time.--A fortnight, at least, of leisure and peace of mind, to crown every warmer, but more agitating, delight, should be hers. She soon resolved, equally as a duty and a pleasure, to employ half an hour of this holiday of spirits in calling on Miss Fairfax.--She ought to go--and she was longing to see her; the resemblance of their present situations increasing every other motive of goodwill. It would be a _secret_ satisfaction; but the consciousness of a similarity of prospect would certainly add to the interest with which she should attend to any thing Jane might communicate. She went--she had driven once unsuccessfully to the door, but had not been into the house since the morning after Box Hill, when poor Jane had been in such distress as had filled her with compassion, though all the worst of her sufferings had been unsuspected.--The fear of being still unwelcome, determined her, though assured of their being at home, to wait in the passage, and send up her name.--She heard Patty announcing it; but no such bustle succeeded as poor Miss Bates had before made so happily intelligible.--No; she heard nothing but the instant reply of, "Beg her to walk up;"--and a moment afterwards she was met on the stairs by Jane herself, coming eagerly forward, as if no other reception of her were felt sufficient.--Emma had never seen her look so well, so lovely, so engaging. There was consciousness, animation, and warmth; there was every thing which her countenance or manner could ever have wanted.-- She came forward with an offered hand; and said, in a low, but very feeling tone, "This is most kind, indeed!--Miss Woodhouse, it is impossible for me to express--I hope you will believe--Excuse me for being so entirely without words." Emma was gratified, and would soon have shewn no want of words, if the sound of Mrs. Elton's voice from the sitting-room had not checked her, and made it expedient to compress all her friendly and all her congratulatory sensations into a very, very earnest shake of the hand. Mrs. Bates and Mrs. Elton were together. Miss Bates was out, which accounted for the previous tranquillity. Emma could have wished Mrs. Elton elsewhere; but she was in a humour to have patience with every body; and as Mrs. Elton met her with unusual graciousness, she hoped the rencontre would do them no harm. She soon believed herself to penetrate Mrs. Elton's thoughts, and understand why she was, like herself, in happy spirits; it was being in Miss Fairfax's confidence, and fancying herself acquainted with what was still a secret to other people. Emma saw symptoms of it immediately in the expression of her face; and while paying her own compliments to Mrs. Bates, and appearing to attend to the good old lady's replies, she saw her with a sort of anxious parade of mystery fold up a letter which she had apparently been reading aloud to Miss Fairfax, and return it into the purple and gold reticule by her side, saying, with significant nods, "We can finish this some other time, you know. You and I shall not want opportunities. And, in fact, you have heard all the essential already. I only wanted to prove to you that Mrs. S. admits our apology, and is not offended. You see how delightfully she writes. Oh! she is a sweet creature! You would have doated on her, had you gone.--But not a word more. Let us be discreet--quite on our good behaviour.--Hush!--You remember those lines--I forget the poem at this moment: "For when a lady's in the case, "You know all other things give place." Now I say, my dear, in _our_ case, for _lady_, read----mum! a word to the wise.--I am in a fine flow of spirits, an't I? But I want to set your heart at ease as to Mrs. S.--_My_ representation, you see, has quite appeased her." And again, on Emma's merely turning her head to look at Mrs. Bates's knitting, she added, in a half whisper, "I mentioned no _names_, you will observe.--Oh! no; cautious as a minister of state. I managed it extremely well." Emma could not doubt. It was a palpable display, repeated on every possible occasion. When they had all talked a little while in harmony of the weather and Mrs. Weston, she found herself abruptly addressed with, "Do not you think, Miss Woodhouse, our saucy little friend here is charmingly recovered?--Do not you think her cure does Perry the highest credit?--(here was a side-glance of great meaning at Jane.) Upon my word, Perry has restored her in a wonderful short time!--Oh! if you had seen her, as I did, when she was at the worst!"--And when Mrs. Bates was saying something to Emma, whispered farther, "We do not say a word of any _assistance_ that Perry might have; not a word of a certain young physician from Windsor.--Oh! no; Perry shall have all the credit." "I have scarce had the pleasure of seeing you, Miss Woodhouse," she shortly afterwards began, "since the party to Box Hill. Very pleasant party. But yet I think there was something wanting. Things did not seem--that is, there seemed a little cloud upon the spirits of some.--So it appeared to me at least, but I might be mistaken. However, I think it answered so far as to tempt one to go again. What say you both to our collecting the same party, and exploring to Box Hill again, while the fine weather lasts?--It must be the same party, you know, quite the same party, not _one_ exception." Soon after this Miss Bates came in, and Emma could not help being diverted by the perplexity of her first answer to herself, resulting, she supposed, from doubt of what might be said, and impatience to say every thing. "Thank you, dear Miss Woodhouse, you are all kindness.--It is impossible to say--Yes, indeed, I quite understand--dearest Jane's prospects--that is, I do not mean.--But she is charmingly recovered.--How is Mr. Woodhouse?--I am so glad.--Quite out of my power.--Such a happy little circle as you find us here.--Yes, indeed.--Charming young man!--that is--so very friendly; I mean good Mr. Perry!--such attention to Jane!"--And from her great, her more than commonly thankful delight towards Mrs. Elton for being there, Emma guessed that there had been a little show of resentment towards Jane, from the vicarage quarter, which was now graciously overcome.--After a few whispers, indeed, which placed it beyond a guess, Mrs. Elton, speaking louder, said, "Yes, here I am, my good friend; and here I have been so long, that anywhere else I should think it necessary to apologise; but, the truth is, that I am waiting for my lord and master. He promised to join me here, and pay his respects to you." "What! are we to have the pleasure of a call from Mr. Elton?--That will be a favour indeed! for I know gentlemen do not like morning visits, and Mr. Elton's time is so engaged." "Upon my word it is, Miss Bates.--He really is engaged from morning to night.--There is no end of people's coming to him, on some pretence or other.--The magistrates, and overseers, and churchwardens, are always wanting his opinion. They seem not able to do any thing without him.--'Upon my word, Mr. E.,' I often say, 'rather you than I.--I do not know what would become of my crayons and my instrument, if I had half so many applicants.'--Bad enough as it is, for I absolutely neglect them both to an unpardonable degree.--I believe I have not played a bar this fortnight.--However, he is coming, I assure you: yes, indeed, on purpose to wait on you all." And putting up her hand to screen her words from Emma--"A congratulatory visit, you know.--Oh! yes, quite indispensable." Miss Bates looked about her, so happily--! "He promised to come to me as soon as he could disengage himself from Knightley; but he and Knightley are shut up together in deep consultation.--Mr. E. is Knightley's right hand." Emma would not have smiled for the world, and only said, "Is Mr. Elton gone on foot to Donwell?--He will have a hot walk." "Oh! no, it is a meeting at the Crown, a regular meeting. Weston and Cole will be there too; but one is apt to speak only of those who lead.--I fancy Mr. E. and Knightley have every thing their own way." "Have not you mistaken the day?" said Emma. "I am almost certain that the meeting at the Crown is not till to-morrow.--Mr. Knightley was at Hartfield yesterday, and spoke of it as for Saturday." "Oh! no, the meeting is certainly to-day," was the abrupt answer, which denoted the impossibility of any blunder on Mrs. Elton's side.--"I do believe," she continued, "this is the most troublesome parish that ever was. We never heard of such things at Maple Grove." "Your parish there was small," said Jane. "Upon my word, my dear, I do not know, for I never heard the subject talked of." "But it is proved by the smallness of the school, which I have heard you speak of, as under the patronage of your sister and Mrs. Bragge; the only school, and not more than five-and-twenty children." "Ah! you clever creature, that's very true. What a thinking brain you have! I say, Jane, what a perfect character you and I should make, if we could be shaken together. My liveliness and your solidity would produce perfection.--Not that I presume to insinuate, however, that _some_ people may not think _you_ perfection already.--But hush!--not a word, if you please." It seemed an unnecessary caution; Jane was wanting to give her words, not to Mrs. Elton, but to Miss Woodhouse, as the latter plainly saw. The wish of distinguishing her, as far as civility permitted, was very evident, though it could not often proceed beyond a look. Mr. Elton made his appearance. His lady greeted him with some of her sparkling vivacity. "Very pretty, sir, upon my word; to send me on here, to be an encumbrance to my friends, so long before you vouchsafe to come!--But you knew what a dutiful creature you had to deal with. You knew I should not stir till my lord and master appeared.--Here have I been sitting this hour, giving these young ladies a sample of true conjugal obedience--for who can say, you know, how soon it may be wanted?" Mr. Elton was so hot and tired, that all this wit seemed thrown away. His civilities to the other ladies must be paid; but his subsequent object was to lament over himself for the heat he was suffering, and the walk he had had for nothing. "When I got to Donwell," said he, "Knightley could not be found. Very odd! very unaccountable! after the note I sent him this morning, and the message he returned, that he should certainly be at home till one." "Donwell!" cried his wife.--"My dear Mr. E., you have not been to Donwell!--You mean the Crown; you come from the meeting at the Crown." "No, no, that's to-morrow; and I particularly wanted to see Knightley to-day on that very account.--Such a dreadful broiling morning!--I went over the fields too--(speaking in a tone of great ill-usage,) which made it so much the worse. And then not to find him at home! I assure you I am not at all pleased. And no apology left, no message for me. The housekeeper declared she knew nothing of my being expected.--Very extraordinary!--And nobody knew at all which way he was gone. Perhaps to Hartfield, perhaps to the Abbey Mill, perhaps into his woods.--Miss Woodhouse, this is not like our friend Knightley!--Can you explain it?" Emma amused herself by protesting that it was very extraordinary, indeed, and that she had not a syllable to say for him. "I cannot imagine," said Mrs. Elton, (feeling the indignity as a wife ought to do,) "I cannot imagine how he could do such a thing by you, of all people in the world! The very last person whom one should expect to be forgotten!--My dear Mr. E., he must have left a message for you, I am sure he must.--Not even Knightley could be so very eccentric;--and his servants forgot it. Depend upon it, that was the case: and very likely to happen with the Donwell servants, who are all, I have often observed, extremely awkward and remiss.--I am sure I would not have such a creature as his Harry stand at our sideboard for any consideration. And as for Mrs. Hodges, Wright holds her very cheap indeed.--She promised Wright a receipt, and never sent it." "I met William Larkins," continued Mr. Elton, "as I got near the house, and he told me I should not find his master at home, but I did not believe him.--William seemed rather out of humour. He did not know what was come to his master lately, he said, but he could hardly ever get the speech of him. I have nothing to do with William's wants, but it really is of very great importance that _I_ should see Knightley to-day; and it becomes a matter, therefore, of very serious inconvenience that I should have had this hot walk to no purpose." Emma felt that she could not do better than go home directly. In all probability she was at this very time waited for there; and Mr. Knightley might be preserved from sinking deeper in aggression towards Mr. Elton, if not towards William Larkins. She was pleased, on taking leave, to find Miss Fairfax determined to attend her out of the room, to go with her even downstairs; it gave her an opportunity which she immediately made use of, to say, "It is as well, perhaps, that I have not had the possibility. Had you not been surrounded by other friends, I might have been tempted to introduce a subject, to ask questions, to speak more openly than might have been strictly correct.--I feel that I should certainly have been impertinent." "Oh!" cried Jane, with a blush and an hesitation which Emma thought infinitely more becoming to her than all the elegance of all her usual composure--"there would have been no danger. The danger would have been of my wearying you. You could not have gratified me more than by expressing an interest--. Indeed, Miss Woodhouse, (speaking more collectedly,) with the consciousness which I have of misconduct, very great misconduct, it is particularly consoling to me to know that those of my friends, whose good opinion is most worth preserving, are not disgusted to such a degree as to--I have not time for half that I could wish to say. I long to make apologies, excuses, to urge something for myself. I feel it so very due. But, unfortunately--in short, if your compassion does not stand my friend--" "Oh! you are too scrupulous, indeed you are," cried Emma warmly, and taking her hand. "You owe me no apologies; and every body to whom you might be supposed to owe them, is so perfectly satisfied, so delighted even--" "You are very kind, but I know what my manners were to you.--So cold and artificial!--I had always a part to act.--It was a life of deceit!--I know that I must have disgusted you." "Pray say no more. I feel that all the apologies should be on my side. Let us forgive each other at once. We must do whatever is to be done quickest, and I think our feelings will lose no time there. I hope you have pleasant accounts from Windsor?" "Very." "And the next news, I suppose, will be, that we are to lose you--just as I begin to know you." "Oh! as to all that, of course nothing can be thought of yet. I am here till claimed by Colonel and Mrs. Campbell." "Nothing can be actually settled yet, perhaps," replied Emma, smiling--"but, excuse me, it must be thought of." The smile was returned as Jane answered, "You are very right; it has been thought of. And I will own to you, (I am sure it will be safe), that so far as our living with Mr. Churchill at Enscombe, it is settled. There must be three months, at least, of deep mourning; but when they are over, I imagine there will be nothing more to wait for." "Thank you, thank you.--This is just what I wanted to be assured of.--Oh! if you knew how much I love every thing that is decided and open!--Good-bye, good-bye." CHAPTER XVII Mrs. Weston's friends were all made happy by her safety; and if the satisfaction of her well-doing could be increased to Emma, it was by knowing her to be the mother of a little girl. She had been decided in wishing for a Miss Weston. She would not acknowledge that it was with any view of making a match for her, hereafter, with either of Isabella's sons; but she was convinced that a daughter would suit both father and mother best. It would be a great comfort to Mr. Weston, as he grew older--and even Mr. Weston might be growing older ten years hence--to have his fireside enlivened by the sports and the nonsense, the freaks and the fancies of a child never banished from home; and Mrs. Weston--no one could doubt that a daughter would be most to her; and it would be quite a pity that any one who so well knew how to teach, should not have their powers in exercise again. "She has had the advantage, you know, of practising on me," she continued--"like La Baronne d'Almane on La Comtesse d'Ostalis, in Madame de Genlis' Adelaide and Theodore, and we shall now see her own little Adelaide educated on a more perfect plan." "That is," replied Mr. Knightley, "she will indulge her even more than she did you, and believe that she does not indulge her at all. It will be the only difference." "Poor child!" cried Emma; "at that rate, what will become of her?" "Nothing very bad.--The fate of thousands. She will be disagreeable in infancy, and correct herself as she grows older. I am losing all my bitterness against spoilt children, my dearest Emma. I, who am owing all my happiness to _you_, would not it be horrible ingratitude in me to be severe on them?" Emma laughed, and replied: "But I had the assistance of all your endeavours to counteract the indulgence of other people. I doubt whether my own sense would have corrected me without it." "Do you?--I have no doubt. Nature gave

sit

How many times the word 'sit' appears in the text?

what immediately followed of the basis of their disagreement, and his persisting to act in direct opposition to Jane Fairfax's sense of right, he made a fuller pause to say, "This is very bad.--He had induced her to place herself, for his sake, in a situation of extreme difficulty and uneasiness, and it should have been his first object to prevent her from suffering unnecessarily.--She must have had much more to contend with, in carrying on the correspondence, than he could. He should have respected even unreasonable scruples, had there been such; but hers were all reasonable. We must look to her one fault, and remember that she had done a wrong thing in consenting to the engagement, to bear that she should have been in such a state of punishment." Emma knew that he was now getting to the Box Hill party, and grew uncomfortable. Her own behaviour had been so very improper! She was deeply ashamed, and a little afraid of his next look. It was all read, however, steadily, attentively, and without the smallest remark; and, excepting one momentary glance at her, instantly withdrawn, in the fear of giving pain--no remembrance of Box Hill seemed to exist. "There is no saying much for the delicacy of our good friends, the Eltons," was his next observation.--"His feelings are natural.--What! actually resolve to break with him entirely!--She felt the engagement to be a source of repentance and misery to each--she dissolved it.--What a view this gives of her sense of his behaviour!--Well, he must be a most extraordinary--" "Nay, nay, read on.--You will find how very much he suffers." "I hope he does," replied Mr. Knightley coolly, and resuming the letter. "'Smallridge!'--What does this mean? What is all this?" "She had engaged to go as governess to Mrs. Smallridge's children--a dear friend of Mrs. Elton's--a neighbour of Maple Grove; and, by the bye, I wonder how Mrs. Elton bears the disappointment?" "Say nothing, my dear Emma, while you oblige me to read--not even of Mrs. Elton. Only one page more. I shall soon have done. What a letter the man writes!" "I wish you would read it with a kinder spirit towards him." "Well, there _is_ feeling here.--He does seem to have suffered in finding her ill.--Certainly, I can have no doubt of his being fond of her. 'Dearer, much dearer than ever.' I hope he may long continue to feel all the value of such a reconciliation.--He is a very liberal thanker, with his thousands and tens of thousands.--'Happier than I deserve.' Come, he knows himself there. 'Miss Woodhouse calls me the child of good fortune.'--Those were Miss Woodhouse's words, were they?-- And a fine ending--and there is the letter. The child of good fortune! That was your name for him, was it?" "You do not appear so well satisfied with his letter as I am; but still you must, at least I hope you must, think the better of him for it. I hope it does him some service with you." "Yes, certainly it does. He has had great faults, faults of inconsideration and thoughtlessness; and I am very much of his opinion in thinking him likely to be happier than he deserves: but still as he is, beyond a doubt, really attached to Miss Fairfax, and will soon, it may be hoped, have the advantage of being constantly with her, I am very ready to believe his character will improve, and acquire from hers the steadiness and delicacy of principle that it wants. And now, let me talk to you of something else. I have another person's interest at present so much at heart, that I cannot think any longer about Frank Churchill. Ever since I left you this morning, Emma, my mind has been hard at work on one subject." The subject followed; it was in plain, unaffected, gentlemanlike English, such as Mr. Knightley used even to the woman he was in love with, how to be able to ask her to marry him, without attacking the happiness of her father. Emma's answer was ready at the first word. "While her dear father lived, any change of condition must be impossible for her. She could never quit him." Part only of this answer, however, was admitted. The impossibility of her quitting her father, Mr. Knightley felt as strongly as herself; but the inadmissibility of any other change, he could not agree to. He had been thinking it over most deeply, most intently; he had at first hoped to induce Mr. Woodhouse to remove with her to Donwell; he had wanted to believe it feasible, but his knowledge of Mr. Woodhouse would not suffer him to deceive himself long; and now he confessed his persuasion, that such a transplantation would be a risk of her father's comfort, perhaps even of his life, which must not be hazarded. Mr. Woodhouse taken from Hartfield!--No, he felt that it ought not to be attempted. But the plan which had arisen on the sacrifice of this, he trusted his dearest Emma would not find in any respect objectionable; it was, that he should be received at Hartfield; that so long as her father's happiness--in other words, his life--required Hartfield to continue her home, it should be his likewise. Of their all removing to Donwell, Emma had already had her own passing thoughts. Like him, she had tried the scheme and rejected it; but such an alternative as this had not occurred to her. She was sensible of all the affection it evinced. She felt that, in quitting Donwell, he must be sacrificing a great deal of independence of hours and habits; that in living constantly with her father, and in no house of his own, there would be much, very much, to be borne with. She promised to think of it, and advised him to think of it more; but he was fully convinced, that no reflection could alter his wishes or his opinion on the subject. He had given it, he could assure her, very long and calm consideration; he had been walking away from William Larkins the whole morning, to have his thoughts to himself. "Ah! there is one difficulty unprovided for," cried Emma. "I am sure William Larkins will not like it. You must get his consent before you ask mine." She promised, however, to think of it; and pretty nearly promised, moreover, to think of it, with the intention of finding it a very good scheme. It is remarkable, that Emma, in the many, very many, points of view in which she was now beginning to consider Donwell Abbey, was never struck with any sense of injury to her nephew Henry, whose rights as heir-expectant had formerly been so tenaciously regarded. Think she must of the possible difference to the poor little boy; and yet she only gave herself a saucy conscious smile about it, and found amusement in detecting the real cause of that violent dislike of Mr. Knightley's marrying Jane Fairfax, or any body else, which at the time she had wholly imputed to the amiable solicitude of the sister and the aunt. This proposal of his, this plan of marrying and continuing at Hartfield--the more she contemplated it, the more pleasing it became. His evils seemed to lessen, her own advantages to increase, their mutual good to outweigh every drawback. Such a companion for herself in the periods of anxiety and cheerlessness before her!--Such a partner in all those duties and cares to which time must be giving increase of melancholy! She would have been too happy but for poor Harriet; but every blessing of her own seemed to involve and advance the sufferings of her friend, who must now be even excluded from Hartfield. The delightful family party which Emma was securing for herself, poor Harriet must, in mere charitable caution, be kept at a distance from. She would be a loser in every way. Emma could not deplore her future absence as any deduction from her own enjoyment. In such a party, Harriet would be rather a dead weight than otherwise; but for the poor girl herself, it seemed a peculiarly cruel necessity that was to be placing her in such a state of unmerited punishment. In time, of course, Mr. Knightley would be forgotten, that is, supplanted; but this could not be expected to happen very early. Mr. Knightley himself would be doing nothing to assist the cure;--not like Mr. Elton. Mr. Knightley, always so kind, so feeling, so truly considerate for every body, would never deserve to be less worshipped than now; and it really was too much to hope even of Harriet, that she could be in love with more than _three_ men in one year. CHAPTER XVI It was a very great relief to Emma to find Harriet as desirous as herself to avoid a meeting. Their intercourse was painful enough by letter. How much worse, had they been obliged to meet! Harriet expressed herself very much as might be supposed, without reproaches, or apparent sense of ill-usage; and yet Emma fancied there was a something of resentment, a something bordering on it in her style, which increased the desirableness of their being separate.--It might be only her own consciousness; but it seemed as if an angel only could have been quite without resentment under such a stroke. She had no difficulty in procuring Isabella's invitation; and she was fortunate in having a sufficient reason for asking it, without resorting to invention.--There was a tooth amiss. Harriet really wished, and had wished some time, to consult a dentist. Mrs. John Knightley was delighted to be of use; any thing of ill health was a recommendation to her--and though not so fond of a dentist as of a Mr. Wingfield, she was quite eager to have Harriet under her care.--When it was thus settled on her sister's side, Emma proposed it to her friend, and found her very persuadable.--Harriet was to go; she was invited for at least a fortnight; she was to be conveyed in Mr. Woodhouse's carriage.--It was all arranged, it was all completed, and Harriet was safe in Brunswick Square. Now Emma could, indeed, enjoy Mr. Knightley's visits; now she could talk, and she could listen with true happiness, unchecked by that sense of injustice, of guilt, of something most painful, which had haunted her when remembering how disappointed a heart was near her, how much might at that moment, and at a little distance, be enduring by the feelings which she had led astray herself. The difference of Harriet at Mrs. Goddard's, or in London, made perhaps an unreasonable difference in Emma's sensations; but she could not think of her in London without objects of curiosity and employment, which must be averting the past, and carrying her out of herself. She would not allow any other anxiety to succeed directly to the place in her mind which Harriet had occupied. There was a communication before her, one which _she_ only could be competent to make--the confession of her engagement to her father; but she would have nothing to do with it at present.--She had resolved to defer the disclosure till Mrs. Weston were safe and well. No additional agitation should be thrown at this period among those she loved--and the evil should not act on herself by anticipation before the appointed time.--A fortnight, at least, of leisure and peace of mind, to crown every warmer, but more agitating, delight, should be hers. She soon resolved, equally as a duty and a pleasure, to employ half an hour of this holiday of spirits in calling on Miss Fairfax.--She ought to go--and she was longing to see her; the resemblance of their present situations increasing every other motive of goodwill. It would be a _secret_ satisfaction; but the consciousness of a similarity of prospect would certainly add to the interest with which she should attend to any thing Jane might communicate. She went--she had driven once unsuccessfully to the door, but had not been into the house since the morning after Box Hill, when poor Jane had been in such distress as had filled her with compassion, though all the worst of her sufferings had been unsuspected.--The fear of being still unwelcome, determined her, though assured of their being at home, to wait in the passage, and send up her name.--She heard Patty announcing it; but no such bustle succeeded as poor Miss Bates had before made so happily intelligible.--No; she heard nothing but the instant reply of, "Beg her to walk up;"--and a moment afterwards she was met on the stairs by Jane herself, coming eagerly forward, as if no other reception of her were felt sufficient.--Emma had never seen her look so well, so lovely, so engaging. There was consciousness, animation, and warmth; there was every thing which her countenance or manner could ever have wanted.-- She came forward with an offered hand; and said, in a low, but very feeling tone, "This is most kind, indeed!--Miss Woodhouse, it is impossible for me to express--I hope you will believe--Excuse me for being so entirely without words." Emma was gratified, and would soon have shewn no want of words, if the sound of Mrs. Elton's voice from the sitting-room had not checked her, and made it expedient to compress all her friendly and all her congratulatory sensations into a very, very earnest shake of the hand. Mrs. Bates and Mrs. Elton were together. Miss Bates was out, which accounted for the previous tranquillity. Emma could have wished Mrs. Elton elsewhere; but she was in a humour to have patience with every body; and as Mrs. Elton met her with unusual graciousness, she hoped the rencontre would do them no harm. She soon believed herself to penetrate Mrs. Elton's thoughts, and understand why she was, like herself, in happy spirits; it was being in Miss Fairfax's confidence, and fancying herself acquainted with what was still a secret to other people. Emma saw symptoms of it immediately in the expression of her face; and while paying her own compliments to Mrs. Bates, and appearing to attend to the good old lady's replies, she saw her with a sort of anxious parade of mystery fold up a letter which she had apparently been reading aloud to Miss Fairfax, and return it into the purple and gold reticule by her side, saying, with significant nods, "We can finish this some other time, you know. You and I shall not want opportunities. And, in fact, you have heard all the essential already. I only wanted to prove to you that Mrs. S. admits our apology, and is not offended. You see how delightfully she writes. Oh! she is a sweet creature! You would have doated on her, had you gone.--But not a word more. Let us be discreet--quite on our good behaviour.--Hush!--You remember those lines--I forget the poem at this moment: "For when a lady's in the case, "You know all other things give place." Now I say, my dear, in _our_ case, for _lady_, read----mum! a word to the wise.--I am in a fine flow of spirits, an't I? But I want to set your heart at ease as to Mrs. S.--_My_ representation, you see, has quite appeased her." And again, on Emma's merely turning her head to look at Mrs. Bates's knitting, she added, in a half whisper, "I mentioned no _names_, you will observe.--Oh! no; cautious as a minister of state. I managed it extremely well." Emma could not doubt. It was a palpable display, repeated on every possible occasion. When they had all talked a little while in harmony of the weather and Mrs. Weston, she found herself abruptly addressed with, "Do not you think, Miss Woodhouse, our saucy little friend here is charmingly recovered?--Do not you think her cure does Perry the highest credit?--(here was a side-glance of great meaning at Jane.) Upon my word, Perry has restored her in a wonderful short time!--Oh! if you had seen her, as I did, when she was at the worst!"--And when Mrs. Bates was saying something to Emma, whispered farther, "We do not say a word of any _assistance_ that Perry might have; not a word of a certain young physician from Windsor.--Oh! no; Perry shall have all the credit." "I have scarce had the pleasure of seeing you, Miss Woodhouse," she shortly afterwards began, "since the party to Box Hill. Very pleasant party. But yet I think there was something wanting. Things did not seem--that is, there seemed a little cloud upon the spirits of some.--So it appeared to me at least, but I might be mistaken. However, I think it answered so far as to tempt one to go again. What say you both to our collecting the same party, and exploring to Box Hill again, while the fine weather lasts?--It must be the same party, you know, quite the same party, not _one_ exception." Soon after this Miss Bates came in, and Emma could not help being diverted by the perplexity of her first answer to herself, resulting, she supposed, from doubt of what might be said, and impatience to say every thing. "Thank you, dear Miss Woodhouse, you are all kindness.--It is impossible to say--Yes, indeed, I quite understand--dearest Jane's prospects--that is, I do not mean.--But she is charmingly recovered.--How is Mr. Woodhouse?--I am so glad.--Quite out of my power.--Such a happy little circle as you find us here.--Yes, indeed.--Charming young man!--that is--so very friendly; I mean good Mr. Perry!--such attention to Jane!"--And from her great, her more than commonly thankful delight towards Mrs. Elton for being there, Emma guessed that there had been a little show of resentment towards Jane, from the vicarage quarter, which was now graciously overcome.--After a few whispers, indeed, which placed it beyond a guess, Mrs. Elton, speaking louder, said, "Yes, here I am, my good friend; and here I have been so long, that anywhere else I should think it necessary to apologise; but, the truth is, that I am waiting for my lord and master. He promised to join me here, and pay his respects to you." "What! are we to have the pleasure of a call from Mr. Elton?--That will be a favour indeed! for I know gentlemen do not like morning visits, and Mr. Elton's time is so engaged." "Upon my word it is, Miss Bates.--He really is engaged from morning to night.--There is no end of people's coming to him, on some pretence or other.--The magistrates, and overseers, and churchwardens, are always wanting his opinion. They seem not able to do any thing without him.--'Upon my word, Mr. E.,' I often say, 'rather you than I.--I do not know what would become of my crayons and my instrument, if I had half so many applicants.'--Bad enough as it is, for I absolutely neglect them both to an unpardonable degree.--I believe I have not played a bar this fortnight.--However, he is coming, I assure you: yes, indeed, on purpose to wait on you all." And putting up her hand to screen her words from Emma--"A congratulatory visit, you know.--Oh! yes, quite indispensable." Miss Bates looked about her, so happily--! "He promised to come to me as soon as he could disengage himself from Knightley; but he and Knightley are shut up together in deep consultation.--Mr. E. is Knightley's right hand." Emma would not have smiled for the world, and only said, "Is Mr. Elton gone on foot to Donwell?--He will have a hot walk." "Oh! no, it is a meeting at the Crown, a regular meeting. Weston and Cole will be there too; but one is apt to speak only of those who lead.--I fancy Mr. E. and Knightley have every thing their own way." "Have not you mistaken the day?" said Emma. "I am almost certain that the meeting at the Crown is not till to-morrow.--Mr. Knightley was at Hartfield yesterday, and spoke of it as for Saturday." "Oh! no, the meeting is certainly to-day," was the abrupt answer, which denoted the impossibility of any blunder on Mrs. Elton's side.--"I do believe," she continued, "this is the most troublesome parish that ever was. We never heard of such things at Maple Grove." "Your parish there was small," said Jane. "Upon my word, my dear, I do not know, for I never heard the subject talked of." "But it is proved by the smallness of the school, which I have heard you speak of, as under the patronage of your sister and Mrs. Bragge; the only school, and not more than five-and-twenty children." "Ah! you clever creature, that's very true. What a thinking brain you have! I say, Jane, what a perfect character you and I should make, if we could be shaken together. My liveliness and your solidity would produce perfection.--Not that I presume to insinuate, however, that _some_ people may not think _you_ perfection already.--But hush!--not a word, if you please." It seemed an unnecessary caution; Jane was wanting to give her words, not to Mrs. Elton, but to Miss Woodhouse, as the latter plainly saw. The wish of distinguishing her, as far as civility permitted, was very evident, though it could not often proceed beyond a look. Mr. Elton made his appearance. His lady greeted him with some of her sparkling vivacity. "Very pretty, sir, upon my word; to send me on here, to be an encumbrance to my friends, so long before you vouchsafe to come!--But you knew what a dutiful creature you had to deal with. You knew I should not stir till my lord and master appeared.--Here have I been sitting this hour, giving these young ladies a sample of true conjugal obedience--for who can say, you know, how soon it may be wanted?" Mr. Elton was so hot and tired, that all this wit seemed thrown away. His civilities to the other ladies must be paid; but his subsequent object was to lament over himself for the heat he was suffering, and the walk he had had for nothing. "When I got to Donwell," said he, "Knightley could not be found. Very odd! very unaccountable! after the note I sent him this morning, and the message he returned, that he should certainly be at home till one." "Donwell!" cried his wife.--"My dear Mr. E., you have not been to Donwell!--You mean the Crown; you come from the meeting at the Crown." "No, no, that's to-morrow; and I particularly wanted to see Knightley to-day on that very account.--Such a dreadful broiling morning!--I went over the fields too--(speaking in a tone of great ill-usage,) which made it so much the worse. And then not to find him at home! I assure you I am not at all pleased. And no apology left, no message for me. The housekeeper declared she knew nothing of my being expected.--Very extraordinary!--And nobody knew at all which way he was gone. Perhaps to Hartfield, perhaps to the Abbey Mill, perhaps into his woods.--Miss Woodhouse, this is not like our friend Knightley!--Can you explain it?" Emma amused herself by protesting that it was very extraordinary, indeed, and that she had not a syllable to say for him. "I cannot imagine," said Mrs. Elton, (feeling the indignity as a wife ought to do,) "I cannot imagine how he could do such a thing by you, of all people in the world! The very last person whom one should expect to be forgotten!--My dear Mr. E., he must have left a message for you, I am sure he must.--Not even Knightley could be so very eccentric;--and his servants forgot it. Depend upon it, that was the case: and very likely to happen with the Donwell servants, who are all, I have often observed, extremely awkward and remiss.--I am sure I would not have such a creature as his Harry stand at our sideboard for any consideration. And as for Mrs. Hodges, Wright holds her very cheap indeed.--She promised Wright a receipt, and never sent it." "I met William Larkins," continued Mr. Elton, "as I got near the house, and he told me I should not find his master at home, but I did not believe him.--William seemed rather out of humour. He did not know what was come to his master lately, he said, but he could hardly ever get the speech of him. I have nothing to do with William's wants, but it really is of very great importance that _I_ should see Knightley to-day; and it becomes a matter, therefore, of very serious inconvenience that I should have had this hot walk to no purpose." Emma felt that she could not do better than go home directly. In all probability she was at this very time waited for there; and Mr. Knightley might be preserved from sinking deeper in aggression towards Mr. Elton, if not towards William Larkins. She was pleased, on taking leave, to find Miss Fairfax determined to attend her out of the room, to go with her even downstairs; it gave her an opportunity which she immediately made use of, to say, "It is as well, perhaps, that I have not had the possibility. Had you not been surrounded by other friends, I might have been tempted to introduce a subject, to ask questions, to speak more openly than might have been strictly correct.--I feel that I should certainly have been impertinent." "Oh!" cried Jane, with a blush and an hesitation which Emma thought infinitely more becoming to her than all the elegance of all her usual composure--"there would have been no danger. The danger would have been of my wearying you. You could not have gratified me more than by expressing an interest--. Indeed, Miss Woodhouse, (speaking more collectedly,) with the consciousness which I have of misconduct, very great misconduct, it is particularly consoling to me to know that those of my friends, whose good opinion is most worth preserving, are not disgusted to such a degree as to--I have not time for half that I could wish to say. I long to make apologies, excuses, to urge something for myself. I feel it so very due. But, unfortunately--in short, if your compassion does not stand my friend--" "Oh! you are too scrupulous, indeed you are," cried Emma warmly, and taking her hand. "You owe me no apologies; and every body to whom you might be supposed to owe them, is so perfectly satisfied, so delighted even--" "You are very kind, but I know what my manners were to you.--So cold and artificial!--I had always a part to act.--It was a life of deceit!--I know that I must have disgusted you." "Pray say no more. I feel that all the apologies should be on my side. Let us forgive each other at once. We must do whatever is to be done quickest, and I think our feelings will lose no time there. I hope you have pleasant accounts from Windsor?" "Very." "And the next news, I suppose, will be, that we are to lose you--just as I begin to know you." "Oh! as to all that, of course nothing can be thought of yet. I am here till claimed by Colonel and Mrs. Campbell." "Nothing can be actually settled yet, perhaps," replied Emma, smiling--"but, excuse me, it must be thought of." The smile was returned as Jane answered, "You are very right; it has been thought of. And I will own to you, (I am sure it will be safe), that so far as our living with Mr. Churchill at Enscombe, it is settled. There must be three months, at least, of deep mourning; but when they are over, I imagine there will be nothing more to wait for." "Thank you, thank you.--This is just what I wanted to be assured of.--Oh! if you knew how much I love every thing that is decided and open!--Good-bye, good-bye." CHAPTER XVII Mrs. Weston's friends were all made happy by her safety; and if the satisfaction of her well-doing could be increased to Emma, it was by knowing her to be the mother of a little girl. She had been decided in wishing for a Miss Weston. She would not acknowledge that it was with any view of making a match for her, hereafter, with either of Isabella's sons; but she was convinced that a daughter would suit both father and mother best. It would be a great comfort to Mr. Weston, as he grew older--and even Mr. Weston might be growing older ten years hence--to have his fireside enlivened by the sports and the nonsense, the freaks and the fancies of a child never banished from home; and Mrs. Weston--no one could doubt that a daughter would be most to her; and it would be quite a pity that any one who so well knew how to teach, should not have their powers in exercise again. "She has had the advantage, you know, of practising on me," she continued--"like La Baronne d'Almane on La Comtesse d'Ostalis, in Madame de Genlis' Adelaide and Theodore, and we shall now see her own little Adelaide educated on a more perfect plan." "That is," replied Mr. Knightley, "she will indulge her even more than she did you, and believe that she does not indulge her at all. It will be the only difference." "Poor child!" cried Emma; "at that rate, what will become of her?" "Nothing very bad.--The fate of thousands. She will be disagreeable in infancy, and correct herself as she grows older. I am losing all my bitterness against spoilt children, my dearest Emma. I, who am owing all my happiness to _you_, would not it be horrible ingratitude in me to be severe on them?" Emma laughed, and replied: "But I had the assistance of all your endeavours to counteract the indulgence of other people. I doubt whether my own sense would have corrected me without it." "Do you?--I have no doubt. Nature gave

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what immediately followed of the basis of their disagreement, and his persisting to act in direct opposition to Jane Fairfax's sense of right, he made a fuller pause to say, "This is very bad.--He had induced her to place herself, for his sake, in a situation of extreme difficulty and uneasiness, and it should have been his first object to prevent her from suffering unnecessarily.--She must have had much more to contend with, in carrying on the correspondence, than he could. He should have respected even unreasonable scruples, had there been such; but hers were all reasonable. We must look to her one fault, and remember that she had done a wrong thing in consenting to the engagement, to bear that she should have been in such a state of punishment." Emma knew that he was now getting to the Box Hill party, and grew uncomfortable. Her own behaviour had been so very improper! She was deeply ashamed, and a little afraid of his next look. It was all read, however, steadily, attentively, and without the smallest remark; and, excepting one momentary glance at her, instantly withdrawn, in the fear of giving pain--no remembrance of Box Hill seemed to exist. "There is no saying much for the delicacy of our good friends, the Eltons," was his next observation.--"His feelings are natural.--What! actually resolve to break with him entirely!--She felt the engagement to be a source of repentance and misery to each--she dissolved it.--What a view this gives of her sense of his behaviour!--Well, he must be a most extraordinary--" "Nay, nay, read on.--You will find how very much he suffers." "I hope he does," replied Mr. Knightley coolly, and resuming the letter. "'Smallridge!'--What does this mean? What is all this?" "She had engaged to go as governess to Mrs. Smallridge's children--a dear friend of Mrs. Elton's--a neighbour of Maple Grove; and, by the bye, I wonder how Mrs. Elton bears the disappointment?" "Say nothing, my dear Emma, while you oblige me to read--not even of Mrs. Elton. Only one page more. I shall soon have done. What a letter the man writes!" "I wish you would read it with a kinder spirit towards him." "Well, there _is_ feeling here.--He does seem to have suffered in finding her ill.--Certainly, I can have no doubt of his being fond of her. 'Dearer, much dearer than ever.' I hope he may long continue to feel all the value of such a reconciliation.--He is a very liberal thanker, with his thousands and tens of thousands.--'Happier than I deserve.' Come, he knows himself there. 'Miss Woodhouse calls me the child of good fortune.'--Those were Miss Woodhouse's words, were they?-- And a fine ending--and there is the letter. The child of good fortune! That was your name for him, was it?" "You do not appear so well satisfied with his letter as I am; but still you must, at least I hope you must, think the better of him for it. I hope it does him some service with you." "Yes, certainly it does. He has had great faults, faults of inconsideration and thoughtlessness; and I am very much of his opinion in thinking him likely to be happier than he deserves: but still as he is, beyond a doubt, really attached to Miss Fairfax, and will soon, it may be hoped, have the advantage of being constantly with her, I am very ready to believe his character will improve, and acquire from hers the steadiness and delicacy of principle that it wants. And now, let me talk to you of something else. I have another person's interest at present so much at heart, that I cannot think any longer about Frank Churchill. Ever since I left you this morning, Emma, my mind has been hard at work on one subject." The subject followed; it was in plain, unaffected, gentlemanlike English, such as Mr. Knightley used even to the woman he was in love with, how to be able to ask her to marry him, without attacking the happiness of her father. Emma's answer was ready at the first word. "While her dear father lived, any change of condition must be impossible for her. She could never quit him." Part only of this answer, however, was admitted. The impossibility of her quitting her father, Mr. Knightley felt as strongly as herself; but the inadmissibility of any other change, he could not agree to. He had been thinking it over most deeply, most intently; he had at first hoped to induce Mr. Woodhouse to remove with her to Donwell; he had wanted to believe it feasible, but his knowledge of Mr. Woodhouse would not suffer him to deceive himself long; and now he confessed his persuasion, that such a transplantation would be a risk of her father's comfort, perhaps even of his life, which must not be hazarded. Mr. Woodhouse taken from Hartfield!--No, he felt that it ought not to be attempted. But the plan which had arisen on the sacrifice of this, he trusted his dearest Emma would not find in any respect objectionable; it was, that he should be received at Hartfield; that so long as her father's happiness--in other words, his life--required Hartfield to continue her home, it should be his likewise. Of their all removing to Donwell, Emma had already had her own passing thoughts. Like him, she had tried the scheme and rejected it; but such an alternative as this had not occurred to her. She was sensible of all the affection it evinced. She felt that, in quitting Donwell, he must be sacrificing a great deal of independence of hours and habits; that in living constantly with her father, and in no house of his own, there would be much, very much, to be borne with. She promised to think of it, and advised him to think of it more; but he was fully convinced, that no reflection could alter his wishes or his opinion on the subject. He had given it, he could assure her, very long and calm consideration; he had been walking away from William Larkins the whole morning, to have his thoughts to himself. "Ah! there is one difficulty unprovided for," cried Emma. "I am sure William Larkins will not like it. You must get his consent before you ask mine." She promised, however, to think of it; and pretty nearly promised, moreover, to think of it, with the intention of finding it a very good scheme. It is remarkable, that Emma, in the many, very many, points of view in which she was now beginning to consider Donwell Abbey, was never struck with any sense of injury to her nephew Henry, whose rights as heir-expectant had formerly been so tenaciously regarded. Think she must of the possible difference to the poor little boy; and yet she only gave herself a saucy conscious smile about it, and found amusement in detecting the real cause of that violent dislike of Mr. Knightley's marrying Jane Fairfax, or any body else, which at the time she had wholly imputed to the amiable solicitude of the sister and the aunt. This proposal of his, this plan of marrying and continuing at Hartfield--the more she contemplated it, the more pleasing it became. His evils seemed to lessen, her own advantages to increase, their mutual good to outweigh every drawback. Such a companion for herself in the periods of anxiety and cheerlessness before her!--Such a partner in all those duties and cares to which time must be giving increase of melancholy! She would have been too happy but for poor Harriet; but every blessing of her own seemed to involve and advance the sufferings of her friend, who must now be even excluded from Hartfield. The delightful family party which Emma was securing for herself, poor Harriet must, in mere charitable caution, be kept at a distance from. She would be a loser in every way. Emma could not deplore her future absence as any deduction from her own enjoyment. In such a party, Harriet would be rather a dead weight than otherwise; but for the poor girl herself, it seemed a peculiarly cruel necessity that was to be placing her in such a state of unmerited punishment. In time, of course, Mr. Knightley would be forgotten, that is, supplanted; but this could not be expected to happen very early. Mr. Knightley himself would be doing nothing to assist the cure;--not like Mr. Elton. Mr. Knightley, always so kind, so feeling, so truly considerate for every body, would never deserve to be less worshipped than now; and it really was too much to hope even of Harriet, that she could be in love with more than _three_ men in one year. CHAPTER XVI It was a very great relief to Emma to find Harriet as desirous as herself to avoid a meeting. Their intercourse was painful enough by letter. How much worse, had they been obliged to meet! Harriet expressed herself very much as might be supposed, without reproaches, or apparent sense of ill-usage; and yet Emma fancied there was a something of resentment, a something bordering on it in her style, which increased the desirableness of their being separate.--It might be only her own consciousness; but it seemed as if an angel only could have been quite without resentment under such a stroke. She had no difficulty in procuring Isabella's invitation; and she was fortunate in having a sufficient reason for asking it, without resorting to invention.--There was a tooth amiss. Harriet really wished, and had wished some time, to consult a dentist. Mrs. John Knightley was delighted to be of use; any thing of ill health was a recommendation to her--and though not so fond of a dentist as of a Mr. Wingfield, she was quite eager to have Harriet under her care.--When it was thus settled on her sister's side, Emma proposed it to her friend, and found her very persuadable.--Harriet was to go; she was invited for at least a fortnight; she was to be conveyed in Mr. Woodhouse's carriage.--It was all arranged, it was all completed, and Harriet was safe in Brunswick Square. Now Emma could, indeed, enjoy Mr. Knightley's visits; now she could talk, and she could listen with true happiness, unchecked by that sense of injustice, of guilt, of something most painful, which had haunted her when remembering how disappointed a heart was near her, how much might at that moment, and at a little distance, be enduring by the feelings which she had led astray herself. The difference of Harriet at Mrs. Goddard's, or in London, made perhaps an unreasonable difference in Emma's sensations; but she could not think of her in London without objects of curiosity and employment, which must be averting the past, and carrying her out of herself. She would not allow any other anxiety to succeed directly to the place in her mind which Harriet had occupied. There was a communication before her, one which _she_ only could be competent to make--the confession of her engagement to her father; but she would have nothing to do with it at present.--She had resolved to defer the disclosure till Mrs. Weston were safe and well. No additional agitation should be thrown at this period among those she loved--and the evil should not act on herself by anticipation before the appointed time.--A fortnight, at least, of leisure and peace of mind, to crown every warmer, but more agitating, delight, should be hers. She soon resolved, equally as a duty and a pleasure, to employ half an hour of this holiday of spirits in calling on Miss Fairfax.--She ought to go--and she was longing to see her; the resemblance of their present situations increasing every other motive of goodwill. It would be a _secret_ satisfaction; but the consciousness of a similarity of prospect would certainly add to the interest with which she should attend to any thing Jane might communicate. She went--she had driven once unsuccessfully to the door, but had not been into the house since the morning after Box Hill, when poor Jane had been in such distress as had filled her with compassion, though all the worst of her sufferings had been unsuspected.--The fear of being still unwelcome, determined her, though assured of their being at home, to wait in the passage, and send up her name.--She heard Patty announcing it; but no such bustle succeeded as poor Miss Bates had before made so happily intelligible.--No; she heard nothing but the instant reply of, "Beg her to walk up;"--and a moment afterwards she was met on the stairs by Jane herself, coming eagerly forward, as if no other reception of her were felt sufficient.--Emma had never seen her look so well, so lovely, so engaging. There was consciousness, animation, and warmth; there was every thing which her countenance or manner could ever have wanted.-- She came forward with an offered hand; and said, in a low, but very feeling tone, "This is most kind, indeed!--Miss Woodhouse, it is impossible for me to express--I hope you will believe--Excuse me for being so entirely without words." Emma was gratified, and would soon have shewn no want of words, if the sound of Mrs. Elton's voice from the sitting-room had not checked her, and made it expedient to compress all her friendly and all her congratulatory sensations into a very, very earnest shake of the hand. Mrs. Bates and Mrs. Elton were together. Miss Bates was out, which accounted for the previous tranquillity. Emma could have wished Mrs. Elton elsewhere; but she was in a humour to have patience with every body; and as Mrs. Elton met her with unusual graciousness, she hoped the rencontre would do them no harm. She soon believed herself to penetrate Mrs. Elton's thoughts, and understand why she was, like herself, in happy spirits; it was being in Miss Fairfax's confidence, and fancying herself acquainted with what was still a secret to other people. Emma saw symptoms of it immediately in the expression of her face; and while paying her own compliments to Mrs. Bates, and appearing to attend to the good old lady's replies, she saw her with a sort of anxious parade of mystery fold up a letter which she had apparently been reading aloud to Miss Fairfax, and return it into the purple and gold reticule by her side, saying, with significant nods, "We can finish this some other time, you know. You and I shall not want opportunities. And, in fact, you have heard all the essential already. I only wanted to prove to you that Mrs. S. admits our apology, and is not offended. You see how delightfully she writes. Oh! she is a sweet creature! You would have doated on her, had you gone.--But not a word more. Let us be discreet--quite on our good behaviour.--Hush!--You remember those lines--I forget the poem at this moment: "For when a lady's in the case, "You know all other things give place." Now I say, my dear, in _our_ case, for _lady_, read----mum! a word to the wise.--I am in a fine flow of spirits, an't I? But I want to set your heart at ease as to Mrs. S.--_My_ representation, you see, has quite appeased her." And again, on Emma's merely turning her head to look at Mrs. Bates's knitting, she added, in a half whisper, "I mentioned no _names_, you will observe.--Oh! no; cautious as a minister of state. I managed it extremely well." Emma could not doubt. It was a palpable display, repeated on every possible occasion. When they had all talked a little while in harmony of the weather and Mrs. Weston, she found herself abruptly addressed with, "Do not you think, Miss Woodhouse, our saucy little friend here is charmingly recovered?--Do not you think her cure does Perry the highest credit?--(here was a side-glance of great meaning at Jane.) Upon my word, Perry has restored her in a wonderful short time!--Oh! if you had seen her, as I did, when she was at the worst!"--And when Mrs. Bates was saying something to Emma, whispered farther, "We do not say a word of any _assistance_ that Perry might have; not a word of a certain young physician from Windsor.--Oh! no; Perry shall have all the credit." "I have scarce had the pleasure of seeing you, Miss Woodhouse," she shortly afterwards began, "since the party to Box Hill. Very pleasant party. But yet I think there was something wanting. Things did not seem--that is, there seemed a little cloud upon the spirits of some.--So it appeared to me at least, but I might be mistaken. However, I think it answered so far as to tempt one to go again. What say you both to our collecting the same party, and exploring to Box Hill again, while the fine weather lasts?--It must be the same party, you know, quite the same party, not _one_ exception." Soon after this Miss Bates came in, and Emma could not help being diverted by the perplexity of her first answer to herself, resulting, she supposed, from doubt of what might be said, and impatience to say every thing. "Thank you, dear Miss Woodhouse, you are all kindness.--It is impossible to say--Yes, indeed, I quite understand--dearest Jane's prospects--that is, I do not mean.--But she is charmingly recovered.--How is Mr. Woodhouse?--I am so glad.--Quite out of my power.--Such a happy little circle as you find us here.--Yes, indeed.--Charming young man!--that is--so very friendly; I mean good Mr. Perry!--such attention to Jane!"--And from her great, her more than commonly thankful delight towards Mrs. Elton for being there, Emma guessed that there had been a little show of resentment towards Jane, from the vicarage quarter, which was now graciously overcome.--After a few whispers, indeed, which placed it beyond a guess, Mrs. Elton, speaking louder, said, "Yes, here I am, my good friend; and here I have been so long, that anywhere else I should think it necessary to apologise; but, the truth is, that I am waiting for my lord and master. He promised to join me here, and pay his respects to you." "What! are we to have the pleasure of a call from Mr. Elton?--That will be a favour indeed! for I know gentlemen do not like morning visits, and Mr. Elton's time is so engaged." "Upon my word it is, Miss Bates.--He really is engaged from morning to night.--There is no end of people's coming to him, on some pretence or other.--The magistrates, and overseers, and churchwardens, are always wanting his opinion. They seem not able to do any thing without him.--'Upon my word, Mr. E.,' I often say, 'rather you than I.--I do not know what would become of my crayons and my instrument, if I had half so many applicants.'--Bad enough as it is, for I absolutely neglect them both to an unpardonable degree.--I believe I have not played a bar this fortnight.--However, he is coming, I assure you: yes, indeed, on purpose to wait on you all." And putting up her hand to screen her words from Emma--"A congratulatory visit, you know.--Oh! yes, quite indispensable." Miss Bates looked about her, so happily--! "He promised to come to me as soon as he could disengage himself from Knightley; but he and Knightley are shut up together in deep consultation.--Mr. E. is Knightley's right hand." Emma would not have smiled for the world, and only said, "Is Mr. Elton gone on foot to Donwell?--He will have a hot walk." "Oh! no, it is a meeting at the Crown, a regular meeting. Weston and Cole will be there too; but one is apt to speak only of those who lead.--I fancy Mr. E. and Knightley have every thing their own way." "Have not you mistaken the day?" said Emma. "I am almost certain that the meeting at the Crown is not till to-morrow.--Mr. Knightley was at Hartfield yesterday, and spoke of it as for Saturday." "Oh! no, the meeting is certainly to-day," was the abrupt answer, which denoted the impossibility of any blunder on Mrs. Elton's side.--"I do believe," she continued, "this is the most troublesome parish that ever was. We never heard of such things at Maple Grove." "Your parish there was small," said Jane. "Upon my word, my dear, I do not know, for I never heard the subject talked of." "But it is proved by the smallness of the school, which I have heard you speak of, as under the patronage of your sister and Mrs. Bragge; the only school, and not more than five-and-twenty children." "Ah! you clever creature, that's very true. What a thinking brain you have! I say, Jane, what a perfect character you and I should make, if we could be shaken together. My liveliness and your solidity would produce perfection.--Not that I presume to insinuate, however, that _some_ people may not think _you_ perfection already.--But hush!--not a word, if you please." It seemed an unnecessary caution; Jane was wanting to give her words, not to Mrs. Elton, but to Miss Woodhouse, as the latter plainly saw. The wish of distinguishing her, as far as civility permitted, was very evident, though it could not often proceed beyond a look. Mr. Elton made his appearance. His lady greeted him with some of her sparkling vivacity. "Very pretty, sir, upon my word; to send me on here, to be an encumbrance to my friends, so long before you vouchsafe to come!--But you knew what a dutiful creature you had to deal with. You knew I should not stir till my lord and master appeared.--Here have I been sitting this hour, giving these young ladies a sample of true conjugal obedience--for who can say, you know, how soon it may be wanted?" Mr. Elton was so hot and tired, that all this wit seemed thrown away. His civilities to the other ladies must be paid; but his subsequent object was to lament over himself for the heat he was suffering, and the walk he had had for nothing. "When I got to Donwell," said he, "Knightley could not be found. Very odd! very unaccountable! after the note I sent him this morning, and the message he returned, that he should certainly be at home till one." "Donwell!" cried his wife.--"My dear Mr. E., you have not been to Donwell!--You mean the Crown; you come from the meeting at the Crown." "No, no, that's to-morrow; and I particularly wanted to see Knightley to-day on that very account.--Such a dreadful broiling morning!--I went over the fields too--(speaking in a tone of great ill-usage,) which made it so much the worse. And then not to find him at home! I assure you I am not at all pleased. And no apology left, no message for me. The housekeeper declared she knew nothing of my being expected.--Very extraordinary!--And nobody knew at all which way he was gone. Perhaps to Hartfield, perhaps to the Abbey Mill, perhaps into his woods.--Miss Woodhouse, this is not like our friend Knightley!--Can you explain it?" Emma amused herself by protesting that it was very extraordinary, indeed, and that she had not a syllable to say for him. "I cannot imagine," said Mrs. Elton, (feeling the indignity as a wife ought to do,) "I cannot imagine how he could do such a thing by you, of all people in the world! The very last person whom one should expect to be forgotten!--My dear Mr. E., he must have left a message for you, I am sure he must.--Not even Knightley could be so very eccentric;--and his servants forgot it. Depend upon it, that was the case: and very likely to happen with the Donwell servants, who are all, I have often observed, extremely awkward and remiss.--I am sure I would not have such a creature as his Harry stand at our sideboard for any consideration. And as for Mrs. Hodges, Wright holds her very cheap indeed.--She promised Wright a receipt, and never sent it." "I met William Larkins," continued Mr. Elton, "as I got near the house, and he told me I should not find his master at home, but I did not believe him.--William seemed rather out of humour. He did not know what was come to his master lately, he said, but he could hardly ever get the speech of him. I have nothing to do with William's wants, but it really is of very great importance that _I_ should see Knightley to-day; and it becomes a matter, therefore, of very serious inconvenience that I should have had this hot walk to no purpose." Emma felt that she could not do better than go home directly. In all probability she was at this very time waited for there; and Mr. Knightley might be preserved from sinking deeper in aggression towards Mr. Elton, if not towards William Larkins. She was pleased, on taking leave, to find Miss Fairfax determined to attend her out of the room, to go with her even downstairs; it gave her an opportunity which she immediately made use of, to say, "It is as well, perhaps, that I have not had the possibility. Had you not been surrounded by other friends, I might have been tempted to introduce a subject, to ask questions, to speak more openly than might have been strictly correct.--I feel that I should certainly have been impertinent." "Oh!" cried Jane, with a blush and an hesitation which Emma thought infinitely more becoming to her than all the elegance of all her usual composure--"there would have been no danger. The danger would have been of my wearying you. You could not have gratified me more than by expressing an interest--. Indeed, Miss Woodhouse, (speaking more collectedly,) with the consciousness which I have of misconduct, very great misconduct, it is particularly consoling to me to know that those of my friends, whose good opinion is most worth preserving, are not disgusted to such a degree as to--I have not time for half that I could wish to say. I long to make apologies, excuses, to urge something for myself. I feel it so very due. But, unfortunately--in short, if your compassion does not stand my friend--" "Oh! you are too scrupulous, indeed you are," cried Emma warmly, and taking her hand. "You owe me no apologies; and every body to whom you might be supposed to owe them, is so perfectly satisfied, so delighted even--" "You are very kind, but I know what my manners were to you.--So cold and artificial!--I had always a part to act.--It was a life of deceit!--I know that I must have disgusted you." "Pray say no more. I feel that all the apologies should be on my side. Let us forgive each other at once. We must do whatever is to be done quickest, and I think our feelings will lose no time there. I hope you have pleasant accounts from Windsor?" "Very." "And the next news, I suppose, will be, that we are to lose you--just as I begin to know you." "Oh! as to all that, of course nothing can be thought of yet. I am here till claimed by Colonel and Mrs. Campbell." "Nothing can be actually settled yet, perhaps," replied Emma, smiling--"but, excuse me, it must be thought of." The smile was returned as Jane answered, "You are very right; it has been thought of. And I will own to you, (I am sure it will be safe), that so far as our living with Mr. Churchill at Enscombe, it is settled. There must be three months, at least, of deep mourning; but when they are over, I imagine there will be nothing more to wait for." "Thank you, thank you.--This is just what I wanted to be assured of.--Oh! if you knew how much I love every thing that is decided and open!--Good-bye, good-bye." CHAPTER XVII Mrs. Weston's friends were all made happy by her safety; and if the satisfaction of her well-doing could be increased to Emma, it was by knowing her to be the mother of a little girl. She had been decided in wishing for a Miss Weston. She would not acknowledge that it was with any view of making a match for her, hereafter, with either of Isabella's sons; but she was convinced that a daughter would suit both father and mother best. It would be a great comfort to Mr. Weston, as he grew older--and even Mr. Weston might be growing older ten years hence--to have his fireside enlivened by the sports and the nonsense, the freaks and the fancies of a child never banished from home; and Mrs. Weston--no one could doubt that a daughter would be most to her; and it would be quite a pity that any one who so well knew how to teach, should not have their powers in exercise again. "She has had the advantage, you know, of practising on me," she continued--"like La Baronne d'Almane on La Comtesse d'Ostalis, in Madame de Genlis' Adelaide and Theodore, and we shall now see her own little Adelaide educated on a more perfect plan." "That is," replied Mr. Knightley, "she will indulge her even more than she did you, and believe that she does not indulge her at all. It will be the only difference." "Poor child!" cried Emma; "at that rate, what will become of her?" "Nothing very bad.--The fate of thousands. She will be disagreeable in infancy, and correct herself as she grows older. I am losing all my bitterness against spoilt children, my dearest Emma. I, who am owing all my happiness to _you_, would not it be horrible ingratitude in me to be severe on them?" Emma laughed, and replied: "But I had the assistance of all your endeavours to counteract the indulgence of other people. I doubt whether my own sense would have corrected me without it." "Do you?--I have no doubt. Nature gave

least

How many times the word 'least' appears in the text?

what immediately followed of the basis of their disagreement, and his persisting to act in direct opposition to Jane Fairfax's sense of right, he made a fuller pause to say, "This is very bad.--He had induced her to place herself, for his sake, in a situation of extreme difficulty and uneasiness, and it should have been his first object to prevent her from suffering unnecessarily.--She must have had much more to contend with, in carrying on the correspondence, than he could. He should have respected even unreasonable scruples, had there been such; but hers were all reasonable. We must look to her one fault, and remember that she had done a wrong thing in consenting to the engagement, to bear that she should have been in such a state of punishment." Emma knew that he was now getting to the Box Hill party, and grew uncomfortable. Her own behaviour had been so very improper! She was deeply ashamed, and a little afraid of his next look. It was all read, however, steadily, attentively, and without the smallest remark; and, excepting one momentary glance at her, instantly withdrawn, in the fear of giving pain--no remembrance of Box Hill seemed to exist. "There is no saying much for the delicacy of our good friends, the Eltons," was his next observation.--"His feelings are natural.--What! actually resolve to break with him entirely!--She felt the engagement to be a source of repentance and misery to each--she dissolved it.--What a view this gives of her sense of his behaviour!--Well, he must be a most extraordinary--" "Nay, nay, read on.--You will find how very much he suffers." "I hope he does," replied Mr. Knightley coolly, and resuming the letter. "'Smallridge!'--What does this mean? What is all this?" "She had engaged to go as governess to Mrs. Smallridge's children--a dear friend of Mrs. Elton's--a neighbour of Maple Grove; and, by the bye, I wonder how Mrs. Elton bears the disappointment?" "Say nothing, my dear Emma, while you oblige me to read--not even of Mrs. Elton. Only one page more. I shall soon have done. What a letter the man writes!" "I wish you would read it with a kinder spirit towards him." "Well, there _is_ feeling here.--He does seem to have suffered in finding her ill.--Certainly, I can have no doubt of his being fond of her. 'Dearer, much dearer than ever.' I hope he may long continue to feel all the value of such a reconciliation.--He is a very liberal thanker, with his thousands and tens of thousands.--'Happier than I deserve.' Come, he knows himself there. 'Miss Woodhouse calls me the child of good fortune.'--Those were Miss Woodhouse's words, were they?-- And a fine ending--and there is the letter. The child of good fortune! That was your name for him, was it?" "You do not appear so well satisfied with his letter as I am; but still you must, at least I hope you must, think the better of him for it. I hope it does him some service with you." "Yes, certainly it does. He has had great faults, faults of inconsideration and thoughtlessness; and I am very much of his opinion in thinking him likely to be happier than he deserves: but still as he is, beyond a doubt, really attached to Miss Fairfax, and will soon, it may be hoped, have the advantage of being constantly with her, I am very ready to believe his character will improve, and acquire from hers the steadiness and delicacy of principle that it wants. And now, let me talk to you of something else. I have another person's interest at present so much at heart, that I cannot think any longer about Frank Churchill. Ever since I left you this morning, Emma, my mind has been hard at work on one subject." The subject followed; it was in plain, unaffected, gentlemanlike English, such as Mr. Knightley used even to the woman he was in love with, how to be able to ask her to marry him, without attacking the happiness of her father. Emma's answer was ready at the first word. "While her dear father lived, any change of condition must be impossible for her. She could never quit him." Part only of this answer, however, was admitted. The impossibility of her quitting her father, Mr. Knightley felt as strongly as herself; but the inadmissibility of any other change, he could not agree to. He had been thinking it over most deeply, most intently; he had at first hoped to induce Mr. Woodhouse to remove with her to Donwell; he had wanted to believe it feasible, but his knowledge of Mr. Woodhouse would not suffer him to deceive himself long; and now he confessed his persuasion, that such a transplantation would be a risk of her father's comfort, perhaps even of his life, which must not be hazarded. Mr. Woodhouse taken from Hartfield!--No, he felt that it ought not to be attempted. But the plan which had arisen on the sacrifice of this, he trusted his dearest Emma would not find in any respect objectionable; it was, that he should be received at Hartfield; that so long as her father's happiness--in other words, his life--required Hartfield to continue her home, it should be his likewise. Of their all removing to Donwell, Emma had already had her own passing thoughts. Like him, she had tried the scheme and rejected it; but such an alternative as this had not occurred to her. She was sensible of all the affection it evinced. She felt that, in quitting Donwell, he must be sacrificing a great deal of independence of hours and habits; that in living constantly with her father, and in no house of his own, there would be much, very much, to be borne with. She promised to think of it, and advised him to think of it more; but he was fully convinced, that no reflection could alter his wishes or his opinion on the subject. He had given it, he could assure her, very long and calm consideration; he had been walking away from William Larkins the whole morning, to have his thoughts to himself. "Ah! there is one difficulty unprovided for," cried Emma. "I am sure William Larkins will not like it. You must get his consent before you ask mine." She promised, however, to think of it; and pretty nearly promised, moreover, to think of it, with the intention of finding it a very good scheme. It is remarkable, that Emma, in the many, very many, points of view in which she was now beginning to consider Donwell Abbey, was never struck with any sense of injury to her nephew Henry, whose rights as heir-expectant had formerly been so tenaciously regarded. Think she must of the possible difference to the poor little boy; and yet she only gave herself a saucy conscious smile about it, and found amusement in detecting the real cause of that violent dislike of Mr. Knightley's marrying Jane Fairfax, or any body else, which at the time she had wholly imputed to the amiable solicitude of the sister and the aunt. This proposal of his, this plan of marrying and continuing at Hartfield--the more she contemplated it, the more pleasing it became. His evils seemed to lessen, her own advantages to increase, their mutual good to outweigh every drawback. Such a companion for herself in the periods of anxiety and cheerlessness before her!--Such a partner in all those duties and cares to which time must be giving increase of melancholy! She would have been too happy but for poor Harriet; but every blessing of her own seemed to involve and advance the sufferings of her friend, who must now be even excluded from Hartfield. The delightful family party which Emma was securing for herself, poor Harriet must, in mere charitable caution, be kept at a distance from. She would be a loser in every way. Emma could not deplore her future absence as any deduction from her own enjoyment. In such a party, Harriet would be rather a dead weight than otherwise; but for the poor girl herself, it seemed a peculiarly cruel necessity that was to be placing her in such a state of unmerited punishment. In time, of course, Mr. Knightley would be forgotten, that is, supplanted; but this could not be expected to happen very early. Mr. Knightley himself would be doing nothing to assist the cure;--not like Mr. Elton. Mr. Knightley, always so kind, so feeling, so truly considerate for every body, would never deserve to be less worshipped than now; and it really was too much to hope even of Harriet, that she could be in love with more than _three_ men in one year. CHAPTER XVI It was a very great relief to Emma to find Harriet as desirous as herself to avoid a meeting. Their intercourse was painful enough by letter. How much worse, had they been obliged to meet! Harriet expressed herself very much as might be supposed, without reproaches, or apparent sense of ill-usage; and yet Emma fancied there was a something of resentment, a something bordering on it in her style, which increased the desirableness of their being separate.--It might be only her own consciousness; but it seemed as if an angel only could have been quite without resentment under such a stroke. She had no difficulty in procuring Isabella's invitation; and she was fortunate in having a sufficient reason for asking it, without resorting to invention.--There was a tooth amiss. Harriet really wished, and had wished some time, to consult a dentist. Mrs. John Knightley was delighted to be of use; any thing of ill health was a recommendation to her--and though not so fond of a dentist as of a Mr. Wingfield, she was quite eager to have Harriet under her care.--When it was thus settled on her sister's side, Emma proposed it to her friend, and found her very persuadable.--Harriet was to go; she was invited for at least a fortnight; she was to be conveyed in Mr. Woodhouse's carriage.--It was all arranged, it was all completed, and Harriet was safe in Brunswick Square. Now Emma could, indeed, enjoy Mr. Knightley's visits; now she could talk, and she could listen with true happiness, unchecked by that sense of injustice, of guilt, of something most painful, which had haunted her when remembering how disappointed a heart was near her, how much might at that moment, and at a little distance, be enduring by the feelings which she had led astray herself. The difference of Harriet at Mrs. Goddard's, or in London, made perhaps an unreasonable difference in Emma's sensations; but she could not think of her in London without objects of curiosity and employment, which must be averting the past, and carrying her out of herself. She would not allow any other anxiety to succeed directly to the place in her mind which Harriet had occupied. There was a communication before her, one which _she_ only could be competent to make--the confession of her engagement to her father; but she would have nothing to do with it at present.--She had resolved to defer the disclosure till Mrs. Weston were safe and well. No additional agitation should be thrown at this period among those she loved--and the evil should not act on herself by anticipation before the appointed time.--A fortnight, at least, of leisure and peace of mind, to crown every warmer, but more agitating, delight, should be hers. She soon resolved, equally as a duty and a pleasure, to employ half an hour of this holiday of spirits in calling on Miss Fairfax.--She ought to go--and she was longing to see her; the resemblance of their present situations increasing every other motive of goodwill. It would be a _secret_ satisfaction; but the consciousness of a similarity of prospect would certainly add to the interest with which she should attend to any thing Jane might communicate. She went--she had driven once unsuccessfully to the door, but had not been into the house since the morning after Box Hill, when poor Jane had been in such distress as had filled her with compassion, though all the worst of her sufferings had been unsuspected.--The fear of being still unwelcome, determined her, though assured of their being at home, to wait in the passage, and send up her name.--She heard Patty announcing it; but no such bustle succeeded as poor Miss Bates had before made so happily intelligible.--No; she heard nothing but the instant reply of, "Beg her to walk up;"--and a moment afterwards she was met on the stairs by Jane herself, coming eagerly forward, as if no other reception of her were felt sufficient.--Emma had never seen her look so well, so lovely, so engaging. There was consciousness, animation, and warmth; there was every thing which her countenance or manner could ever have wanted.-- She came forward with an offered hand; and said, in a low, but very feeling tone, "This is most kind, indeed!--Miss Woodhouse, it is impossible for me to express--I hope you will believe--Excuse me for being so entirely without words." Emma was gratified, and would soon have shewn no want of words, if the sound of Mrs. Elton's voice from the sitting-room had not checked her, and made it expedient to compress all her friendly and all her congratulatory sensations into a very, very earnest shake of the hand. Mrs. Bates and Mrs. Elton were together. Miss Bates was out, which accounted for the previous tranquillity. Emma could have wished Mrs. Elton elsewhere; but she was in a humour to have patience with every body; and as Mrs. Elton met her with unusual graciousness, she hoped the rencontre would do them no harm. She soon believed herself to penetrate Mrs. Elton's thoughts, and understand why she was, like herself, in happy spirits; it was being in Miss Fairfax's confidence, and fancying herself acquainted with what was still a secret to other people. Emma saw symptoms of it immediately in the expression of her face; and while paying her own compliments to Mrs. Bates, and appearing to attend to the good old lady's replies, she saw her with a sort of anxious parade of mystery fold up a letter which she had apparently been reading aloud to Miss Fairfax, and return it into the purple and gold reticule by her side, saying, with significant nods, "We can finish this some other time, you know. You and I shall not want opportunities. And, in fact, you have heard all the essential already. I only wanted to prove to you that Mrs. S. admits our apology, and is not offended. You see how delightfully she writes. Oh! she is a sweet creature! You would have doated on her, had you gone.--But not a word more. Let us be discreet--quite on our good behaviour.--Hush!--You remember those lines--I forget the poem at this moment: "For when a lady's in the case, "You know all other things give place." Now I say, my dear, in _our_ case, for _lady_, read----mum! a word to the wise.--I am in a fine flow of spirits, an't I? But I want to set your heart at ease as to Mrs. S.--_My_ representation, you see, has quite appeased her." And again, on Emma's merely turning her head to look at Mrs. Bates's knitting, she added, in a half whisper, "I mentioned no _names_, you will observe.--Oh! no; cautious as a minister of state. I managed it extremely well." Emma could not doubt. It was a palpable display, repeated on every possible occasion. When they had all talked a little while in harmony of the weather and Mrs. Weston, she found herself abruptly addressed with, "Do not you think, Miss Woodhouse, our saucy little friend here is charmingly recovered?--Do not you think her cure does Perry the highest credit?--(here was a side-glance of great meaning at Jane.) Upon my word, Perry has restored her in a wonderful short time!--Oh! if you had seen her, as I did, when she was at the worst!"--And when Mrs. Bates was saying something to Emma, whispered farther, "We do not say a word of any _assistance_ that Perry might have; not a word of a certain young physician from Windsor.--Oh! no; Perry shall have all the credit." "I have scarce had the pleasure of seeing you, Miss Woodhouse," she shortly afterwards began, "since the party to Box Hill. Very pleasant party. But yet I think there was something wanting. Things did not seem--that is, there seemed a little cloud upon the spirits of some.--So it appeared to me at least, but I might be mistaken. However, I think it answered so far as to tempt one to go again. What say you both to our collecting the same party, and exploring to Box Hill again, while the fine weather lasts?--It must be the same party, you know, quite the same party, not _one_ exception." Soon after this Miss Bates came in, and Emma could not help being diverted by the perplexity of her first answer to herself, resulting, she supposed, from doubt of what might be said, and impatience to say every thing. "Thank you, dear Miss Woodhouse, you are all kindness.--It is impossible to say--Yes, indeed, I quite understand--dearest Jane's prospects--that is, I do not mean.--But she is charmingly recovered.--How is Mr. Woodhouse?--I am so glad.--Quite out of my power.--Such a happy little circle as you find us here.--Yes, indeed.--Charming young man!--that is--so very friendly; I mean good Mr. Perry!--such attention to Jane!"--And from her great, her more than commonly thankful delight towards Mrs. Elton for being there, Emma guessed that there had been a little show of resentment towards Jane, from the vicarage quarter, which was now graciously overcome.--After a few whispers, indeed, which placed it beyond a guess, Mrs. Elton, speaking louder, said, "Yes, here I am, my good friend; and here I have been so long, that anywhere else I should think it necessary to apologise; but, the truth is, that I am waiting for my lord and master. He promised to join me here, and pay his respects to you." "What! are we to have the pleasure of a call from Mr. Elton?--That will be a favour indeed! for I know gentlemen do not like morning visits, and Mr. Elton's time is so engaged." "Upon my word it is, Miss Bates.--He really is engaged from morning to night.--There is no end of people's coming to him, on some pretence or other.--The magistrates, and overseers, and churchwardens, are always wanting his opinion. They seem not able to do any thing without him.--'Upon my word, Mr. E.,' I often say, 'rather you than I.--I do not know what would become of my crayons and my instrument, if I had half so many applicants.'--Bad enough as it is, for I absolutely neglect them both to an unpardonable degree.--I believe I have not played a bar this fortnight.--However, he is coming, I assure you: yes, indeed, on purpose to wait on you all." And putting up her hand to screen her words from Emma--"A congratulatory visit, you know.--Oh! yes, quite indispensable." Miss Bates looked about her, so happily--! "He promised to come to me as soon as he could disengage himself from Knightley; but he and Knightley are shut up together in deep consultation.--Mr. E. is Knightley's right hand." Emma would not have smiled for the world, and only said, "Is Mr. Elton gone on foot to Donwell?--He will have a hot walk." "Oh! no, it is a meeting at the Crown, a regular meeting. Weston and Cole will be there too; but one is apt to speak only of those who lead.--I fancy Mr. E. and Knightley have every thing their own way." "Have not you mistaken the day?" said Emma. "I am almost certain that the meeting at the Crown is not till to-morrow.--Mr. Knightley was at Hartfield yesterday, and spoke of it as for Saturday." "Oh! no, the meeting is certainly to-day," was the abrupt answer, which denoted the impossibility of any blunder on Mrs. Elton's side.--"I do believe," she continued, "this is the most troublesome parish that ever was. We never heard of such things at Maple Grove." "Your parish there was small," said Jane. "Upon my word, my dear, I do not know, for I never heard the subject talked of." "But it is proved by the smallness of the school, which I have heard you speak of, as under the patronage of your sister and Mrs. Bragge; the only school, and not more than five-and-twenty children." "Ah! you clever creature, that's very true. What a thinking brain you have! I say, Jane, what a perfect character you and I should make, if we could be shaken together. My liveliness and your solidity would produce perfection.--Not that I presume to insinuate, however, that _some_ people may not think _you_ perfection already.--But hush!--not a word, if you please." It seemed an unnecessary caution; Jane was wanting to give her words, not to Mrs. Elton, but to Miss Woodhouse, as the latter plainly saw. The wish of distinguishing her, as far as civility permitted, was very evident, though it could not often proceed beyond a look. Mr. Elton made his appearance. His lady greeted him with some of her sparkling vivacity. "Very pretty, sir, upon my word; to send me on here, to be an encumbrance to my friends, so long before you vouchsafe to come!--But you knew what a dutiful creature you had to deal with. You knew I should not stir till my lord and master appeared.--Here have I been sitting this hour, giving these young ladies a sample of true conjugal obedience--for who can say, you know, how soon it may be wanted?" Mr. Elton was so hot and tired, that all this wit seemed thrown away. His civilities to the other ladies must be paid; but his subsequent object was to lament over himself for the heat he was suffering, and the walk he had had for nothing. "When I got to Donwell," said he, "Knightley could not be found. Very odd! very unaccountable! after the note I sent him this morning, and the message he returned, that he should certainly be at home till one." "Donwell!" cried his wife.--"My dear Mr. E., you have not been to Donwell!--You mean the Crown; you come from the meeting at the Crown." "No, no, that's to-morrow; and I particularly wanted to see Knightley to-day on that very account.--Such a dreadful broiling morning!--I went over the fields too--(speaking in a tone of great ill-usage,) which made it so much the worse. And then not to find him at home! I assure you I am not at all pleased. And no apology left, no message for me. The housekeeper declared she knew nothing of my being expected.--Very extraordinary!--And nobody knew at all which way he was gone. Perhaps to Hartfield, perhaps to the Abbey Mill, perhaps into his woods.--Miss Woodhouse, this is not like our friend Knightley!--Can you explain it?" Emma amused herself by protesting that it was very extraordinary, indeed, and that she had not a syllable to say for him. "I cannot imagine," said Mrs. Elton, (feeling the indignity as a wife ought to do,) "I cannot imagine how he could do such a thing by you, of all people in the world! The very last person whom one should expect to be forgotten!--My dear Mr. E., he must have left a message for you, I am sure he must.--Not even Knightley could be so very eccentric;--and his servants forgot it. Depend upon it, that was the case: and very likely to happen with the Donwell servants, who are all, I have often observed, extremely awkward and remiss.--I am sure I would not have such a creature as his Harry stand at our sideboard for any consideration. And as for Mrs. Hodges, Wright holds her very cheap indeed.--She promised Wright a receipt, and never sent it." "I met William Larkins," continued Mr. Elton, "as I got near the house, and he told me I should not find his master at home, but I did not believe him.--William seemed rather out of humour. He did not know what was come to his master lately, he said, but he could hardly ever get the speech of him. I have nothing to do with William's wants, but it really is of very great importance that _I_ should see Knightley to-day; and it becomes a matter, therefore, of very serious inconvenience that I should have had this hot walk to no purpose." Emma felt that she could not do better than go home directly. In all probability she was at this very time waited for there; and Mr. Knightley might be preserved from sinking deeper in aggression towards Mr. Elton, if not towards William Larkins. She was pleased, on taking leave, to find Miss Fairfax determined to attend her out of the room, to go with her even downstairs; it gave her an opportunity which she immediately made use of, to say, "It is as well, perhaps, that I have not had the possibility. Had you not been surrounded by other friends, I might have been tempted to introduce a subject, to ask questions, to speak more openly than might have been strictly correct.--I feel that I should certainly have been impertinent." "Oh!" cried Jane, with a blush and an hesitation which Emma thought infinitely more becoming to her than all the elegance of all her usual composure--"there would have been no danger. The danger would have been of my wearying you. You could not have gratified me more than by expressing an interest--. Indeed, Miss Woodhouse, (speaking more collectedly,) with the consciousness which I have of misconduct, very great misconduct, it is particularly consoling to me to know that those of my friends, whose good opinion is most worth preserving, are not disgusted to such a degree as to--I have not time for half that I could wish to say. I long to make apologies, excuses, to urge something for myself. I feel it so very due. But, unfortunately--in short, if your compassion does not stand my friend--" "Oh! you are too scrupulous, indeed you are," cried Emma warmly, and taking her hand. "You owe me no apologies; and every body to whom you might be supposed to owe them, is so perfectly satisfied, so delighted even--" "You are very kind, but I know what my manners were to you.--So cold and artificial!--I had always a part to act.--It was a life of deceit!--I know that I must have disgusted you." "Pray say no more. I feel that all the apologies should be on my side. Let us forgive each other at once. We must do whatever is to be done quickest, and I think our feelings will lose no time there. I hope you have pleasant accounts from Windsor?" "Very." "And the next news, I suppose, will be, that we are to lose you--just as I begin to know you." "Oh! as to all that, of course nothing can be thought of yet. I am here till claimed by Colonel and Mrs. Campbell." "Nothing can be actually settled yet, perhaps," replied Emma, smiling--"but, excuse me, it must be thought of." The smile was returned as Jane answered, "You are very right; it has been thought of. And I will own to you, (I am sure it will be safe), that so far as our living with Mr. Churchill at Enscombe, it is settled. There must be three months, at least, of deep mourning; but when they are over, I imagine there will be nothing more to wait for." "Thank you, thank you.--This is just what I wanted to be assured of.--Oh! if you knew how much I love every thing that is decided and open!--Good-bye, good-bye." CHAPTER XVII Mrs. Weston's friends were all made happy by her safety; and if the satisfaction of her well-doing could be increased to Emma, it was by knowing her to be the mother of a little girl. She had been decided in wishing for a Miss Weston. She would not acknowledge that it was with any view of making a match for her, hereafter, with either of Isabella's sons; but she was convinced that a daughter would suit both father and mother best. It would be a great comfort to Mr. Weston, as he grew older--and even Mr. Weston might be growing older ten years hence--to have his fireside enlivened by the sports and the nonsense, the freaks and the fancies of a child never banished from home; and Mrs. Weston--no one could doubt that a daughter would be most to her; and it would be quite a pity that any one who so well knew how to teach, should not have their powers in exercise again. "She has had the advantage, you know, of practising on me," she continued--"like La Baronne d'Almane on La Comtesse d'Ostalis, in Madame de Genlis' Adelaide and Theodore, and we shall now see her own little Adelaide educated on a more perfect plan." "That is," replied Mr. Knightley, "she will indulge her even more than she did you, and believe that she does not indulge her at all. It will be the only difference." "Poor child!" cried Emma; "at that rate, what will become of her?" "Nothing very bad.--The fate of thousands. She will be disagreeable in infancy, and correct herself as she grows older. I am losing all my bitterness against spoilt children, my dearest Emma. I, who am owing all my happiness to _you_, would not it be horrible ingratitude in me to be severe on them?" Emma laughed, and replied: "But I had the assistance of all your endeavours to counteract the indulgence of other people. I doubt whether my own sense would have corrected me without it." "Do you?--I have no doubt. Nature gave

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How many times the word 'piano' appears in the text?

what immediately followed of the basis of their disagreement, and his persisting to act in direct opposition to Jane Fairfax's sense of right, he made a fuller pause to say, "This is very bad.--He had induced her to place herself, for his sake, in a situation of extreme difficulty and uneasiness, and it should have been his first object to prevent her from suffering unnecessarily.--She must have had much more to contend with, in carrying on the correspondence, than he could. He should have respected even unreasonable scruples, had there been such; but hers were all reasonable. We must look to her one fault, and remember that she had done a wrong thing in consenting to the engagement, to bear that she should have been in such a state of punishment." Emma knew that he was now getting to the Box Hill party, and grew uncomfortable. Her own behaviour had been so very improper! She was deeply ashamed, and a little afraid of his next look. It was all read, however, steadily, attentively, and without the smallest remark; and, excepting one momentary glance at her, instantly withdrawn, in the fear of giving pain--no remembrance of Box Hill seemed to exist. "There is no saying much for the delicacy of our good friends, the Eltons," was his next observation.--"His feelings are natural.--What! actually resolve to break with him entirely!--She felt the engagement to be a source of repentance and misery to each--she dissolved it.--What a view this gives of her sense of his behaviour!--Well, he must be a most extraordinary--" "Nay, nay, read on.--You will find how very much he suffers." "I hope he does," replied Mr. Knightley coolly, and resuming the letter. "'Smallridge!'--What does this mean? What is all this?" "She had engaged to go as governess to Mrs. Smallridge's children--a dear friend of Mrs. Elton's--a neighbour of Maple Grove; and, by the bye, I wonder how Mrs. Elton bears the disappointment?" "Say nothing, my dear Emma, while you oblige me to read--not even of Mrs. Elton. Only one page more. I shall soon have done. What a letter the man writes!" "I wish you would read it with a kinder spirit towards him." "Well, there _is_ feeling here.--He does seem to have suffered in finding her ill.--Certainly, I can have no doubt of his being fond of her. 'Dearer, much dearer than ever.' I hope he may long continue to feel all the value of such a reconciliation.--He is a very liberal thanker, with his thousands and tens of thousands.--'Happier than I deserve.' Come, he knows himself there. 'Miss Woodhouse calls me the child of good fortune.'--Those were Miss Woodhouse's words, were they?-- And a fine ending--and there is the letter. The child of good fortune! That was your name for him, was it?" "You do not appear so well satisfied with his letter as I am; but still you must, at least I hope you must, think the better of him for it. I hope it does him some service with you." "Yes, certainly it does. He has had great faults, faults of inconsideration and thoughtlessness; and I am very much of his opinion in thinking him likely to be happier than he deserves: but still as he is, beyond a doubt, really attached to Miss Fairfax, and will soon, it may be hoped, have the advantage of being constantly with her, I am very ready to believe his character will improve, and acquire from hers the steadiness and delicacy of principle that it wants. And now, let me talk to you of something else. I have another person's interest at present so much at heart, that I cannot think any longer about Frank Churchill. Ever since I left you this morning, Emma, my mind has been hard at work on one subject." The subject followed; it was in plain, unaffected, gentlemanlike English, such as Mr. Knightley used even to the woman he was in love with, how to be able to ask her to marry him, without attacking the happiness of her father. Emma's answer was ready at the first word. "While her dear father lived, any change of condition must be impossible for her. She could never quit him." Part only of this answer, however, was admitted. The impossibility of her quitting her father, Mr. Knightley felt as strongly as herself; but the inadmissibility of any other change, he could not agree to. He had been thinking it over most deeply, most intently; he had at first hoped to induce Mr. Woodhouse to remove with her to Donwell; he had wanted to believe it feasible, but his knowledge of Mr. Woodhouse would not suffer him to deceive himself long; and now he confessed his persuasion, that such a transplantation would be a risk of her father's comfort, perhaps even of his life, which must not be hazarded. Mr. Woodhouse taken from Hartfield!--No, he felt that it ought not to be attempted. But the plan which had arisen on the sacrifice of this, he trusted his dearest Emma would not find in any respect objectionable; it was, that he should be received at Hartfield; that so long as her father's happiness--in other words, his life--required Hartfield to continue her home, it should be his likewise. Of their all removing to Donwell, Emma had already had her own passing thoughts. Like him, she had tried the scheme and rejected it; but such an alternative as this had not occurred to her. She was sensible of all the affection it evinced. She felt that, in quitting Donwell, he must be sacrificing a great deal of independence of hours and habits; that in living constantly with her father, and in no house of his own, there would be much, very much, to be borne with. She promised to think of it, and advised him to think of it more; but he was fully convinced, that no reflection could alter his wishes or his opinion on the subject. He had given it, he could assure her, very long and calm consideration; he had been walking away from William Larkins the whole morning, to have his thoughts to himself. "Ah! there is one difficulty unprovided for," cried Emma. "I am sure William Larkins will not like it. You must get his consent before you ask mine." She promised, however, to think of it; and pretty nearly promised, moreover, to think of it, with the intention of finding it a very good scheme. It is remarkable, that Emma, in the many, very many, points of view in which she was now beginning to consider Donwell Abbey, was never struck with any sense of injury to her nephew Henry, whose rights as heir-expectant had formerly been so tenaciously regarded. Think she must of the possible difference to the poor little boy; and yet she only gave herself a saucy conscious smile about it, and found amusement in detecting the real cause of that violent dislike of Mr. Knightley's marrying Jane Fairfax, or any body else, which at the time she had wholly imputed to the amiable solicitude of the sister and the aunt. This proposal of his, this plan of marrying and continuing at Hartfield--the more she contemplated it, the more pleasing it became. His evils seemed to lessen, her own advantages to increase, their mutual good to outweigh every drawback. Such a companion for herself in the periods of anxiety and cheerlessness before her!--Such a partner in all those duties and cares to which time must be giving increase of melancholy! She would have been too happy but for poor Harriet; but every blessing of her own seemed to involve and advance the sufferings of her friend, who must now be even excluded from Hartfield. The delightful family party which Emma was securing for herself, poor Harriet must, in mere charitable caution, be kept at a distance from. She would be a loser in every way. Emma could not deplore her future absence as any deduction from her own enjoyment. In such a party, Harriet would be rather a dead weight than otherwise; but for the poor girl herself, it seemed a peculiarly cruel necessity that was to be placing her in such a state of unmerited punishment. In time, of course, Mr. Knightley would be forgotten, that is, supplanted; but this could not be expected to happen very early. Mr. Knightley himself would be doing nothing to assist the cure;--not like Mr. Elton. Mr. Knightley, always so kind, so feeling, so truly considerate for every body, would never deserve to be less worshipped than now; and it really was too much to hope even of Harriet, that she could be in love with more than _three_ men in one year. CHAPTER XVI It was a very great relief to Emma to find Harriet as desirous as herself to avoid a meeting. Their intercourse was painful enough by letter. How much worse, had they been obliged to meet! Harriet expressed herself very much as might be supposed, without reproaches, or apparent sense of ill-usage; and yet Emma fancied there was a something of resentment, a something bordering on it in her style, which increased the desirableness of their being separate.--It might be only her own consciousness; but it seemed as if an angel only could have been quite without resentment under such a stroke. She had no difficulty in procuring Isabella's invitation; and she was fortunate in having a sufficient reason for asking it, without resorting to invention.--There was a tooth amiss. Harriet really wished, and had wished some time, to consult a dentist. Mrs. John Knightley was delighted to be of use; any thing of ill health was a recommendation to her--and though not so fond of a dentist as of a Mr. Wingfield, she was quite eager to have Harriet under her care.--When it was thus settled on her sister's side, Emma proposed it to her friend, and found her very persuadable.--Harriet was to go; she was invited for at least a fortnight; she was to be conveyed in Mr. Woodhouse's carriage.--It was all arranged, it was all completed, and Harriet was safe in Brunswick Square. Now Emma could, indeed, enjoy Mr. Knightley's visits; now she could talk, and she could listen with true happiness, unchecked by that sense of injustice, of guilt, of something most painful, which had haunted her when remembering how disappointed a heart was near her, how much might at that moment, and at a little distance, be enduring by the feelings which she had led astray herself. The difference of Harriet at Mrs. Goddard's, or in London, made perhaps an unreasonable difference in Emma's sensations; but she could not think of her in London without objects of curiosity and employment, which must be averting the past, and carrying her out of herself. She would not allow any other anxiety to succeed directly to the place in her mind which Harriet had occupied. There was a communication before her, one which _she_ only could be competent to make--the confession of her engagement to her father; but she would have nothing to do with it at present.--She had resolved to defer the disclosure till Mrs. Weston were safe and well. No additional agitation should be thrown at this period among those she loved--and the evil should not act on herself by anticipation before the appointed time.--A fortnight, at least, of leisure and peace of mind, to crown every warmer, but more agitating, delight, should be hers. She soon resolved, equally as a duty and a pleasure, to employ half an hour of this holiday of spirits in calling on Miss Fairfax.--She ought to go--and she was longing to see her; the resemblance of their present situations increasing every other motive of goodwill. It would be a _secret_ satisfaction; but the consciousness of a similarity of prospect would certainly add to the interest with which she should attend to any thing Jane might communicate. She went--she had driven once unsuccessfully to the door, but had not been into the house since the morning after Box Hill, when poor Jane had been in such distress as had filled her with compassion, though all the worst of her sufferings had been unsuspected.--The fear of being still unwelcome, determined her, though assured of their being at home, to wait in the passage, and send up her name.--She heard Patty announcing it; but no such bustle succeeded as poor Miss Bates had before made so happily intelligible.--No; she heard nothing but the instant reply of, "Beg her to walk up;"--and a moment afterwards she was met on the stairs by Jane herself, coming eagerly forward, as if no other reception of her were felt sufficient.--Emma had never seen her look so well, so lovely, so engaging. There was consciousness, animation, and warmth; there was every thing which her countenance or manner could ever have wanted.-- She came forward with an offered hand; and said, in a low, but very feeling tone, "This is most kind, indeed!--Miss Woodhouse, it is impossible for me to express--I hope you will believe--Excuse me for being so entirely without words." Emma was gratified, and would soon have shewn no want of words, if the sound of Mrs. Elton's voice from the sitting-room had not checked her, and made it expedient to compress all her friendly and all her congratulatory sensations into a very, very earnest shake of the hand. Mrs. Bates and Mrs. Elton were together. Miss Bates was out, which accounted for the previous tranquillity. Emma could have wished Mrs. Elton elsewhere; but she was in a humour to have patience with every body; and as Mrs. Elton met her with unusual graciousness, she hoped the rencontre would do them no harm. She soon believed herself to penetrate Mrs. Elton's thoughts, and understand why she was, like herself, in happy spirits; it was being in Miss Fairfax's confidence, and fancying herself acquainted with what was still a secret to other people. Emma saw symptoms of it immediately in the expression of her face; and while paying her own compliments to Mrs. Bates, and appearing to attend to the good old lady's replies, she saw her with a sort of anxious parade of mystery fold up a letter which she had apparently been reading aloud to Miss Fairfax, and return it into the purple and gold reticule by her side, saying, with significant nods, "We can finish this some other time, you know. You and I shall not want opportunities. And, in fact, you have heard all the essential already. I only wanted to prove to you that Mrs. S. admits our apology, and is not offended. You see how delightfully she writes. Oh! she is a sweet creature! You would have doated on her, had you gone.--But not a word more. Let us be discreet--quite on our good behaviour.--Hush!--You remember those lines--I forget the poem at this moment: "For when a lady's in the case, "You know all other things give place." Now I say, my dear, in _our_ case, for _lady_, read----mum! a word to the wise.--I am in a fine flow of spirits, an't I? But I want to set your heart at ease as to Mrs. S.--_My_ representation, you see, has quite appeased her." And again, on Emma's merely turning her head to look at Mrs. Bates's knitting, she added, in a half whisper, "I mentioned no _names_, you will observe.--Oh! no; cautious as a minister of state. I managed it extremely well." Emma could not doubt. It was a palpable display, repeated on every possible occasion. When they had all talked a little while in harmony of the weather and Mrs. Weston, she found herself abruptly addressed with, "Do not you think, Miss Woodhouse, our saucy little friend here is charmingly recovered?--Do not you think her cure does Perry the highest credit?--(here was a side-glance of great meaning at Jane.) Upon my word, Perry has restored her in a wonderful short time!--Oh! if you had seen her, as I did, when she was at the worst!"--And when Mrs. Bates was saying something to Emma, whispered farther, "We do not say a word of any _assistance_ that Perry might have; not a word of a certain young physician from Windsor.--Oh! no; Perry shall have all the credit." "I have scarce had the pleasure of seeing you, Miss Woodhouse," she shortly afterwards began, "since the party to Box Hill. Very pleasant party. But yet I think there was something wanting. Things did not seem--that is, there seemed a little cloud upon the spirits of some.--So it appeared to me at least, but I might be mistaken. However, I think it answered so far as to tempt one to go again. What say you both to our collecting the same party, and exploring to Box Hill again, while the fine weather lasts?--It must be the same party, you know, quite the same party, not _one_ exception." Soon after this Miss Bates came in, and Emma could not help being diverted by the perplexity of her first answer to herself, resulting, she supposed, from doubt of what might be said, and impatience to say every thing. "Thank you, dear Miss Woodhouse, you are all kindness.--It is impossible to say--Yes, indeed, I quite understand--dearest Jane's prospects--that is, I do not mean.--But she is charmingly recovered.--How is Mr. Woodhouse?--I am so glad.--Quite out of my power.--Such a happy little circle as you find us here.--Yes, indeed.--Charming young man!--that is--so very friendly; I mean good Mr. Perry!--such attention to Jane!"--And from her great, her more than commonly thankful delight towards Mrs. Elton for being there, Emma guessed that there had been a little show of resentment towards Jane, from the vicarage quarter, which was now graciously overcome.--After a few whispers, indeed, which placed it beyond a guess, Mrs. Elton, speaking louder, said, "Yes, here I am, my good friend; and here I have been so long, that anywhere else I should think it necessary to apologise; but, the truth is, that I am waiting for my lord and master. He promised to join me here, and pay his respects to you." "What! are we to have the pleasure of a call from Mr. Elton?--That will be a favour indeed! for I know gentlemen do not like morning visits, and Mr. Elton's time is so engaged." "Upon my word it is, Miss Bates.--He really is engaged from morning to night.--There is no end of people's coming to him, on some pretence or other.--The magistrates, and overseers, and churchwardens, are always wanting his opinion. They seem not able to do any thing without him.--'Upon my word, Mr. E.,' I often say, 'rather you than I.--I do not know what would become of my crayons and my instrument, if I had half so many applicants.'--Bad enough as it is, for I absolutely neglect them both to an unpardonable degree.--I believe I have not played a bar this fortnight.--However, he is coming, I assure you: yes, indeed, on purpose to wait on you all." And putting up her hand to screen her words from Emma--"A congratulatory visit, you know.--Oh! yes, quite indispensable." Miss Bates looked about her, so happily--! "He promised to come to me as soon as he could disengage himself from Knightley; but he and Knightley are shut up together in deep consultation.--Mr. E. is Knightley's right hand." Emma would not have smiled for the world, and only said, "Is Mr. Elton gone on foot to Donwell?--He will have a hot walk." "Oh! no, it is a meeting at the Crown, a regular meeting. Weston and Cole will be there too; but one is apt to speak only of those who lead.--I fancy Mr. E. and Knightley have every thing their own way." "Have not you mistaken the day?" said Emma. "I am almost certain that the meeting at the Crown is not till to-morrow.--Mr. Knightley was at Hartfield yesterday, and spoke of it as for Saturday." "Oh! no, the meeting is certainly to-day," was the abrupt answer, which denoted the impossibility of any blunder on Mrs. Elton's side.--"I do believe," she continued, "this is the most troublesome parish that ever was. We never heard of such things at Maple Grove." "Your parish there was small," said Jane. "Upon my word, my dear, I do not know, for I never heard the subject talked of." "But it is proved by the smallness of the school, which I have heard you speak of, as under the patronage of your sister and Mrs. Bragge; the only school, and not more than five-and-twenty children." "Ah! you clever creature, that's very true. What a thinking brain you have! I say, Jane, what a perfect character you and I should make, if we could be shaken together. My liveliness and your solidity would produce perfection.--Not that I presume to insinuate, however, that _some_ people may not think _you_ perfection already.--But hush!--not a word, if you please." It seemed an unnecessary caution; Jane was wanting to give her words, not to Mrs. Elton, but to Miss Woodhouse, as the latter plainly saw. The wish of distinguishing her, as far as civility permitted, was very evident, though it could not often proceed beyond a look. Mr. Elton made his appearance. His lady greeted him with some of her sparkling vivacity. "Very pretty, sir, upon my word; to send me on here, to be an encumbrance to my friends, so long before you vouchsafe to come!--But you knew what a dutiful creature you had to deal with. You knew I should not stir till my lord and master appeared.--Here have I been sitting this hour, giving these young ladies a sample of true conjugal obedience--for who can say, you know, how soon it may be wanted?" Mr. Elton was so hot and tired, that all this wit seemed thrown away. His civilities to the other ladies must be paid; but his subsequent object was to lament over himself for the heat he was suffering, and the walk he had had for nothing. "When I got to Donwell," said he, "Knightley could not be found. Very odd! very unaccountable! after the note I sent him this morning, and the message he returned, that he should certainly be at home till one." "Donwell!" cried his wife.--"My dear Mr. E., you have not been to Donwell!--You mean the Crown; you come from the meeting at the Crown." "No, no, that's to-morrow; and I particularly wanted to see Knightley to-day on that very account.--Such a dreadful broiling morning!--I went over the fields too--(speaking in a tone of great ill-usage,) which made it so much the worse. And then not to find him at home! I assure you I am not at all pleased. And no apology left, no message for me. The housekeeper declared she knew nothing of my being expected.--Very extraordinary!--And nobody knew at all which way he was gone. Perhaps to Hartfield, perhaps to the Abbey Mill, perhaps into his woods.--Miss Woodhouse, this is not like our friend Knightley!--Can you explain it?" Emma amused herself by protesting that it was very extraordinary, indeed, and that she had not a syllable to say for him. "I cannot imagine," said Mrs. Elton, (feeling the indignity as a wife ought to do,) "I cannot imagine how he could do such a thing by you, of all people in the world! The very last person whom one should expect to be forgotten!--My dear Mr. E., he must have left a message for you, I am sure he must.--Not even Knightley could be so very eccentric;--and his servants forgot it. Depend upon it, that was the case: and very likely to happen with the Donwell servants, who are all, I have often observed, extremely awkward and remiss.--I am sure I would not have such a creature as his Harry stand at our sideboard for any consideration. And as for Mrs. Hodges, Wright holds her very cheap indeed.--She promised Wright a receipt, and never sent it." "I met William Larkins," continued Mr. Elton, "as I got near the house, and he told me I should not find his master at home, but I did not believe him.--William seemed rather out of humour. He did not know what was come to his master lately, he said, but he could hardly ever get the speech of him. I have nothing to do with William's wants, but it really is of very great importance that _I_ should see Knightley to-day; and it becomes a matter, therefore, of very serious inconvenience that I should have had this hot walk to no purpose." Emma felt that she could not do better than go home directly. In all probability she was at this very time waited for there; and Mr. Knightley might be preserved from sinking deeper in aggression towards Mr. Elton, if not towards William Larkins. She was pleased, on taking leave, to find Miss Fairfax determined to attend her out of the room, to go with her even downstairs; it gave her an opportunity which she immediately made use of, to say, "It is as well, perhaps, that I have not had the possibility. Had you not been surrounded by other friends, I might have been tempted to introduce a subject, to ask questions, to speak more openly than might have been strictly correct.--I feel that I should certainly have been impertinent." "Oh!" cried Jane, with a blush and an hesitation which Emma thought infinitely more becoming to her than all the elegance of all her usual composure--"there would have been no danger. The danger would have been of my wearying you. You could not have gratified me more than by expressing an interest--. Indeed, Miss Woodhouse, (speaking more collectedly,) with the consciousness which I have of misconduct, very great misconduct, it is particularly consoling to me to know that those of my friends, whose good opinion is most worth preserving, are not disgusted to such a degree as to--I have not time for half that I could wish to say. I long to make apologies, excuses, to urge something for myself. I feel it so very due. But, unfortunately--in short, if your compassion does not stand my friend--" "Oh! you are too scrupulous, indeed you are," cried Emma warmly, and taking her hand. "You owe me no apologies; and every body to whom you might be supposed to owe them, is so perfectly satisfied, so delighted even--" "You are very kind, but I know what my manners were to you.--So cold and artificial!--I had always a part to act.--It was a life of deceit!--I know that I must have disgusted you." "Pray say no more. I feel that all the apologies should be on my side. Let us forgive each other at once. We must do whatever is to be done quickest, and I think our feelings will lose no time there. I hope you have pleasant accounts from Windsor?" "Very." "And the next news, I suppose, will be, that we are to lose you--just as I begin to know you." "Oh! as to all that, of course nothing can be thought of yet. I am here till claimed by Colonel and Mrs. Campbell." "Nothing can be actually settled yet, perhaps," replied Emma, smiling--"but, excuse me, it must be thought of." The smile was returned as Jane answered, "You are very right; it has been thought of. And I will own to you, (I am sure it will be safe), that so far as our living with Mr. Churchill at Enscombe, it is settled. There must be three months, at least, of deep mourning; but when they are over, I imagine there will be nothing more to wait for." "Thank you, thank you.--This is just what I wanted to be assured of.--Oh! if you knew how much I love every thing that is decided and open!--Good-bye, good-bye." CHAPTER XVII Mrs. Weston's friends were all made happy by her safety; and if the satisfaction of her well-doing could be increased to Emma, it was by knowing her to be the mother of a little girl. She had been decided in wishing for a Miss Weston. She would not acknowledge that it was with any view of making a match for her, hereafter, with either of Isabella's sons; but she was convinced that a daughter would suit both father and mother best. It would be a great comfort to Mr. Weston, as he grew older--and even Mr. Weston might be growing older ten years hence--to have his fireside enlivened by the sports and the nonsense, the freaks and the fancies of a child never banished from home; and Mrs. Weston--no one could doubt that a daughter would be most to her; and it would be quite a pity that any one who so well knew how to teach, should not have their powers in exercise again. "She has had the advantage, you know, of practising on me," she continued--"like La Baronne d'Almane on La Comtesse d'Ostalis, in Madame de Genlis' Adelaide and Theodore, and we shall now see her own little Adelaide educated on a more perfect plan." "That is," replied Mr. Knightley, "she will indulge her even more than she did you, and believe that she does not indulge her at all. It will be the only difference." "Poor child!" cried Emma; "at that rate, what will become of her?" "Nothing very bad.--The fate of thousands. She will be disagreeable in infancy, and correct herself as she grows older. I am losing all my bitterness against spoilt children, my dearest Emma. I, who am owing all my happiness to _you_, would not it be horrible ingratitude in me to be severe on them?" Emma laughed, and replied: "But I had the assistance of all your endeavours to counteract the indulgence of other people. I doubt whether my own sense would have corrected me without it." "Do you?--I have no doubt. Nature gave

be

How many times the word 'be' appears in the text?

what immediately followed of the basis of their disagreement, and his persisting to act in direct opposition to Jane Fairfax's sense of right, he made a fuller pause to say, "This is very bad.--He had induced her to place herself, for his sake, in a situation of extreme difficulty and uneasiness, and it should have been his first object to prevent her from suffering unnecessarily.--She must have had much more to contend with, in carrying on the correspondence, than he could. He should have respected even unreasonable scruples, had there been such; but hers were all reasonable. We must look to her one fault, and remember that she had done a wrong thing in consenting to the engagement, to bear that she should have been in such a state of punishment." Emma knew that he was now getting to the Box Hill party, and grew uncomfortable. Her own behaviour had been so very improper! She was deeply ashamed, and a little afraid of his next look. It was all read, however, steadily, attentively, and without the smallest remark; and, excepting one momentary glance at her, instantly withdrawn, in the fear of giving pain--no remembrance of Box Hill seemed to exist. "There is no saying much for the delicacy of our good friends, the Eltons," was his next observation.--"His feelings are natural.--What! actually resolve to break with him entirely!--She felt the engagement to be a source of repentance and misery to each--she dissolved it.--What a view this gives of her sense of his behaviour!--Well, he must be a most extraordinary--" "Nay, nay, read on.--You will find how very much he suffers." "I hope he does," replied Mr. Knightley coolly, and resuming the letter. "'Smallridge!'--What does this mean? What is all this?" "She had engaged to go as governess to Mrs. Smallridge's children--a dear friend of Mrs. Elton's--a neighbour of Maple Grove; and, by the bye, I wonder how Mrs. Elton bears the disappointment?" "Say nothing, my dear Emma, while you oblige me to read--not even of Mrs. Elton. Only one page more. I shall soon have done. What a letter the man writes!" "I wish you would read it with a kinder spirit towards him." "Well, there _is_ feeling here.--He does seem to have suffered in finding her ill.--Certainly, I can have no doubt of his being fond of her. 'Dearer, much dearer than ever.' I hope he may long continue to feel all the value of such a reconciliation.--He is a very liberal thanker, with his thousands and tens of thousands.--'Happier than I deserve.' Come, he knows himself there. 'Miss Woodhouse calls me the child of good fortune.'--Those were Miss Woodhouse's words, were they?-- And a fine ending--and there is the letter. The child of good fortune! That was your name for him, was it?" "You do not appear so well satisfied with his letter as I am; but still you must, at least I hope you must, think the better of him for it. I hope it does him some service with you." "Yes, certainly it does. He has had great faults, faults of inconsideration and thoughtlessness; and I am very much of his opinion in thinking him likely to be happier than he deserves: but still as he is, beyond a doubt, really attached to Miss Fairfax, and will soon, it may be hoped, have the advantage of being constantly with her, I am very ready to believe his character will improve, and acquire from hers the steadiness and delicacy of principle that it wants. And now, let me talk to you of something else. I have another person's interest at present so much at heart, that I cannot think any longer about Frank Churchill. Ever since I left you this morning, Emma, my mind has been hard at work on one subject." The subject followed; it was in plain, unaffected, gentlemanlike English, such as Mr. Knightley used even to the woman he was in love with, how to be able to ask her to marry him, without attacking the happiness of her father. Emma's answer was ready at the first word. "While her dear father lived, any change of condition must be impossible for her. She could never quit him." Part only of this answer, however, was admitted. The impossibility of her quitting her father, Mr. Knightley felt as strongly as herself; but the inadmissibility of any other change, he could not agree to. He had been thinking it over most deeply, most intently; he had at first hoped to induce Mr. Woodhouse to remove with her to Donwell; he had wanted to believe it feasible, but his knowledge of Mr. Woodhouse would not suffer him to deceive himself long; and now he confessed his persuasion, that such a transplantation would be a risk of her father's comfort, perhaps even of his life, which must not be hazarded. Mr. Woodhouse taken from Hartfield!--No, he felt that it ought not to be attempted. But the plan which had arisen on the sacrifice of this, he trusted his dearest Emma would not find in any respect objectionable; it was, that he should be received at Hartfield; that so long as her father's happiness--in other words, his life--required Hartfield to continue her home, it should be his likewise. Of their all removing to Donwell, Emma had already had her own passing thoughts. Like him, she had tried the scheme and rejected it; but such an alternative as this had not occurred to her. She was sensible of all the affection it evinced. She felt that, in quitting Donwell, he must be sacrificing a great deal of independence of hours and habits; that in living constantly with her father, and in no house of his own, there would be much, very much, to be borne with. She promised to think of it, and advised him to think of it more; but he was fully convinced, that no reflection could alter his wishes or his opinion on the subject. He had given it, he could assure her, very long and calm consideration; he had been walking away from William Larkins the whole morning, to have his thoughts to himself. "Ah! there is one difficulty unprovided for," cried Emma. "I am sure William Larkins will not like it. You must get his consent before you ask mine." She promised, however, to think of it; and pretty nearly promised, moreover, to think of it, with the intention of finding it a very good scheme. It is remarkable, that Emma, in the many, very many, points of view in which she was now beginning to consider Donwell Abbey, was never struck with any sense of injury to her nephew Henry, whose rights as heir-expectant had formerly been so tenaciously regarded. Think she must of the possible difference to the poor little boy; and yet she only gave herself a saucy conscious smile about it, and found amusement in detecting the real cause of that violent dislike of Mr. Knightley's marrying Jane Fairfax, or any body else, which at the time she had wholly imputed to the amiable solicitude of the sister and the aunt. This proposal of his, this plan of marrying and continuing at Hartfield--the more she contemplated it, the more pleasing it became. His evils seemed to lessen, her own advantages to increase, their mutual good to outweigh every drawback. Such a companion for herself in the periods of anxiety and cheerlessness before her!--Such a partner in all those duties and cares to which time must be giving increase of melancholy! She would have been too happy but for poor Harriet; but every blessing of her own seemed to involve and advance the sufferings of her friend, who must now be even excluded from Hartfield. The delightful family party which Emma was securing for herself, poor Harriet must, in mere charitable caution, be kept at a distance from. She would be a loser in every way. Emma could not deplore her future absence as any deduction from her own enjoyment. In such a party, Harriet would be rather a dead weight than otherwise; but for the poor girl herself, it seemed a peculiarly cruel necessity that was to be placing her in such a state of unmerited punishment. In time, of course, Mr. Knightley would be forgotten, that is, supplanted; but this could not be expected to happen very early. Mr. Knightley himself would be doing nothing to assist the cure;--not like Mr. Elton. Mr. Knightley, always so kind, so feeling, so truly considerate for every body, would never deserve to be less worshipped than now; and it really was too much to hope even of Harriet, that she could be in love with more than _three_ men in one year. CHAPTER XVI It was a very great relief to Emma to find Harriet as desirous as herself to avoid a meeting. Their intercourse was painful enough by letter. How much worse, had they been obliged to meet! Harriet expressed herself very much as might be supposed, without reproaches, or apparent sense of ill-usage; and yet Emma fancied there was a something of resentment, a something bordering on it in her style, which increased the desirableness of their being separate.--It might be only her own consciousness; but it seemed as if an angel only could have been quite without resentment under such a stroke. She had no difficulty in procuring Isabella's invitation; and she was fortunate in having a sufficient reason for asking it, without resorting to invention.--There was a tooth amiss. Harriet really wished, and had wished some time, to consult a dentist. Mrs. John Knightley was delighted to be of use; any thing of ill health was a recommendation to her--and though not so fond of a dentist as of a Mr. Wingfield, she was quite eager to have Harriet under her care.--When it was thus settled on her sister's side, Emma proposed it to her friend, and found her very persuadable.--Harriet was to go; she was invited for at least a fortnight; she was to be conveyed in Mr. Woodhouse's carriage.--It was all arranged, it was all completed, and Harriet was safe in Brunswick Square. Now Emma could, indeed, enjoy Mr. Knightley's visits; now she could talk, and she could listen with true happiness, unchecked by that sense of injustice, of guilt, of something most painful, which had haunted her when remembering how disappointed a heart was near her, how much might at that moment, and at a little distance, be enduring by the feelings which she had led astray herself. The difference of Harriet at Mrs. Goddard's, or in London, made perhaps an unreasonable difference in Emma's sensations; but she could not think of her in London without objects of curiosity and employment, which must be averting the past, and carrying her out of herself. She would not allow any other anxiety to succeed directly to the place in her mind which Harriet had occupied. There was a communication before her, one which _she_ only could be competent to make--the confession of her engagement to her father; but she would have nothing to do with it at present.--She had resolved to defer the disclosure till Mrs. Weston were safe and well. No additional agitation should be thrown at this period among those she loved--and the evil should not act on herself by anticipation before the appointed time.--A fortnight, at least, of leisure and peace of mind, to crown every warmer, but more agitating, delight, should be hers. She soon resolved, equally as a duty and a pleasure, to employ half an hour of this holiday of spirits in calling on Miss Fairfax.--She ought to go--and she was longing to see her; the resemblance of their present situations increasing every other motive of goodwill. It would be a _secret_ satisfaction; but the consciousness of a similarity of prospect would certainly add to the interest with which she should attend to any thing Jane might communicate. She went--she had driven once unsuccessfully to the door, but had not been into the house since the morning after Box Hill, when poor Jane had been in such distress as had filled her with compassion, though all the worst of her sufferings had been unsuspected.--The fear of being still unwelcome, determined her, though assured of their being at home, to wait in the passage, and send up her name.--She heard Patty announcing it; but no such bustle succeeded as poor Miss Bates had before made so happily intelligible.--No; she heard nothing but the instant reply of, "Beg her to walk up;"--and a moment afterwards she was met on the stairs by Jane herself, coming eagerly forward, as if no other reception of her were felt sufficient.--Emma had never seen her look so well, so lovely, so engaging. There was consciousness, animation, and warmth; there was every thing which her countenance or manner could ever have wanted.-- She came forward with an offered hand; and said, in a low, but very feeling tone, "This is most kind, indeed!--Miss Woodhouse, it is impossible for me to express--I hope you will believe--Excuse me for being so entirely without words." Emma was gratified, and would soon have shewn no want of words, if the sound of Mrs. Elton's voice from the sitting-room had not checked her, and made it expedient to compress all her friendly and all her congratulatory sensations into a very, very earnest shake of the hand. Mrs. Bates and Mrs. Elton were together. Miss Bates was out, which accounted for the previous tranquillity. Emma could have wished Mrs. Elton elsewhere; but she was in a humour to have patience with every body; and as Mrs. Elton met her with unusual graciousness, she hoped the rencontre would do them no harm. She soon believed herself to penetrate Mrs. Elton's thoughts, and understand why she was, like herself, in happy spirits; it was being in Miss Fairfax's confidence, and fancying herself acquainted with what was still a secret to other people. Emma saw symptoms of it immediately in the expression of her face; and while paying her own compliments to Mrs. Bates, and appearing to attend to the good old lady's replies, she saw her with a sort of anxious parade of mystery fold up a letter which she had apparently been reading aloud to Miss Fairfax, and return it into the purple and gold reticule by her side, saying, with significant nods, "We can finish this some other time, you know. You and I shall not want opportunities. And, in fact, you have heard all the essential already. I only wanted to prove to you that Mrs. S. admits our apology, and is not offended. You see how delightfully she writes. Oh! she is a sweet creature! You would have doated on her, had you gone.--But not a word more. Let us be discreet--quite on our good behaviour.--Hush!--You remember those lines--I forget the poem at this moment: "For when a lady's in the case, "You know all other things give place." Now I say, my dear, in _our_ case, for _lady_, read----mum! a word to the wise.--I am in a fine flow of spirits, an't I? But I want to set your heart at ease as to Mrs. S.--_My_ representation, you see, has quite appeased her." And again, on Emma's merely turning her head to look at Mrs. Bates's knitting, she added, in a half whisper, "I mentioned no _names_, you will observe.--Oh! no; cautious as a minister of state. I managed it extremely well." Emma could not doubt. It was a palpable display, repeated on every possible occasion. When they had all talked a little while in harmony of the weather and Mrs. Weston, she found herself abruptly addressed with, "Do not you think, Miss Woodhouse, our saucy little friend here is charmingly recovered?--Do not you think her cure does Perry the highest credit?--(here was a side-glance of great meaning at Jane.) Upon my word, Perry has restored her in a wonderful short time!--Oh! if you had seen her, as I did, when she was at the worst!"--And when Mrs. Bates was saying something to Emma, whispered farther, "We do not say a word of any _assistance_ that Perry might have; not a word of a certain young physician from Windsor.--Oh! no; Perry shall have all the credit." "I have scarce had the pleasure of seeing you, Miss Woodhouse," she shortly afterwards began, "since the party to Box Hill. Very pleasant party. But yet I think there was something wanting. Things did not seem--that is, there seemed a little cloud upon the spirits of some.--So it appeared to me at least, but I might be mistaken. However, I think it answered so far as to tempt one to go again. What say you both to our collecting the same party, and exploring to Box Hill again, while the fine weather lasts?--It must be the same party, you know, quite the same party, not _one_ exception." Soon after this Miss Bates came in, and Emma could not help being diverted by the perplexity of her first answer to herself, resulting, she supposed, from doubt of what might be said, and impatience to say every thing. "Thank you, dear Miss Woodhouse, you are all kindness.--It is impossible to say--Yes, indeed, I quite understand--dearest Jane's prospects--that is, I do not mean.--But she is charmingly recovered.--How is Mr. Woodhouse?--I am so glad.--Quite out of my power.--Such a happy little circle as you find us here.--Yes, indeed.--Charming young man!--that is--so very friendly; I mean good Mr. Perry!--such attention to Jane!"--And from her great, her more than commonly thankful delight towards Mrs. Elton for being there, Emma guessed that there had been a little show of resentment towards Jane, from the vicarage quarter, which was now graciously overcome.--After a few whispers, indeed, which placed it beyond a guess, Mrs. Elton, speaking louder, said, "Yes, here I am, my good friend; and here I have been so long, that anywhere else I should think it necessary to apologise; but, the truth is, that I am waiting for my lord and master. He promised to join me here, and pay his respects to you." "What! are we to have the pleasure of a call from Mr. Elton?--That will be a favour indeed! for I know gentlemen do not like morning visits, and Mr. Elton's time is so engaged." "Upon my word it is, Miss Bates.--He really is engaged from morning to night.--There is no end of people's coming to him, on some pretence or other.--The magistrates, and overseers, and churchwardens, are always wanting his opinion. They seem not able to do any thing without him.--'Upon my word, Mr. E.,' I often say, 'rather you than I.--I do not know what would become of my crayons and my instrument, if I had half so many applicants.'--Bad enough as it is, for I absolutely neglect them both to an unpardonable degree.--I believe I have not played a bar this fortnight.--However, he is coming, I assure you: yes, indeed, on purpose to wait on you all." And putting up her hand to screen her words from Emma--"A congratulatory visit, you know.--Oh! yes, quite indispensable." Miss Bates looked about her, so happily--! "He promised to come to me as soon as he could disengage himself from Knightley; but he and Knightley are shut up together in deep consultation.--Mr. E. is Knightley's right hand." Emma would not have smiled for the world, and only said, "Is Mr. Elton gone on foot to Donwell?--He will have a hot walk." "Oh! no, it is a meeting at the Crown, a regular meeting. Weston and Cole will be there too; but one is apt to speak only of those who lead.--I fancy Mr. E. and Knightley have every thing their own way." "Have not you mistaken the day?" said Emma. "I am almost certain that the meeting at the Crown is not till to-morrow.--Mr. Knightley was at Hartfield yesterday, and spoke of it as for Saturday." "Oh! no, the meeting is certainly to-day," was the abrupt answer, which denoted the impossibility of any blunder on Mrs. Elton's side.--"I do believe," she continued, "this is the most troublesome parish that ever was. We never heard of such things at Maple Grove." "Your parish there was small," said Jane. "Upon my word, my dear, I do not know, for I never heard the subject talked of." "But it is proved by the smallness of the school, which I have heard you speak of, as under the patronage of your sister and Mrs. Bragge; the only school, and not more than five-and-twenty children." "Ah! you clever creature, that's very true. What a thinking brain you have! I say, Jane, what a perfect character you and I should make, if we could be shaken together. My liveliness and your solidity would produce perfection.--Not that I presume to insinuate, however, that _some_ people may not think _you_ perfection already.--But hush!--not a word, if you please." It seemed an unnecessary caution; Jane was wanting to give her words, not to Mrs. Elton, but to Miss Woodhouse, as the latter plainly saw. The wish of distinguishing her, as far as civility permitted, was very evident, though it could not often proceed beyond a look. Mr. Elton made his appearance. His lady greeted him with some of her sparkling vivacity. "Very pretty, sir, upon my word; to send me on here, to be an encumbrance to my friends, so long before you vouchsafe to come!--But you knew what a dutiful creature you had to deal with. You knew I should not stir till my lord and master appeared.--Here have I been sitting this hour, giving these young ladies a sample of true conjugal obedience--for who can say, you know, how soon it may be wanted?" Mr. Elton was so hot and tired, that all this wit seemed thrown away. His civilities to the other ladies must be paid; but his subsequent object was to lament over himself for the heat he was suffering, and the walk he had had for nothing. "When I got to Donwell," said he, "Knightley could not be found. Very odd! very unaccountable! after the note I sent him this morning, and the message he returned, that he should certainly be at home till one." "Donwell!" cried his wife.--"My dear Mr. E., you have not been to Donwell!--You mean the Crown; you come from the meeting at the Crown." "No, no, that's to-morrow; and I particularly wanted to see Knightley to-day on that very account.--Such a dreadful broiling morning!--I went over the fields too--(speaking in a tone of great ill-usage,) which made it so much the worse. And then not to find him at home! I assure you I am not at all pleased. And no apology left, no message for me. The housekeeper declared she knew nothing of my being expected.--Very extraordinary!--And nobody knew at all which way he was gone. Perhaps to Hartfield, perhaps to the Abbey Mill, perhaps into his woods.--Miss Woodhouse, this is not like our friend Knightley!--Can you explain it?" Emma amused herself by protesting that it was very extraordinary, indeed, and that she had not a syllable to say for him. "I cannot imagine," said Mrs. Elton, (feeling the indignity as a wife ought to do,) "I cannot imagine how he could do such a thing by you, of all people in the world! The very last person whom one should expect to be forgotten!--My dear Mr. E., he must have left a message for you, I am sure he must.--Not even Knightley could be so very eccentric;--and his servants forgot it. Depend upon it, that was the case: and very likely to happen with the Donwell servants, who are all, I have often observed, extremely awkward and remiss.--I am sure I would not have such a creature as his Harry stand at our sideboard for any consideration. And as for Mrs. Hodges, Wright holds her very cheap indeed.--She promised Wright a receipt, and never sent it." "I met William Larkins," continued Mr. Elton, "as I got near the house, and he told me I should not find his master at home, but I did not believe him.--William seemed rather out of humour. He did not know what was come to his master lately, he said, but he could hardly ever get the speech of him. I have nothing to do with William's wants, but it really is of very great importance that _I_ should see Knightley to-day; and it becomes a matter, therefore, of very serious inconvenience that I should have had this hot walk to no purpose." Emma felt that she could not do better than go home directly. In all probability she was at this very time waited for there; and Mr. Knightley might be preserved from sinking deeper in aggression towards Mr. Elton, if not towards William Larkins. She was pleased, on taking leave, to find Miss Fairfax determined to attend her out of the room, to go with her even downstairs; it gave her an opportunity which she immediately made use of, to say, "It is as well, perhaps, that I have not had the possibility. Had you not been surrounded by other friends, I might have been tempted to introduce a subject, to ask questions, to speak more openly than might have been strictly correct.--I feel that I should certainly have been impertinent." "Oh!" cried Jane, with a blush and an hesitation which Emma thought infinitely more becoming to her than all the elegance of all her usual composure--"there would have been no danger. The danger would have been of my wearying you. You could not have gratified me more than by expressing an interest--. Indeed, Miss Woodhouse, (speaking more collectedly,) with the consciousness which I have of misconduct, very great misconduct, it is particularly consoling to me to know that those of my friends, whose good opinion is most worth preserving, are not disgusted to such a degree as to--I have not time for half that I could wish to say. I long to make apologies, excuses, to urge something for myself. I feel it so very due. But, unfortunately--in short, if your compassion does not stand my friend--" "Oh! you are too scrupulous, indeed you are," cried Emma warmly, and taking her hand. "You owe me no apologies; and every body to whom you might be supposed to owe them, is so perfectly satisfied, so delighted even--" "You are very kind, but I know what my manners were to you.--So cold and artificial!--I had always a part to act.--It was a life of deceit!--I know that I must have disgusted you." "Pray say no more. I feel that all the apologies should be on my side. Let us forgive each other at once. We must do whatever is to be done quickest, and I think our feelings will lose no time there. I hope you have pleasant accounts from Windsor?" "Very." "And the next news, I suppose, will be, that we are to lose you--just as I begin to know you." "Oh! as to all that, of course nothing can be thought of yet. I am here till claimed by Colonel and Mrs. Campbell." "Nothing can be actually settled yet, perhaps," replied Emma, smiling--"but, excuse me, it must be thought of." The smile was returned as Jane answered, "You are very right; it has been thought of. And I will own to you, (I am sure it will be safe), that so far as our living with Mr. Churchill at Enscombe, it is settled. There must be three months, at least, of deep mourning; but when they are over, I imagine there will be nothing more to wait for." "Thank you, thank you.--This is just what I wanted to be assured of.--Oh! if you knew how much I love every thing that is decided and open!--Good-bye, good-bye." CHAPTER XVII Mrs. Weston's friends were all made happy by her safety; and if the satisfaction of her well-doing could be increased to Emma, it was by knowing her to be the mother of a little girl. She had been decided in wishing for a Miss Weston. She would not acknowledge that it was with any view of making a match for her, hereafter, with either of Isabella's sons; but she was convinced that a daughter would suit both father and mother best. It would be a great comfort to Mr. Weston, as he grew older--and even Mr. Weston might be growing older ten years hence--to have his fireside enlivened by the sports and the nonsense, the freaks and the fancies of a child never banished from home; and Mrs. Weston--no one could doubt that a daughter would be most to her; and it would be quite a pity that any one who so well knew how to teach, should not have their powers in exercise again. "She has had the advantage, you know, of practising on me," she continued--"like La Baronne d'Almane on La Comtesse d'Ostalis, in Madame de Genlis' Adelaide and Theodore, and we shall now see her own little Adelaide educated on a more perfect plan." "That is," replied Mr. Knightley, "she will indulge her even more than she did you, and believe that she does not indulge her at all. It will be the only difference." "Poor child!" cried Emma; "at that rate, what will become of her?" "Nothing very bad.--The fate of thousands. She will be disagreeable in infancy, and correct herself as she grows older. I am losing all my bitterness against spoilt children, my dearest Emma. I, who am owing all my happiness to _you_, would not it be horrible ingratitude in me to be severe on them?" Emma laughed, and replied: "But I had the assistance of all your endeavours to counteract the indulgence of other people. I doubt whether my own sense would have corrected me without it." "Do you?--I have no doubt. Nature gave

gear

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what immediately followed of the basis of their disagreement, and his persisting to act in direct opposition to Jane Fairfax's sense of right, he made a fuller pause to say, "This is very bad.--He had induced her to place herself, for his sake, in a situation of extreme difficulty and uneasiness, and it should have been his first object to prevent her from suffering unnecessarily.--She must have had much more to contend with, in carrying on the correspondence, than he could. He should have respected even unreasonable scruples, had there been such; but hers were all reasonable. We must look to her one fault, and remember that she had done a wrong thing in consenting to the engagement, to bear that she should have been in such a state of punishment." Emma knew that he was now getting to the Box Hill party, and grew uncomfortable. Her own behaviour had been so very improper! She was deeply ashamed, and a little afraid of his next look. It was all read, however, steadily, attentively, and without the smallest remark; and, excepting one momentary glance at her, instantly withdrawn, in the fear of giving pain--no remembrance of Box Hill seemed to exist. "There is no saying much for the delicacy of our good friends, the Eltons," was his next observation.--"His feelings are natural.--What! actually resolve to break with him entirely!--She felt the engagement to be a source of repentance and misery to each--she dissolved it.--What a view this gives of her sense of his behaviour!--Well, he must be a most extraordinary--" "Nay, nay, read on.--You will find how very much he suffers." "I hope he does," replied Mr. Knightley coolly, and resuming the letter. "'Smallridge!'--What does this mean? What is all this?" "She had engaged to go as governess to Mrs. Smallridge's children--a dear friend of Mrs. Elton's--a neighbour of Maple Grove; and, by the bye, I wonder how Mrs. Elton bears the disappointment?" "Say nothing, my dear Emma, while you oblige me to read--not even of Mrs. Elton. Only one page more. I shall soon have done. What a letter the man writes!" "I wish you would read it with a kinder spirit towards him." "Well, there _is_ feeling here.--He does seem to have suffered in finding her ill.--Certainly, I can have no doubt of his being fond of her. 'Dearer, much dearer than ever.' I hope he may long continue to feel all the value of such a reconciliation.--He is a very liberal thanker, with his thousands and tens of thousands.--'Happier than I deserve.' Come, he knows himself there. 'Miss Woodhouse calls me the child of good fortune.'--Those were Miss Woodhouse's words, were they?-- And a fine ending--and there is the letter. The child of good fortune! That was your name for him, was it?" "You do not appear so well satisfied with his letter as I am; but still you must, at least I hope you must, think the better of him for it. I hope it does him some service with you." "Yes, certainly it does. He has had great faults, faults of inconsideration and thoughtlessness; and I am very much of his opinion in thinking him likely to be happier than he deserves: but still as he is, beyond a doubt, really attached to Miss Fairfax, and will soon, it may be hoped, have the advantage of being constantly with her, I am very ready to believe his character will improve, and acquire from hers the steadiness and delicacy of principle that it wants. And now, let me talk to you of something else. I have another person's interest at present so much at heart, that I cannot think any longer about Frank Churchill. Ever since I left you this morning, Emma, my mind has been hard at work on one subject." The subject followed; it was in plain, unaffected, gentlemanlike English, such as Mr. Knightley used even to the woman he was in love with, how to be able to ask her to marry him, without attacking the happiness of her father. Emma's answer was ready at the first word. "While her dear father lived, any change of condition must be impossible for her. She could never quit him." Part only of this answer, however, was admitted. The impossibility of her quitting her father, Mr. Knightley felt as strongly as herself; but the inadmissibility of any other change, he could not agree to. He had been thinking it over most deeply, most intently; he had at first hoped to induce Mr. Woodhouse to remove with her to Donwell; he had wanted to believe it feasible, but his knowledge of Mr. Woodhouse would not suffer him to deceive himself long; and now he confessed his persuasion, that such a transplantation would be a risk of her father's comfort, perhaps even of his life, which must not be hazarded. Mr. Woodhouse taken from Hartfield!--No, he felt that it ought not to be attempted. But the plan which had arisen on the sacrifice of this, he trusted his dearest Emma would not find in any respect objectionable; it was, that he should be received at Hartfield; that so long as her father's happiness--in other words, his life--required Hartfield to continue her home, it should be his likewise. Of their all removing to Donwell, Emma had already had her own passing thoughts. Like him, she had tried the scheme and rejected it; but such an alternative as this had not occurred to her. She was sensible of all the affection it evinced. She felt that, in quitting Donwell, he must be sacrificing a great deal of independence of hours and habits; that in living constantly with her father, and in no house of his own, there would be much, very much, to be borne with. She promised to think of it, and advised him to think of it more; but he was fully convinced, that no reflection could alter his wishes or his opinion on the subject. He had given it, he could assure her, very long and calm consideration; he had been walking away from William Larkins the whole morning, to have his thoughts to himself. "Ah! there is one difficulty unprovided for," cried Emma. "I am sure William Larkins will not like it. You must get his consent before you ask mine." She promised, however, to think of it; and pretty nearly promised, moreover, to think of it, with the intention of finding it a very good scheme. It is remarkable, that Emma, in the many, very many, points of view in which she was now beginning to consider Donwell Abbey, was never struck with any sense of injury to her nephew Henry, whose rights as heir-expectant had formerly been so tenaciously regarded. Think she must of the possible difference to the poor little boy; and yet she only gave herself a saucy conscious smile about it, and found amusement in detecting the real cause of that violent dislike of Mr. Knightley's marrying Jane Fairfax, or any body else, which at the time she had wholly imputed to the amiable solicitude of the sister and the aunt. This proposal of his, this plan of marrying and continuing at Hartfield--the more she contemplated it, the more pleasing it became. His evils seemed to lessen, her own advantages to increase, their mutual good to outweigh every drawback. Such a companion for herself in the periods of anxiety and cheerlessness before her!--Such a partner in all those duties and cares to which time must be giving increase of melancholy! She would have been too happy but for poor Harriet; but every blessing of her own seemed to involve and advance the sufferings of her friend, who must now be even excluded from Hartfield. The delightful family party which Emma was securing for herself, poor Harriet must, in mere charitable caution, be kept at a distance from. She would be a loser in every way. Emma could not deplore her future absence as any deduction from her own enjoyment. In such a party, Harriet would be rather a dead weight than otherwise; but for the poor girl herself, it seemed a peculiarly cruel necessity that was to be placing her in such a state of unmerited punishment. In time, of course, Mr. Knightley would be forgotten, that is, supplanted; but this could not be expected to happen very early. Mr. Knightley himself would be doing nothing to assist the cure;--not like Mr. Elton. Mr. Knightley, always so kind, so feeling, so truly considerate for every body, would never deserve to be less worshipped than now; and it really was too much to hope even of Harriet, that she could be in love with more than _three_ men in one year. CHAPTER XVI It was a very great relief to Emma to find Harriet as desirous as herself to avoid a meeting. Their intercourse was painful enough by letter. How much worse, had they been obliged to meet! Harriet expressed herself very much as might be supposed, without reproaches, or apparent sense of ill-usage; and yet Emma fancied there was a something of resentment, a something bordering on it in her style, which increased the desirableness of their being separate.--It might be only her own consciousness; but it seemed as if an angel only could have been quite without resentment under such a stroke. She had no difficulty in procuring Isabella's invitation; and she was fortunate in having a sufficient reason for asking it, without resorting to invention.--There was a tooth amiss. Harriet really wished, and had wished some time, to consult a dentist. Mrs. John Knightley was delighted to be of use; any thing of ill health was a recommendation to her--and though not so fond of a dentist as of a Mr. Wingfield, she was quite eager to have Harriet under her care.--When it was thus settled on her sister's side, Emma proposed it to her friend, and found her very persuadable.--Harriet was to go; she was invited for at least a fortnight; she was to be conveyed in Mr. Woodhouse's carriage.--It was all arranged, it was all completed, and Harriet was safe in Brunswick Square. Now Emma could, indeed, enjoy Mr. Knightley's visits; now she could talk, and she could listen with true happiness, unchecked by that sense of injustice, of guilt, of something most painful, which had haunted her when remembering how disappointed a heart was near her, how much might at that moment, and at a little distance, be enduring by the feelings which she had led astray herself. The difference of Harriet at Mrs. Goddard's, or in London, made perhaps an unreasonable difference in Emma's sensations; but she could not think of her in London without objects of curiosity and employment, which must be averting the past, and carrying her out of herself. She would not allow any other anxiety to succeed directly to the place in her mind which Harriet had occupied. There was a communication before her, one which _she_ only could be competent to make--the confession of her engagement to her father; but she would have nothing to do with it at present.--She had resolved to defer the disclosure till Mrs. Weston were safe and well. No additional agitation should be thrown at this period among those she loved--and the evil should not act on herself by anticipation before the appointed time.--A fortnight, at least, of leisure and peace of mind, to crown every warmer, but more agitating, delight, should be hers. She soon resolved, equally as a duty and a pleasure, to employ half an hour of this holiday of spirits in calling on Miss Fairfax.--She ought to go--and she was longing to see her; the resemblance of their present situations increasing every other motive of goodwill. It would be a _secret_ satisfaction; but the consciousness of a similarity of prospect would certainly add to the interest with which she should attend to any thing Jane might communicate. She went--she had driven once unsuccessfully to the door, but had not been into the house since the morning after Box Hill, when poor Jane had been in such distress as had filled her with compassion, though all the worst of her sufferings had been unsuspected.--The fear of being still unwelcome, determined her, though assured of their being at home, to wait in the passage, and send up her name.--She heard Patty announcing it; but no such bustle succeeded as poor Miss Bates had before made so happily intelligible.--No; she heard nothing but the instant reply of, "Beg her to walk up;"--and a moment afterwards she was met on the stairs by Jane herself, coming eagerly forward, as if no other reception of her were felt sufficient.--Emma had never seen her look so well, so lovely, so engaging. There was consciousness, animation, and warmth; there was every thing which her countenance or manner could ever have wanted.-- She came forward with an offered hand; and said, in a low, but very feeling tone, "This is most kind, indeed!--Miss Woodhouse, it is impossible for me to express--I hope you will believe--Excuse me for being so entirely without words." Emma was gratified, and would soon have shewn no want of words, if the sound of Mrs. Elton's voice from the sitting-room had not checked her, and made it expedient to compress all her friendly and all her congratulatory sensations into a very, very earnest shake of the hand. Mrs. Bates and Mrs. Elton were together. Miss Bates was out, which accounted for the previous tranquillity. Emma could have wished Mrs. Elton elsewhere; but she was in a humour to have patience with every body; and as Mrs. Elton met her with unusual graciousness, she hoped the rencontre would do them no harm. She soon believed herself to penetrate Mrs. Elton's thoughts, and understand why she was, like herself, in happy spirits; it was being in Miss Fairfax's confidence, and fancying herself acquainted with what was still a secret to other people. Emma saw symptoms of it immediately in the expression of her face; and while paying her own compliments to Mrs. Bates, and appearing to attend to the good old lady's replies, she saw her with a sort of anxious parade of mystery fold up a letter which she had apparently been reading aloud to Miss Fairfax, and return it into the purple and gold reticule by her side, saying, with significant nods, "We can finish this some other time, you know. You and I shall not want opportunities. And, in fact, you have heard all the essential already. I only wanted to prove to you that Mrs. S. admits our apology, and is not offended. You see how delightfully she writes. Oh! she is a sweet creature! You would have doated on her, had you gone.--But not a word more. Let us be discreet--quite on our good behaviour.--Hush!--You remember those lines--I forget the poem at this moment: "For when a lady's in the case, "You know all other things give place." Now I say, my dear, in _our_ case, for _lady_, read----mum! a word to the wise.--I am in a fine flow of spirits, an't I? But I want to set your heart at ease as to Mrs. S.--_My_ representation, you see, has quite appeased her." And again, on Emma's merely turning her head to look at Mrs. Bates's knitting, she added, in a half whisper, "I mentioned no _names_, you will observe.--Oh! no; cautious as a minister of state. I managed it extremely well." Emma could not doubt. It was a palpable display, repeated on every possible occasion. When they had all talked a little while in harmony of the weather and Mrs. Weston, she found herself abruptly addressed with, "Do not you think, Miss Woodhouse, our saucy little friend here is charmingly recovered?--Do not you think her cure does Perry the highest credit?--(here was a side-glance of great meaning at Jane.) Upon my word, Perry has restored her in a wonderful short time!--Oh! if you had seen her, as I did, when she was at the worst!"--And when Mrs. Bates was saying something to Emma, whispered farther, "We do not say a word of any _assistance_ that Perry might have; not a word of a certain young physician from Windsor.--Oh! no; Perry shall have all the credit." "I have scarce had the pleasure of seeing you, Miss Woodhouse," she shortly afterwards began, "since the party to Box Hill. Very pleasant party. But yet I think there was something wanting. Things did not seem--that is, there seemed a little cloud upon the spirits of some.--So it appeared to me at least, but I might be mistaken. However, I think it answered so far as to tempt one to go again. What say you both to our collecting the same party, and exploring to Box Hill again, while the fine weather lasts?--It must be the same party, you know, quite the same party, not _one_ exception." Soon after this Miss Bates came in, and Emma could not help being diverted by the perplexity of her first answer to herself, resulting, she supposed, from doubt of what might be said, and impatience to say every thing. "Thank you, dear Miss Woodhouse, you are all kindness.--It is impossible to say--Yes, indeed, I quite understand--dearest Jane's prospects--that is, I do not mean.--But she is charmingly recovered.--How is Mr. Woodhouse?--I am so glad.--Quite out of my power.--Such a happy little circle as you find us here.--Yes, indeed.--Charming young man!--that is--so very friendly; I mean good Mr. Perry!--such attention to Jane!"--And from her great, her more than commonly thankful delight towards Mrs. Elton for being there, Emma guessed that there had been a little show of resentment towards Jane, from the vicarage quarter, which was now graciously overcome.--After a few whispers, indeed, which placed it beyond a guess, Mrs. Elton, speaking louder, said, "Yes, here I am, my good friend; and here I have been so long, that anywhere else I should think it necessary to apologise; but, the truth is, that I am waiting for my lord and master. He promised to join me here, and pay his respects to you." "What! are we to have the pleasure of a call from Mr. Elton?--That will be a favour indeed! for I know gentlemen do not like morning visits, and Mr. Elton's time is so engaged." "Upon my word it is, Miss Bates.--He really is engaged from morning to night.--There is no end of people's coming to him, on some pretence or other.--The magistrates, and overseers, and churchwardens, are always wanting his opinion. They seem not able to do any thing without him.--'Upon my word, Mr. E.,' I often say, 'rather you than I.--I do not know what would become of my crayons and my instrument, if I had half so many applicants.'--Bad enough as it is, for I absolutely neglect them both to an unpardonable degree.--I believe I have not played a bar this fortnight.--However, he is coming, I assure you: yes, indeed, on purpose to wait on you all." And putting up her hand to screen her words from Emma--"A congratulatory visit, you know.--Oh! yes, quite indispensable." Miss Bates looked about her, so happily--! "He promised to come to me as soon as he could disengage himself from Knightley; but he and Knightley are shut up together in deep consultation.--Mr. E. is Knightley's right hand." Emma would not have smiled for the world, and only said, "Is Mr. Elton gone on foot to Donwell?--He will have a hot walk." "Oh! no, it is a meeting at the Crown, a regular meeting. Weston and Cole will be there too; but one is apt to speak only of those who lead.--I fancy Mr. E. and Knightley have every thing their own way." "Have not you mistaken the day?" said Emma. "I am almost certain that the meeting at the Crown is not till to-morrow.--Mr. Knightley was at Hartfield yesterday, and spoke of it as for Saturday." "Oh! no, the meeting is certainly to-day," was the abrupt answer, which denoted the impossibility of any blunder on Mrs. Elton's side.--"I do believe," she continued, "this is the most troublesome parish that ever was. We never heard of such things at Maple Grove." "Your parish there was small," said Jane. "Upon my word, my dear, I do not know, for I never heard the subject talked of." "But it is proved by the smallness of the school, which I have heard you speak of, as under the patronage of your sister and Mrs. Bragge; the only school, and not more than five-and-twenty children." "Ah! you clever creature, that's very true. What a thinking brain you have! I say, Jane, what a perfect character you and I should make, if we could be shaken together. My liveliness and your solidity would produce perfection.--Not that I presume to insinuate, however, that _some_ people may not think _you_ perfection already.--But hush!--not a word, if you please." It seemed an unnecessary caution; Jane was wanting to give her words, not to Mrs. Elton, but to Miss Woodhouse, as the latter plainly saw. The wish of distinguishing her, as far as civility permitted, was very evident, though it could not often proceed beyond a look. Mr. Elton made his appearance. His lady greeted him with some of her sparkling vivacity. "Very pretty, sir, upon my word; to send me on here, to be an encumbrance to my friends, so long before you vouchsafe to come!--But you knew what a dutiful creature you had to deal with. You knew I should not stir till my lord and master appeared.--Here have I been sitting this hour, giving these young ladies a sample of true conjugal obedience--for who can say, you know, how soon it may be wanted?" Mr. Elton was so hot and tired, that all this wit seemed thrown away. His civilities to the other ladies must be paid; but his subsequent object was to lament over himself for the heat he was suffering, and the walk he had had for nothing. "When I got to Donwell," said he, "Knightley could not be found. Very odd! very unaccountable! after the note I sent him this morning, and the message he returned, that he should certainly be at home till one." "Donwell!" cried his wife.--"My dear Mr. E., you have not been to Donwell!--You mean the Crown; you come from the meeting at the Crown." "No, no, that's to-morrow; and I particularly wanted to see Knightley to-day on that very account.--Such a dreadful broiling morning!--I went over the fields too--(speaking in a tone of great ill-usage,) which made it so much the worse. And then not to find him at home! I assure you I am not at all pleased. And no apology left, no message for me. The housekeeper declared she knew nothing of my being expected.--Very extraordinary!--And nobody knew at all which way he was gone. Perhaps to Hartfield, perhaps to the Abbey Mill, perhaps into his woods.--Miss Woodhouse, this is not like our friend Knightley!--Can you explain it?" Emma amused herself by protesting that it was very extraordinary, indeed, and that she had not a syllable to say for him. "I cannot imagine," said Mrs. Elton, (feeling the indignity as a wife ought to do,) "I cannot imagine how he could do such a thing by you, of all people in the world! The very last person whom one should expect to be forgotten!--My dear Mr. E., he must have left a message for you, I am sure he must.--Not even Knightley could be so very eccentric;--and his servants forgot it. Depend upon it, that was the case: and very likely to happen with the Donwell servants, who are all, I have often observed, extremely awkward and remiss.--I am sure I would not have such a creature as his Harry stand at our sideboard for any consideration. And as for Mrs. Hodges, Wright holds her very cheap indeed.--She promised Wright a receipt, and never sent it." "I met William Larkins," continued Mr. Elton, "as I got near the house, and he told me I should not find his master at home, but I did not believe him.--William seemed rather out of humour. He did not know what was come to his master lately, he said, but he could hardly ever get the speech of him. I have nothing to do with William's wants, but it really is of very great importance that _I_ should see Knightley to-day; and it becomes a matter, therefore, of very serious inconvenience that I should have had this hot walk to no purpose." Emma felt that she could not do better than go home directly. In all probability she was at this very time waited for there; and Mr. Knightley might be preserved from sinking deeper in aggression towards Mr. Elton, if not towards William Larkins. She was pleased, on taking leave, to find Miss Fairfax determined to attend her out of the room, to go with her even downstairs; it gave her an opportunity which she immediately made use of, to say, "It is as well, perhaps, that I have not had the possibility. Had you not been surrounded by other friends, I might have been tempted to introduce a subject, to ask questions, to speak more openly than might have been strictly correct.--I feel that I should certainly have been impertinent." "Oh!" cried Jane, with a blush and an hesitation which Emma thought infinitely more becoming to her than all the elegance of all her usual composure--"there would have been no danger. The danger would have been of my wearying you. You could not have gratified me more than by expressing an interest--. Indeed, Miss Woodhouse, (speaking more collectedly,) with the consciousness which I have of misconduct, very great misconduct, it is particularly consoling to me to know that those of my friends, whose good opinion is most worth preserving, are not disgusted to such a degree as to--I have not time for half that I could wish to say. I long to make apologies, excuses, to urge something for myself. I feel it so very due. But, unfortunately--in short, if your compassion does not stand my friend--" "Oh! you are too scrupulous, indeed you are," cried Emma warmly, and taking her hand. "You owe me no apologies; and every body to whom you might be supposed to owe them, is so perfectly satisfied, so delighted even--" "You are very kind, but I know what my manners were to you.--So cold and artificial!--I had always a part to act.--It was a life of deceit!--I know that I must have disgusted you." "Pray say no more. I feel that all the apologies should be on my side. Let us forgive each other at once. We must do whatever is to be done quickest, and I think our feelings will lose no time there. I hope you have pleasant accounts from Windsor?" "Very." "And the next news, I suppose, will be, that we are to lose you--just as I begin to know you." "Oh! as to all that, of course nothing can be thought of yet. I am here till claimed by Colonel and Mrs. Campbell." "Nothing can be actually settled yet, perhaps," replied Emma, smiling--"but, excuse me, it must be thought of." The smile was returned as Jane answered, "You are very right; it has been thought of. And I will own to you, (I am sure it will be safe), that so far as our living with Mr. Churchill at Enscombe, it is settled. There must be three months, at least, of deep mourning; but when they are over, I imagine there will be nothing more to wait for." "Thank you, thank you.--This is just what I wanted to be assured of.--Oh! if you knew how much I love every thing that is decided and open!--Good-bye, good-bye." CHAPTER XVII Mrs. Weston's friends were all made happy by her safety; and if the satisfaction of her well-doing could be increased to Emma, it was by knowing her to be the mother of a little girl. She had been decided in wishing for a Miss Weston. She would not acknowledge that it was with any view of making a match for her, hereafter, with either of Isabella's sons; but she was convinced that a daughter would suit both father and mother best. It would be a great comfort to Mr. Weston, as he grew older--and even Mr. Weston might be growing older ten years hence--to have his fireside enlivened by the sports and the nonsense, the freaks and the fancies of a child never banished from home; and Mrs. Weston--no one could doubt that a daughter would be most to her; and it would be quite a pity that any one who so well knew how to teach, should not have their powers in exercise again. "She has had the advantage, you know, of practising on me," she continued--"like La Baronne d'Almane on La Comtesse d'Ostalis, in Madame de Genlis' Adelaide and Theodore, and we shall now see her own little Adelaide educated on a more perfect plan." "That is," replied Mr. Knightley, "she will indulge her even more than she did you, and believe that she does not indulge her at all. It will be the only difference." "Poor child!" cried Emma; "at that rate, what will become of her?" "Nothing very bad.--The fate of thousands. She will be disagreeable in infancy, and correct herself as she grows older. I am losing all my bitterness against spoilt children, my dearest Emma. I, who am owing all my happiness to _you_, would not it be horrible ingratitude in me to be severe on them?" Emma laughed, and replied: "But I had the assistance of all your endeavours to counteract the indulgence of other people. I doubt whether my own sense would have corrected me without it." "Do you?--I have no doubt. Nature gave

taught

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what immediately followed of the basis of their disagreement, and his persisting to act in direct opposition to Jane Fairfax's sense of right, he made a fuller pause to say, "This is very bad.--He had induced her to place herself, for his sake, in a situation of extreme difficulty and uneasiness, and it should have been his first object to prevent her from suffering unnecessarily.--She must have had much more to contend with, in carrying on the correspondence, than he could. He should have respected even unreasonable scruples, had there been such; but hers were all reasonable. We must look to her one fault, and remember that she had done a wrong thing in consenting to the engagement, to bear that she should have been in such a state of punishment." Emma knew that he was now getting to the Box Hill party, and grew uncomfortable. Her own behaviour had been so very improper! She was deeply ashamed, and a little afraid of his next look. It was all read, however, steadily, attentively, and without the smallest remark; and, excepting one momentary glance at her, instantly withdrawn, in the fear of giving pain--no remembrance of Box Hill seemed to exist. "There is no saying much for the delicacy of our good friends, the Eltons," was his next observation.--"His feelings are natural.--What! actually resolve to break with him entirely!--She felt the engagement to be a source of repentance and misery to each--she dissolved it.--What a view this gives of her sense of his behaviour!--Well, he must be a most extraordinary--" "Nay, nay, read on.--You will find how very much he suffers." "I hope he does," replied Mr. Knightley coolly, and resuming the letter. "'Smallridge!'--What does this mean? What is all this?" "She had engaged to go as governess to Mrs. Smallridge's children--a dear friend of Mrs. Elton's--a neighbour of Maple Grove; and, by the bye, I wonder how Mrs. Elton bears the disappointment?" "Say nothing, my dear Emma, while you oblige me to read--not even of Mrs. Elton. Only one page more. I shall soon have done. What a letter the man writes!" "I wish you would read it with a kinder spirit towards him." "Well, there _is_ feeling here.--He does seem to have suffered in finding her ill.--Certainly, I can have no doubt of his being fond of her. 'Dearer, much dearer than ever.' I hope he may long continue to feel all the value of such a reconciliation.--He is a very liberal thanker, with his thousands and tens of thousands.--'Happier than I deserve.' Come, he knows himself there. 'Miss Woodhouse calls me the child of good fortune.'--Those were Miss Woodhouse's words, were they?-- And a fine ending--and there is the letter. The child of good fortune! That was your name for him, was it?" "You do not appear so well satisfied with his letter as I am; but still you must, at least I hope you must, think the better of him for it. I hope it does him some service with you." "Yes, certainly it does. He has had great faults, faults of inconsideration and thoughtlessness; and I am very much of his opinion in thinking him likely to be happier than he deserves: but still as he is, beyond a doubt, really attached to Miss Fairfax, and will soon, it may be hoped, have the advantage of being constantly with her, I am very ready to believe his character will improve, and acquire from hers the steadiness and delicacy of principle that it wants. And now, let me talk to you of something else. I have another person's interest at present so much at heart, that I cannot think any longer about Frank Churchill. Ever since I left you this morning, Emma, my mind has been hard at work on one subject." The subject followed; it was in plain, unaffected, gentlemanlike English, such as Mr. Knightley used even to the woman he was in love with, how to be able to ask her to marry him, without attacking the happiness of her father. Emma's answer was ready at the first word. "While her dear father lived, any change of condition must be impossible for her. She could never quit him." Part only of this answer, however, was admitted. The impossibility of her quitting her father, Mr. Knightley felt as strongly as herself; but the inadmissibility of any other change, he could not agree to. He had been thinking it over most deeply, most intently; he had at first hoped to induce Mr. Woodhouse to remove with her to Donwell; he had wanted to believe it feasible, but his knowledge of Mr. Woodhouse would not suffer him to deceive himself long; and now he confessed his persuasion, that such a transplantation would be a risk of her father's comfort, perhaps even of his life, which must not be hazarded. Mr. Woodhouse taken from Hartfield!--No, he felt that it ought not to be attempted. But the plan which had arisen on the sacrifice of this, he trusted his dearest Emma would not find in any respect objectionable; it was, that he should be received at Hartfield; that so long as her father's happiness--in other words, his life--required Hartfield to continue her home, it should be his likewise. Of their all removing to Donwell, Emma had already had her own passing thoughts. Like him, she had tried the scheme and rejected it; but such an alternative as this had not occurred to her. She was sensible of all the affection it evinced. She felt that, in quitting Donwell, he must be sacrificing a great deal of independence of hours and habits; that in living constantly with her father, and in no house of his own, there would be much, very much, to be borne with. She promised to think of it, and advised him to think of it more; but he was fully convinced, that no reflection could alter his wishes or his opinion on the subject. He had given it, he could assure her, very long and calm consideration; he had been walking away from William Larkins the whole morning, to have his thoughts to himself. "Ah! there is one difficulty unprovided for," cried Emma. "I am sure William Larkins will not like it. You must get his consent before you ask mine." She promised, however, to think of it; and pretty nearly promised, moreover, to think of it, with the intention of finding it a very good scheme. It is remarkable, that Emma, in the many, very many, points of view in which she was now beginning to consider Donwell Abbey, was never struck with any sense of injury to her nephew Henry, whose rights as heir-expectant had formerly been so tenaciously regarded. Think she must of the possible difference to the poor little boy; and yet she only gave herself a saucy conscious smile about it, and found amusement in detecting the real cause of that violent dislike of Mr. Knightley's marrying Jane Fairfax, or any body else, which at the time she had wholly imputed to the amiable solicitude of the sister and the aunt. This proposal of his, this plan of marrying and continuing at Hartfield--the more she contemplated it, the more pleasing it became. His evils seemed to lessen, her own advantages to increase, their mutual good to outweigh every drawback. Such a companion for herself in the periods of anxiety and cheerlessness before her!--Such a partner in all those duties and cares to which time must be giving increase of melancholy! She would have been too happy but for poor Harriet; but every blessing of her own seemed to involve and advance the sufferings of her friend, who must now be even excluded from Hartfield. The delightful family party which Emma was securing for herself, poor Harriet must, in mere charitable caution, be kept at a distance from. She would be a loser in every way. Emma could not deplore her future absence as any deduction from her own enjoyment. In such a party, Harriet would be rather a dead weight than otherwise; but for the poor girl herself, it seemed a peculiarly cruel necessity that was to be placing her in such a state of unmerited punishment. In time, of course, Mr. Knightley would be forgotten, that is, supplanted; but this could not be expected to happen very early. Mr. Knightley himself would be doing nothing to assist the cure;--not like Mr. Elton. Mr. Knightley, always so kind, so feeling, so truly considerate for every body, would never deserve to be less worshipped than now; and it really was too much to hope even of Harriet, that she could be in love with more than _three_ men in one year. CHAPTER XVI It was a very great relief to Emma to find Harriet as desirous as herself to avoid a meeting. Their intercourse was painful enough by letter. How much worse, had they been obliged to meet! Harriet expressed herself very much as might be supposed, without reproaches, or apparent sense of ill-usage; and yet Emma fancied there was a something of resentment, a something bordering on it in her style, which increased the desirableness of their being separate.--It might be only her own consciousness; but it seemed as if an angel only could have been quite without resentment under such a stroke. She had no difficulty in procuring Isabella's invitation; and she was fortunate in having a sufficient reason for asking it, without resorting to invention.--There was a tooth amiss. Harriet really wished, and had wished some time, to consult a dentist. Mrs. John Knightley was delighted to be of use; any thing of ill health was a recommendation to her--and though not so fond of a dentist as of a Mr. Wingfield, she was quite eager to have Harriet under her care.--When it was thus settled on her sister's side, Emma proposed it to her friend, and found her very persuadable.--Harriet was to go; she was invited for at least a fortnight; she was to be conveyed in Mr. Woodhouse's carriage.--It was all arranged, it was all completed, and Harriet was safe in Brunswick Square. Now Emma could, indeed, enjoy Mr. Knightley's visits; now she could talk, and she could listen with true happiness, unchecked by that sense of injustice, of guilt, of something most painful, which had haunted her when remembering how disappointed a heart was near her, how much might at that moment, and at a little distance, be enduring by the feelings which she had led astray herself. The difference of Harriet at Mrs. Goddard's, or in London, made perhaps an unreasonable difference in Emma's sensations; but she could not think of her in London without objects of curiosity and employment, which must be averting the past, and carrying her out of herself. She would not allow any other anxiety to succeed directly to the place in her mind which Harriet had occupied. There was a communication before her, one which _she_ only could be competent to make--the confession of her engagement to her father; but she would have nothing to do with it at present.--She had resolved to defer the disclosure till Mrs. Weston were safe and well. No additional agitation should be thrown at this period among those she loved--and the evil should not act on herself by anticipation before the appointed time.--A fortnight, at least, of leisure and peace of mind, to crown every warmer, but more agitating, delight, should be hers. She soon resolved, equally as a duty and a pleasure, to employ half an hour of this holiday of spirits in calling on Miss Fairfax.--She ought to go--and she was longing to see her; the resemblance of their present situations increasing every other motive of goodwill. It would be a _secret_ satisfaction; but the consciousness of a similarity of prospect would certainly add to the interest with which she should attend to any thing Jane might communicate. She went--she had driven once unsuccessfully to the door, but had not been into the house since the morning after Box Hill, when poor Jane had been in such distress as had filled her with compassion, though all the worst of her sufferings had been unsuspected.--The fear of being still unwelcome, determined her, though assured of their being at home, to wait in the passage, and send up her name.--She heard Patty announcing it; but no such bustle succeeded as poor Miss Bates had before made so happily intelligible.--No; she heard nothing but the instant reply of, "Beg her to walk up;"--and a moment afterwards she was met on the stairs by Jane herself, coming eagerly forward, as if no other reception of her were felt sufficient.--Emma had never seen her look so well, so lovely, so engaging. There was consciousness, animation, and warmth; there was every thing which her countenance or manner could ever have wanted.-- She came forward with an offered hand; and said, in a low, but very feeling tone, "This is most kind, indeed!--Miss Woodhouse, it is impossible for me to express--I hope you will believe--Excuse me for being so entirely without words." Emma was gratified, and would soon have shewn no want of words, if the sound of Mrs. Elton's voice from the sitting-room had not checked her, and made it expedient to compress all her friendly and all her congratulatory sensations into a very, very earnest shake of the hand. Mrs. Bates and Mrs. Elton were together. Miss Bates was out, which accounted for the previous tranquillity. Emma could have wished Mrs. Elton elsewhere; but she was in a humour to have patience with every body; and as Mrs. Elton met her with unusual graciousness, she hoped the rencontre would do them no harm. She soon believed herself to penetrate Mrs. Elton's thoughts, and understand why she was, like herself, in happy spirits; it was being in Miss Fairfax's confidence, and fancying herself acquainted with what was still a secret to other people. Emma saw symptoms of it immediately in the expression of her face; and while paying her own compliments to Mrs. Bates, and appearing to attend to the good old lady's replies, she saw her with a sort of anxious parade of mystery fold up a letter which she had apparently been reading aloud to Miss Fairfax, and return it into the purple and gold reticule by her side, saying, with significant nods, "We can finish this some other time, you know. You and I shall not want opportunities. And, in fact, you have heard all the essential already. I only wanted to prove to you that Mrs. S. admits our apology, and is not offended. You see how delightfully she writes. Oh! she is a sweet creature! You would have doated on her, had you gone.--But not a word more. Let us be discreet--quite on our good behaviour.--Hush!--You remember those lines--I forget the poem at this moment: "For when a lady's in the case, "You know all other things give place." Now I say, my dear, in _our_ case, for _lady_, read----mum! a word to the wise.--I am in a fine flow of spirits, an't I? But I want to set your heart at ease as to Mrs. S.--_My_ representation, you see, has quite appeased her." And again, on Emma's merely turning her head to look at Mrs. Bates's knitting, she added, in a half whisper, "I mentioned no _names_, you will observe.--Oh! no; cautious as a minister of state. I managed it extremely well." Emma could not doubt. It was a palpable display, repeated on every possible occasion. When they had all talked a little while in harmony of the weather and Mrs. Weston, she found herself abruptly addressed with, "Do not you think, Miss Woodhouse, our saucy little friend here is charmingly recovered?--Do not you think her cure does Perry the highest credit?--(here was a side-glance of great meaning at Jane.) Upon my word, Perry has restored her in a wonderful short time!--Oh! if you had seen her, as I did, when she was at the worst!"--And when Mrs. Bates was saying something to Emma, whispered farther, "We do not say a word of any _assistance_ that Perry might have; not a word of a certain young physician from Windsor.--Oh! no; Perry shall have all the credit." "I have scarce had the pleasure of seeing you, Miss Woodhouse," she shortly afterwards began, "since the party to Box Hill. Very pleasant party. But yet I think there was something wanting. Things did not seem--that is, there seemed a little cloud upon the spirits of some.--So it appeared to me at least, but I might be mistaken. However, I think it answered so far as to tempt one to go again. What say you both to our collecting the same party, and exploring to Box Hill again, while the fine weather lasts?--It must be the same party, you know, quite the same party, not _one_ exception." Soon after this Miss Bates came in, and Emma could not help being diverted by the perplexity of her first answer to herself, resulting, she supposed, from doubt of what might be said, and impatience to say every thing. "Thank you, dear Miss Woodhouse, you are all kindness.--It is impossible to say--Yes, indeed, I quite understand--dearest Jane's prospects--that is, I do not mean.--But she is charmingly recovered.--How is Mr. Woodhouse?--I am so glad.--Quite out of my power.--Such a happy little circle as you find us here.--Yes, indeed.--Charming young man!--that is--so very friendly; I mean good Mr. Perry!--such attention to Jane!"--And from her great, her more than commonly thankful delight towards Mrs. Elton for being there, Emma guessed that there had been a little show of resentment towards Jane, from the vicarage quarter, which was now graciously overcome.--After a few whispers, indeed, which placed it beyond a guess, Mrs. Elton, speaking louder, said, "Yes, here I am, my good friend; and here I have been so long, that anywhere else I should think it necessary to apologise; but, the truth is, that I am waiting for my lord and master. He promised to join me here, and pay his respects to you." "What! are we to have the pleasure of a call from Mr. Elton?--That will be a favour indeed! for I know gentlemen do not like morning visits, and Mr. Elton's time is so engaged." "Upon my word it is, Miss Bates.--He really is engaged from morning to night.--There is no end of people's coming to him, on some pretence or other.--The magistrates, and overseers, and churchwardens, are always wanting his opinion. They seem not able to do any thing without him.--'Upon my word, Mr. E.,' I often say, 'rather you than I.--I do not know what would become of my crayons and my instrument, if I had half so many applicants.'--Bad enough as it is, for I absolutely neglect them both to an unpardonable degree.--I believe I have not played a bar this fortnight.--However, he is coming, I assure you: yes, indeed, on purpose to wait on you all." And putting up her hand to screen her words from Emma--"A congratulatory visit, you know.--Oh! yes, quite indispensable." Miss Bates looked about her, so happily--! "He promised to come to me as soon as he could disengage himself from Knightley; but he and Knightley are shut up together in deep consultation.--Mr. E. is Knightley's right hand." Emma would not have smiled for the world, and only said, "Is Mr. Elton gone on foot to Donwell?--He will have a hot walk." "Oh! no, it is a meeting at the Crown, a regular meeting. Weston and Cole will be there too; but one is apt to speak only of those who lead.--I fancy Mr. E. and Knightley have every thing their own way." "Have not you mistaken the day?" said Emma. "I am almost certain that the meeting at the Crown is not till to-morrow.--Mr. Knightley was at Hartfield yesterday, and spoke of it as for Saturday." "Oh! no, the meeting is certainly to-day," was the abrupt answer, which denoted the impossibility of any blunder on Mrs. Elton's side.--"I do believe," she continued, "this is the most troublesome parish that ever was. We never heard of such things at Maple Grove." "Your parish there was small," said Jane. "Upon my word, my dear, I do not know, for I never heard the subject talked of." "But it is proved by the smallness of the school, which I have heard you speak of, as under the patronage of your sister and Mrs. Bragge; the only school, and not more than five-and-twenty children." "Ah! you clever creature, that's very true. What a thinking brain you have! I say, Jane, what a perfect character you and I should make, if we could be shaken together. My liveliness and your solidity would produce perfection.--Not that I presume to insinuate, however, that _some_ people may not think _you_ perfection already.--But hush!--not a word, if you please." It seemed an unnecessary caution; Jane was wanting to give her words, not to Mrs. Elton, but to Miss Woodhouse, as the latter plainly saw. The wish of distinguishing her, as far as civility permitted, was very evident, though it could not often proceed beyond a look. Mr. Elton made his appearance. His lady greeted him with some of her sparkling vivacity. "Very pretty, sir, upon my word; to send me on here, to be an encumbrance to my friends, so long before you vouchsafe to come!--But you knew what a dutiful creature you had to deal with. You knew I should not stir till my lord and master appeared.--Here have I been sitting this hour, giving these young ladies a sample of true conjugal obedience--for who can say, you know, how soon it may be wanted?" Mr. Elton was so hot and tired, that all this wit seemed thrown away. His civilities to the other ladies must be paid; but his subsequent object was to lament over himself for the heat he was suffering, and the walk he had had for nothing. "When I got to Donwell," said he, "Knightley could not be found. Very odd! very unaccountable! after the note I sent him this morning, and the message he returned, that he should certainly be at home till one." "Donwell!" cried his wife.--"My dear Mr. E., you have not been to Donwell!--You mean the Crown; you come from the meeting at the Crown." "No, no, that's to-morrow; and I particularly wanted to see Knightley to-day on that very account.--Such a dreadful broiling morning!--I went over the fields too--(speaking in a tone of great ill-usage,) which made it so much the worse. And then not to find him at home! I assure you I am not at all pleased. And no apology left, no message for me. The housekeeper declared she knew nothing of my being expected.--Very extraordinary!--And nobody knew at all which way he was gone. Perhaps to Hartfield, perhaps to the Abbey Mill, perhaps into his woods.--Miss Woodhouse, this is not like our friend Knightley!--Can you explain it?" Emma amused herself by protesting that it was very extraordinary, indeed, and that she had not a syllable to say for him. "I cannot imagine," said Mrs. Elton, (feeling the indignity as a wife ought to do,) "I cannot imagine how he could do such a thing by you, of all people in the world! The very last person whom one should expect to be forgotten!--My dear Mr. E., he must have left a message for you, I am sure he must.--Not even Knightley could be so very eccentric;--and his servants forgot it. Depend upon it, that was the case: and very likely to happen with the Donwell servants, who are all, I have often observed, extremely awkward and remiss.--I am sure I would not have such a creature as his Harry stand at our sideboard for any consideration. And as for Mrs. Hodges, Wright holds her very cheap indeed.--She promised Wright a receipt, and never sent it." "I met William Larkins," continued Mr. Elton, "as I got near the house, and he told me I should not find his master at home, but I did not believe him.--William seemed rather out of humour. He did not know what was come to his master lately, he said, but he could hardly ever get the speech of him. I have nothing to do with William's wants, but it really is of very great importance that _I_ should see Knightley to-day; and it becomes a matter, therefore, of very serious inconvenience that I should have had this hot walk to no purpose." Emma felt that she could not do better than go home directly. In all probability she was at this very time waited for there; and Mr. Knightley might be preserved from sinking deeper in aggression towards Mr. Elton, if not towards William Larkins. She was pleased, on taking leave, to find Miss Fairfax determined to attend her out of the room, to go with her even downstairs; it gave her an opportunity which she immediately made use of, to say, "It is as well, perhaps, that I have not had the possibility. Had you not been surrounded by other friends, I might have been tempted to introduce a subject, to ask questions, to speak more openly than might have been strictly correct.--I feel that I should certainly have been impertinent." "Oh!" cried Jane, with a blush and an hesitation which Emma thought infinitely more becoming to her than all the elegance of all her usual composure--"there would have been no danger. The danger would have been of my wearying you. You could not have gratified me more than by expressing an interest--. Indeed, Miss Woodhouse, (speaking more collectedly,) with the consciousness which I have of misconduct, very great misconduct, it is particularly consoling to me to know that those of my friends, whose good opinion is most worth preserving, are not disgusted to such a degree as to--I have not time for half that I could wish to say. I long to make apologies, excuses, to urge something for myself. I feel it so very due. But, unfortunately--in short, if your compassion does not stand my friend--" "Oh! you are too scrupulous, indeed you are," cried Emma warmly, and taking her hand. "You owe me no apologies; and every body to whom you might be supposed to owe them, is so perfectly satisfied, so delighted even--" "You are very kind, but I know what my manners were to you.--So cold and artificial!--I had always a part to act.--It was a life of deceit!--I know that I must have disgusted you." "Pray say no more. I feel that all the apologies should be on my side. Let us forgive each other at once. We must do whatever is to be done quickest, and I think our feelings will lose no time there. I hope you have pleasant accounts from Windsor?" "Very." "And the next news, I suppose, will be, that we are to lose you--just as I begin to know you." "Oh! as to all that, of course nothing can be thought of yet. I am here till claimed by Colonel and Mrs. Campbell." "Nothing can be actually settled yet, perhaps," replied Emma, smiling--"but, excuse me, it must be thought of." The smile was returned as Jane answered, "You are very right; it has been thought of. And I will own to you, (I am sure it will be safe), that so far as our living with Mr. Churchill at Enscombe, it is settled. There must be three months, at least, of deep mourning; but when they are over, I imagine there will be nothing more to wait for." "Thank you, thank you.--This is just what I wanted to be assured of.--Oh! if you knew how much I love every thing that is decided and open!--Good-bye, good-bye." CHAPTER XVII Mrs. Weston's friends were all made happy by her safety; and if the satisfaction of her well-doing could be increased to Emma, it was by knowing her to be the mother of a little girl. She had been decided in wishing for a Miss Weston. She would not acknowledge that it was with any view of making a match for her, hereafter, with either of Isabella's sons; but she was convinced that a daughter would suit both father and mother best. It would be a great comfort to Mr. Weston, as he grew older--and even Mr. Weston might be growing older ten years hence--to have his fireside enlivened by the sports and the nonsense, the freaks and the fancies of a child never banished from home; and Mrs. Weston--no one could doubt that a daughter would be most to her; and it would be quite a pity that any one who so well knew how to teach, should not have their powers in exercise again. "She has had the advantage, you know, of practising on me," she continued--"like La Baronne d'Almane on La Comtesse d'Ostalis, in Madame de Genlis' Adelaide and Theodore, and we shall now see her own little Adelaide educated on a more perfect plan." "That is," replied Mr. Knightley, "she will indulge her even more than she did you, and believe that she does not indulge her at all. It will be the only difference." "Poor child!" cried Emma; "at that rate, what will become of her?" "Nothing very bad.--The fate of thousands. She will be disagreeable in infancy, and correct herself as she grows older. I am losing all my bitterness against spoilt children, my dearest Emma. I, who am owing all my happiness to _you_, would not it be horrible ingratitude in me to be severe on them?" Emma laughed, and replied: "But I had the assistance of all your endeavours to counteract the indulgence of other people. I doubt whether my own sense would have corrected me without it." "Do you?--I have no doubt. Nature gave

present

How many times the word 'present' appears in the text?

what immediately followed of the basis of their disagreement, and his persisting to act in direct opposition to Jane Fairfax's sense of right, he made a fuller pause to say, "This is very bad.--He had induced her to place herself, for his sake, in a situation of extreme difficulty and uneasiness, and it should have been his first object to prevent her from suffering unnecessarily.--She must have had much more to contend with, in carrying on the correspondence, than he could. He should have respected even unreasonable scruples, had there been such; but hers were all reasonable. We must look to her one fault, and remember that she had done a wrong thing in consenting to the engagement, to bear that she should have been in such a state of punishment." Emma knew that he was now getting to the Box Hill party, and grew uncomfortable. Her own behaviour had been so very improper! She was deeply ashamed, and a little afraid of his next look. It was all read, however, steadily, attentively, and without the smallest remark; and, excepting one momentary glance at her, instantly withdrawn, in the fear of giving pain--no remembrance of Box Hill seemed to exist. "There is no saying much for the delicacy of our good friends, the Eltons," was his next observation.--"His feelings are natural.--What! actually resolve to break with him entirely!--She felt the engagement to be a source of repentance and misery to each--she dissolved it.--What a view this gives of her sense of his behaviour!--Well, he must be a most extraordinary--" "Nay, nay, read on.--You will find how very much he suffers." "I hope he does," replied Mr. Knightley coolly, and resuming the letter. "'Smallridge!'--What does this mean? What is all this?" "She had engaged to go as governess to Mrs. Smallridge's children--a dear friend of Mrs. Elton's--a neighbour of Maple Grove; and, by the bye, I wonder how Mrs. Elton bears the disappointment?" "Say nothing, my dear Emma, while you oblige me to read--not even of Mrs. Elton. Only one page more. I shall soon have done. What a letter the man writes!" "I wish you would read it with a kinder spirit towards him." "Well, there _is_ feeling here.--He does seem to have suffered in finding her ill.--Certainly, I can have no doubt of his being fond of her. 'Dearer, much dearer than ever.' I hope he may long continue to feel all the value of such a reconciliation.--He is a very liberal thanker, with his thousands and tens of thousands.--'Happier than I deserve.' Come, he knows himself there. 'Miss Woodhouse calls me the child of good fortune.'--Those were Miss Woodhouse's words, were they?-- And a fine ending--and there is the letter. The child of good fortune! That was your name for him, was it?" "You do not appear so well satisfied with his letter as I am; but still you must, at least I hope you must, think the better of him for it. I hope it does him some service with you." "Yes, certainly it does. He has had great faults, faults of inconsideration and thoughtlessness; and I am very much of his opinion in thinking him likely to be happier than he deserves: but still as he is, beyond a doubt, really attached to Miss Fairfax, and will soon, it may be hoped, have the advantage of being constantly with her, I am very ready to believe his character will improve, and acquire from hers the steadiness and delicacy of principle that it wants. And now, let me talk to you of something else. I have another person's interest at present so much at heart, that I cannot think any longer about Frank Churchill. Ever since I left you this morning, Emma, my mind has been hard at work on one subject." The subject followed; it was in plain, unaffected, gentlemanlike English, such as Mr. Knightley used even to the woman he was in love with, how to be able to ask her to marry him, without attacking the happiness of her father. Emma's answer was ready at the first word. "While her dear father lived, any change of condition must be impossible for her. She could never quit him." Part only of this answer, however, was admitted. The impossibility of her quitting her father, Mr. Knightley felt as strongly as herself; but the inadmissibility of any other change, he could not agree to. He had been thinking it over most deeply, most intently; he had at first hoped to induce Mr. Woodhouse to remove with her to Donwell; he had wanted to believe it feasible, but his knowledge of Mr. Woodhouse would not suffer him to deceive himself long; and now he confessed his persuasion, that such a transplantation would be a risk of her father's comfort, perhaps even of his life, which must not be hazarded. Mr. Woodhouse taken from Hartfield!--No, he felt that it ought not to be attempted. But the plan which had arisen on the sacrifice of this, he trusted his dearest Emma would not find in any respect objectionable; it was, that he should be received at Hartfield; that so long as her father's happiness--in other words, his life--required Hartfield to continue her home, it should be his likewise. Of their all removing to Donwell, Emma had already had her own passing thoughts. Like him, she had tried the scheme and rejected it; but such an alternative as this had not occurred to her. She was sensible of all the affection it evinced. She felt that, in quitting Donwell, he must be sacrificing a great deal of independence of hours and habits; that in living constantly with her father, and in no house of his own, there would be much, very much, to be borne with. She promised to think of it, and advised him to think of it more; but he was fully convinced, that no reflection could alter his wishes or his opinion on the subject. He had given it, he could assure her, very long and calm consideration; he had been walking away from William Larkins the whole morning, to have his thoughts to himself. "Ah! there is one difficulty unprovided for," cried Emma. "I am sure William Larkins will not like it. You must get his consent before you ask mine." She promised, however, to think of it; and pretty nearly promised, moreover, to think of it, with the intention of finding it a very good scheme. It is remarkable, that Emma, in the many, very many, points of view in which she was now beginning to consider Donwell Abbey, was never struck with any sense of injury to her nephew Henry, whose rights as heir-expectant had formerly been so tenaciously regarded. Think she must of the possible difference to the poor little boy; and yet she only gave herself a saucy conscious smile about it, and found amusement in detecting the real cause of that violent dislike of Mr. Knightley's marrying Jane Fairfax, or any body else, which at the time she had wholly imputed to the amiable solicitude of the sister and the aunt. This proposal of his, this plan of marrying and continuing at Hartfield--the more she contemplated it, the more pleasing it became. His evils seemed to lessen, her own advantages to increase, their mutual good to outweigh every drawback. Such a companion for herself in the periods of anxiety and cheerlessness before her!--Such a partner in all those duties and cares to which time must be giving increase of melancholy! She would have been too happy but for poor Harriet; but every blessing of her own seemed to involve and advance the sufferings of her friend, who must now be even excluded from Hartfield. The delightful family party which Emma was securing for herself, poor Harriet must, in mere charitable caution, be kept at a distance from. She would be a loser in every way. Emma could not deplore her future absence as any deduction from her own enjoyment. In such a party, Harriet would be rather a dead weight than otherwise; but for the poor girl herself, it seemed a peculiarly cruel necessity that was to be placing her in such a state of unmerited punishment. In time, of course, Mr. Knightley would be forgotten, that is, supplanted; but this could not be expected to happen very early. Mr. Knightley himself would be doing nothing to assist the cure;--not like Mr. Elton. Mr. Knightley, always so kind, so feeling, so truly considerate for every body, would never deserve to be less worshipped than now; and it really was too much to hope even of Harriet, that she could be in love with more than _three_ men in one year. CHAPTER XVI It was a very great relief to Emma to find Harriet as desirous as herself to avoid a meeting. Their intercourse was painful enough by letter. How much worse, had they been obliged to meet! Harriet expressed herself very much as might be supposed, without reproaches, or apparent sense of ill-usage; and yet Emma fancied there was a something of resentment, a something bordering on it in her style, which increased the desirableness of their being separate.--It might be only her own consciousness; but it seemed as if an angel only could have been quite without resentment under such a stroke. She had no difficulty in procuring Isabella's invitation; and she was fortunate in having a sufficient reason for asking it, without resorting to invention.--There was a tooth amiss. Harriet really wished, and had wished some time, to consult a dentist. Mrs. John Knightley was delighted to be of use; any thing of ill health was a recommendation to her--and though not so fond of a dentist as of a Mr. Wingfield, she was quite eager to have Harriet under her care.--When it was thus settled on her sister's side, Emma proposed it to her friend, and found her very persuadable.--Harriet was to go; she was invited for at least a fortnight; she was to be conveyed in Mr. Woodhouse's carriage.--It was all arranged, it was all completed, and Harriet was safe in Brunswick Square. Now Emma could, indeed, enjoy Mr. Knightley's visits; now she could talk, and she could listen with true happiness, unchecked by that sense of injustice, of guilt, of something most painful, which had haunted her when remembering how disappointed a heart was near her, how much might at that moment, and at a little distance, be enduring by the feelings which she had led astray herself. The difference of Harriet at Mrs. Goddard's, or in London, made perhaps an unreasonable difference in Emma's sensations; but she could not think of her in London without objects of curiosity and employment, which must be averting the past, and carrying her out of herself. She would not allow any other anxiety to succeed directly to the place in her mind which Harriet had occupied. There was a communication before her, one which _she_ only could be competent to make--the confession of her engagement to her father; but she would have nothing to do with it at present.--She had resolved to defer the disclosure till Mrs. Weston were safe and well. No additional agitation should be thrown at this period among those she loved--and the evil should not act on herself by anticipation before the appointed time.--A fortnight, at least, of leisure and peace of mind, to crown every warmer, but more agitating, delight, should be hers. She soon resolved, equally as a duty and a pleasure, to employ half an hour of this holiday of spirits in calling on Miss Fairfax.--She ought to go--and she was longing to see her; the resemblance of their present situations increasing every other motive of goodwill. It would be a _secret_ satisfaction; but the consciousness of a similarity of prospect would certainly add to the interest with which she should attend to any thing Jane might communicate. She went--she had driven once unsuccessfully to the door, but had not been into the house since the morning after Box Hill, when poor Jane had been in such distress as had filled her with compassion, though all the worst of her sufferings had been unsuspected.--The fear of being still unwelcome, determined her, though assured of their being at home, to wait in the passage, and send up her name.--She heard Patty announcing it; but no such bustle succeeded as poor Miss Bates had before made so happily intelligible.--No; she heard nothing but the instant reply of, "Beg her to walk up;"--and a moment afterwards she was met on the stairs by Jane herself, coming eagerly forward, as if no other reception of her were felt sufficient.--Emma had never seen her look so well, so lovely, so engaging. There was consciousness, animation, and warmth; there was every thing which her countenance or manner could ever have wanted.-- She came forward with an offered hand; and said, in a low, but very feeling tone, "This is most kind, indeed!--Miss Woodhouse, it is impossible for me to express--I hope you will believe--Excuse me for being so entirely without words." Emma was gratified, and would soon have shewn no want of words, if the sound of Mrs. Elton's voice from the sitting-room had not checked her, and made it expedient to compress all her friendly and all her congratulatory sensations into a very, very earnest shake of the hand. Mrs. Bates and Mrs. Elton were together. Miss Bates was out, which accounted for the previous tranquillity. Emma could have wished Mrs. Elton elsewhere; but she was in a humour to have patience with every body; and as Mrs. Elton met her with unusual graciousness, she hoped the rencontre would do them no harm. She soon believed herself to penetrate Mrs. Elton's thoughts, and understand why she was, like herself, in happy spirits; it was being in Miss Fairfax's confidence, and fancying herself acquainted with what was still a secret to other people. Emma saw symptoms of it immediately in the expression of her face; and while paying her own compliments to Mrs. Bates, and appearing to attend to the good old lady's replies, she saw her with a sort of anxious parade of mystery fold up a letter which she had apparently been reading aloud to Miss Fairfax, and return it into the purple and gold reticule by her side, saying, with significant nods, "We can finish this some other time, you know. You and I shall not want opportunities. And, in fact, you have heard all the essential already. I only wanted to prove to you that Mrs. S. admits our apology, and is not offended. You see how delightfully she writes. Oh! she is a sweet creature! You would have doated on her, had you gone.--But not a word more. Let us be discreet--quite on our good behaviour.--Hush!--You remember those lines--I forget the poem at this moment: "For when a lady's in the case, "You know all other things give place." Now I say, my dear, in _our_ case, for _lady_, read----mum! a word to the wise.--I am in a fine flow of spirits, an't I? But I want to set your heart at ease as to Mrs. S.--_My_ representation, you see, has quite appeased her." And again, on Emma's merely turning her head to look at Mrs. Bates's knitting, she added, in a half whisper, "I mentioned no _names_, you will observe.--Oh! no; cautious as a minister of state. I managed it extremely well." Emma could not doubt. It was a palpable display, repeated on every possible occasion. When they had all talked a little while in harmony of the weather and Mrs. Weston, she found herself abruptly addressed with, "Do not you think, Miss Woodhouse, our saucy little friend here is charmingly recovered?--Do not you think her cure does Perry the highest credit?--(here was a side-glance of great meaning at Jane.) Upon my word, Perry has restored her in a wonderful short time!--Oh! if you had seen her, as I did, when she was at the worst!"--And when Mrs. Bates was saying something to Emma, whispered farther, "We do not say a word of any _assistance_ that Perry might have; not a word of a certain young physician from Windsor.--Oh! no; Perry shall have all the credit." "I have scarce had the pleasure of seeing you, Miss Woodhouse," she shortly afterwards began, "since the party to Box Hill. Very pleasant party. But yet I think there was something wanting. Things did not seem--that is, there seemed a little cloud upon the spirits of some.--So it appeared to me at least, but I might be mistaken. However, I think it answered so far as to tempt one to go again. What say you both to our collecting the same party, and exploring to Box Hill again, while the fine weather lasts?--It must be the same party, you know, quite the same party, not _one_ exception." Soon after this Miss Bates came in, and Emma could not help being diverted by the perplexity of her first answer to herself, resulting, she supposed, from doubt of what might be said, and impatience to say every thing. "Thank you, dear Miss Woodhouse, you are all kindness.--It is impossible to say--Yes, indeed, I quite understand--dearest Jane's prospects--that is, I do not mean.--But she is charmingly recovered.--How is Mr. Woodhouse?--I am so glad.--Quite out of my power.--Such a happy little circle as you find us here.--Yes, indeed.--Charming young man!--that is--so very friendly; I mean good Mr. Perry!--such attention to Jane!"--And from her great, her more than commonly thankful delight towards Mrs. Elton for being there, Emma guessed that there had been a little show of resentment towards Jane, from the vicarage quarter, which was now graciously overcome.--After a few whispers, indeed, which placed it beyond a guess, Mrs. Elton, speaking louder, said, "Yes, here I am, my good friend; and here I have been so long, that anywhere else I should think it necessary to apologise; but, the truth is, that I am waiting for my lord and master. He promised to join me here, and pay his respects to you." "What! are we to have the pleasure of a call from Mr. Elton?--That will be a favour indeed! for I know gentlemen do not like morning visits, and Mr. Elton's time is so engaged." "Upon my word it is, Miss Bates.--He really is engaged from morning to night.--There is no end of people's coming to him, on some pretence or other.--The magistrates, and overseers, and churchwardens, are always wanting his opinion. They seem not able to do any thing without him.--'Upon my word, Mr. E.,' I often say, 'rather you than I.--I do not know what would become of my crayons and my instrument, if I had half so many applicants.'--Bad enough as it is, for I absolutely neglect them both to an unpardonable degree.--I believe I have not played a bar this fortnight.--However, he is coming, I assure you: yes, indeed, on purpose to wait on you all." And putting up her hand to screen her words from Emma--"A congratulatory visit, you know.--Oh! yes, quite indispensable." Miss Bates looked about her, so happily--! "He promised to come to me as soon as he could disengage himself from Knightley; but he and Knightley are shut up together in deep consultation.--Mr. E. is Knightley's right hand." Emma would not have smiled for the world, and only said, "Is Mr. Elton gone on foot to Donwell?--He will have a hot walk." "Oh! no, it is a meeting at the Crown, a regular meeting. Weston and Cole will be there too; but one is apt to speak only of those who lead.--I fancy Mr. E. and Knightley have every thing their own way." "Have not you mistaken the day?" said Emma. "I am almost certain that the meeting at the Crown is not till to-morrow.--Mr. Knightley was at Hartfield yesterday, and spoke of it as for Saturday." "Oh! no, the meeting is certainly to-day," was the abrupt answer, which denoted the impossibility of any blunder on Mrs. Elton's side.--"I do believe," she continued, "this is the most troublesome parish that ever was. We never heard of such things at Maple Grove." "Your parish there was small," said Jane. "Upon my word, my dear, I do not know, for I never heard the subject talked of." "But it is proved by the smallness of the school, which I have heard you speak of, as under the patronage of your sister and Mrs. Bragge; the only school, and not more than five-and-twenty children." "Ah! you clever creature, that's very true. What a thinking brain you have! I say, Jane, what a perfect character you and I should make, if we could be shaken together. My liveliness and your solidity would produce perfection.--Not that I presume to insinuate, however, that _some_ people may not think _you_ perfection already.--But hush!--not a word, if you please." It seemed an unnecessary caution; Jane was wanting to give her words, not to Mrs. Elton, but to Miss Woodhouse, as the latter plainly saw. The wish of distinguishing her, as far as civility permitted, was very evident, though it could not often proceed beyond a look. Mr. Elton made his appearance. His lady greeted him with some of her sparkling vivacity. "Very pretty, sir, upon my word; to send me on here, to be an encumbrance to my friends, so long before you vouchsafe to come!--But you knew what a dutiful creature you had to deal with. You knew I should not stir till my lord and master appeared.--Here have I been sitting this hour, giving these young ladies a sample of true conjugal obedience--for who can say, you know, how soon it may be wanted?" Mr. Elton was so hot and tired, that all this wit seemed thrown away. His civilities to the other ladies must be paid; but his subsequent object was to lament over himself for the heat he was suffering, and the walk he had had for nothing. "When I got to Donwell," said he, "Knightley could not be found. Very odd! very unaccountable! after the note I sent him this morning, and the message he returned, that he should certainly be at home till one." "Donwell!" cried his wife.--"My dear Mr. E., you have not been to Donwell!--You mean the Crown; you come from the meeting at the Crown." "No, no, that's to-morrow; and I particularly wanted to see Knightley to-day on that very account.--Such a dreadful broiling morning!--I went over the fields too--(speaking in a tone of great ill-usage,) which made it so much the worse. And then not to find him at home! I assure you I am not at all pleased. And no apology left, no message for me. The housekeeper declared she knew nothing of my being expected.--Very extraordinary!--And nobody knew at all which way he was gone. Perhaps to Hartfield, perhaps to the Abbey Mill, perhaps into his woods.--Miss Woodhouse, this is not like our friend Knightley!--Can you explain it?" Emma amused herself by protesting that it was very extraordinary, indeed, and that she had not a syllable to say for him. "I cannot imagine," said Mrs. Elton, (feeling the indignity as a wife ought to do,) "I cannot imagine how he could do such a thing by you, of all people in the world! The very last person whom one should expect to be forgotten!--My dear Mr. E., he must have left a message for you, I am sure he must.--Not even Knightley could be so very eccentric;--and his servants forgot it. Depend upon it, that was the case: and very likely to happen with the Donwell servants, who are all, I have often observed, extremely awkward and remiss.--I am sure I would not have such a creature as his Harry stand at our sideboard for any consideration. And as for Mrs. Hodges, Wright holds her very cheap indeed.--She promised Wright a receipt, and never sent it." "I met William Larkins," continued Mr. Elton, "as I got near the house, and he told me I should not find his master at home, but I did not believe him.--William seemed rather out of humour. He did not know what was come to his master lately, he said, but he could hardly ever get the speech of him. I have nothing to do with William's wants, but it really is of very great importance that _I_ should see Knightley to-day; and it becomes a matter, therefore, of very serious inconvenience that I should have had this hot walk to no purpose." Emma felt that she could not do better than go home directly. In all probability she was at this very time waited for there; and Mr. Knightley might be preserved from sinking deeper in aggression towards Mr. Elton, if not towards William Larkins. She was pleased, on taking leave, to find Miss Fairfax determined to attend her out of the room, to go with her even downstairs; it gave her an opportunity which she immediately made use of, to say, "It is as well, perhaps, that I have not had the possibility. Had you not been surrounded by other friends, I might have been tempted to introduce a subject, to ask questions, to speak more openly than might have been strictly correct.--I feel that I should certainly have been impertinent." "Oh!" cried Jane, with a blush and an hesitation which Emma thought infinitely more becoming to her than all the elegance of all her usual composure--"there would have been no danger. The danger would have been of my wearying you. You could not have gratified me more than by expressing an interest--. Indeed, Miss Woodhouse, (speaking more collectedly,) with the consciousness which I have of misconduct, very great misconduct, it is particularly consoling to me to know that those of my friends, whose good opinion is most worth preserving, are not disgusted to such a degree as to--I have not time for half that I could wish to say. I long to make apologies, excuses, to urge something for myself. I feel it so very due. But, unfortunately--in short, if your compassion does not stand my friend--" "Oh! you are too scrupulous, indeed you are," cried Emma warmly, and taking her hand. "You owe me no apologies; and every body to whom you might be supposed to owe them, is so perfectly satisfied, so delighted even--" "You are very kind, but I know what my manners were to you.--So cold and artificial!--I had always a part to act.--It was a life of deceit!--I know that I must have disgusted you." "Pray say no more. I feel that all the apologies should be on my side. Let us forgive each other at once. We must do whatever is to be done quickest, and I think our feelings will lose no time there. I hope you have pleasant accounts from Windsor?" "Very." "And the next news, I suppose, will be, that we are to lose you--just as I begin to know you." "Oh! as to all that, of course nothing can be thought of yet. I am here till claimed by Colonel and Mrs. Campbell." "Nothing can be actually settled yet, perhaps," replied Emma, smiling--"but, excuse me, it must be thought of." The smile was returned as Jane answered, "You are very right; it has been thought of. And I will own to you, (I am sure it will be safe), that so far as our living with Mr. Churchill at Enscombe, it is settled. There must be three months, at least, of deep mourning; but when they are over, I imagine there will be nothing more to wait for." "Thank you, thank you.--This is just what I wanted to be assured of.--Oh! if you knew how much I love every thing that is decided and open!--Good-bye, good-bye." CHAPTER XVII Mrs. Weston's friends were all made happy by her safety; and if the satisfaction of her well-doing could be increased to Emma, it was by knowing her to be the mother of a little girl. She had been decided in wishing for a Miss Weston. She would not acknowledge that it was with any view of making a match for her, hereafter, with either of Isabella's sons; but she was convinced that a daughter would suit both father and mother best. It would be a great comfort to Mr. Weston, as he grew older--and even Mr. Weston might be growing older ten years hence--to have his fireside enlivened by the sports and the nonsense, the freaks and the fancies of a child never banished from home; and Mrs. Weston--no one could doubt that a daughter would be most to her; and it would be quite a pity that any one who so well knew how to teach, should not have their powers in exercise again. "She has had the advantage, you know, of practising on me," she continued--"like La Baronne d'Almane on La Comtesse d'Ostalis, in Madame de Genlis' Adelaide and Theodore, and we shall now see her own little Adelaide educated on a more perfect plan." "That is," replied Mr. Knightley, "she will indulge her even more than she did you, and believe that she does not indulge her at all. It will be the only difference." "Poor child!" cried Emma; "at that rate, what will become of her?" "Nothing very bad.--The fate of thousands. She will be disagreeable in infancy, and correct herself as she grows older. I am losing all my bitterness against spoilt children, my dearest Emma. I, who am owing all my happiness to _you_, would not it be horrible ingratitude in me to be severe on them?" Emma laughed, and replied: "But I had the assistance of all your endeavours to counteract the indulgence of other people. I doubt whether my own sense would have corrected me without it." "Do you?--I have no doubt. Nature gave

hoped

How many times the word 'hoped' appears in the text?

what immediately followed of the basis of their disagreement, and his persisting to act in direct opposition to Jane Fairfax's sense of right, he made a fuller pause to say, "This is very bad.--He had induced her to place herself, for his sake, in a situation of extreme difficulty and uneasiness, and it should have been his first object to prevent her from suffering unnecessarily.--She must have had much more to contend with, in carrying on the correspondence, than he could. He should have respected even unreasonable scruples, had there been such; but hers were all reasonable. We must look to her one fault, and remember that she had done a wrong thing in consenting to the engagement, to bear that she should have been in such a state of punishment." Emma knew that he was now getting to the Box Hill party, and grew uncomfortable. Her own behaviour had been so very improper! She was deeply ashamed, and a little afraid of his next look. It was all read, however, steadily, attentively, and without the smallest remark; and, excepting one momentary glance at her, instantly withdrawn, in the fear of giving pain--no remembrance of Box Hill seemed to exist. "There is no saying much for the delicacy of our good friends, the Eltons," was his next observation.--"His feelings are natural.--What! actually resolve to break with him entirely!--She felt the engagement to be a source of repentance and misery to each--she dissolved it.--What a view this gives of her sense of his behaviour!--Well, he must be a most extraordinary--" "Nay, nay, read on.--You will find how very much he suffers." "I hope he does," replied Mr. Knightley coolly, and resuming the letter. "'Smallridge!'--What does this mean? What is all this?" "She had engaged to go as governess to Mrs. Smallridge's children--a dear friend of Mrs. Elton's--a neighbour of Maple Grove; and, by the bye, I wonder how Mrs. Elton bears the disappointment?" "Say nothing, my dear Emma, while you oblige me to read--not even of Mrs. Elton. Only one page more. I shall soon have done. What a letter the man writes!" "I wish you would read it with a kinder spirit towards him." "Well, there _is_ feeling here.--He does seem to have suffered in finding her ill.--Certainly, I can have no doubt of his being fond of her. 'Dearer, much dearer than ever.' I hope he may long continue to feel all the value of such a reconciliation.--He is a very liberal thanker, with his thousands and tens of thousands.--'Happier than I deserve.' Come, he knows himself there. 'Miss Woodhouse calls me the child of good fortune.'--Those were Miss Woodhouse's words, were they?-- And a fine ending--and there is the letter. The child of good fortune! That was your name for him, was it?" "You do not appear so well satisfied with his letter as I am; but still you must, at least I hope you must, think the better of him for it. I hope it does him some service with you." "Yes, certainly it does. He has had great faults, faults of inconsideration and thoughtlessness; and I am very much of his opinion in thinking him likely to be happier than he deserves: but still as he is, beyond a doubt, really attached to Miss Fairfax, and will soon, it may be hoped, have the advantage of being constantly with her, I am very ready to believe his character will improve, and acquire from hers the steadiness and delicacy of principle that it wants. And now, let me talk to you of something else. I have another person's interest at present so much at heart, that I cannot think any longer about Frank Churchill. Ever since I left you this morning, Emma, my mind has been hard at work on one subject." The subject followed; it was in plain, unaffected, gentlemanlike English, such as Mr. Knightley used even to the woman he was in love with, how to be able to ask her to marry him, without attacking the happiness of her father. Emma's answer was ready at the first word. "While her dear father lived, any change of condition must be impossible for her. She could never quit him." Part only of this answer, however, was admitted. The impossibility of her quitting her father, Mr. Knightley felt as strongly as herself; but the inadmissibility of any other change, he could not agree to. He had been thinking it over most deeply, most intently; he had at first hoped to induce Mr. Woodhouse to remove with her to Donwell; he had wanted to believe it feasible, but his knowledge of Mr. Woodhouse would not suffer him to deceive himself long; and now he confessed his persuasion, that such a transplantation would be a risk of her father's comfort, perhaps even of his life, which must not be hazarded. Mr. Woodhouse taken from Hartfield!--No, he felt that it ought not to be attempted. But the plan which had arisen on the sacrifice of this, he trusted his dearest Emma would not find in any respect objectionable; it was, that he should be received at Hartfield; that so long as her father's happiness--in other words, his life--required Hartfield to continue her home, it should be his likewise. Of their all removing to Donwell, Emma had already had her own passing thoughts. Like him, she had tried the scheme and rejected it; but such an alternative as this had not occurred to her. She was sensible of all the affection it evinced. She felt that, in quitting Donwell, he must be sacrificing a great deal of independence of hours and habits; that in living constantly with her father, and in no house of his own, there would be much, very much, to be borne with. She promised to think of it, and advised him to think of it more; but he was fully convinced, that no reflection could alter his wishes or his opinion on the subject. He had given it, he could assure her, very long and calm consideration; he had been walking away from William Larkins the whole morning, to have his thoughts to himself. "Ah! there is one difficulty unprovided for," cried Emma. "I am sure William Larkins will not like it. You must get his consent before you ask mine." She promised, however, to think of it; and pretty nearly promised, moreover, to think of it, with the intention of finding it a very good scheme. It is remarkable, that Emma, in the many, very many, points of view in which she was now beginning to consider Donwell Abbey, was never struck with any sense of injury to her nephew Henry, whose rights as heir-expectant had formerly been so tenaciously regarded. Think she must of the possible difference to the poor little boy; and yet she only gave herself a saucy conscious smile about it, and found amusement in detecting the real cause of that violent dislike of Mr. Knightley's marrying Jane Fairfax, or any body else, which at the time she had wholly imputed to the amiable solicitude of the sister and the aunt. This proposal of his, this plan of marrying and continuing at Hartfield--the more she contemplated it, the more pleasing it became. His evils seemed to lessen, her own advantages to increase, their mutual good to outweigh every drawback. Such a companion for herself in the periods of anxiety and cheerlessness before her!--Such a partner in all those duties and cares to which time must be giving increase of melancholy! She would have been too happy but for poor Harriet; but every blessing of her own seemed to involve and advance the sufferings of her friend, who must now be even excluded from Hartfield. The delightful family party which Emma was securing for herself, poor Harriet must, in mere charitable caution, be kept at a distance from. She would be a loser in every way. Emma could not deplore her future absence as any deduction from her own enjoyment. In such a party, Harriet would be rather a dead weight than otherwise; but for the poor girl herself, it seemed a peculiarly cruel necessity that was to be placing her in such a state of unmerited punishment. In time, of course, Mr. Knightley would be forgotten, that is, supplanted; but this could not be expected to happen very early. Mr. Knightley himself would be doing nothing to assist the cure;--not like Mr. Elton. Mr. Knightley, always so kind, so feeling, so truly considerate for every body, would never deserve to be less worshipped than now; and it really was too much to hope even of Harriet, that she could be in love with more than _three_ men in one year. CHAPTER XVI It was a very great relief to Emma to find Harriet as desirous as herself to avoid a meeting. Their intercourse was painful enough by letter. How much worse, had they been obliged to meet! Harriet expressed herself very much as might be supposed, without reproaches, or apparent sense of ill-usage; and yet Emma fancied there was a something of resentment, a something bordering on it in her style, which increased the desirableness of their being separate.--It might be only her own consciousness; but it seemed as if an angel only could have been quite without resentment under such a stroke. She had no difficulty in procuring Isabella's invitation; and she was fortunate in having a sufficient reason for asking it, without resorting to invention.--There was a tooth amiss. Harriet really wished, and had wished some time, to consult a dentist. Mrs. John Knightley was delighted to be of use; any thing of ill health was a recommendation to her--and though not so fond of a dentist as of a Mr. Wingfield, she was quite eager to have Harriet under her care.--When it was thus settled on her sister's side, Emma proposed it to her friend, and found her very persuadable.--Harriet was to go; she was invited for at least a fortnight; she was to be conveyed in Mr. Woodhouse's carriage.--It was all arranged, it was all completed, and Harriet was safe in Brunswick Square. Now Emma could, indeed, enjoy Mr. Knightley's visits; now she could talk, and she could listen with true happiness, unchecked by that sense of injustice, of guilt, of something most painful, which had haunted her when remembering how disappointed a heart was near her, how much might at that moment, and at a little distance, be enduring by the feelings which she had led astray herself. The difference of Harriet at Mrs. Goddard's, or in London, made perhaps an unreasonable difference in Emma's sensations; but she could not think of her in London without objects of curiosity and employment, which must be averting the past, and carrying her out of herself. She would not allow any other anxiety to succeed directly to the place in her mind which Harriet had occupied. There was a communication before her, one which _she_ only could be competent to make--the confession of her engagement to her father; but she would have nothing to do with it at present.--She had resolved to defer the disclosure till Mrs. Weston were safe and well. No additional agitation should be thrown at this period among those she loved--and the evil should not act on herself by anticipation before the appointed time.--A fortnight, at least, of leisure and peace of mind, to crown every warmer, but more agitating, delight, should be hers. She soon resolved, equally as a duty and a pleasure, to employ half an hour of this holiday of spirits in calling on Miss Fairfax.--She ought to go--and she was longing to see her; the resemblance of their present situations increasing every other motive of goodwill. It would be a _secret_ satisfaction; but the consciousness of a similarity of prospect would certainly add to the interest with which she should attend to any thing Jane might communicate. She went--she had driven once unsuccessfully to the door, but had not been into the house since the morning after Box Hill, when poor Jane had been in such distress as had filled her with compassion, though all the worst of her sufferings had been unsuspected.--The fear of being still unwelcome, determined her, though assured of their being at home, to wait in the passage, and send up her name.--She heard Patty announcing it; but no such bustle succeeded as poor Miss Bates had before made so happily intelligible.--No; she heard nothing but the instant reply of, "Beg her to walk up;"--and a moment afterwards she was met on the stairs by Jane herself, coming eagerly forward, as if no other reception of her were felt sufficient.--Emma had never seen her look so well, so lovely, so engaging. There was consciousness, animation, and warmth; there was every thing which her countenance or manner could ever have wanted.-- She came forward with an offered hand; and said, in a low, but very feeling tone, "This is most kind, indeed!--Miss Woodhouse, it is impossible for me to express--I hope you will believe--Excuse me for being so entirely without words." Emma was gratified, and would soon have shewn no want of words, if the sound of Mrs. Elton's voice from the sitting-room had not checked her, and made it expedient to compress all her friendly and all her congratulatory sensations into a very, very earnest shake of the hand. Mrs. Bates and Mrs. Elton were together. Miss Bates was out, which accounted for the previous tranquillity. Emma could have wished Mrs. Elton elsewhere; but she was in a humour to have patience with every body; and as Mrs. Elton met her with unusual graciousness, she hoped the rencontre would do them no harm. She soon believed herself to penetrate Mrs. Elton's thoughts, and understand why she was, like herself, in happy spirits; it was being in Miss Fairfax's confidence, and fancying herself acquainted with what was still a secret to other people. Emma saw symptoms of it immediately in the expression of her face; and while paying her own compliments to Mrs. Bates, and appearing to attend to the good old lady's replies, she saw her with a sort of anxious parade of mystery fold up a letter which she had apparently been reading aloud to Miss Fairfax, and return it into the purple and gold reticule by her side, saying, with significant nods, "We can finish this some other time, you know. You and I shall not want opportunities. And, in fact, you have heard all the essential already. I only wanted to prove to you that Mrs. S. admits our apology, and is not offended. You see how delightfully she writes. Oh! she is a sweet creature! You would have doated on her, had you gone.--But not a word more. Let us be discreet--quite on our good behaviour.--Hush!--You remember those lines--I forget the poem at this moment: "For when a lady's in the case, "You know all other things give place." Now I say, my dear, in _our_ case, for _lady_, read----mum! a word to the wise.--I am in a fine flow of spirits, an't I? But I want to set your heart at ease as to Mrs. S.--_My_ representation, you see, has quite appeased her." And again, on Emma's merely turning her head to look at Mrs. Bates's knitting, she added, in a half whisper, "I mentioned no _names_, you will observe.--Oh! no; cautious as a minister of state. I managed it extremely well." Emma could not doubt. It was a palpable display, repeated on every possible occasion. When they had all talked a little while in harmony of the weather and Mrs. Weston, she found herself abruptly addressed with, "Do not you think, Miss Woodhouse, our saucy little friend here is charmingly recovered?--Do not you think her cure does Perry the highest credit?--(here was a side-glance of great meaning at Jane.) Upon my word, Perry has restored her in a wonderful short time!--Oh! if you had seen her, as I did, when she was at the worst!"--And when Mrs. Bates was saying something to Emma, whispered farther, "We do not say a word of any _assistance_ that Perry might have; not a word of a certain young physician from Windsor.--Oh! no; Perry shall have all the credit." "I have scarce had the pleasure of seeing you, Miss Woodhouse," she shortly afterwards began, "since the party to Box Hill. Very pleasant party. But yet I think there was something wanting. Things did not seem--that is, there seemed a little cloud upon the spirits of some.--So it appeared to me at least, but I might be mistaken. However, I think it answered so far as to tempt one to go again. What say you both to our collecting the same party, and exploring to Box Hill again, while the fine weather lasts?--It must be the same party, you know, quite the same party, not _one_ exception." Soon after this Miss Bates came in, and Emma could not help being diverted by the perplexity of her first answer to herself, resulting, she supposed, from doubt of what might be said, and impatience to say every thing. "Thank you, dear Miss Woodhouse, you are all kindness.--It is impossible to say--Yes, indeed, I quite understand--dearest Jane's prospects--that is, I do not mean.--But she is charmingly recovered.--How is Mr. Woodhouse?--I am so glad.--Quite out of my power.--Such a happy little circle as you find us here.--Yes, indeed.--Charming young man!--that is--so very friendly; I mean good Mr. Perry!--such attention to Jane!"--And from her great, her more than commonly thankful delight towards Mrs. Elton for being there, Emma guessed that there had been a little show of resentment towards Jane, from the vicarage quarter, which was now graciously overcome.--After a few whispers, indeed, which placed it beyond a guess, Mrs. Elton, speaking louder, said, "Yes, here I am, my good friend; and here I have been so long, that anywhere else I should think it necessary to apologise; but, the truth is, that I am waiting for my lord and master. He promised to join me here, and pay his respects to you." "What! are we to have the pleasure of a call from Mr. Elton?--That will be a favour indeed! for I know gentlemen do not like morning visits, and Mr. Elton's time is so engaged." "Upon my word it is, Miss Bates.--He really is engaged from morning to night.--There is no end of people's coming to him, on some pretence or other.--The magistrates, and overseers, and churchwardens, are always wanting his opinion. They seem not able to do any thing without him.--'Upon my word, Mr. E.,' I often say, 'rather you than I.--I do not know what would become of my crayons and my instrument, if I had half so many applicants.'--Bad enough as it is, for I absolutely neglect them both to an unpardonable degree.--I believe I have not played a bar this fortnight.--However, he is coming, I assure you: yes, indeed, on purpose to wait on you all." And putting up her hand to screen her words from Emma--"A congratulatory visit, you know.--Oh! yes, quite indispensable." Miss Bates looked about her, so happily--! "He promised to come to me as soon as he could disengage himself from Knightley; but he and Knightley are shut up together in deep consultation.--Mr. E. is Knightley's right hand." Emma would not have smiled for the world, and only said, "Is Mr. Elton gone on foot to Donwell?--He will have a hot walk." "Oh! no, it is a meeting at the Crown, a regular meeting. Weston and Cole will be there too; but one is apt to speak only of those who lead.--I fancy Mr. E. and Knightley have every thing their own way." "Have not you mistaken the day?" said Emma. "I am almost certain that the meeting at the Crown is not till to-morrow.--Mr. Knightley was at Hartfield yesterday, and spoke of it as for Saturday." "Oh! no, the meeting is certainly to-day," was the abrupt answer, which denoted the impossibility of any blunder on Mrs. Elton's side.--"I do believe," she continued, "this is the most troublesome parish that ever was. We never heard of such things at Maple Grove." "Your parish there was small," said Jane. "Upon my word, my dear, I do not know, for I never heard the subject talked of." "But it is proved by the smallness of the school, which I have heard you speak of, as under the patronage of your sister and Mrs. Bragge; the only school, and not more than five-and-twenty children." "Ah! you clever creature, that's very true. What a thinking brain you have! I say, Jane, what a perfect character you and I should make, if we could be shaken together. My liveliness and your solidity would produce perfection.--Not that I presume to insinuate, however, that _some_ people may not think _you_ perfection already.--But hush!--not a word, if you please." It seemed an unnecessary caution; Jane was wanting to give her words, not to Mrs. Elton, but to Miss Woodhouse, as the latter plainly saw. The wish of distinguishing her, as far as civility permitted, was very evident, though it could not often proceed beyond a look. Mr. Elton made his appearance. His lady greeted him with some of her sparkling vivacity. "Very pretty, sir, upon my word; to send me on here, to be an encumbrance to my friends, so long before you vouchsafe to come!--But you knew what a dutiful creature you had to deal with. You knew I should not stir till my lord and master appeared.--Here have I been sitting this hour, giving these young ladies a sample of true conjugal obedience--for who can say, you know, how soon it may be wanted?" Mr. Elton was so hot and tired, that all this wit seemed thrown away. His civilities to the other ladies must be paid; but his subsequent object was to lament over himself for the heat he was suffering, and the walk he had had for nothing. "When I got to Donwell," said he, "Knightley could not be found. Very odd! very unaccountable! after the note I sent him this morning, and the message he returned, that he should certainly be at home till one." "Donwell!" cried his wife.--"My dear Mr. E., you have not been to Donwell!--You mean the Crown; you come from the meeting at the Crown." "No, no, that's to-morrow; and I particularly wanted to see Knightley to-day on that very account.--Such a dreadful broiling morning!--I went over the fields too--(speaking in a tone of great ill-usage,) which made it so much the worse. And then not to find him at home! I assure you I am not at all pleased. And no apology left, no message for me. The housekeeper declared she knew nothing of my being expected.--Very extraordinary!--And nobody knew at all which way he was gone. Perhaps to Hartfield, perhaps to the Abbey Mill, perhaps into his woods.--Miss Woodhouse, this is not like our friend Knightley!--Can you explain it?" Emma amused herself by protesting that it was very extraordinary, indeed, and that she had not a syllable to say for him. "I cannot imagine," said Mrs. Elton, (feeling the indignity as a wife ought to do,) "I cannot imagine how he could do such a thing by you, of all people in the world! The very last person whom one should expect to be forgotten!--My dear Mr. E., he must have left a message for you, I am sure he must.--Not even Knightley could be so very eccentric;--and his servants forgot it. Depend upon it, that was the case: and very likely to happen with the Donwell servants, who are all, I have often observed, extremely awkward and remiss.--I am sure I would not have such a creature as his Harry stand at our sideboard for any consideration. And as for Mrs. Hodges, Wright holds her very cheap indeed.--She promised Wright a receipt, and never sent it." "I met William Larkins," continued Mr. Elton, "as I got near the house, and he told me I should not find his master at home, but I did not believe him.--William seemed rather out of humour. He did not know what was come to his master lately, he said, but he could hardly ever get the speech of him. I have nothing to do with William's wants, but it really is of very great importance that _I_ should see Knightley to-day; and it becomes a matter, therefore, of very serious inconvenience that I should have had this hot walk to no purpose." Emma felt that she could not do better than go home directly. In all probability she was at this very time waited for there; and Mr. Knightley might be preserved from sinking deeper in aggression towards Mr. Elton, if not towards William Larkins. She was pleased, on taking leave, to find Miss Fairfax determined to attend her out of the room, to go with her even downstairs; it gave her an opportunity which she immediately made use of, to say, "It is as well, perhaps, that I have not had the possibility. Had you not been surrounded by other friends, I might have been tempted to introduce a subject, to ask questions, to speak more openly than might have been strictly correct.--I feel that I should certainly have been impertinent." "Oh!" cried Jane, with a blush and an hesitation which Emma thought infinitely more becoming to her than all the elegance of all her usual composure--"there would have been no danger. The danger would have been of my wearying you. You could not have gratified me more than by expressing an interest--. Indeed, Miss Woodhouse, (speaking more collectedly,) with the consciousness which I have of misconduct, very great misconduct, it is particularly consoling to me to know that those of my friends, whose good opinion is most worth preserving, are not disgusted to such a degree as to--I have not time for half that I could wish to say. I long to make apologies, excuses, to urge something for myself. I feel it so very due. But, unfortunately--in short, if your compassion does not stand my friend--" "Oh! you are too scrupulous, indeed you are," cried Emma warmly, and taking her hand. "You owe me no apologies; and every body to whom you might be supposed to owe them, is so perfectly satisfied, so delighted even--" "You are very kind, but I know what my manners were to you.--So cold and artificial!--I had always a part to act.--It was a life of deceit!--I know that I must have disgusted you." "Pray say no more. I feel that all the apologies should be on my side. Let us forgive each other at once. We must do whatever is to be done quickest, and I think our feelings will lose no time there. I hope you have pleasant accounts from Windsor?" "Very." "And the next news, I suppose, will be, that we are to lose you--just as I begin to know you." "Oh! as to all that, of course nothing can be thought of yet. I am here till claimed by Colonel and Mrs. Campbell." "Nothing can be actually settled yet, perhaps," replied Emma, smiling--"but, excuse me, it must be thought of." The smile was returned as Jane answered, "You are very right; it has been thought of. And I will own to you, (I am sure it will be safe), that so far as our living with Mr. Churchill at Enscombe, it is settled. There must be three months, at least, of deep mourning; but when they are over, I imagine there will be nothing more to wait for." "Thank you, thank you.--This is just what I wanted to be assured of.--Oh! if you knew how much I love every thing that is decided and open!--Good-bye, good-bye." CHAPTER XVII Mrs. Weston's friends were all made happy by her safety; and if the satisfaction of her well-doing could be increased to Emma, it was by knowing her to be the mother of a little girl. She had been decided in wishing for a Miss Weston. She would not acknowledge that it was with any view of making a match for her, hereafter, with either of Isabella's sons; but she was convinced that a daughter would suit both father and mother best. It would be a great comfort to Mr. Weston, as he grew older--and even Mr. Weston might be growing older ten years hence--to have his fireside enlivened by the sports and the nonsense, the freaks and the fancies of a child never banished from home; and Mrs. Weston--no one could doubt that a daughter would be most to her; and it would be quite a pity that any one who so well knew how to teach, should not have their powers in exercise again. "She has had the advantage, you know, of practising on me," she continued--"like La Baronne d'Almane on La Comtesse d'Ostalis, in Madame de Genlis' Adelaide and Theodore, and we shall now see her own little Adelaide educated on a more perfect plan." "That is," replied Mr. Knightley, "she will indulge her even more than she did you, and believe that she does not indulge her at all. It will be the only difference." "Poor child!" cried Emma; "at that rate, what will become of her?" "Nothing very bad.--The fate of thousands. She will be disagreeable in infancy, and correct herself as she grows older. I am losing all my bitterness against spoilt children, my dearest Emma. I, who am owing all my happiness to _you_, would not it be horrible ingratitude in me to be severe on them?" Emma laughed, and replied: "But I had the assistance of all your endeavours to counteract the indulgence of other people. I doubt whether my own sense would have corrected me without it." "Do you?--I have no doubt. Nature gave

earnest

How many times the word 'earnest' appears in the text?

what immediately followed of the basis of their disagreement, and his persisting to act in direct opposition to Jane Fairfax's sense of right, he made a fuller pause to say, "This is very bad.--He had induced her to place herself, for his sake, in a situation of extreme difficulty and uneasiness, and it should have been his first object to prevent her from suffering unnecessarily.--She must have had much more to contend with, in carrying on the correspondence, than he could. He should have respected even unreasonable scruples, had there been such; but hers were all reasonable. We must look to her one fault, and remember that she had done a wrong thing in consenting to the engagement, to bear that she should have been in such a state of punishment." Emma knew that he was now getting to the Box Hill party, and grew uncomfortable. Her own behaviour had been so very improper! She was deeply ashamed, and a little afraid of his next look. It was all read, however, steadily, attentively, and without the smallest remark; and, excepting one momentary glance at her, instantly withdrawn, in the fear of giving pain--no remembrance of Box Hill seemed to exist. "There is no saying much for the delicacy of our good friends, the Eltons," was his next observation.--"His feelings are natural.--What! actually resolve to break with him entirely!--She felt the engagement to be a source of repentance and misery to each--she dissolved it.--What a view this gives of her sense of his behaviour!--Well, he must be a most extraordinary--" "Nay, nay, read on.--You will find how very much he suffers." "I hope he does," replied Mr. Knightley coolly, and resuming the letter. "'Smallridge!'--What does this mean? What is all this?" "She had engaged to go as governess to Mrs. Smallridge's children--a dear friend of Mrs. Elton's--a neighbour of Maple Grove; and, by the bye, I wonder how Mrs. Elton bears the disappointment?" "Say nothing, my dear Emma, while you oblige me to read--not even of Mrs. Elton. Only one page more. I shall soon have done. What a letter the man writes!" "I wish you would read it with a kinder spirit towards him." "Well, there _is_ feeling here.--He does seem to have suffered in finding her ill.--Certainly, I can have no doubt of his being fond of her. 'Dearer, much dearer than ever.' I hope he may long continue to feel all the value of such a reconciliation.--He is a very liberal thanker, with his thousands and tens of thousands.--'Happier than I deserve.' Come, he knows himself there. 'Miss Woodhouse calls me the child of good fortune.'--Those were Miss Woodhouse's words, were they?-- And a fine ending--and there is the letter. The child of good fortune! That was your name for him, was it?" "You do not appear so well satisfied with his letter as I am; but still you must, at least I hope you must, think the better of him for it. I hope it does him some service with you." "Yes, certainly it does. He has had great faults, faults of inconsideration and thoughtlessness; and I am very much of his opinion in thinking him likely to be happier than he deserves: but still as he is, beyond a doubt, really attached to Miss Fairfax, and will soon, it may be hoped, have the advantage of being constantly with her, I am very ready to believe his character will improve, and acquire from hers the steadiness and delicacy of principle that it wants. And now, let me talk to you of something else. I have another person's interest at present so much at heart, that I cannot think any longer about Frank Churchill. Ever since I left you this morning, Emma, my mind has been hard at work on one subject." The subject followed; it was in plain, unaffected, gentlemanlike English, such as Mr. Knightley used even to the woman he was in love with, how to be able to ask her to marry him, without attacking the happiness of her father. Emma's answer was ready at the first word. "While her dear father lived, any change of condition must be impossible for her. She could never quit him." Part only of this answer, however, was admitted. The impossibility of her quitting her father, Mr. Knightley felt as strongly as herself; but the inadmissibility of any other change, he could not agree to. He had been thinking it over most deeply, most intently; he had at first hoped to induce Mr. Woodhouse to remove with her to Donwell; he had wanted to believe it feasible, but his knowledge of Mr. Woodhouse would not suffer him to deceive himself long; and now he confessed his persuasion, that such a transplantation would be a risk of her father's comfort, perhaps even of his life, which must not be hazarded. Mr. Woodhouse taken from Hartfield!--No, he felt that it ought not to be attempted. But the plan which had arisen on the sacrifice of this, he trusted his dearest Emma would not find in any respect objectionable; it was, that he should be received at Hartfield; that so long as her father's happiness--in other words, his life--required Hartfield to continue her home, it should be his likewise. Of their all removing to Donwell, Emma had already had her own passing thoughts. Like him, she had tried the scheme and rejected it; but such an alternative as this had not occurred to her. She was sensible of all the affection it evinced. She felt that, in quitting Donwell, he must be sacrificing a great deal of independence of hours and habits; that in living constantly with her father, and in no house of his own, there would be much, very much, to be borne with. She promised to think of it, and advised him to think of it more; but he was fully convinced, that no reflection could alter his wishes or his opinion on the subject. He had given it, he could assure her, very long and calm consideration; he had been walking away from William Larkins the whole morning, to have his thoughts to himself. "Ah! there is one difficulty unprovided for," cried Emma. "I am sure William Larkins will not like it. You must get his consent before you ask mine." She promised, however, to think of it; and pretty nearly promised, moreover, to think of it, with the intention of finding it a very good scheme. It is remarkable, that Emma, in the many, very many, points of view in which she was now beginning to consider Donwell Abbey, was never struck with any sense of injury to her nephew Henry, whose rights as heir-expectant had formerly been so tenaciously regarded. Think she must of the possible difference to the poor little boy; and yet she only gave herself a saucy conscious smile about it, and found amusement in detecting the real cause of that violent dislike of Mr. Knightley's marrying Jane Fairfax, or any body else, which at the time she had wholly imputed to the amiable solicitude of the sister and the aunt. This proposal of his, this plan of marrying and continuing at Hartfield--the more she contemplated it, the more pleasing it became. His evils seemed to lessen, her own advantages to increase, their mutual good to outweigh every drawback. Such a companion for herself in the periods of anxiety and cheerlessness before her!--Such a partner in all those duties and cares to which time must be giving increase of melancholy! She would have been too happy but for poor Harriet; but every blessing of her own seemed to involve and advance the sufferings of her friend, who must now be even excluded from Hartfield. The delightful family party which Emma was securing for herself, poor Harriet must, in mere charitable caution, be kept at a distance from. She would be a loser in every way. Emma could not deplore her future absence as any deduction from her own enjoyment. In such a party, Harriet would be rather a dead weight than otherwise; but for the poor girl herself, it seemed a peculiarly cruel necessity that was to be placing her in such a state of unmerited punishment. In time, of course, Mr. Knightley would be forgotten, that is, supplanted; but this could not be expected to happen very early. Mr. Knightley himself would be doing nothing to assist the cure;--not like Mr. Elton. Mr. Knightley, always so kind, so feeling, so truly considerate for every body, would never deserve to be less worshipped than now; and it really was too much to hope even of Harriet, that she could be in love with more than _three_ men in one year. CHAPTER XVI It was a very great relief to Emma to find Harriet as desirous as herself to avoid a meeting. Their intercourse was painful enough by letter. How much worse, had they been obliged to meet! Harriet expressed herself very much as might be supposed, without reproaches, or apparent sense of ill-usage; and yet Emma fancied there was a something of resentment, a something bordering on it in her style, which increased the desirableness of their being separate.--It might be only her own consciousness; but it seemed as if an angel only could have been quite without resentment under such a stroke. She had no difficulty in procuring Isabella's invitation; and she was fortunate in having a sufficient reason for asking it, without resorting to invention.--There was a tooth amiss. Harriet really wished, and had wished some time, to consult a dentist. Mrs. John Knightley was delighted to be of use; any thing of ill health was a recommendation to her--and though not so fond of a dentist as of a Mr. Wingfield, she was quite eager to have Harriet under her care.--When it was thus settled on her sister's side, Emma proposed it to her friend, and found her very persuadable.--Harriet was to go; she was invited for at least a fortnight; she was to be conveyed in Mr. Woodhouse's carriage.--It was all arranged, it was all completed, and Harriet was safe in Brunswick Square. Now Emma could, indeed, enjoy Mr. Knightley's visits; now she could talk, and she could listen with true happiness, unchecked by that sense of injustice, of guilt, of something most painful, which had haunted her when remembering how disappointed a heart was near her, how much might at that moment, and at a little distance, be enduring by the feelings which she had led astray herself. The difference of Harriet at Mrs. Goddard's, or in London, made perhaps an unreasonable difference in Emma's sensations; but she could not think of her in London without objects of curiosity and employment, which must be averting the past, and carrying her out of herself. She would not allow any other anxiety to succeed directly to the place in her mind which Harriet had occupied. There was a communication before her, one which _she_ only could be competent to make--the confession of her engagement to her father; but she would have nothing to do with it at present.--She had resolved to defer the disclosure till Mrs. Weston were safe and well. No additional agitation should be thrown at this period among those she loved--and the evil should not act on herself by anticipation before the appointed time.--A fortnight, at least, of leisure and peace of mind, to crown every warmer, but more agitating, delight, should be hers. She soon resolved, equally as a duty and a pleasure, to employ half an hour of this holiday of spirits in calling on Miss Fairfax.--She ought to go--and she was longing to see her; the resemblance of their present situations increasing every other motive of goodwill. It would be a _secret_ satisfaction; but the consciousness of a similarity of prospect would certainly add to the interest with which she should attend to any thing Jane might communicate. She went--she had driven once unsuccessfully to the door, but had not been into the house since the morning after Box Hill, when poor Jane had been in such distress as had filled her with compassion, though all the worst of her sufferings had been unsuspected.--The fear of being still unwelcome, determined her, though assured of their being at home, to wait in the passage, and send up her name.--She heard Patty announcing it; but no such bustle succeeded as poor Miss Bates had before made so happily intelligible.--No; she heard nothing but the instant reply of, "Beg her to walk up;"--and a moment afterwards she was met on the stairs by Jane herself, coming eagerly forward, as if no other reception of her were felt sufficient.--Emma had never seen her look so well, so lovely, so engaging. There was consciousness, animation, and warmth; there was every thing which her countenance or manner could ever have wanted.-- She came forward with an offered hand; and said, in a low, but very feeling tone, "This is most kind, indeed!--Miss Woodhouse, it is impossible for me to express--I hope you will believe--Excuse me for being so entirely without words." Emma was gratified, and would soon have shewn no want of words, if the sound of Mrs. Elton's voice from the sitting-room had not checked her, and made it expedient to compress all her friendly and all her congratulatory sensations into a very, very earnest shake of the hand. Mrs. Bates and Mrs. Elton were together. Miss Bates was out, which accounted for the previous tranquillity. Emma could have wished Mrs. Elton elsewhere; but she was in a humour to have patience with every body; and as Mrs. Elton met her with unusual graciousness, she hoped the rencontre would do them no harm. She soon believed herself to penetrate Mrs. Elton's thoughts, and understand why she was, like herself, in happy spirits; it was being in Miss Fairfax's confidence, and fancying herself acquainted with what was still a secret to other people. Emma saw symptoms of it immediately in the expression of her face; and while paying her own compliments to Mrs. Bates, and appearing to attend to the good old lady's replies, she saw her with a sort of anxious parade of mystery fold up a letter which she had apparently been reading aloud to Miss Fairfax, and return it into the purple and gold reticule by her side, saying, with significant nods, "We can finish this some other time, you know. You and I shall not want opportunities. And, in fact, you have heard all the essential already. I only wanted to prove to you that Mrs. S. admits our apology, and is not offended. You see how delightfully she writes. Oh! she is a sweet creature! You would have doated on her, had you gone.--But not a word more. Let us be discreet--quite on our good behaviour.--Hush!--You remember those lines--I forget the poem at this moment: "For when a lady's in the case, "You know all other things give place." Now I say, my dear, in _our_ case, for _lady_, read----mum! a word to the wise.--I am in a fine flow of spirits, an't I? But I want to set your heart at ease as to Mrs. S.--_My_ representation, you see, has quite appeased her." And again, on Emma's merely turning her head to look at Mrs. Bates's knitting, she added, in a half whisper, "I mentioned no _names_, you will observe.--Oh! no; cautious as a minister of state. I managed it extremely well." Emma could not doubt. It was a palpable display, repeated on every possible occasion. When they had all talked a little while in harmony of the weather and Mrs. Weston, she found herself abruptly addressed with, "Do not you think, Miss Woodhouse, our saucy little friend here is charmingly recovered?--Do not you think her cure does Perry the highest credit?--(here was a side-glance of great meaning at Jane.) Upon my word, Perry has restored her in a wonderful short time!--Oh! if you had seen her, as I did, when she was at the worst!"--And when Mrs. Bates was saying something to Emma, whispered farther, "We do not say a word of any _assistance_ that Perry might have; not a word of a certain young physician from Windsor.--Oh! no; Perry shall have all the credit." "I have scarce had the pleasure of seeing you, Miss Woodhouse," she shortly afterwards began, "since the party to Box Hill. Very pleasant party. But yet I think there was something wanting. Things did not seem--that is, there seemed a little cloud upon the spirits of some.--So it appeared to me at least, but I might be mistaken. However, I think it answered so far as to tempt one to go again. What say you both to our collecting the same party, and exploring to Box Hill again, while the fine weather lasts?--It must be the same party, you know, quite the same party, not _one_ exception." Soon after this Miss Bates came in, and Emma could not help being diverted by the perplexity of her first answer to herself, resulting, she supposed, from doubt of what might be said, and impatience to say every thing. "Thank you, dear Miss Woodhouse, you are all kindness.--It is impossible to say--Yes, indeed, I quite understand--dearest Jane's prospects--that is, I do not mean.--But she is charmingly recovered.--How is Mr. Woodhouse?--I am so glad.--Quite out of my power.--Such a happy little circle as you find us here.--Yes, indeed.--Charming young man!--that is--so very friendly; I mean good Mr. Perry!--such attention to Jane!"--And from her great, her more than commonly thankful delight towards Mrs. Elton for being there, Emma guessed that there had been a little show of resentment towards Jane, from the vicarage quarter, which was now graciously overcome.--After a few whispers, indeed, which placed it beyond a guess, Mrs. Elton, speaking louder, said, "Yes, here I am, my good friend; and here I have been so long, that anywhere else I should think it necessary to apologise; but, the truth is, that I am waiting for my lord and master. He promised to join me here, and pay his respects to you." "What! are we to have the pleasure of a call from Mr. Elton?--That will be a favour indeed! for I know gentlemen do not like morning visits, and Mr. Elton's time is so engaged." "Upon my word it is, Miss Bates.--He really is engaged from morning to night.--There is no end of people's coming to him, on some pretence or other.--The magistrates, and overseers, and churchwardens, are always wanting his opinion. They seem not able to do any thing without him.--'Upon my word, Mr. E.,' I often say, 'rather you than I.--I do not know what would become of my crayons and my instrument, if I had half so many applicants.'--Bad enough as it is, for I absolutely neglect them both to an unpardonable degree.--I believe I have not played a bar this fortnight.--However, he is coming, I assure you: yes, indeed, on purpose to wait on you all." And putting up her hand to screen her words from Emma--"A congratulatory visit, you know.--Oh! yes, quite indispensable." Miss Bates looked about her, so happily--! "He promised to come to me as soon as he could disengage himself from Knightley; but he and Knightley are shut up together in deep consultation.--Mr. E. is Knightley's right hand." Emma would not have smiled for the world, and only said, "Is Mr. Elton gone on foot to Donwell?--He will have a hot walk." "Oh! no, it is a meeting at the Crown, a regular meeting. Weston and Cole will be there too; but one is apt to speak only of those who lead.--I fancy Mr. E. and Knightley have every thing their own way." "Have not you mistaken the day?" said Emma. "I am almost certain that the meeting at the Crown is not till to-morrow.--Mr. Knightley was at Hartfield yesterday, and spoke of it as for Saturday." "Oh! no, the meeting is certainly to-day," was the abrupt answer, which denoted the impossibility of any blunder on Mrs. Elton's side.--"I do believe," she continued, "this is the most troublesome parish that ever was. We never heard of such things at Maple Grove." "Your parish there was small," said Jane. "Upon my word, my dear, I do not know, for I never heard the subject talked of." "But it is proved by the smallness of the school, which I have heard you speak of, as under the patronage of your sister and Mrs. Bragge; the only school, and not more than five-and-twenty children." "Ah! you clever creature, that's very true. What a thinking brain you have! I say, Jane, what a perfect character you and I should make, if we could be shaken together. My liveliness and your solidity would produce perfection.--Not that I presume to insinuate, however, that _some_ people may not think _you_ perfection already.--But hush!--not a word, if you please." It seemed an unnecessary caution; Jane was wanting to give her words, not to Mrs. Elton, but to Miss Woodhouse, as the latter plainly saw. The wish of distinguishing her, as far as civility permitted, was very evident, though it could not often proceed beyond a look. Mr. Elton made his appearance. His lady greeted him with some of her sparkling vivacity. "Very pretty, sir, upon my word; to send me on here, to be an encumbrance to my friends, so long before you vouchsafe to come!--But you knew what a dutiful creature you had to deal with. You knew I should not stir till my lord and master appeared.--Here have I been sitting this hour, giving these young ladies a sample of true conjugal obedience--for who can say, you know, how soon it may be wanted?" Mr. Elton was so hot and tired, that all this wit seemed thrown away. His civilities to the other ladies must be paid; but his subsequent object was to lament over himself for the heat he was suffering, and the walk he had had for nothing. "When I got to Donwell," said he, "Knightley could not be found. Very odd! very unaccountable! after the note I sent him this morning, and the message he returned, that he should certainly be at home till one." "Donwell!" cried his wife.--"My dear Mr. E., you have not been to Donwell!--You mean the Crown; you come from the meeting at the Crown." "No, no, that's to-morrow; and I particularly wanted to see Knightley to-day on that very account.--Such a dreadful broiling morning!--I went over the fields too--(speaking in a tone of great ill-usage,) which made it so much the worse. And then not to find him at home! I assure you I am not at all pleased. And no apology left, no message for me. The housekeeper declared she knew nothing of my being expected.--Very extraordinary!--And nobody knew at all which way he was gone. Perhaps to Hartfield, perhaps to the Abbey Mill, perhaps into his woods.--Miss Woodhouse, this is not like our friend Knightley!--Can you explain it?" Emma amused herself by protesting that it was very extraordinary, indeed, and that she had not a syllable to say for him. "I cannot imagine," said Mrs. Elton, (feeling the indignity as a wife ought to do,) "I cannot imagine how he could do such a thing by you, of all people in the world! The very last person whom one should expect to be forgotten!--My dear Mr. E., he must have left a message for you, I am sure he must.--Not even Knightley could be so very eccentric;--and his servants forgot it. Depend upon it, that was the case: and very likely to happen with the Donwell servants, who are all, I have often observed, extremely awkward and remiss.--I am sure I would not have such a creature as his Harry stand at our sideboard for any consideration. And as for Mrs. Hodges, Wright holds her very cheap indeed.--She promised Wright a receipt, and never sent it." "I met William Larkins," continued Mr. Elton, "as I got near the house, and he told me I should not find his master at home, but I did not believe him.--William seemed rather out of humour. He did not know what was come to his master lately, he said, but he could hardly ever get the speech of him. I have nothing to do with William's wants, but it really is of very great importance that _I_ should see Knightley to-day; and it becomes a matter, therefore, of very serious inconvenience that I should have had this hot walk to no purpose." Emma felt that she could not do better than go home directly. In all probability she was at this very time waited for there; and Mr. Knightley might be preserved from sinking deeper in aggression towards Mr. Elton, if not towards William Larkins. She was pleased, on taking leave, to find Miss Fairfax determined to attend her out of the room, to go with her even downstairs; it gave her an opportunity which she immediately made use of, to say, "It is as well, perhaps, that I have not had the possibility. Had you not been surrounded by other friends, I might have been tempted to introduce a subject, to ask questions, to speak more openly than might have been strictly correct.--I feel that I should certainly have been impertinent." "Oh!" cried Jane, with a blush and an hesitation which Emma thought infinitely more becoming to her than all the elegance of all her usual composure--"there would have been no danger. The danger would have been of my wearying you. You could not have gratified me more than by expressing an interest--. Indeed, Miss Woodhouse, (speaking more collectedly,) with the consciousness which I have of misconduct, very great misconduct, it is particularly consoling to me to know that those of my friends, whose good opinion is most worth preserving, are not disgusted to such a degree as to--I have not time for half that I could wish to say. I long to make apologies, excuses, to urge something for myself. I feel it so very due. But, unfortunately--in short, if your compassion does not stand my friend--" "Oh! you are too scrupulous, indeed you are," cried Emma warmly, and taking her hand. "You owe me no apologies; and every body to whom you might be supposed to owe them, is so perfectly satisfied, so delighted even--" "You are very kind, but I know what my manners were to you.--So cold and artificial!--I had always a part to act.--It was a life of deceit!--I know that I must have disgusted you." "Pray say no more. I feel that all the apologies should be on my side. Let us forgive each other at once. We must do whatever is to be done quickest, and I think our feelings will lose no time there. I hope you have pleasant accounts from Windsor?" "Very." "And the next news, I suppose, will be, that we are to lose you--just as I begin to know you." "Oh! as to all that, of course nothing can be thought of yet. I am here till claimed by Colonel and Mrs. Campbell." "Nothing can be actually settled yet, perhaps," replied Emma, smiling--"but, excuse me, it must be thought of." The smile was returned as Jane answered, "You are very right; it has been thought of. And I will own to you, (I am sure it will be safe), that so far as our living with Mr. Churchill at Enscombe, it is settled. There must be three months, at least, of deep mourning; but when they are over, I imagine there will be nothing more to wait for." "Thank you, thank you.--This is just what I wanted to be assured of.--Oh! if you knew how much I love every thing that is decided and open!--Good-bye, good-bye." CHAPTER XVII Mrs. Weston's friends were all made happy by her safety; and if the satisfaction of her well-doing could be increased to Emma, it was by knowing her to be the mother of a little girl. She had been decided in wishing for a Miss Weston. She would not acknowledge that it was with any view of making a match for her, hereafter, with either of Isabella's sons; but she was convinced that a daughter would suit both father and mother best. It would be a great comfort to Mr. Weston, as he grew older--and even Mr. Weston might be growing older ten years hence--to have his fireside enlivened by the sports and the nonsense, the freaks and the fancies of a child never banished from home; and Mrs. Weston--no one could doubt that a daughter would be most to her; and it would be quite a pity that any one who so well knew how to teach, should not have their powers in exercise again. "She has had the advantage, you know, of practising on me," she continued--"like La Baronne d'Almane on La Comtesse d'Ostalis, in Madame de Genlis' Adelaide and Theodore, and we shall now see her own little Adelaide educated on a more perfect plan." "That is," replied Mr. Knightley, "she will indulge her even more than she did you, and believe that she does not indulge her at all. It will be the only difference." "Poor child!" cried Emma; "at that rate, what will become of her?" "Nothing very bad.--The fate of thousands. She will be disagreeable in infancy, and correct herself as she grows older. I am losing all my bitterness against spoilt children, my dearest Emma. I, who am owing all my happiness to _you_, would not it be horrible ingratitude in me to be severe on them?" Emma laughed, and replied: "But I had the assistance of all your endeavours to counteract the indulgence of other people. I doubt whether my own sense would have corrected me without it." "Do you?--I have no doubt. Nature gave

difficulty

How many times the word 'difficulty' appears in the text?

what immediately followed of the basis of their disagreement, and his persisting to act in direct opposition to Jane Fairfax's sense of right, he made a fuller pause to say, "This is very bad.--He had induced her to place herself, for his sake, in a situation of extreme difficulty and uneasiness, and it should have been his first object to prevent her from suffering unnecessarily.--She must have had much more to contend with, in carrying on the correspondence, than he could. He should have respected even unreasonable scruples, had there been such; but hers were all reasonable. We must look to her one fault, and remember that she had done a wrong thing in consenting to the engagement, to bear that she should have been in such a state of punishment." Emma knew that he was now getting to the Box Hill party, and grew uncomfortable. Her own behaviour had been so very improper! She was deeply ashamed, and a little afraid of his next look. It was all read, however, steadily, attentively, and without the smallest remark; and, excepting one momentary glance at her, instantly withdrawn, in the fear of giving pain--no remembrance of Box Hill seemed to exist. "There is no saying much for the delicacy of our good friends, the Eltons," was his next observation.--"His feelings are natural.--What! actually resolve to break with him entirely!--She felt the engagement to be a source of repentance and misery to each--she dissolved it.--What a view this gives of her sense of his behaviour!--Well, he must be a most extraordinary--" "Nay, nay, read on.--You will find how very much he suffers." "I hope he does," replied Mr. Knightley coolly, and resuming the letter. "'Smallridge!'--What does this mean? What is all this?" "She had engaged to go as governess to Mrs. Smallridge's children--a dear friend of Mrs. Elton's--a neighbour of Maple Grove; and, by the bye, I wonder how Mrs. Elton bears the disappointment?" "Say nothing, my dear Emma, while you oblige me to read--not even of Mrs. Elton. Only one page more. I shall soon have done. What a letter the man writes!" "I wish you would read it with a kinder spirit towards him." "Well, there _is_ feeling here.--He does seem to have suffered in finding her ill.--Certainly, I can have no doubt of his being fond of her. 'Dearer, much dearer than ever.' I hope he may long continue to feel all the value of such a reconciliation.--He is a very liberal thanker, with his thousands and tens of thousands.--'Happier than I deserve.' Come, he knows himself there. 'Miss Woodhouse calls me the child of good fortune.'--Those were Miss Woodhouse's words, were they?-- And a fine ending--and there is the letter. The child of good fortune! That was your name for him, was it?" "You do not appear so well satisfied with his letter as I am; but still you must, at least I hope you must, think the better of him for it. I hope it does him some service with you." "Yes, certainly it does. He has had great faults, faults of inconsideration and thoughtlessness; and I am very much of his opinion in thinking him likely to be happier than he deserves: but still as he is, beyond a doubt, really attached to Miss Fairfax, and will soon, it may be hoped, have the advantage of being constantly with her, I am very ready to believe his character will improve, and acquire from hers the steadiness and delicacy of principle that it wants. And now, let me talk to you of something else. I have another person's interest at present so much at heart, that I cannot think any longer about Frank Churchill. Ever since I left you this morning, Emma, my mind has been hard at work on one subject." The subject followed; it was in plain, unaffected, gentlemanlike English, such as Mr. Knightley used even to the woman he was in love with, how to be able to ask her to marry him, without attacking the happiness of her father. Emma's answer was ready at the first word. "While her dear father lived, any change of condition must be impossible for her. She could never quit him." Part only of this answer, however, was admitted. The impossibility of her quitting her father, Mr. Knightley felt as strongly as herself; but the inadmissibility of any other change, he could not agree to. He had been thinking it over most deeply, most intently; he had at first hoped to induce Mr. Woodhouse to remove with her to Donwell; he had wanted to believe it feasible, but his knowledge of Mr. Woodhouse would not suffer him to deceive himself long; and now he confessed his persuasion, that such a transplantation would be a risk of her father's comfort, perhaps even of his life, which must not be hazarded. Mr. Woodhouse taken from Hartfield!--No, he felt that it ought not to be attempted. But the plan which had arisen on the sacrifice of this, he trusted his dearest Emma would not find in any respect objectionable; it was, that he should be received at Hartfield; that so long as her father's happiness--in other words, his life--required Hartfield to continue her home, it should be his likewise. Of their all removing to Donwell, Emma had already had her own passing thoughts. Like him, she had tried the scheme and rejected it; but such an alternative as this had not occurred to her. She was sensible of all the affection it evinced. She felt that, in quitting Donwell, he must be sacrificing a great deal of independence of hours and habits; that in living constantly with her father, and in no house of his own, there would be much, very much, to be borne with. She promised to think of it, and advised him to think of it more; but he was fully convinced, that no reflection could alter his wishes or his opinion on the subject. He had given it, he could assure her, very long and calm consideration; he had been walking away from William Larkins the whole morning, to have his thoughts to himself. "Ah! there is one difficulty unprovided for," cried Emma. "I am sure William Larkins will not like it. You must get his consent before you ask mine." She promised, however, to think of it; and pretty nearly promised, moreover, to think of it, with the intention of finding it a very good scheme. It is remarkable, that Emma, in the many, very many, points of view in which she was now beginning to consider Donwell Abbey, was never struck with any sense of injury to her nephew Henry, whose rights as heir-expectant had formerly been so tenaciously regarded. Think she must of the possible difference to the poor little boy; and yet she only gave herself a saucy conscious smile about it, and found amusement in detecting the real cause of that violent dislike of Mr. Knightley's marrying Jane Fairfax, or any body else, which at the time she had wholly imputed to the amiable solicitude of the sister and the aunt. This proposal of his, this plan of marrying and continuing at Hartfield--the more she contemplated it, the more pleasing it became. His evils seemed to lessen, her own advantages to increase, their mutual good to outweigh every drawback. Such a companion for herself in the periods of anxiety and cheerlessness before her!--Such a partner in all those duties and cares to which time must be giving increase of melancholy! She would have been too happy but for poor Harriet; but every blessing of her own seemed to involve and advance the sufferings of her friend, who must now be even excluded from Hartfield. The delightful family party which Emma was securing for herself, poor Harriet must, in mere charitable caution, be kept at a distance from. She would be a loser in every way. Emma could not deplore her future absence as any deduction from her own enjoyment. In such a party, Harriet would be rather a dead weight than otherwise; but for the poor girl herself, it seemed a peculiarly cruel necessity that was to be placing her in such a state of unmerited punishment. In time, of course, Mr. Knightley would be forgotten, that is, supplanted; but this could not be expected to happen very early. Mr. Knightley himself would be doing nothing to assist the cure;--not like Mr. Elton. Mr. Knightley, always so kind, so feeling, so truly considerate for every body, would never deserve to be less worshipped than now; and it really was too much to hope even of Harriet, that she could be in love with more than _three_ men in one year. CHAPTER XVI It was a very great relief to Emma to find Harriet as desirous as herself to avoid a meeting. Their intercourse was painful enough by letter. How much worse, had they been obliged to meet! Harriet expressed herself very much as might be supposed, without reproaches, or apparent sense of ill-usage; and yet Emma fancied there was a something of resentment, a something bordering on it in her style, which increased the desirableness of their being separate.--It might be only her own consciousness; but it seemed as if an angel only could have been quite without resentment under such a stroke. She had no difficulty in procuring Isabella's invitation; and she was fortunate in having a sufficient reason for asking it, without resorting to invention.--There was a tooth amiss. Harriet really wished, and had wished some time, to consult a dentist. Mrs. John Knightley was delighted to be of use; any thing of ill health was a recommendation to her--and though not so fond of a dentist as of a Mr. Wingfield, she was quite eager to have Harriet under her care.--When it was thus settled on her sister's side, Emma proposed it to her friend, and found her very persuadable.--Harriet was to go; she was invited for at least a fortnight; she was to be conveyed in Mr. Woodhouse's carriage.--It was all arranged, it was all completed, and Harriet was safe in Brunswick Square. Now Emma could, indeed, enjoy Mr. Knightley's visits; now she could talk, and she could listen with true happiness, unchecked by that sense of injustice, of guilt, of something most painful, which had haunted her when remembering how disappointed a heart was near her, how much might at that moment, and at a little distance, be enduring by the feelings which she had led astray herself. The difference of Harriet at Mrs. Goddard's, or in London, made perhaps an unreasonable difference in Emma's sensations; but she could not think of her in London without objects of curiosity and employment, which must be averting the past, and carrying her out of herself. She would not allow any other anxiety to succeed directly to the place in her mind which Harriet had occupied. There was a communication before her, one which _she_ only could be competent to make--the confession of her engagement to her father; but she would have nothing to do with it at present.--She had resolved to defer the disclosure till Mrs. Weston were safe and well. No additional agitation should be thrown at this period among those she loved--and the evil should not act on herself by anticipation before the appointed time.--A fortnight, at least, of leisure and peace of mind, to crown every warmer, but more agitating, delight, should be hers. She soon resolved, equally as a duty and a pleasure, to employ half an hour of this holiday of spirits in calling on Miss Fairfax.--She ought to go--and she was longing to see her; the resemblance of their present situations increasing every other motive of goodwill. It would be a _secret_ satisfaction; but the consciousness of a similarity of prospect would certainly add to the interest with which she should attend to any thing Jane might communicate. She went--she had driven once unsuccessfully to the door, but had not been into the house since the morning after Box Hill, when poor Jane had been in such distress as had filled her with compassion, though all the worst of her sufferings had been unsuspected.--The fear of being still unwelcome, determined her, though assured of their being at home, to wait in the passage, and send up her name.--She heard Patty announcing it; but no such bustle succeeded as poor Miss Bates had before made so happily intelligible.--No; she heard nothing but the instant reply of, "Beg her to walk up;"--and a moment afterwards she was met on the stairs by Jane herself, coming eagerly forward, as if no other reception of her were felt sufficient.--Emma had never seen her look so well, so lovely, so engaging. There was consciousness, animation, and warmth; there was every thing which her countenance or manner could ever have wanted.-- She came forward with an offered hand; and said, in a low, but very feeling tone, "This is most kind, indeed!--Miss Woodhouse, it is impossible for me to express--I hope you will believe--Excuse me for being so entirely without words." Emma was gratified, and would soon have shewn no want of words, if the sound of Mrs. Elton's voice from the sitting-room had not checked her, and made it expedient to compress all her friendly and all her congratulatory sensations into a very, very earnest shake of the hand. Mrs. Bates and Mrs. Elton were together. Miss Bates was out, which accounted for the previous tranquillity. Emma could have wished Mrs. Elton elsewhere; but she was in a humour to have patience with every body; and as Mrs. Elton met her with unusual graciousness, she hoped the rencontre would do them no harm. She soon believed herself to penetrate Mrs. Elton's thoughts, and understand why she was, like herself, in happy spirits; it was being in Miss Fairfax's confidence, and fancying herself acquainted with what was still a secret to other people. Emma saw symptoms of it immediately in the expression of her face; and while paying her own compliments to Mrs. Bates, and appearing to attend to the good old lady's replies, she saw her with a sort of anxious parade of mystery fold up a letter which she had apparently been reading aloud to Miss Fairfax, and return it into the purple and gold reticule by her side, saying, with significant nods, "We can finish this some other time, you know. You and I shall not want opportunities. And, in fact, you have heard all the essential already. I only wanted to prove to you that Mrs. S. admits our apology, and is not offended. You see how delightfully she writes. Oh! she is a sweet creature! You would have doated on her, had you gone.--But not a word more. Let us be discreet--quite on our good behaviour.--Hush!--You remember those lines--I forget the poem at this moment: "For when a lady's in the case, "You know all other things give place." Now I say, my dear, in _our_ case, for _lady_, read----mum! a word to the wise.--I am in a fine flow of spirits, an't I? But I want to set your heart at ease as to Mrs. S.--_My_ representation, you see, has quite appeased her." And again, on Emma's merely turning her head to look at Mrs. Bates's knitting, she added, in a half whisper, "I mentioned no _names_, you will observe.--Oh! no; cautious as a minister of state. I managed it extremely well." Emma could not doubt. It was a palpable display, repeated on every possible occasion. When they had all talked a little while in harmony of the weather and Mrs. Weston, she found herself abruptly addressed with, "Do not you think, Miss Woodhouse, our saucy little friend here is charmingly recovered?--Do not you think her cure does Perry the highest credit?--(here was a side-glance of great meaning at Jane.) Upon my word, Perry has restored her in a wonderful short time!--Oh! if you had seen her, as I did, when she was at the worst!"--And when Mrs. Bates was saying something to Emma, whispered farther, "We do not say a word of any _assistance_ that Perry might have; not a word of a certain young physician from Windsor.--Oh! no; Perry shall have all the credit." "I have scarce had the pleasure of seeing you, Miss Woodhouse," she shortly afterwards began, "since the party to Box Hill. Very pleasant party. But yet I think there was something wanting. Things did not seem--that is, there seemed a little cloud upon the spirits of some.--So it appeared to me at least, but I might be mistaken. However, I think it answered so far as to tempt one to go again. What say you both to our collecting the same party, and exploring to Box Hill again, while the fine weather lasts?--It must be the same party, you know, quite the same party, not _one_ exception." Soon after this Miss Bates came in, and Emma could not help being diverted by the perplexity of her first answer to herself, resulting, she supposed, from doubt of what might be said, and impatience to say every thing. "Thank you, dear Miss Woodhouse, you are all kindness.--It is impossible to say--Yes, indeed, I quite understand--dearest Jane's prospects--that is, I do not mean.--But she is charmingly recovered.--How is Mr. Woodhouse?--I am so glad.--Quite out of my power.--Such a happy little circle as you find us here.--Yes, indeed.--Charming young man!--that is--so very friendly; I mean good Mr. Perry!--such attention to Jane!"--And from her great, her more than commonly thankful delight towards Mrs. Elton for being there, Emma guessed that there had been a little show of resentment towards Jane, from the vicarage quarter, which was now graciously overcome.--After a few whispers, indeed, which placed it beyond a guess, Mrs. Elton, speaking louder, said, "Yes, here I am, my good friend; and here I have been so long, that anywhere else I should think it necessary to apologise; but, the truth is, that I am waiting for my lord and master. He promised to join me here, and pay his respects to you." "What! are we to have the pleasure of a call from Mr. Elton?--That will be a favour indeed! for I know gentlemen do not like morning visits, and Mr. Elton's time is so engaged." "Upon my word it is, Miss Bates.--He really is engaged from morning to night.--There is no end of people's coming to him, on some pretence or other.--The magistrates, and overseers, and churchwardens, are always wanting his opinion. They seem not able to do any thing without him.--'Upon my word, Mr. E.,' I often say, 'rather you than I.--I do not know what would become of my crayons and my instrument, if I had half so many applicants.'--Bad enough as it is, for I absolutely neglect them both to an unpardonable degree.--I believe I have not played a bar this fortnight.--However, he is coming, I assure you: yes, indeed, on purpose to wait on you all." And putting up her hand to screen her words from Emma--"A congratulatory visit, you know.--Oh! yes, quite indispensable." Miss Bates looked about her, so happily--! "He promised to come to me as soon as he could disengage himself from Knightley; but he and Knightley are shut up together in deep consultation.--Mr. E. is Knightley's right hand." Emma would not have smiled for the world, and only said, "Is Mr. Elton gone on foot to Donwell?--He will have a hot walk." "Oh! no, it is a meeting at the Crown, a regular meeting. Weston and Cole will be there too; but one is apt to speak only of those who lead.--I fancy Mr. E. and Knightley have every thing their own way." "Have not you mistaken the day?" said Emma. "I am almost certain that the meeting at the Crown is not till to-morrow.--Mr. Knightley was at Hartfield yesterday, and spoke of it as for Saturday." "Oh! no, the meeting is certainly to-day," was the abrupt answer, which denoted the impossibility of any blunder on Mrs. Elton's side.--"I do believe," she continued, "this is the most troublesome parish that ever was. We never heard of such things at Maple Grove." "Your parish there was small," said Jane. "Upon my word, my dear, I do not know, for I never heard the subject talked of." "But it is proved by the smallness of the school, which I have heard you speak of, as under the patronage of your sister and Mrs. Bragge; the only school, and not more than five-and-twenty children." "Ah! you clever creature, that's very true. What a thinking brain you have! I say, Jane, what a perfect character you and I should make, if we could be shaken together. My liveliness and your solidity would produce perfection.--Not that I presume to insinuate, however, that _some_ people may not think _you_ perfection already.--But hush!--not a word, if you please." It seemed an unnecessary caution; Jane was wanting to give her words, not to Mrs. Elton, but to Miss Woodhouse, as the latter plainly saw. The wish of distinguishing her, as far as civility permitted, was very evident, though it could not often proceed beyond a look. Mr. Elton made his appearance. His lady greeted him with some of her sparkling vivacity. "Very pretty, sir, upon my word; to send me on here, to be an encumbrance to my friends, so long before you vouchsafe to come!--But you knew what a dutiful creature you had to deal with. You knew I should not stir till my lord and master appeared.--Here have I been sitting this hour, giving these young ladies a sample of true conjugal obedience--for who can say, you know, how soon it may be wanted?" Mr. Elton was so hot and tired, that all this wit seemed thrown away. His civilities to the other ladies must be paid; but his subsequent object was to lament over himself for the heat he was suffering, and the walk he had had for nothing. "When I got to Donwell," said he, "Knightley could not be found. Very odd! very unaccountable! after the note I sent him this morning, and the message he returned, that he should certainly be at home till one." "Donwell!" cried his wife.--"My dear Mr. E., you have not been to Donwell!--You mean the Crown; you come from the meeting at the Crown." "No, no, that's to-morrow; and I particularly wanted to see Knightley to-day on that very account.--Such a dreadful broiling morning!--I went over the fields too--(speaking in a tone of great ill-usage,) which made it so much the worse. And then not to find him at home! I assure you I am not at all pleased. And no apology left, no message for me. The housekeeper declared she knew nothing of my being expected.--Very extraordinary!--And nobody knew at all which way he was gone. Perhaps to Hartfield, perhaps to the Abbey Mill, perhaps into his woods.--Miss Woodhouse, this is not like our friend Knightley!--Can you explain it?" Emma amused herself by protesting that it was very extraordinary, indeed, and that she had not a syllable to say for him. "I cannot imagine," said Mrs. Elton, (feeling the indignity as a wife ought to do,) "I cannot imagine how he could do such a thing by you, of all people in the world! The very last person whom one should expect to be forgotten!--My dear Mr. E., he must have left a message for you, I am sure he must.--Not even Knightley could be so very eccentric;--and his servants forgot it. Depend upon it, that was the case: and very likely to happen with the Donwell servants, who are all, I have often observed, extremely awkward and remiss.--I am sure I would not have such a creature as his Harry stand at our sideboard for any consideration. And as for Mrs. Hodges, Wright holds her very cheap indeed.--She promised Wright a receipt, and never sent it." "I met William Larkins," continued Mr. Elton, "as I got near the house, and he told me I should not find his master at home, but I did not believe him.--William seemed rather out of humour. He did not know what was come to his master lately, he said, but he could hardly ever get the speech of him. I have nothing to do with William's wants, but it really is of very great importance that _I_ should see Knightley to-day; and it becomes a matter, therefore, of very serious inconvenience that I should have had this hot walk to no purpose." Emma felt that she could not do better than go home directly. In all probability she was at this very time waited for there; and Mr. Knightley might be preserved from sinking deeper in aggression towards Mr. Elton, if not towards William Larkins. She was pleased, on taking leave, to find Miss Fairfax determined to attend her out of the room, to go with her even downstairs; it gave her an opportunity which she immediately made use of, to say, "It is as well, perhaps, that I have not had the possibility. Had you not been surrounded by other friends, I might have been tempted to introduce a subject, to ask questions, to speak more openly than might have been strictly correct.--I feel that I should certainly have been impertinent." "Oh!" cried Jane, with a blush and an hesitation which Emma thought infinitely more becoming to her than all the elegance of all her usual composure--"there would have been no danger. The danger would have been of my wearying you. You could not have gratified me more than by expressing an interest--. Indeed, Miss Woodhouse, (speaking more collectedly,) with the consciousness which I have of misconduct, very great misconduct, it is particularly consoling to me to know that those of my friends, whose good opinion is most worth preserving, are not disgusted to such a degree as to--I have not time for half that I could wish to say. I long to make apologies, excuses, to urge something for myself. I feel it so very due. But, unfortunately--in short, if your compassion does not stand my friend--" "Oh! you are too scrupulous, indeed you are," cried Emma warmly, and taking her hand. "You owe me no apologies; and every body to whom you might be supposed to owe them, is so perfectly satisfied, so delighted even--" "You are very kind, but I know what my manners were to you.--So cold and artificial!--I had always a part to act.--It was a life of deceit!--I know that I must have disgusted you." "Pray say no more. I feel that all the apologies should be on my side. Let us forgive each other at once. We must do whatever is to be done quickest, and I think our feelings will lose no time there. I hope you have pleasant accounts from Windsor?" "Very." "And the next news, I suppose, will be, that we are to lose you--just as I begin to know you." "Oh! as to all that, of course nothing can be thought of yet. I am here till claimed by Colonel and Mrs. Campbell." "Nothing can be actually settled yet, perhaps," replied Emma, smiling--"but, excuse me, it must be thought of." The smile was returned as Jane answered, "You are very right; it has been thought of. And I will own to you, (I am sure it will be safe), that so far as our living with Mr. Churchill at Enscombe, it is settled. There must be three months, at least, of deep mourning; but when they are over, I imagine there will be nothing more to wait for." "Thank you, thank you.--This is just what I wanted to be assured of.--Oh! if you knew how much I love every thing that is decided and open!--Good-bye, good-bye." CHAPTER XVII Mrs. Weston's friends were all made happy by her safety; and if the satisfaction of her well-doing could be increased to Emma, it was by knowing her to be the mother of a little girl. She had been decided in wishing for a Miss Weston. She would not acknowledge that it was with any view of making a match for her, hereafter, with either of Isabella's sons; but she was convinced that a daughter would suit both father and mother best. It would be a great comfort to Mr. Weston, as he grew older--and even Mr. Weston might be growing older ten years hence--to have his fireside enlivened by the sports and the nonsense, the freaks and the fancies of a child never banished from home; and Mrs. Weston--no one could doubt that a daughter would be most to her; and it would be quite a pity that any one who so well knew how to teach, should not have their powers in exercise again. "She has had the advantage, you know, of practising on me," she continued--"like La Baronne d'Almane on La Comtesse d'Ostalis, in Madame de Genlis' Adelaide and Theodore, and we shall now see her own little Adelaide educated on a more perfect plan." "That is," replied Mr. Knightley, "she will indulge her even more than she did you, and believe that she does not indulge her at all. It will be the only difference." "Poor child!" cried Emma; "at that rate, what will become of her?" "Nothing very bad.--The fate of thousands. She will be disagreeable in infancy, and correct herself as she grows older. I am losing all my bitterness against spoilt children, my dearest Emma. I, who am owing all my happiness to _you_, would not it be horrible ingratitude in me to be severe on them?" Emma laughed, and replied: "But I had the assistance of all your endeavours to counteract the indulgence of other people. I doubt whether my own sense would have corrected me without it." "Do you?--I have no doubt. Nature gave

remember

How many times the word 'remember' appears in the text?

what immediately followed of the basis of their disagreement, and his persisting to act in direct opposition to Jane Fairfax's sense of right, he made a fuller pause to say, "This is very bad.--He had induced her to place herself, for his sake, in a situation of extreme difficulty and uneasiness, and it should have been his first object to prevent her from suffering unnecessarily.--She must have had much more to contend with, in carrying on the correspondence, than he could. He should have respected even unreasonable scruples, had there been such; but hers were all reasonable. We must look to her one fault, and remember that she had done a wrong thing in consenting to the engagement, to bear that she should have been in such a state of punishment." Emma knew that he was now getting to the Box Hill party, and grew uncomfortable. Her own behaviour had been so very improper! She was deeply ashamed, and a little afraid of his next look. It was all read, however, steadily, attentively, and without the smallest remark; and, excepting one momentary glance at her, instantly withdrawn, in the fear of giving pain--no remembrance of Box Hill seemed to exist. "There is no saying much for the delicacy of our good friends, the Eltons," was his next observation.--"His feelings are natural.--What! actually resolve to break with him entirely!--She felt the engagement to be a source of repentance and misery to each--she dissolved it.--What a view this gives of her sense of his behaviour!--Well, he must be a most extraordinary--" "Nay, nay, read on.--You will find how very much he suffers." "I hope he does," replied Mr. Knightley coolly, and resuming the letter. "'Smallridge!'--What does this mean? What is all this?" "She had engaged to go as governess to Mrs. Smallridge's children--a dear friend of Mrs. Elton's--a neighbour of Maple Grove; and, by the bye, I wonder how Mrs. Elton bears the disappointment?" "Say nothing, my dear Emma, while you oblige me to read--not even of Mrs. Elton. Only one page more. I shall soon have done. What a letter the man writes!" "I wish you would read it with a kinder spirit towards him." "Well, there _is_ feeling here.--He does seem to have suffered in finding her ill.--Certainly, I can have no doubt of his being fond of her. 'Dearer, much dearer than ever.' I hope he may long continue to feel all the value of such a reconciliation.--He is a very liberal thanker, with his thousands and tens of thousands.--'Happier than I deserve.' Come, he knows himself there. 'Miss Woodhouse calls me the child of good fortune.'--Those were Miss Woodhouse's words, were they?-- And a fine ending--and there is the letter. The child of good fortune! That was your name for him, was it?" "You do not appear so well satisfied with his letter as I am; but still you must, at least I hope you must, think the better of him for it. I hope it does him some service with you." "Yes, certainly it does. He has had great faults, faults of inconsideration and thoughtlessness; and I am very much of his opinion in thinking him likely to be happier than he deserves: but still as he is, beyond a doubt, really attached to Miss Fairfax, and will soon, it may be hoped, have the advantage of being constantly with her, I am very ready to believe his character will improve, and acquire from hers the steadiness and delicacy of principle that it wants. And now, let me talk to you of something else. I have another person's interest at present so much at heart, that I cannot think any longer about Frank Churchill. Ever since I left you this morning, Emma, my mind has been hard at work on one subject." The subject followed; it was in plain, unaffected, gentlemanlike English, such as Mr. Knightley used even to the woman he was in love with, how to be able to ask her to marry him, without attacking the happiness of her father. Emma's answer was ready at the first word. "While her dear father lived, any change of condition must be impossible for her. She could never quit him." Part only of this answer, however, was admitted. The impossibility of her quitting her father, Mr. Knightley felt as strongly as herself; but the inadmissibility of any other change, he could not agree to. He had been thinking it over most deeply, most intently; he had at first hoped to induce Mr. Woodhouse to remove with her to Donwell; he had wanted to believe it feasible, but his knowledge of Mr. Woodhouse would not suffer him to deceive himself long; and now he confessed his persuasion, that such a transplantation would be a risk of her father's comfort, perhaps even of his life, which must not be hazarded. Mr. Woodhouse taken from Hartfield!--No, he felt that it ought not to be attempted. But the plan which had arisen on the sacrifice of this, he trusted his dearest Emma would not find in any respect objectionable; it was, that he should be received at Hartfield; that so long as her father's happiness--in other words, his life--required Hartfield to continue her home, it should be his likewise. Of their all removing to Donwell, Emma had already had her own passing thoughts. Like him, she had tried the scheme and rejected it; but such an alternative as this had not occurred to her. She was sensible of all the affection it evinced. She felt that, in quitting Donwell, he must be sacrificing a great deal of independence of hours and habits; that in living constantly with her father, and in no house of his own, there would be much, very much, to be borne with. She promised to think of it, and advised him to think of it more; but he was fully convinced, that no reflection could alter his wishes or his opinion on the subject. He had given it, he could assure her, very long and calm consideration; he had been walking away from William Larkins the whole morning, to have his thoughts to himself. "Ah! there is one difficulty unprovided for," cried Emma. "I am sure William Larkins will not like it. You must get his consent before you ask mine." She promised, however, to think of it; and pretty nearly promised, moreover, to think of it, with the intention of finding it a very good scheme. It is remarkable, that Emma, in the many, very many, points of view in which she was now beginning to consider Donwell Abbey, was never struck with any sense of injury to her nephew Henry, whose rights as heir-expectant had formerly been so tenaciously regarded. Think she must of the possible difference to the poor little boy; and yet she only gave herself a saucy conscious smile about it, and found amusement in detecting the real cause of that violent dislike of Mr. Knightley's marrying Jane Fairfax, or any body else, which at the time she had wholly imputed to the amiable solicitude of the sister and the aunt. This proposal of his, this plan of marrying and continuing at Hartfield--the more she contemplated it, the more pleasing it became. His evils seemed to lessen, her own advantages to increase, their mutual good to outweigh every drawback. Such a companion for herself in the periods of anxiety and cheerlessness before her!--Such a partner in all those duties and cares to which time must be giving increase of melancholy! She would have been too happy but for poor Harriet; but every blessing of her own seemed to involve and advance the sufferings of her friend, who must now be even excluded from Hartfield. The delightful family party which Emma was securing for herself, poor Harriet must, in mere charitable caution, be kept at a distance from. She would be a loser in every way. Emma could not deplore her future absence as any deduction from her own enjoyment. In such a party, Harriet would be rather a dead weight than otherwise; but for the poor girl herself, it seemed a peculiarly cruel necessity that was to be placing her in such a state of unmerited punishment. In time, of course, Mr. Knightley would be forgotten, that is, supplanted; but this could not be expected to happen very early. Mr. Knightley himself would be doing nothing to assist the cure;--not like Mr. Elton. Mr. Knightley, always so kind, so feeling, so truly considerate for every body, would never deserve to be less worshipped than now; and it really was too much to hope even of Harriet, that she could be in love with more than _three_ men in one year. CHAPTER XVI It was a very great relief to Emma to find Harriet as desirous as herself to avoid a meeting. Their intercourse was painful enough by letter. How much worse, had they been obliged to meet! Harriet expressed herself very much as might be supposed, without reproaches, or apparent sense of ill-usage; and yet Emma fancied there was a something of resentment, a something bordering on it in her style, which increased the desirableness of their being separate.--It might be only her own consciousness; but it seemed as if an angel only could have been quite without resentment under such a stroke. She had no difficulty in procuring Isabella's invitation; and she was fortunate in having a sufficient reason for asking it, without resorting to invention.--There was a tooth amiss. Harriet really wished, and had wished some time, to consult a dentist. Mrs. John Knightley was delighted to be of use; any thing of ill health was a recommendation to her--and though not so fond of a dentist as of a Mr. Wingfield, she was quite eager to have Harriet under her care.--When it was thus settled on her sister's side, Emma proposed it to her friend, and found her very persuadable.--Harriet was to go; she was invited for at least a fortnight; she was to be conveyed in Mr. Woodhouse's carriage.--It was all arranged, it was all completed, and Harriet was safe in Brunswick Square. Now Emma could, indeed, enjoy Mr. Knightley's visits; now she could talk, and she could listen with true happiness, unchecked by that sense of injustice, of guilt, of something most painful, which had haunted her when remembering how disappointed a heart was near her, how much might at that moment, and at a little distance, be enduring by the feelings which she had led astray herself. The difference of Harriet at Mrs. Goddard's, or in London, made perhaps an unreasonable difference in Emma's sensations; but she could not think of her in London without objects of curiosity and employment, which must be averting the past, and carrying her out of herself. She would not allow any other anxiety to succeed directly to the place in her mind which Harriet had occupied. There was a communication before her, one which _she_ only could be competent to make--the confession of her engagement to her father; but she would have nothing to do with it at present.--She had resolved to defer the disclosure till Mrs. Weston were safe and well. No additional agitation should be thrown at this period among those she loved--and the evil should not act on herself by anticipation before the appointed time.--A fortnight, at least, of leisure and peace of mind, to crown every warmer, but more agitating, delight, should be hers. She soon resolved, equally as a duty and a pleasure, to employ half an hour of this holiday of spirits in calling on Miss Fairfax.--She ought to go--and she was longing to see her; the resemblance of their present situations increasing every other motive of goodwill. It would be a _secret_ satisfaction; but the consciousness of a similarity of prospect would certainly add to the interest with which she should attend to any thing Jane might communicate. She went--she had driven once unsuccessfully to the door, but had not been into the house since the morning after Box Hill, when poor Jane had been in such distress as had filled her with compassion, though all the worst of her sufferings had been unsuspected.--The fear of being still unwelcome, determined her, though assured of their being at home, to wait in the passage, and send up her name.--She heard Patty announcing it; but no such bustle succeeded as poor Miss Bates had before made so happily intelligible.--No; she heard nothing but the instant reply of, "Beg her to walk up;"--and a moment afterwards she was met on the stairs by Jane herself, coming eagerly forward, as if no other reception of her were felt sufficient.--Emma had never seen her look so well, so lovely, so engaging. There was consciousness, animation, and warmth; there was every thing which her countenance or manner could ever have wanted.-- She came forward with an offered hand; and said, in a low, but very feeling tone, "This is most kind, indeed!--Miss Woodhouse, it is impossible for me to express--I hope you will believe--Excuse me for being so entirely without words." Emma was gratified, and would soon have shewn no want of words, if the sound of Mrs. Elton's voice from the sitting-room had not checked her, and made it expedient to compress all her friendly and all her congratulatory sensations into a very, very earnest shake of the hand. Mrs. Bates and Mrs. Elton were together. Miss Bates was out, which accounted for the previous tranquillity. Emma could have wished Mrs. Elton elsewhere; but she was in a humour to have patience with every body; and as Mrs. Elton met her with unusual graciousness, she hoped the rencontre would do them no harm. She soon believed herself to penetrate Mrs. Elton's thoughts, and understand why she was, like herself, in happy spirits; it was being in Miss Fairfax's confidence, and fancying herself acquainted with what was still a secret to other people. Emma saw symptoms of it immediately in the expression of her face; and while paying her own compliments to Mrs. Bates, and appearing to attend to the good old lady's replies, she saw her with a sort of anxious parade of mystery fold up a letter which she had apparently been reading aloud to Miss Fairfax, and return it into the purple and gold reticule by her side, saying, with significant nods, "We can finish this some other time, you know. You and I shall not want opportunities. And, in fact, you have heard all the essential already. I only wanted to prove to you that Mrs. S. admits our apology, and is not offended. You see how delightfully she writes. Oh! she is a sweet creature! You would have doated on her, had you gone.--But not a word more. Let us be discreet--quite on our good behaviour.--Hush!--You remember those lines--I forget the poem at this moment: "For when a lady's in the case, "You know all other things give place." Now I say, my dear, in _our_ case, for _lady_, read----mum! a word to the wise.--I am in a fine flow of spirits, an't I? But I want to set your heart at ease as to Mrs. S.--_My_ representation, you see, has quite appeased her." And again, on Emma's merely turning her head to look at Mrs. Bates's knitting, she added, in a half whisper, "I mentioned no _names_, you will observe.--Oh! no; cautious as a minister of state. I managed it extremely well." Emma could not doubt. It was a palpable display, repeated on every possible occasion. When they had all talked a little while in harmony of the weather and Mrs. Weston, she found herself abruptly addressed with, "Do not you think, Miss Woodhouse, our saucy little friend here is charmingly recovered?--Do not you think her cure does Perry the highest credit?--(here was a side-glance of great meaning at Jane.) Upon my word, Perry has restored her in a wonderful short time!--Oh! if you had seen her, as I did, when she was at the worst!"--And when Mrs. Bates was saying something to Emma, whispered farther, "We do not say a word of any _assistance_ that Perry might have; not a word of a certain young physician from Windsor.--Oh! no; Perry shall have all the credit." "I have scarce had the pleasure of seeing you, Miss Woodhouse," she shortly afterwards began, "since the party to Box Hill. Very pleasant party. But yet I think there was something wanting. Things did not seem--that is, there seemed a little cloud upon the spirits of some.--So it appeared to me at least, but I might be mistaken. However, I think it answered so far as to tempt one to go again. What say you both to our collecting the same party, and exploring to Box Hill again, while the fine weather lasts?--It must be the same party, you know, quite the same party, not _one_ exception." Soon after this Miss Bates came in, and Emma could not help being diverted by the perplexity of her first answer to herself, resulting, she supposed, from doubt of what might be said, and impatience to say every thing. "Thank you, dear Miss Woodhouse, you are all kindness.--It is impossible to say--Yes, indeed, I quite understand--dearest Jane's prospects--that is, I do not mean.--But she is charmingly recovered.--How is Mr. Woodhouse?--I am so glad.--Quite out of my power.--Such a happy little circle as you find us here.--Yes, indeed.--Charming young man!--that is--so very friendly; I mean good Mr. Perry!--such attention to Jane!"--And from her great, her more than commonly thankful delight towards Mrs. Elton for being there, Emma guessed that there had been a little show of resentment towards Jane, from the vicarage quarter, which was now graciously overcome.--After a few whispers, indeed, which placed it beyond a guess, Mrs. Elton, speaking louder, said, "Yes, here I am, my good friend; and here I have been so long, that anywhere else I should think it necessary to apologise; but, the truth is, that I am waiting for my lord and master. He promised to join me here, and pay his respects to you." "What! are we to have the pleasure of a call from Mr. Elton?--That will be a favour indeed! for I know gentlemen do not like morning visits, and Mr. Elton's time is so engaged." "Upon my word it is, Miss Bates.--He really is engaged from morning to night.--There is no end of people's coming to him, on some pretence or other.--The magistrates, and overseers, and churchwardens, are always wanting his opinion. They seem not able to do any thing without him.--'Upon my word, Mr. E.,' I often say, 'rather you than I.--I do not know what would become of my crayons and my instrument, if I had half so many applicants.'--Bad enough as it is, for I absolutely neglect them both to an unpardonable degree.--I believe I have not played a bar this fortnight.--However, he is coming, I assure you: yes, indeed, on purpose to wait on you all." And putting up her hand to screen her words from Emma--"A congratulatory visit, you know.--Oh! yes, quite indispensable." Miss Bates looked about her, so happily--! "He promised to come to me as soon as he could disengage himself from Knightley; but he and Knightley are shut up together in deep consultation.--Mr. E. is Knightley's right hand." Emma would not have smiled for the world, and only said, "Is Mr. Elton gone on foot to Donwell?--He will have a hot walk." "Oh! no, it is a meeting at the Crown, a regular meeting. Weston and Cole will be there too; but one is apt to speak only of those who lead.--I fancy Mr. E. and Knightley have every thing their own way." "Have not you mistaken the day?" said Emma. "I am almost certain that the meeting at the Crown is not till to-morrow.--Mr. Knightley was at Hartfield yesterday, and spoke of it as for Saturday." "Oh! no, the meeting is certainly to-day," was the abrupt answer, which denoted the impossibility of any blunder on Mrs. Elton's side.--"I do believe," she continued, "this is the most troublesome parish that ever was. We never heard of such things at Maple Grove." "Your parish there was small," said Jane. "Upon my word, my dear, I do not know, for I never heard the subject talked of." "But it is proved by the smallness of the school, which I have heard you speak of, as under the patronage of your sister and Mrs. Bragge; the only school, and not more than five-and-twenty children." "Ah! you clever creature, that's very true. What a thinking brain you have! I say, Jane, what a perfect character you and I should make, if we could be shaken together. My liveliness and your solidity would produce perfection.--Not that I presume to insinuate, however, that _some_ people may not think _you_ perfection already.--But hush!--not a word, if you please." It seemed an unnecessary caution; Jane was wanting to give her words, not to Mrs. Elton, but to Miss Woodhouse, as the latter plainly saw. The wish of distinguishing her, as far as civility permitted, was very evident, though it could not often proceed beyond a look. Mr. Elton made his appearance. His lady greeted him with some of her sparkling vivacity. "Very pretty, sir, upon my word; to send me on here, to be an encumbrance to my friends, so long before you vouchsafe to come!--But you knew what a dutiful creature you had to deal with. You knew I should not stir till my lord and master appeared.--Here have I been sitting this hour, giving these young ladies a sample of true conjugal obedience--for who can say, you know, how soon it may be wanted?" Mr. Elton was so hot and tired, that all this wit seemed thrown away. His civilities to the other ladies must be paid; but his subsequent object was to lament over himself for the heat he was suffering, and the walk he had had for nothing. "When I got to Donwell," said he, "Knightley could not be found. Very odd! very unaccountable! after the note I sent him this morning, and the message he returned, that he should certainly be at home till one." "Donwell!" cried his wife.--"My dear Mr. E., you have not been to Donwell!--You mean the Crown; you come from the meeting at the Crown." "No, no, that's to-morrow; and I particularly wanted to see Knightley to-day on that very account.--Such a dreadful broiling morning!--I went over the fields too--(speaking in a tone of great ill-usage,) which made it so much the worse. And then not to find him at home! I assure you I am not at all pleased. And no apology left, no message for me. The housekeeper declared she knew nothing of my being expected.--Very extraordinary!--And nobody knew at all which way he was gone. Perhaps to Hartfield, perhaps to the Abbey Mill, perhaps into his woods.--Miss Woodhouse, this is not like our friend Knightley!--Can you explain it?" Emma amused herself by protesting that it was very extraordinary, indeed, and that she had not a syllable to say for him. "I cannot imagine," said Mrs. Elton, (feeling the indignity as a wife ought to do,) "I cannot imagine how he could do such a thing by you, of all people in the world! The very last person whom one should expect to be forgotten!--My dear Mr. E., he must have left a message for you, I am sure he must.--Not even Knightley could be so very eccentric;--and his servants forgot it. Depend upon it, that was the case: and very likely to happen with the Donwell servants, who are all, I have often observed, extremely awkward and remiss.--I am sure I would not have such a creature as his Harry stand at our sideboard for any consideration. And as for Mrs. Hodges, Wright holds her very cheap indeed.--She promised Wright a receipt, and never sent it." "I met William Larkins," continued Mr. Elton, "as I got near the house, and he told me I should not find his master at home, but I did not believe him.--William seemed rather out of humour. He did not know what was come to his master lately, he said, but he could hardly ever get the speech of him. I have nothing to do with William's wants, but it really is of very great importance that _I_ should see Knightley to-day; and it becomes a matter, therefore, of very serious inconvenience that I should have had this hot walk to no purpose." Emma felt that she could not do better than go home directly. In all probability she was at this very time waited for there; and Mr. Knightley might be preserved from sinking deeper in aggression towards Mr. Elton, if not towards William Larkins. She was pleased, on taking leave, to find Miss Fairfax determined to attend her out of the room, to go with her even downstairs; it gave her an opportunity which she immediately made use of, to say, "It is as well, perhaps, that I have not had the possibility. Had you not been surrounded by other friends, I might have been tempted to introduce a subject, to ask questions, to speak more openly than might have been strictly correct.--I feel that I should certainly have been impertinent." "Oh!" cried Jane, with a blush and an hesitation which Emma thought infinitely more becoming to her than all the elegance of all her usual composure--"there would have been no danger. The danger would have been of my wearying you. You could not have gratified me more than by expressing an interest--. Indeed, Miss Woodhouse, (speaking more collectedly,) with the consciousness which I have of misconduct, very great misconduct, it is particularly consoling to me to know that those of my friends, whose good opinion is most worth preserving, are not disgusted to such a degree as to--I have not time for half that I could wish to say. I long to make apologies, excuses, to urge something for myself. I feel it so very due. But, unfortunately--in short, if your compassion does not stand my friend--" "Oh! you are too scrupulous, indeed you are," cried Emma warmly, and taking her hand. "You owe me no apologies; and every body to whom you might be supposed to owe them, is so perfectly satisfied, so delighted even--" "You are very kind, but I know what my manners were to you.--So cold and artificial!--I had always a part to act.--It was a life of deceit!--I know that I must have disgusted you." "Pray say no more. I feel that all the apologies should be on my side. Let us forgive each other at once. We must do whatever is to be done quickest, and I think our feelings will lose no time there. I hope you have pleasant accounts from Windsor?" "Very." "And the next news, I suppose, will be, that we are to lose you--just as I begin to know you." "Oh! as to all that, of course nothing can be thought of yet. I am here till claimed by Colonel and Mrs. Campbell." "Nothing can be actually settled yet, perhaps," replied Emma, smiling--"but, excuse me, it must be thought of." The smile was returned as Jane answered, "You are very right; it has been thought of. And I will own to you, (I am sure it will be safe), that so far as our living with Mr. Churchill at Enscombe, it is settled. There must be three months, at least, of deep mourning; but when they are over, I imagine there will be nothing more to wait for." "Thank you, thank you.--This is just what I wanted to be assured of.--Oh! if you knew how much I love every thing that is decided and open!--Good-bye, good-bye." CHAPTER XVII Mrs. Weston's friends were all made happy by her safety; and if the satisfaction of her well-doing could be increased to Emma, it was by knowing her to be the mother of a little girl. She had been decided in wishing for a Miss Weston. She would not acknowledge that it was with any view of making a match for her, hereafter, with either of Isabella's sons; but she was convinced that a daughter would suit both father and mother best. It would be a great comfort to Mr. Weston, as he grew older--and even Mr. Weston might be growing older ten years hence--to have his fireside enlivened by the sports and the nonsense, the freaks and the fancies of a child never banished from home; and Mrs. Weston--no one could doubt that a daughter would be most to her; and it would be quite a pity that any one who so well knew how to teach, should not have their powers in exercise again. "She has had the advantage, you know, of practising on me," she continued--"like La Baronne d'Almane on La Comtesse d'Ostalis, in Madame de Genlis' Adelaide and Theodore, and we shall now see her own little Adelaide educated on a more perfect plan." "That is," replied Mr. Knightley, "she will indulge her even more than she did you, and believe that she does not indulge her at all. It will be the only difference." "Poor child!" cried Emma; "at that rate, what will become of her?" "Nothing very bad.--The fate of thousands. She will be disagreeable in infancy, and correct herself as she grows older. I am losing all my bitterness against spoilt children, my dearest Emma. I, who am owing all my happiness to _you_, would not it be horrible ingratitude in me to be severe on them?" Emma laughed, and replied: "But I had the assistance of all your endeavours to counteract the indulgence of other people. I doubt whether my own sense would have corrected me without it." "Do you?--I have no doubt. Nature gave

care.--when

How many times the word 'care.--when' appears in the text?

what immediately followed of the basis of their disagreement, and his persisting to act in direct opposition to Jane Fairfax's sense of right, he made a fuller pause to say, "This is very bad.--He had induced her to place herself, for his sake, in a situation of extreme difficulty and uneasiness, and it should have been his first object to prevent her from suffering unnecessarily.--She must have had much more to contend with, in carrying on the correspondence, than he could. He should have respected even unreasonable scruples, had there been such; but hers were all reasonable. We must look to her one fault, and remember that she had done a wrong thing in consenting to the engagement, to bear that she should have been in such a state of punishment." Emma knew that he was now getting to the Box Hill party, and grew uncomfortable. Her own behaviour had been so very improper! She was deeply ashamed, and a little afraid of his next look. It was all read, however, steadily, attentively, and without the smallest remark; and, excepting one momentary glance at her, instantly withdrawn, in the fear of giving pain--no remembrance of Box Hill seemed to exist. "There is no saying much for the delicacy of our good friends, the Eltons," was his next observation.--"His feelings are natural.--What! actually resolve to break with him entirely!--She felt the engagement to be a source of repentance and misery to each--she dissolved it.--What a view this gives of her sense of his behaviour!--Well, he must be a most extraordinary--" "Nay, nay, read on.--You will find how very much he suffers." "I hope he does," replied Mr. Knightley coolly, and resuming the letter. "'Smallridge!'--What does this mean? What is all this?" "She had engaged to go as governess to Mrs. Smallridge's children--a dear friend of Mrs. Elton's--a neighbour of Maple Grove; and, by the bye, I wonder how Mrs. Elton bears the disappointment?" "Say nothing, my dear Emma, while you oblige me to read--not even of Mrs. Elton. Only one page more. I shall soon have done. What a letter the man writes!" "I wish you would read it with a kinder spirit towards him." "Well, there _is_ feeling here.--He does seem to have suffered in finding her ill.--Certainly, I can have no doubt of his being fond of her. 'Dearer, much dearer than ever.' I hope he may long continue to feel all the value of such a reconciliation.--He is a very liberal thanker, with his thousands and tens of thousands.--'Happier than I deserve.' Come, he knows himself there. 'Miss Woodhouse calls me the child of good fortune.'--Those were Miss Woodhouse's words, were they?-- And a fine ending--and there is the letter. The child of good fortune! That was your name for him, was it?" "You do not appear so well satisfied with his letter as I am; but still you must, at least I hope you must, think the better of him for it. I hope it does him some service with you." "Yes, certainly it does. He has had great faults, faults of inconsideration and thoughtlessness; and I am very much of his opinion in thinking him likely to be happier than he deserves: but still as he is, beyond a doubt, really attached to Miss Fairfax, and will soon, it may be hoped, have the advantage of being constantly with her, I am very ready to believe his character will improve, and acquire from hers the steadiness and delicacy of principle that it wants. And now, let me talk to you of something else. I have another person's interest at present so much at heart, that I cannot think any longer about Frank Churchill. Ever since I left you this morning, Emma, my mind has been hard at work on one subject." The subject followed; it was in plain, unaffected, gentlemanlike English, such as Mr. Knightley used even to the woman he was in love with, how to be able to ask her to marry him, without attacking the happiness of her father. Emma's answer was ready at the first word. "While her dear father lived, any change of condition must be impossible for her. She could never quit him." Part only of this answer, however, was admitted. The impossibility of her quitting her father, Mr. Knightley felt as strongly as herself; but the inadmissibility of any other change, he could not agree to. He had been thinking it over most deeply, most intently; he had at first hoped to induce Mr. Woodhouse to remove with her to Donwell; he had wanted to believe it feasible, but his knowledge of Mr. Woodhouse would not suffer him to deceive himself long; and now he confessed his persuasion, that such a transplantation would be a risk of her father's comfort, perhaps even of his life, which must not be hazarded. Mr. Woodhouse taken from Hartfield!--No, he felt that it ought not to be attempted. But the plan which had arisen on the sacrifice of this, he trusted his dearest Emma would not find in any respect objectionable; it was, that he should be received at Hartfield; that so long as her father's happiness--in other words, his life--required Hartfield to continue her home, it should be his likewise. Of their all removing to Donwell, Emma had already had her own passing thoughts. Like him, she had tried the scheme and rejected it; but such an alternative as this had not occurred to her. She was sensible of all the affection it evinced. She felt that, in quitting Donwell, he must be sacrificing a great deal of independence of hours and habits; that in living constantly with her father, and in no house of his own, there would be much, very much, to be borne with. She promised to think of it, and advised him to think of it more; but he was fully convinced, that no reflection could alter his wishes or his opinion on the subject. He had given it, he could assure her, very long and calm consideration; he had been walking away from William Larkins the whole morning, to have his thoughts to himself. "Ah! there is one difficulty unprovided for," cried Emma. "I am sure William Larkins will not like it. You must get his consent before you ask mine." She promised, however, to think of it; and pretty nearly promised, moreover, to think of it, with the intention of finding it a very good scheme. It is remarkable, that Emma, in the many, very many, points of view in which she was now beginning to consider Donwell Abbey, was never struck with any sense of injury to her nephew Henry, whose rights as heir-expectant had formerly been so tenaciously regarded. Think she must of the possible difference to the poor little boy; and yet she only gave herself a saucy conscious smile about it, and found amusement in detecting the real cause of that violent dislike of Mr. Knightley's marrying Jane Fairfax, or any body else, which at the time she had wholly imputed to the amiable solicitude of the sister and the aunt. This proposal of his, this plan of marrying and continuing at Hartfield--the more she contemplated it, the more pleasing it became. His evils seemed to lessen, her own advantages to increase, their mutual good to outweigh every drawback. Such a companion for herself in the periods of anxiety and cheerlessness before her!--Such a partner in all those duties and cares to which time must be giving increase of melancholy! She would have been too happy but for poor Harriet; but every blessing of her own seemed to involve and advance the sufferings of her friend, who must now be even excluded from Hartfield. The delightful family party which Emma was securing for herself, poor Harriet must, in mere charitable caution, be kept at a distance from. She would be a loser in every way. Emma could not deplore her future absence as any deduction from her own enjoyment. In such a party, Harriet would be rather a dead weight than otherwise; but for the poor girl herself, it seemed a peculiarly cruel necessity that was to be placing her in such a state of unmerited punishment. In time, of course, Mr. Knightley would be forgotten, that is, supplanted; but this could not be expected to happen very early. Mr. Knightley himself would be doing nothing to assist the cure;--not like Mr. Elton. Mr. Knightley, always so kind, so feeling, so truly considerate for every body, would never deserve to be less worshipped than now; and it really was too much to hope even of Harriet, that she could be in love with more than _three_ men in one year. CHAPTER XVI It was a very great relief to Emma to find Harriet as desirous as herself to avoid a meeting. Their intercourse was painful enough by letter. How much worse, had they been obliged to meet! Harriet expressed herself very much as might be supposed, without reproaches, or apparent sense of ill-usage; and yet Emma fancied there was a something of resentment, a something bordering on it in her style, which increased the desirableness of their being separate.--It might be only her own consciousness; but it seemed as if an angel only could have been quite without resentment under such a stroke. She had no difficulty in procuring Isabella's invitation; and she was fortunate in having a sufficient reason for asking it, without resorting to invention.--There was a tooth amiss. Harriet really wished, and had wished some time, to consult a dentist. Mrs. John Knightley was delighted to be of use; any thing of ill health was a recommendation to her--and though not so fond of a dentist as of a Mr. Wingfield, she was quite eager to have Harriet under her care.--When it was thus settled on her sister's side, Emma proposed it to her friend, and found her very persuadable.--Harriet was to go; she was invited for at least a fortnight; she was to be conveyed in Mr. Woodhouse's carriage.--It was all arranged, it was all completed, and Harriet was safe in Brunswick Square. Now Emma could, indeed, enjoy Mr. Knightley's visits; now she could talk, and she could listen with true happiness, unchecked by that sense of injustice, of guilt, of something most painful, which had haunted her when remembering how disappointed a heart was near her, how much might at that moment, and at a little distance, be enduring by the feelings which she had led astray herself. The difference of Harriet at Mrs. Goddard's, or in London, made perhaps an unreasonable difference in Emma's sensations; but she could not think of her in London without objects of curiosity and employment, which must be averting the past, and carrying her out of herself. She would not allow any other anxiety to succeed directly to the place in her mind which Harriet had occupied. There was a communication before her, one which _she_ only could be competent to make--the confession of her engagement to her father; but she would have nothing to do with it at present.--She had resolved to defer the disclosure till Mrs. Weston were safe and well. No additional agitation should be thrown at this period among those she loved--and the evil should not act on herself by anticipation before the appointed time.--A fortnight, at least, of leisure and peace of mind, to crown every warmer, but more agitating, delight, should be hers. She soon resolved, equally as a duty and a pleasure, to employ half an hour of this holiday of spirits in calling on Miss Fairfax.--She ought to go--and she was longing to see her; the resemblance of their present situations increasing every other motive of goodwill. It would be a _secret_ satisfaction; but the consciousness of a similarity of prospect would certainly add to the interest with which she should attend to any thing Jane might communicate. She went--she had driven once unsuccessfully to the door, but had not been into the house since the morning after Box Hill, when poor Jane had been in such distress as had filled her with compassion, though all the worst of her sufferings had been unsuspected.--The fear of being still unwelcome, determined her, though assured of their being at home, to wait in the passage, and send up her name.--She heard Patty announcing it; but no such bustle succeeded as poor Miss Bates had before made so happily intelligible.--No; she heard nothing but the instant reply of, "Beg her to walk up;"--and a moment afterwards she was met on the stairs by Jane herself, coming eagerly forward, as if no other reception of her were felt sufficient.--Emma had never seen her look so well, so lovely, so engaging. There was consciousness, animation, and warmth; there was every thing which her countenance or manner could ever have wanted.-- She came forward with an offered hand; and said, in a low, but very feeling tone, "This is most kind, indeed!--Miss Woodhouse, it is impossible for me to express--I hope you will believe--Excuse me for being so entirely without words." Emma was gratified, and would soon have shewn no want of words, if the sound of Mrs. Elton's voice from the sitting-room had not checked her, and made it expedient to compress all her friendly and all her congratulatory sensations into a very, very earnest shake of the hand. Mrs. Bates and Mrs. Elton were together. Miss Bates was out, which accounted for the previous tranquillity. Emma could have wished Mrs. Elton elsewhere; but she was in a humour to have patience with every body; and as Mrs. Elton met her with unusual graciousness, she hoped the rencontre would do them no harm. She soon believed herself to penetrate Mrs. Elton's thoughts, and understand why she was, like herself, in happy spirits; it was being in Miss Fairfax's confidence, and fancying herself acquainted with what was still a secret to other people. Emma saw symptoms of it immediately in the expression of her face; and while paying her own compliments to Mrs. Bates, and appearing to attend to the good old lady's replies, she saw her with a sort of anxious parade of mystery fold up a letter which she had apparently been reading aloud to Miss Fairfax, and return it into the purple and gold reticule by her side, saying, with significant nods, "We can finish this some other time, you know. You and I shall not want opportunities. And, in fact, you have heard all the essential already. I only wanted to prove to you that Mrs. S. admits our apology, and is not offended. You see how delightfully she writes. Oh! she is a sweet creature! You would have doated on her, had you gone.--But not a word more. Let us be discreet--quite on our good behaviour.--Hush!--You remember those lines--I forget the poem at this moment: "For when a lady's in the case, "You know all other things give place." Now I say, my dear, in _our_ case, for _lady_, read----mum! a word to the wise.--I am in a fine flow of spirits, an't I? But I want to set your heart at ease as to Mrs. S.--_My_ representation, you see, has quite appeased her." And again, on Emma's merely turning her head to look at Mrs. Bates's knitting, she added, in a half whisper, "I mentioned no _names_, you will observe.--Oh! no; cautious as a minister of state. I managed it extremely well." Emma could not doubt. It was a palpable display, repeated on every possible occasion. When they had all talked a little while in harmony of the weather and Mrs. Weston, she found herself abruptly addressed with, "Do not you think, Miss Woodhouse, our saucy little friend here is charmingly recovered?--Do not you think her cure does Perry the highest credit?--(here was a side-glance of great meaning at Jane.) Upon my word, Perry has restored her in a wonderful short time!--Oh! if you had seen her, as I did, when she was at the worst!"--And when Mrs. Bates was saying something to Emma, whispered farther, "We do not say a word of any _assistance_ that Perry might have; not a word of a certain young physician from Windsor.--Oh! no; Perry shall have all the credit." "I have scarce had the pleasure of seeing you, Miss Woodhouse," she shortly afterwards began, "since the party to Box Hill. Very pleasant party. But yet I think there was something wanting. Things did not seem--that is, there seemed a little cloud upon the spirits of some.--So it appeared to me at least, but I might be mistaken. However, I think it answered so far as to tempt one to go again. What say you both to our collecting the same party, and exploring to Box Hill again, while the fine weather lasts?--It must be the same party, you know, quite the same party, not _one_ exception." Soon after this Miss Bates came in, and Emma could not help being diverted by the perplexity of her first answer to herself, resulting, she supposed, from doubt of what might be said, and impatience to say every thing. "Thank you, dear Miss Woodhouse, you are all kindness.--It is impossible to say--Yes, indeed, I quite understand--dearest Jane's prospects--that is, I do not mean.--But she is charmingly recovered.--How is Mr. Woodhouse?--I am so glad.--Quite out of my power.--Such a happy little circle as you find us here.--Yes, indeed.--Charming young man!--that is--so very friendly; I mean good Mr. Perry!--such attention to Jane!"--And from her great, her more than commonly thankful delight towards Mrs. Elton for being there, Emma guessed that there had been a little show of resentment towards Jane, from the vicarage quarter, which was now graciously overcome.--After a few whispers, indeed, which placed it beyond a guess, Mrs. Elton, speaking louder, said, "Yes, here I am, my good friend; and here I have been so long, that anywhere else I should think it necessary to apologise; but, the truth is, that I am waiting for my lord and master. He promised to join me here, and pay his respects to you." "What! are we to have the pleasure of a call from Mr. Elton?--That will be a favour indeed! for I know gentlemen do not like morning visits, and Mr. Elton's time is so engaged." "Upon my word it is, Miss Bates.--He really is engaged from morning to night.--There is no end of people's coming to him, on some pretence or other.--The magistrates, and overseers, and churchwardens, are always wanting his opinion. They seem not able to do any thing without him.--'Upon my word, Mr. E.,' I often say, 'rather you than I.--I do not know what would become of my crayons and my instrument, if I had half so many applicants.'--Bad enough as it is, for I absolutely neglect them both to an unpardonable degree.--I believe I have not played a bar this fortnight.--However, he is coming, I assure you: yes, indeed, on purpose to wait on you all." And putting up her hand to screen her words from Emma--"A congratulatory visit, you know.--Oh! yes, quite indispensable." Miss Bates looked about her, so happily--! "He promised to come to me as soon as he could disengage himself from Knightley; but he and Knightley are shut up together in deep consultation.--Mr. E. is Knightley's right hand." Emma would not have smiled for the world, and only said, "Is Mr. Elton gone on foot to Donwell?--He will have a hot walk." "Oh! no, it is a meeting at the Crown, a regular meeting. Weston and Cole will be there too; but one is apt to speak only of those who lead.--I fancy Mr. E. and Knightley have every thing their own way." "Have not you mistaken the day?" said Emma. "I am almost certain that the meeting at the Crown is not till to-morrow.--Mr. Knightley was at Hartfield yesterday, and spoke of it as for Saturday." "Oh! no, the meeting is certainly to-day," was the abrupt answer, which denoted the impossibility of any blunder on Mrs. Elton's side.--"I do believe," she continued, "this is the most troublesome parish that ever was. We never heard of such things at Maple Grove." "Your parish there was small," said Jane. "Upon my word, my dear, I do not know, for I never heard the subject talked of." "But it is proved by the smallness of the school, which I have heard you speak of, as under the patronage of your sister and Mrs. Bragge; the only school, and not more than five-and-twenty children." "Ah! you clever creature, that's very true. What a thinking brain you have! I say, Jane, what a perfect character you and I should make, if we could be shaken together. My liveliness and your solidity would produce perfection.--Not that I presume to insinuate, however, that _some_ people may not think _you_ perfection already.--But hush!--not a word, if you please." It seemed an unnecessary caution; Jane was wanting to give her words, not to Mrs. Elton, but to Miss Woodhouse, as the latter plainly saw. The wish of distinguishing her, as far as civility permitted, was very evident, though it could not often proceed beyond a look. Mr. Elton made his appearance. His lady greeted him with some of her sparkling vivacity. "Very pretty, sir, upon my word; to send me on here, to be an encumbrance to my friends, so long before you vouchsafe to come!--But you knew what a dutiful creature you had to deal with. You knew I should not stir till my lord and master appeared.--Here have I been sitting this hour, giving these young ladies a sample of true conjugal obedience--for who can say, you know, how soon it may be wanted?" Mr. Elton was so hot and tired, that all this wit seemed thrown away. His civilities to the other ladies must be paid; but his subsequent object was to lament over himself for the heat he was suffering, and the walk he had had for nothing. "When I got to Donwell," said he, "Knightley could not be found. Very odd! very unaccountable! after the note I sent him this morning, and the message he returned, that he should certainly be at home till one." "Donwell!" cried his wife.--"My dear Mr. E., you have not been to Donwell!--You mean the Crown; you come from the meeting at the Crown." "No, no, that's to-morrow; and I particularly wanted to see Knightley to-day on that very account.--Such a dreadful broiling morning!--I went over the fields too--(speaking in a tone of great ill-usage,) which made it so much the worse. And then not to find him at home! I assure you I am not at all pleased. And no apology left, no message for me. The housekeeper declared she knew nothing of my being expected.--Very extraordinary!--And nobody knew at all which way he was gone. Perhaps to Hartfield, perhaps to the Abbey Mill, perhaps into his woods.--Miss Woodhouse, this is not like our friend Knightley!--Can you explain it?" Emma amused herself by protesting that it was very extraordinary, indeed, and that she had not a syllable to say for him. "I cannot imagine," said Mrs. Elton, (feeling the indignity as a wife ought to do,) "I cannot imagine how he could do such a thing by you, of all people in the world! The very last person whom one should expect to be forgotten!--My dear Mr. E., he must have left a message for you, I am sure he must.--Not even Knightley could be so very eccentric;--and his servants forgot it. Depend upon it, that was the case: and very likely to happen with the Donwell servants, who are all, I have often observed, extremely awkward and remiss.--I am sure I would not have such a creature as his Harry stand at our sideboard for any consideration. And as for Mrs. Hodges, Wright holds her very cheap indeed.--She promised Wright a receipt, and never sent it." "I met William Larkins," continued Mr. Elton, "as I got near the house, and he told me I should not find his master at home, but I did not believe him.--William seemed rather out of humour. He did not know what was come to his master lately, he said, but he could hardly ever get the speech of him. I have nothing to do with William's wants, but it really is of very great importance that _I_ should see Knightley to-day; and it becomes a matter, therefore, of very serious inconvenience that I should have had this hot walk to no purpose." Emma felt that she could not do better than go home directly. In all probability she was at this very time waited for there; and Mr. Knightley might be preserved from sinking deeper in aggression towards Mr. Elton, if not towards William Larkins. She was pleased, on taking leave, to find Miss Fairfax determined to attend her out of the room, to go with her even downstairs; it gave her an opportunity which she immediately made use of, to say, "It is as well, perhaps, that I have not had the possibility. Had you not been surrounded by other friends, I might have been tempted to introduce a subject, to ask questions, to speak more openly than might have been strictly correct.--I feel that I should certainly have been impertinent." "Oh!" cried Jane, with a blush and an hesitation which Emma thought infinitely more becoming to her than all the elegance of all her usual composure--"there would have been no danger. The danger would have been of my wearying you. You could not have gratified me more than by expressing an interest--. Indeed, Miss Woodhouse, (speaking more collectedly,) with the consciousness which I have of misconduct, very great misconduct, it is particularly consoling to me to know that those of my friends, whose good opinion is most worth preserving, are not disgusted to such a degree as to--I have not time for half that I could wish to say. I long to make apologies, excuses, to urge something for myself. I feel it so very due. But, unfortunately--in short, if your compassion does not stand my friend--" "Oh! you are too scrupulous, indeed you are," cried Emma warmly, and taking her hand. "You owe me no apologies; and every body to whom you might be supposed to owe them, is so perfectly satisfied, so delighted even--" "You are very kind, but I know what my manners were to you.--So cold and artificial!--I had always a part to act.--It was a life of deceit!--I know that I must have disgusted you." "Pray say no more. I feel that all the apologies should be on my side. Let us forgive each other at once. We must do whatever is to be done quickest, and I think our feelings will lose no time there. I hope you have pleasant accounts from Windsor?" "Very." "And the next news, I suppose, will be, that we are to lose you--just as I begin to know you." "Oh! as to all that, of course nothing can be thought of yet. I am here till claimed by Colonel and Mrs. Campbell." "Nothing can be actually settled yet, perhaps," replied Emma, smiling--"but, excuse me, it must be thought of." The smile was returned as Jane answered, "You are very right; it has been thought of. And I will own to you, (I am sure it will be safe), that so far as our living with Mr. Churchill at Enscombe, it is settled. There must be three months, at least, of deep mourning; but when they are over, I imagine there will be nothing more to wait for." "Thank you, thank you.--This is just what I wanted to be assured of.--Oh! if you knew how much I love every thing that is decided and open!--Good-bye, good-bye." CHAPTER XVII Mrs. Weston's friends were all made happy by her safety; and if the satisfaction of her well-doing could be increased to Emma, it was by knowing her to be the mother of a little girl. She had been decided in wishing for a Miss Weston. She would not acknowledge that it was with any view of making a match for her, hereafter, with either of Isabella's sons; but she was convinced that a daughter would suit both father and mother best. It would be a great comfort to Mr. Weston, as he grew older--and even Mr. Weston might be growing older ten years hence--to have his fireside enlivened by the sports and the nonsense, the freaks and the fancies of a child never banished from home; and Mrs. Weston--no one could doubt that a daughter would be most to her; and it would be quite a pity that any one who so well knew how to teach, should not have their powers in exercise again. "She has had the advantage, you know, of practising on me," she continued--"like La Baronne d'Almane on La Comtesse d'Ostalis, in Madame de Genlis' Adelaide and Theodore, and we shall now see her own little Adelaide educated on a more perfect plan." "That is," replied Mr. Knightley, "she will indulge her even more than she did you, and believe that she does not indulge her at all. It will be the only difference." "Poor child!" cried Emma; "at that rate, what will become of her?" "Nothing very bad.--The fate of thousands. She will be disagreeable in infancy, and correct herself as she grows older. I am losing all my bitterness against spoilt children, my dearest Emma. I, who am owing all my happiness to _you_, would not it be horrible ingratitude in me to be severe on them?" Emma laughed, and replied: "But I had the assistance of all your endeavours to counteract the indulgence of other people. I doubt whether my own sense would have corrected me without it." "Do you?--I have no doubt. Nature gave

punishment

How many times the word 'punishment' appears in the text?

what you have to do," said Georgiana, highly diverted. "It is not a matter of fortune, is it? Anybody can do it," rejoined William Price. "I am sure you can, Miss Darcy." "No, indeed; I dislike very much some things I have to do." "But if you found you positively had to do them, and there was no way out, then you would decide to like them, would you not? It would make them so much easier." This was a new idea to Georgiana, and she considered it a little before replying, with a smile: "I am sure there are some things I should never like doing, such as sitting on the back seat of a carriage." "I know that it is disagreeable to some people, but I am sure, if one thought long enough, one could find a way to make it less so," said the young lieutenant, with great earnestness. "For instance"--he considered--"when the window was open the rain and wind would not do so much damage to the feathers in a lady's bonnet as if she were opposite; and at night one could shut one's eyes and imagine one was travelling forwards--it would be difficult to tell the difference." He looked inquiringly at Georgiana, who was so much entertained by his arguments that she said, laughingly: "I was right in calling you fortunate, Mr. Price, for you seemed to have secured a sovereign remedy against all ills. Do tell me how you would console yourself if you slipped down now and broke your leg, so that you could not dance any more for a long time? I should like to know whether your principle always holds good." "Now, Miss Darcy, you are driving me into a corner. I only said if I positively had to do the distasteful thing and there was no way out. I beg to inform you in the plainest language that there is a way out of your suggestion--that is, not to fall and break my leg, and it is the way I mean to adopt. But if such a thing did happen to me, I should certainly try to console myself--as yet I am not quite sure how--yes, I have thought of a method, but I do not think I had better tell you what it is." "He means he would have Kitty to sit beside him and talk to him," thought Georgiana. "I wonder what he would be like if he were ill? He would have just the same merry smile, I believe." Aloud she said: "I am not so strong-minded as you, Mr. Price, I'm afraid. I should never be able to think of any way of consoling myself for a broken leg." "I hope you will never have to endure anything one-twentieth a part disagreeable, Miss Darcy," her partner replied, dropping his gay manner for a moment. "Although it helped me to get through my examinations, even now I cannot think very kindly of it." "Were you--has it actually happened to you?" exclaimed Georgiana, with a horrified face; and she never felt less pleasure at the arrival of a new partner than at that moment. Most unwillingly she placed her arm in his to be led away, wanting far more to hear the history of William Price's misfortune; while the young man, full of concern at having startled her, walked a few steps beside her to say: "It is all right, Miss Darcy, because, you see, that guarantees that it will not happen again to-night." Bingley, who was her partner, asked the name of her companion, and Georgiana told what she knew of him, describing him as Kitty's friend. Bingley recollected having heard of him from Kitty, and pleased with his appearance, and always attracted by a new face, expressed a wish to know him, and Georgiana looked forward to making the introduction when her dances with Bingley should be over. This, however, was not to be. Kitty and Mr. Price were dancing together, and occasionally passed them in the set, when Georgiana could observe her friend's flushed cheek and air of radiant happiness; but at its conclusion they were swept away in a crowd, and Bingley and Georgiana, looking round for chairs, were accosted by Mr. Knightley, with the request to present Mr. and Mrs. Yates, who were anxious to know them. The name was unfamiliar to both, and so were the faces of the couple who approached--Mr. Yates with his usual aspect of complete self-satisfaction, and his wife, a woman of fashion, with a considerable share of good looks, but an expression of countenance from which weariness and impatience were never long absent. The lady fell to Bingley's share, and Georgiana, on her part, learned from Mr. Yates that he had heard her name and wished for the pleasure of her acquaintance, as he had already made that of her brother and sister in Bath. Georgiana replied to inquiries after their health and Colonel Fitzwilliam's, whom, Mr. Yates told her, he knew very well indeed, and he desired to send his compliments to the Colonel, if Miss Darcy should be seeing him. "He is in London, I believe?" Georgiana assented. "Ah, yes, I understood that; and the lady is in town, too, I fancy." Georgiana's look in reply to this was so blank that Mr. Yates, evidently not caring to trust himself in the deep waters of explanation, continued: "Do present him my cordial regards, and say I hope he has forgiven me. I was so unfortunate as to do him a little disservice, but it was easily put right; I saw to that myself. Lady Catherine de Bourgh, I am sure, had made _amende honorable_. You know Lady Catherine, Miss Darcy? Your aunt? Of course, I beg your pardon; I should have recollected. Do, pray, remember me to her, too. You were not in Bath this year, were you? Well, you did not lose much; I have known pleasanter seasons." Georgiana only bowed; Mr. Yates's familiar allusion to Colonel Fitzwilliam had not pleased her, and an instinct, which she had not time to analyse, led her to connect it with her cousin's depressed spirits. The next moment her companion introduced a more welcome subject by saying: "I think I saw you dancing with my young cousin, William Price; a smart young fellow, is he not?" "Is he your cousin?" asked Georgiana, in some surprise. "Yes, or rather, my wife's, through the mother; but we have all known him for years, he seems quite like one of ourselves, and spends half his time at our house when in town. Though I often tell my wife it is no compliment to us, for he is for ever playing with our children; we cannot get him out of the nursery." Georgiana felt that this was just as it should be; Mr. Price's being fond of the children accorded him well with the "merry, kind smile" that was so characteristic of him. She ventured upon an inquiry as to his naval career, and Mr. Yates, who liked nothing better than to be talking either of himself or of those belonging to him, immediately entered upon a description of William's notable conduct at the battle of St. Domingo, and the extraordinary courage he had displayed in the taking of a French ship and in defending the colours of his own. Bingley's attention was caught, and Georgiana was grateful to him for asking questions to prolong the story, and for interpolating expressions of admiration which she felt but could not utter. The more she saw and heard of him, the more delighted she was with the young hero, for such he now appeared to be; and the more she commended Kitty's good sense in bestowing her devotion upon such a worthy object. She looked forward to further opportunities of hearing from Mr. Price's own lips the account of some of his adventures; but recollecting that if events took the much-desired course there would be plenty of such opportunities, she decided that it would be best to employ the remainder of the time which she might spend in his company that evening by discoursing of Kitty, in the hope of gaining some assurance of the strength of his inclinations. He knew her to be Kitty's friend, and the subject of Kitty would naturally become the chief bond between them when they came to know each other a little better. Shortly after supper, William Price claimed her hand for a second time; and at the first interval in the dance long enough for any connected conversation, Georgiana began: "Who is that dancing with Miss Bennet? Do you know, Mr. Price?" "It is a Mr. Churchill, a great friend of the Knightleys. I believe he is rather agreeable, but Miss Bennet tells me she does not like him," replied William Price, laughing. "Why should she not like him, I wonder?" asked Georgiana. "Oh, I hardly know. Just a fancy, I think. He and I had a great set-to here one day--an argument, I mean; and I was fairly worsted--it was about foxhunting, so perhaps I deserved to be; but Miss Bennet very kindly took my side, and was quite vexed with Mr. Churchill when he retired with the honours of war." "Kitty is so loyal to her friends," said Georgiana. "Yes, she is a delightful girl, and Mrs. Knightley, too, is the kindest person imaginable. She has been so good to both my brother and myself, and I have never enjoyed my leave so much." "It must be a very pleasant house to stay in," said Georgiana. "Miss Bennet is very sorry to be going away, I know." "Yes, is it not a pity she has to go? And down to the depths of the country, too. I must not disparage it, Miss Darcy, for I am reminded that it is your home as well; but when people go so far off one is desperately afraid of not seeing them again. You are not leaving town with Miss Bennet, are you?" Georgiana was explaining their respective plans when the summons came for them to rejoin the set; but an interruption soon occurred in the shape of a slight accident. A lady dancing next to William Price, in turning sharply, trod upon her dress, with the result that she slipped and fell upon the polished floor with her foot twisted under her. The young lieutenant sprang forward, lifted her with skillful and gentle touch, and carried her, pale and suffering, to an adjoining room, where Mrs. Knightley and several friends hastened to her aid. A servant was sent for a surgeon, and William Price returned to Georgiana with the news that, pending his arrival, the lady was being treated for what appeared to be a severe sprain. "Poor thing!" said Georgiana, trembling. "I am so sorry for her. It must have caused intense pain. I was afraid she might have broken it." "No, it is bad enough, but fortunately it is not broken; I could perceive that," replied the young man. "You must not prognosticate such sad things, Miss Darcy; you see they very nearly come true." Georgiana looked into his face for enlightenment, then broke into a smile. "Oh, Mr. Price, you are unkind to assume that I was responsible for it. I only suggested a broken leg, and it was you who said it had been a reality in your case. How did it happen? Was it in action?" William led her to a seat, as the incident had unnerved her for more dancing, but could not be persuaded to give a narrative in the style of Mr. Yates; he only laughed and said that it had been about as glorious an affair as falling down in a ball-room. "One of our fellows had foolishly got himself into a very awkward place at the storming of a fort, and I was so stupid as to get in the way of a shower of falling rocks, one of which, when it reached me, decided to stay as close to me as it could; so I was severely reprimanded, and had to spend six weeks in hospital at the very busiest time." Georgiana listened with interest, certain that there was another version of the story which would show her companion up in a different light, and she inquired: "What did you say about examinations?" "Only that I had some books, and a good friend who helped me to the utmost of his power, so that while I was lying by I contrived to work up my subject enough to have scraped through." They talked for some time longer, until William had to go in search of his next partner, while Georgiana was carried off by her hostess, who placed her at a small table to drink coffee with herself and Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. The Gardiners were, of course, no strangers to Georgiana, and she showed the pleasure she felt in meeting them again. "Is it not kind of Mrs. Gardiner to have lent Kitty to me for so long, Miss Darcy?" said Mrs. Knightley. "I feel I can ill spare her now; I shall miss her after the happy time we have had together." Georgiana said what was proper, and Mrs. Gardiner added: "Perhaps she will be able to come to you another year." "Indeed, I hope so. I should like her to come any time; but another year, you know, she may not be so free; the claims of a house of her own may be paramount." "Certainly they may be; but it seems early to anticipate that," said Mrs. Gardiner. "Early? Oh, no, I do not think so. I shall not be at all surprised to be asked to help in buying Kitty's wedding clothes before Christmas," returned Mrs. Knightley, smiling mysteriously. Mrs. Gardiner expressed inquiring surprise, while Georgiana listened with interest for what Mrs. Knightley would say, regarding her as the chief authority in the affair, as far as it had gone. Her hostess proceeded: "It is quite between ourselves, you know, Mrs. Gardiner; I know I am perfectly safe in mentioning it, as you are Kitty's aunt and Miss Darcy her greatest friend; and you can imagine whether it is a pleasure to me to find that two young people in whom I am interested are so much interested in each other." "Undoubtedly," said Mrs. Gardiner; "but pray enlighten me, Mrs. Knightley, as to who the other person is." "You have met him to-night, Mrs. Gardiner, the young naval officer, Mr. Price, whom I introduced to you." Mrs. Gardiner was very anxious to learn more particulars, and Mrs. Knightley gave her full information as to William Price's career and prospects, while as to Kitty, she affirmed she had every reason to believe that both were equally attracted, and that an engagement would shortly be formed between them, subject to the approval of their friends. Mrs. Gardiner agreed that it was very good news if the young man was all Mrs. Knightley believed him, and remarked what a delight it would be to her sister, Mrs. Bennet, who had always wanted Kitty to be settled. "Mr. Price _is_ all we think him, I can assure you; Mr. Knightley will answer for him. But, pray, do not mention a word of this to anyone; let it not go beyond us four; I am most desirous that the affair should pass to its easy and natural conclusion." "I quite understand that, and of course we shall wait until Kitty tells us," said her aunt. "What do you think of it all, Miss Darcy? Has Kitty mentioned the matter to you?" Georgiana replied that she had, and on further questioning owned that she felt sure that if what Mrs. Knightley expected came to pass, it would make Kitty very happy. Mrs. Knightley called upon her to join in commendations of the young man, and this she could sincerely do; and she rose from the table feeling as if everything were settled, and it only remained to congratulate the two persons most concerned. A minute later she met Kitty, flying in search of her. Kitty seized her friend's hand and drew her into a quiet corner of Mrs. Knightley's morning-room, where the two girls could seat themselves on a sofa partly hidden by a screen and be quite secluded. "I wanted so much to see you before I went, Georgiana," began Kitty in an excited undertone. "I thought I should never get to you, and this is my last chance, as we start so early on Friday. Now do tell me what you think of him. You can judge now, cannot you? Is he not delightful? Is he not handsome, and a noble creature? Is he not all I said?" "Yes, indeed, dear Kitty, he is," responded Georgiana, with tender sympathy. "I can quite understand your feelings. I am sure anyone would be very proud to have gained the affection of such a man." "Oh, I am so glad to hear you say so. Do you think I have gained it? Sometimes I think so; sometimes I am not sure. Mrs. Knightley thinks I have." "I know she does; I have heard her say so, and she would not mislead you, Kitty, I am sure. She cares so much for your welfare." "Yes, indeed, she has been very kind. I cannot tell you what I should have done without her. She has done everything, she thinks of everything. To-night, when she was arranging the supper partners, I was standing near him, but not very near, and he had not asked me; I suppose he was waiting to see if he might, as we had already danced together a great deal, and she looked up from her list and said: 'And Mr. Price, I do not think I have put anyone down for you: will you take Miss Bennet?' in that kind way, not to make me feel uncomfortable, as if it had been planned. So he came and offered me his arm with such an air! And, after all, we did not talk much at supper; I was too happy, but when I asked him if he liked my dress, he paid me such an elegant compliment on it--something about a rose." "He is a most agreeable companion," said Georgiana. "I should never tire of hearing him converse. The marvellous adventures he has had! It is like a glimpse of a new world to meet a person who has actually been through those things, and who describes them with such modesty and simplicity. Such a man seldom comes into our quiet lives." "Oh, but they are so horrible, it quite frightens me to hear about them; if I were married to him I would never let him go to sea again, for fear of his coming back without an arm, or a leg, or an eye." "But it is his profession, Kitty." "I know, but it is a horrid profession, the only thing about him that I don't like, except for the uniform, and a man in a black coat looks positively nothing beside him." "Oh, Kitty, as if the uniform mattered! Do not let me hear you talk so foolishly," said Georgiana, really pained. "Well, perhaps it is foolish, but it does make a difference, you know. Bingley has been teasing me half the evening about a young man that he says they have got for me down in the country, whom I shall be sure to like, the Rector of Kympton, I believe. As if I could possibly look at a clergyman after knowing William Price." "Perhaps it is not fair to compare two such different types of men, but Mr. Morland is very nice, Kitty; I am sure you will think so." "I am sure I shall not; I don't want to see him: how can I think anyone nice when I am away from here? Oh, if I could only see Price once more, just once more, to make sure; but as he says, how can one ever see anybody down in the wilds of Derbyshire?" "Kitty, here is the music beginning again, and we shall be asked for," said Georgiana, standing up. "Do not be unhappy or over-anxious about this, and do not show too much what you feel, for I am sure it will all come out right if you have patience." "Do you really think it is so? That is such a comfort; but I wish he had spoken to-night. Mrs. Knightley thought he would." "Dear Kitty, whenever it comes, I wish you all the happiness in the world; write to me very fully, and, as I said, have patience and self-command. Now we really ought to go." Kitty pressed her friend's hand, and Georgiana tried to calm her as they walked back to the ball-room, by talking on indifferent topics, for she feared the girl's burning cheeks and nervous manner would betray her agitation and its cause. Miss Bingley met them as they entered the room, and asked Georgiana if she was ready to go, as Mrs. Hurst seemed inclined for it. "Yes, I am quite ready," said Georgiana. "I think I am engaged to Mr. Bingley for another dance, but he will not mind missing it." "Charles is over there, talking to Mr. Price, but I have told him we want to go, so he will be expecting us," said Miss Bingley, and led the way across the room, Kitty not unnaturally following. Mr. Bingley welcomed them warmly, calling out: "Here, Kitty, come and add your entreaties to mine. I want this young gentleman to come down to Desborough and shoot our pheasants in November, but he is not sure if he can manage it; I never heard such nonsense. If anyone is entitled to ask for leave when he wants it, I should think he is." Kitty was rendered perfectly incapable of speech for the first moment after hearing these words; never had a wish been so suddenly and gloriously placed in the way of accomplishment; but she found an unexpected ally in Miss Bingley, who supported her brother's invitation, having, like him, been attracted by the young lieutenant's agreeable demeanour and high reputation. William Price stood still, looking diffidently from one to another, and expressing in disjointed sentences his gratitude, his uncertainty, and his extreme pleasure should he be able to accept. Mr. Bingley exerted all his powers of persuasion, and Kitty's bright eyes shot glances not less eloquent. Georgiana turned a little away, feeling suddenly very tired and spiritless, and Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, who came up at that moment, remarked on it. "Georgiana tired?" exclaimed Bingley; "then let us go at once. You are not used to these late hours, and I don't know what Mrs. Darcy will say to me if I take them a poor account of you. We are all neighbours in the country, you know, Mr. Price. Then that is settled? You will come to us if you can possibly get away, and I hope nothing will prevent it. You do not expect to receive the command of the Mediterranean squadron, do you?" "No, sir," replied William, laughing, "neither that nor any other command this year, I am afraid." "Well, well, I wish you luck. Shall I see you again before I leave town?" William was beginning to reply negatively, when Miss Bingley, who was leading the whole party towards the cloak-room, turned and asked Mr. Price if he would not come and see them some time in Grosvenor Street. She called on her sister to ratify the invitation, which Mrs. Hurst did, and it was courteously accepted. There followed a confusion of good-byes and a getting of cloaks, and the three ladies were placed in the coach while the two gentlemen prepared to walk. Georgiana had warmly embraced Kitty at parting, and had intimated that she knew how much the arrangement by Bingley meant to her friend; and her last impression of Mrs. Knightley's ball was of William Price waving farewell in the doorway and then ascending the steps to where Kitty awaited him in the vestibule. Chapter X Colonel Fitzwilliam had come to London because he thought it was the place where he would be most likely to meet Miss Crawford again, and he had taken up literary work merely to pass away the time until that longed-for event should occur. Two months had elapsed before he heard of her arrival, with her sister, but it was not many days after that he contrived to be present at the house of a mutual friend, where he knew her to be expected. Her manner of greeting him on this occasion was not free from embarrassment; it was neither cordial nor unfriendly, and so brief was the encounter that he could discover but little from it of the state of her mind towards him. Another casual meeting seemed to promise more hopefully, but hardly had they exchanged a few sentences when the appearance of Sir Walter and Miss Elliot turned the conversation into channels more congenial to the new-comers, and Colonel Fitzwilliam was forced to stand aside and see Miss Crawford taken possession of without any semblance of unwillingness on her part. He then devoted himself to Mrs. Grant, and tried to propose an expedition, a theatre party, but that lady hesitatingly replied that she could arrange nothing without her sister. Colonel Fitzwilliam applied for permission to call, which was readily accorded, but on availing himself of it the following day only learned that the ladies were gone to Richmond with a party. The manservant obliged him, unasked, with the information that it was Mr. Crawford's party, and the Colonel was left to speculate gloomily on the chances of Sir Walter Elliot being one of the number, and what was of greater import whether, if it was so, it was with Miss Crawford's approval. He had gone to call on the Hursts after leaving Mrs. Grant's house, and had not again seen the object of his thoughts and hopes, when, a few days later, he directed his steps towards Mrs. Annesley's residence in Hans Place. He could scarcely believe it was but three months since the severance of his engagement with Georgiana, it seemed to have retreated so far into the background of events, but he had pondered earnestly over their interview in Grosvenor Street, and from her demeanour had concluded that his presence was not objectionable to her, so that any further meeting might help to re-establish their old cousinly relations, a result which their friends would rejoice in. It was therefore with a tolerably easy mind that was ushered into the presence of the two ladies, and found Georgiana in great good looks and far less shy and confused than on the previous occasion; indeed, in a few moments any awkwardness between them seemed to have quite melted away, and she was readily answering his questions about Mrs. Knightley's ball. "It certainly seems to have been a great success, for I never knew you so enthusiastic about a ball before, Georgiana," said her cousin, smiling. "It was better than the Bath assemblies, I gather?" "Oh--Bath!" exclaimed Georgiana, with a note of contempt in her voice which spoke volumes. "You laugh at me, Cousin Robert, but it was a beautiful ball. Even Mr. Bingley said so, and he must have been to a great number." "Hundreds, if not thousands, I should think," returned her cousin. "Bingley's shoemaker must have made a fortune. But who were the partners who contributed to such enjoyment? for they are usually the really important part. Two Mr. Prices you have mentioned, Captain Carter and Mr. Dixon; who else?" "Oh, I forget who else; Mr. Hurst and Mr. Bingley, of course, and Mr. Knightley, but he was very grave and terrible, I was almost too frightened to move, and Mr. Gardiner, and then there was Mr. Yates, but I did not dance with him. Do you remember him, Cousin Robert? he said he knew you at Bath." Georgiana had been so disagreeably struck by Mr. Yates's way of speaking of her relatives whom he had met, that she had not intended to mention it to Colonel Fitzwilliam, but the rest of his talk had eradicated his first impression, and she had unguardedly given utterance to his name. Fruitless regret and vexation overcame her when, glancing up at her cousin, she perceived his countenance darken, and noted the change in his voice as he replied, with an effort: "Yes, we did meet in Bath, but not in the pleasantest of circumstances. Mr. Yates may be a more agreeable man away from the companions he then had." "I do not think he was particularly agreeable," said Georgiana, falteringly, "but I thought--he appeared to me to be an interesting talker." "Yes, that is quite his line; if Yates can do nothing else he can certainly use his tongue," replied Colonel Fitzwilliam, not without bitterness. "But do not let us concern ourselves with him, Georgiana; what about the walk in Kensington Gardens that we had thought of? Will Mrs. Annesley very kindly let me escort you both there this delightfully fine morning?" Mrs. Annesley willingly acceded, and the two ladies having attired themselves, a hackney coach was called, which conveyed them a mile on their way towards Kensington Place. Georgiana was somewhat silent during the drive. She did not wish to speculate on her cousin's private affairs, but having been the innocent cause of recalling painful thoughts to him inevitably produced the wish to atone, to help; and she found herself wondering, while trying not to wonder, what could possibly be the connection between Mr. Yates, Cousin Robert and a lady in Bath now said to be in London. To be sure, it was none of her business, she had no right to wish to know, and yet

morrow

How many times the word 'morrow' appears in the text?

what you have to do," said Georgiana, highly diverted. "It is not a matter of fortune, is it? Anybody can do it," rejoined William Price. "I am sure you can, Miss Darcy." "No, indeed; I dislike very much some things I have to do." "But if you found you positively had to do them, and there was no way out, then you would decide to like them, would you not? It would make them so much easier." This was a new idea to Georgiana, and she considered it a little before replying, with a smile: "I am sure there are some things I should never like doing, such as sitting on the back seat of a carriage." "I know that it is disagreeable to some people, but I am sure, if one thought long enough, one could find a way to make it less so," said the young lieutenant, with great earnestness. "For instance"--he considered--"when the window was open the rain and wind would not do so much damage to the feathers in a lady's bonnet as if she were opposite; and at night one could shut one's eyes and imagine one was travelling forwards--it would be difficult to tell the difference." He looked inquiringly at Georgiana, who was so much entertained by his arguments that she said, laughingly: "I was right in calling you fortunate, Mr. Price, for you seemed to have secured a sovereign remedy against all ills. Do tell me how you would console yourself if you slipped down now and broke your leg, so that you could not dance any more for a long time? I should like to know whether your principle always holds good." "Now, Miss Darcy, you are driving me into a corner. I only said if I positively had to do the distasteful thing and there was no way out. I beg to inform you in the plainest language that there is a way out of your suggestion--that is, not to fall and break my leg, and it is the way I mean to adopt. But if such a thing did happen to me, I should certainly try to console myself--as yet I am not quite sure how--yes, I have thought of a method, but I do not think I had better tell you what it is." "He means he would have Kitty to sit beside him and talk to him," thought Georgiana. "I wonder what he would be like if he were ill? He would have just the same merry smile, I believe." Aloud she said: "I am not so strong-minded as you, Mr. Price, I'm afraid. I should never be able to think of any way of consoling myself for a broken leg." "I hope you will never have to endure anything one-twentieth a part disagreeable, Miss Darcy," her partner replied, dropping his gay manner for a moment. "Although it helped me to get through my examinations, even now I cannot think very kindly of it." "Were you--has it actually happened to you?" exclaimed Georgiana, with a horrified face; and she never felt less pleasure at the arrival of a new partner than at that moment. Most unwillingly she placed her arm in his to be led away, wanting far more to hear the history of William Price's misfortune; while the young man, full of concern at having startled her, walked a few steps beside her to say: "It is all right, Miss Darcy, because, you see, that guarantees that it will not happen again to-night." Bingley, who was her partner, asked the name of her companion, and Georgiana told what she knew of him, describing him as Kitty's friend. Bingley recollected having heard of him from Kitty, and pleased with his appearance, and always attracted by a new face, expressed a wish to know him, and Georgiana looked forward to making the introduction when her dances with Bingley should be over. This, however, was not to be. Kitty and Mr. Price were dancing together, and occasionally passed them in the set, when Georgiana could observe her friend's flushed cheek and air of radiant happiness; but at its conclusion they were swept away in a crowd, and Bingley and Georgiana, looking round for chairs, were accosted by Mr. Knightley, with the request to present Mr. and Mrs. Yates, who were anxious to know them. The name was unfamiliar to both, and so were the faces of the couple who approached--Mr. Yates with his usual aspect of complete self-satisfaction, and his wife, a woman of fashion, with a considerable share of good looks, but an expression of countenance from which weariness and impatience were never long absent. The lady fell to Bingley's share, and Georgiana, on her part, learned from Mr. Yates that he had heard her name and wished for the pleasure of her acquaintance, as he had already made that of her brother and sister in Bath. Georgiana replied to inquiries after their health and Colonel Fitzwilliam's, whom, Mr. Yates told her, he knew very well indeed, and he desired to send his compliments to the Colonel, if Miss Darcy should be seeing him. "He is in London, I believe?" Georgiana assented. "Ah, yes, I understood that; and the lady is in town, too, I fancy." Georgiana's look in reply to this was so blank that Mr. Yates, evidently not caring to trust himself in the deep waters of explanation, continued: "Do present him my cordial regards, and say I hope he has forgiven me. I was so unfortunate as to do him a little disservice, but it was easily put right; I saw to that myself. Lady Catherine de Bourgh, I am sure, had made _amende honorable_. You know Lady Catherine, Miss Darcy? Your aunt? Of course, I beg your pardon; I should have recollected. Do, pray, remember me to her, too. You were not in Bath this year, were you? Well, you did not lose much; I have known pleasanter seasons." Georgiana only bowed; Mr. Yates's familiar allusion to Colonel Fitzwilliam had not pleased her, and an instinct, which she had not time to analyse, led her to connect it with her cousin's depressed spirits. The next moment her companion introduced a more welcome subject by saying: "I think I saw you dancing with my young cousin, William Price; a smart young fellow, is he not?" "Is he your cousin?" asked Georgiana, in some surprise. "Yes, or rather, my wife's, through the mother; but we have all known him for years, he seems quite like one of ourselves, and spends half his time at our house when in town. Though I often tell my wife it is no compliment to us, for he is for ever playing with our children; we cannot get him out of the nursery." Georgiana felt that this was just as it should be; Mr. Price's being fond of the children accorded him well with the "merry, kind smile" that was so characteristic of him. She ventured upon an inquiry as to his naval career, and Mr. Yates, who liked nothing better than to be talking either of himself or of those belonging to him, immediately entered upon a description of William's notable conduct at the battle of St. Domingo, and the extraordinary courage he had displayed in the taking of a French ship and in defending the colours of his own. Bingley's attention was caught, and Georgiana was grateful to him for asking questions to prolong the story, and for interpolating expressions of admiration which she felt but could not utter. The more she saw and heard of him, the more delighted she was with the young hero, for such he now appeared to be; and the more she commended Kitty's good sense in bestowing her devotion upon such a worthy object. She looked forward to further opportunities of hearing from Mr. Price's own lips the account of some of his adventures; but recollecting that if events took the much-desired course there would be plenty of such opportunities, she decided that it would be best to employ the remainder of the time which she might spend in his company that evening by discoursing of Kitty, in the hope of gaining some assurance of the strength of his inclinations. He knew her to be Kitty's friend, and the subject of Kitty would naturally become the chief bond between them when they came to know each other a little better. Shortly after supper, William Price claimed her hand for a second time; and at the first interval in the dance long enough for any connected conversation, Georgiana began: "Who is that dancing with Miss Bennet? Do you know, Mr. Price?" "It is a Mr. Churchill, a great friend of the Knightleys. I believe he is rather agreeable, but Miss Bennet tells me she does not like him," replied William Price, laughing. "Why should she not like him, I wonder?" asked Georgiana. "Oh, I hardly know. Just a fancy, I think. He and I had a great set-to here one day--an argument, I mean; and I was fairly worsted--it was about foxhunting, so perhaps I deserved to be; but Miss Bennet very kindly took my side, and was quite vexed with Mr. Churchill when he retired with the honours of war." "Kitty is so loyal to her friends," said Georgiana. "Yes, she is a delightful girl, and Mrs. Knightley, too, is the kindest person imaginable. She has been so good to both my brother and myself, and I have never enjoyed my leave so much." "It must be a very pleasant house to stay in," said Georgiana. "Miss Bennet is very sorry to be going away, I know." "Yes, is it not a pity she has to go? And down to the depths of the country, too. I must not disparage it, Miss Darcy, for I am reminded that it is your home as well; but when people go so far off one is desperately afraid of not seeing them again. You are not leaving town with Miss Bennet, are you?" Georgiana was explaining their respective plans when the summons came for them to rejoin the set; but an interruption soon occurred in the shape of a slight accident. A lady dancing next to William Price, in turning sharply, trod upon her dress, with the result that she slipped and fell upon the polished floor with her foot twisted under her. The young lieutenant sprang forward, lifted her with skillful and gentle touch, and carried her, pale and suffering, to an adjoining room, where Mrs. Knightley and several friends hastened to her aid. A servant was sent for a surgeon, and William Price returned to Georgiana with the news that, pending his arrival, the lady was being treated for what appeared to be a severe sprain. "Poor thing!" said Georgiana, trembling. "I am so sorry for her. It must have caused intense pain. I was afraid she might have broken it." "No, it is bad enough, but fortunately it is not broken; I could perceive that," replied the young man. "You must not prognosticate such sad things, Miss Darcy; you see they very nearly come true." Georgiana looked into his face for enlightenment, then broke into a smile. "Oh, Mr. Price, you are unkind to assume that I was responsible for it. I only suggested a broken leg, and it was you who said it had been a reality in your case. How did it happen? Was it in action?" William led her to a seat, as the incident had unnerved her for more dancing, but could not be persuaded to give a narrative in the style of Mr. Yates; he only laughed and said that it had been about as glorious an affair as falling down in a ball-room. "One of our fellows had foolishly got himself into a very awkward place at the storming of a fort, and I was so stupid as to get in the way of a shower of falling rocks, one of which, when it reached me, decided to stay as close to me as it could; so I was severely reprimanded, and had to spend six weeks in hospital at the very busiest time." Georgiana listened with interest, certain that there was another version of the story which would show her companion up in a different light, and she inquired: "What did you say about examinations?" "Only that I had some books, and a good friend who helped me to the utmost of his power, so that while I was lying by I contrived to work up my subject enough to have scraped through." They talked for some time longer, until William had to go in search of his next partner, while Georgiana was carried off by her hostess, who placed her at a small table to drink coffee with herself and Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. The Gardiners were, of course, no strangers to Georgiana, and she showed the pleasure she felt in meeting them again. "Is it not kind of Mrs. Gardiner to have lent Kitty to me for so long, Miss Darcy?" said Mrs. Knightley. "I feel I can ill spare her now; I shall miss her after the happy time we have had together." Georgiana said what was proper, and Mrs. Gardiner added: "Perhaps she will be able to come to you another year." "Indeed, I hope so. I should like her to come any time; but another year, you know, she may not be so free; the claims of a house of her own may be paramount." "Certainly they may be; but it seems early to anticipate that," said Mrs. Gardiner. "Early? Oh, no, I do not think so. I shall not be at all surprised to be asked to help in buying Kitty's wedding clothes before Christmas," returned Mrs. Knightley, smiling mysteriously. Mrs. Gardiner expressed inquiring surprise, while Georgiana listened with interest for what Mrs. Knightley would say, regarding her as the chief authority in the affair, as far as it had gone. Her hostess proceeded: "It is quite between ourselves, you know, Mrs. Gardiner; I know I am perfectly safe in mentioning it, as you are Kitty's aunt and Miss Darcy her greatest friend; and you can imagine whether it is a pleasure to me to find that two young people in whom I am interested are so much interested in each other." "Undoubtedly," said Mrs. Gardiner; "but pray enlighten me, Mrs. Knightley, as to who the other person is." "You have met him to-night, Mrs. Gardiner, the young naval officer, Mr. Price, whom I introduced to you." Mrs. Gardiner was very anxious to learn more particulars, and Mrs. Knightley gave her full information as to William Price's career and prospects, while as to Kitty, she affirmed she had every reason to believe that both were equally attracted, and that an engagement would shortly be formed between them, subject to the approval of their friends. Mrs. Gardiner agreed that it was very good news if the young man was all Mrs. Knightley believed him, and remarked what a delight it would be to her sister, Mrs. Bennet, who had always wanted Kitty to be settled. "Mr. Price _is_ all we think him, I can assure you; Mr. Knightley will answer for him. But, pray, do not mention a word of this to anyone; let it not go beyond us four; I am most desirous that the affair should pass to its easy and natural conclusion." "I quite understand that, and of course we shall wait until Kitty tells us," said her aunt. "What do you think of it all, Miss Darcy? Has Kitty mentioned the matter to you?" Georgiana replied that she had, and on further questioning owned that she felt sure that if what Mrs. Knightley expected came to pass, it would make Kitty very happy. Mrs. Knightley called upon her to join in commendations of the young man, and this she could sincerely do; and she rose from the table feeling as if everything were settled, and it only remained to congratulate the two persons most concerned. A minute later she met Kitty, flying in search of her. Kitty seized her friend's hand and drew her into a quiet corner of Mrs. Knightley's morning-room, where the two girls could seat themselves on a sofa partly hidden by a screen and be quite secluded. "I wanted so much to see you before I went, Georgiana," began Kitty in an excited undertone. "I thought I should never get to you, and this is my last chance, as we start so early on Friday. Now do tell me what you think of him. You can judge now, cannot you? Is he not delightful? Is he not handsome, and a noble creature? Is he not all I said?" "Yes, indeed, dear Kitty, he is," responded Georgiana, with tender sympathy. "I can quite understand your feelings. I am sure anyone would be very proud to have gained the affection of such a man." "Oh, I am so glad to hear you say so. Do you think I have gained it? Sometimes I think so; sometimes I am not sure. Mrs. Knightley thinks I have." "I know she does; I have heard her say so, and she would not mislead you, Kitty, I am sure. She cares so much for your welfare." "Yes, indeed, she has been very kind. I cannot tell you what I should have done without her. She has done everything, she thinks of everything. To-night, when she was arranging the supper partners, I was standing near him, but not very near, and he had not asked me; I suppose he was waiting to see if he might, as we had already danced together a great deal, and she looked up from her list and said: 'And Mr. Price, I do not think I have put anyone down for you: will you take Miss Bennet?' in that kind way, not to make me feel uncomfortable, as if it had been planned. So he came and offered me his arm with such an air! And, after all, we did not talk much at supper; I was too happy, but when I asked him if he liked my dress, he paid me such an elegant compliment on it--something about a rose." "He is a most agreeable companion," said Georgiana. "I should never tire of hearing him converse. The marvellous adventures he has had! It is like a glimpse of a new world to meet a person who has actually been through those things, and who describes them with such modesty and simplicity. Such a man seldom comes into our quiet lives." "Oh, but they are so horrible, it quite frightens me to hear about them; if I were married to him I would never let him go to sea again, for fear of his coming back without an arm, or a leg, or an eye." "But it is his profession, Kitty." "I know, but it is a horrid profession, the only thing about him that I don't like, except for the uniform, and a man in a black coat looks positively nothing beside him." "Oh, Kitty, as if the uniform mattered! Do not let me hear you talk so foolishly," said Georgiana, really pained. "Well, perhaps it is foolish, but it does make a difference, you know. Bingley has been teasing me half the evening about a young man that he says they have got for me down in the country, whom I shall be sure to like, the Rector of Kympton, I believe. As if I could possibly look at a clergyman after knowing William Price." "Perhaps it is not fair to compare two such different types of men, but Mr. Morland is very nice, Kitty; I am sure you will think so." "I am sure I shall not; I don't want to see him: how can I think anyone nice when I am away from here? Oh, if I could only see Price once more, just once more, to make sure; but as he says, how can one ever see anybody down in the wilds of Derbyshire?" "Kitty, here is the music beginning again, and we shall be asked for," said Georgiana, standing up. "Do not be unhappy or over-anxious about this, and do not show too much what you feel, for I am sure it will all come out right if you have patience." "Do you really think it is so? That is such a comfort; but I wish he had spoken to-night. Mrs. Knightley thought he would." "Dear Kitty, whenever it comes, I wish you all the happiness in the world; write to me very fully, and, as I said, have patience and self-command. Now we really ought to go." Kitty pressed her friend's hand, and Georgiana tried to calm her as they walked back to the ball-room, by talking on indifferent topics, for she feared the girl's burning cheeks and nervous manner would betray her agitation and its cause. Miss Bingley met them as they entered the room, and asked Georgiana if she was ready to go, as Mrs. Hurst seemed inclined for it. "Yes, I am quite ready," said Georgiana. "I think I am engaged to Mr. Bingley for another dance, but he will not mind missing it." "Charles is over there, talking to Mr. Price, but I have told him we want to go, so he will be expecting us," said Miss Bingley, and led the way across the room, Kitty not unnaturally following. Mr. Bingley welcomed them warmly, calling out: "Here, Kitty, come and add your entreaties to mine. I want this young gentleman to come down to Desborough and shoot our pheasants in November, but he is not sure if he can manage it; I never heard such nonsense. If anyone is entitled to ask for leave when he wants it, I should think he is." Kitty was rendered perfectly incapable of speech for the first moment after hearing these words; never had a wish been so suddenly and gloriously placed in the way of accomplishment; but she found an unexpected ally in Miss Bingley, who supported her brother's invitation, having, like him, been attracted by the young lieutenant's agreeable demeanour and high reputation. William Price stood still, looking diffidently from one to another, and expressing in disjointed sentences his gratitude, his uncertainty, and his extreme pleasure should he be able to accept. Mr. Bingley exerted all his powers of persuasion, and Kitty's bright eyes shot glances not less eloquent. Georgiana turned a little away, feeling suddenly very tired and spiritless, and Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, who came up at that moment, remarked on it. "Georgiana tired?" exclaimed Bingley; "then let us go at once. You are not used to these late hours, and I don't know what Mrs. Darcy will say to me if I take them a poor account of you. We are all neighbours in the country, you know, Mr. Price. Then that is settled? You will come to us if you can possibly get away, and I hope nothing will prevent it. You do not expect to receive the command of the Mediterranean squadron, do you?" "No, sir," replied William, laughing, "neither that nor any other command this year, I am afraid." "Well, well, I wish you luck. Shall I see you again before I leave town?" William was beginning to reply negatively, when Miss Bingley, who was leading the whole party towards the cloak-room, turned and asked Mr. Price if he would not come and see them some time in Grosvenor Street. She called on her sister to ratify the invitation, which Mrs. Hurst did, and it was courteously accepted. There followed a confusion of good-byes and a getting of cloaks, and the three ladies were placed in the coach while the two gentlemen prepared to walk. Georgiana had warmly embraced Kitty at parting, and had intimated that she knew how much the arrangement by Bingley meant to her friend; and her last impression of Mrs. Knightley's ball was of William Price waving farewell in the doorway and then ascending the steps to where Kitty awaited him in the vestibule. Chapter X Colonel Fitzwilliam had come to London because he thought it was the place where he would be most likely to meet Miss Crawford again, and he had taken up literary work merely to pass away the time until that longed-for event should occur. Two months had elapsed before he heard of her arrival, with her sister, but it was not many days after that he contrived to be present at the house of a mutual friend, where he knew her to be expected. Her manner of greeting him on this occasion was not free from embarrassment; it was neither cordial nor unfriendly, and so brief was the encounter that he could discover but little from it of the state of her mind towards him. Another casual meeting seemed to promise more hopefully, but hardly had they exchanged a few sentences when the appearance of Sir Walter and Miss Elliot turned the conversation into channels more congenial to the new-comers, and Colonel Fitzwilliam was forced to stand aside and see Miss Crawford taken possession of without any semblance of unwillingness on her part. He then devoted himself to Mrs. Grant, and tried to propose an expedition, a theatre party, but that lady hesitatingly replied that she could arrange nothing without her sister. Colonel Fitzwilliam applied for permission to call, which was readily accorded, but on availing himself of it the following day only learned that the ladies were gone to Richmond with a party. The manservant obliged him, unasked, with the information that it was Mr. Crawford's party, and the Colonel was left to speculate gloomily on the chances of Sir Walter Elliot being one of the number, and what was of greater import whether, if it was so, it was with Miss Crawford's approval. He had gone to call on the Hursts after leaving Mrs. Grant's house, and had not again seen the object of his thoughts and hopes, when, a few days later, he directed his steps towards Mrs. Annesley's residence in Hans Place. He could scarcely believe it was but three months since the severance of his engagement with Georgiana, it seemed to have retreated so far into the background of events, but he had pondered earnestly over their interview in Grosvenor Street, and from her demeanour had concluded that his presence was not objectionable to her, so that any further meeting might help to re-establish their old cousinly relations, a result which their friends would rejoice in. It was therefore with a tolerably easy mind that was ushered into the presence of the two ladies, and found Georgiana in great good looks and far less shy and confused than on the previous occasion; indeed, in a few moments any awkwardness between them seemed to have quite melted away, and she was readily answering his questions about Mrs. Knightley's ball. "It certainly seems to have been a great success, for I never knew you so enthusiastic about a ball before, Georgiana," said her cousin, smiling. "It was better than the Bath assemblies, I gather?" "Oh--Bath!" exclaimed Georgiana, with a note of contempt in her voice which spoke volumes. "You laugh at me, Cousin Robert, but it was a beautiful ball. Even Mr. Bingley said so, and he must have been to a great number." "Hundreds, if not thousands, I should think," returned her cousin. "Bingley's shoemaker must have made a fortune. But who were the partners who contributed to such enjoyment? for they are usually the really important part. Two Mr. Prices you have mentioned, Captain Carter and Mr. Dixon; who else?" "Oh, I forget who else; Mr. Hurst and Mr. Bingley, of course, and Mr. Knightley, but he was very grave and terrible, I was almost too frightened to move, and Mr. Gardiner, and then there was Mr. Yates, but I did not dance with him. Do you remember him, Cousin Robert? he said he knew you at Bath." Georgiana had been so disagreeably struck by Mr. Yates's way of speaking of her relatives whom he had met, that she had not intended to mention it to Colonel Fitzwilliam, but the rest of his talk had eradicated his first impression, and she had unguardedly given utterance to his name. Fruitless regret and vexation overcame her when, glancing up at her cousin, she perceived his countenance darken, and noted the change in his voice as he replied, with an effort: "Yes, we did meet in Bath, but not in the pleasantest of circumstances. Mr. Yates may be a more agreeable man away from the companions he then had." "I do not think he was particularly agreeable," said Georgiana, falteringly, "but I thought--he appeared to me to be an interesting talker." "Yes, that is quite his line; if Yates can do nothing else he can certainly use his tongue," replied Colonel Fitzwilliam, not without bitterness. "But do not let us concern ourselves with him, Georgiana; what about the walk in Kensington Gardens that we had thought of? Will Mrs. Annesley very kindly let me escort you both there this delightfully fine morning?" Mrs. Annesley willingly acceded, and the two ladies having attired themselves, a hackney coach was called, which conveyed them a mile on their way towards Kensington Place. Georgiana was somewhat silent during the drive. She did not wish to speculate on her cousin's private affairs, but having been the innocent cause of recalling painful thoughts to him inevitably produced the wish to atone, to help; and she found herself wondering, while trying not to wonder, what could possibly be the connection between Mr. Yates, Cousin Robert and a lady in Bath now said to be in London. To be sure, it was none of her business, she had no right to wish to know, and yet

jennie

How many times the word 'jennie' appears in the text?

what you have to do," said Georgiana, highly diverted. "It is not a matter of fortune, is it? Anybody can do it," rejoined William Price. "I am sure you can, Miss Darcy." "No, indeed; I dislike very much some things I have to do." "But if you found you positively had to do them, and there was no way out, then you would decide to like them, would you not? It would make them so much easier." This was a new idea to Georgiana, and she considered it a little before replying, with a smile: "I am sure there are some things I should never like doing, such as sitting on the back seat of a carriage." "I know that it is disagreeable to some people, but I am sure, if one thought long enough, one could find a way to make it less so," said the young lieutenant, with great earnestness. "For instance"--he considered--"when the window was open the rain and wind would not do so much damage to the feathers in a lady's bonnet as if she were opposite; and at night one could shut one's eyes and imagine one was travelling forwards--it would be difficult to tell the difference." He looked inquiringly at Georgiana, who was so much entertained by his arguments that she said, laughingly: "I was right in calling you fortunate, Mr. Price, for you seemed to have secured a sovereign remedy against all ills. Do tell me how you would console yourself if you slipped down now and broke your leg, so that you could not dance any more for a long time? I should like to know whether your principle always holds good." "Now, Miss Darcy, you are driving me into a corner. I only said if I positively had to do the distasteful thing and there was no way out. I beg to inform you in the plainest language that there is a way out of your suggestion--that is, not to fall and break my leg, and it is the way I mean to adopt. But if such a thing did happen to me, I should certainly try to console myself--as yet I am not quite sure how--yes, I have thought of a method, but I do not think I had better tell you what it is." "He means he would have Kitty to sit beside him and talk to him," thought Georgiana. "I wonder what he would be like if he were ill? He would have just the same merry smile, I believe." Aloud she said: "I am not so strong-minded as you, Mr. Price, I'm afraid. I should never be able to think of any way of consoling myself for a broken leg." "I hope you will never have to endure anything one-twentieth a part disagreeable, Miss Darcy," her partner replied, dropping his gay manner for a moment. "Although it helped me to get through my examinations, even now I cannot think very kindly of it." "Were you--has it actually happened to you?" exclaimed Georgiana, with a horrified face; and she never felt less pleasure at the arrival of a new partner than at that moment. Most unwillingly she placed her arm in his to be led away, wanting far more to hear the history of William Price's misfortune; while the young man, full of concern at having startled her, walked a few steps beside her to say: "It is all right, Miss Darcy, because, you see, that guarantees that it will not happen again to-night." Bingley, who was her partner, asked the name of her companion, and Georgiana told what she knew of him, describing him as Kitty's friend. Bingley recollected having heard of him from Kitty, and pleased with his appearance, and always attracted by a new face, expressed a wish to know him, and Georgiana looked forward to making the introduction when her dances with Bingley should be over. This, however, was not to be. Kitty and Mr. Price were dancing together, and occasionally passed them in the set, when Georgiana could observe her friend's flushed cheek and air of radiant happiness; but at its conclusion they were swept away in a crowd, and Bingley and Georgiana, looking round for chairs, were accosted by Mr. Knightley, with the request to present Mr. and Mrs. Yates, who were anxious to know them. The name was unfamiliar to both, and so were the faces of the couple who approached--Mr. Yates with his usual aspect of complete self-satisfaction, and his wife, a woman of fashion, with a considerable share of good looks, but an expression of countenance from which weariness and impatience were never long absent. The lady fell to Bingley's share, and Georgiana, on her part, learned from Mr. Yates that he had heard her name and wished for the pleasure of her acquaintance, as he had already made that of her brother and sister in Bath. Georgiana replied to inquiries after their health and Colonel Fitzwilliam's, whom, Mr. Yates told her, he knew very well indeed, and he desired to send his compliments to the Colonel, if Miss Darcy should be seeing him. "He is in London, I believe?" Georgiana assented. "Ah, yes, I understood that; and the lady is in town, too, I fancy." Georgiana's look in reply to this was so blank that Mr. Yates, evidently not caring to trust himself in the deep waters of explanation, continued: "Do present him my cordial regards, and say I hope he has forgiven me. I was so unfortunate as to do him a little disservice, but it was easily put right; I saw to that myself. Lady Catherine de Bourgh, I am sure, had made _amende honorable_. You know Lady Catherine, Miss Darcy? Your aunt? Of course, I beg your pardon; I should have recollected. Do, pray, remember me to her, too. You were not in Bath this year, were you? Well, you did not lose much; I have known pleasanter seasons." Georgiana only bowed; Mr. Yates's familiar allusion to Colonel Fitzwilliam had not pleased her, and an instinct, which she had not time to analyse, led her to connect it with her cousin's depressed spirits. The next moment her companion introduced a more welcome subject by saying: "I think I saw you dancing with my young cousin, William Price; a smart young fellow, is he not?" "Is he your cousin?" asked Georgiana, in some surprise. "Yes, or rather, my wife's, through the mother; but we have all known him for years, he seems quite like one of ourselves, and spends half his time at our house when in town. Though I often tell my wife it is no compliment to us, for he is for ever playing with our children; we cannot get him out of the nursery." Georgiana felt that this was just as it should be; Mr. Price's being fond of the children accorded him well with the "merry, kind smile" that was so characteristic of him. She ventured upon an inquiry as to his naval career, and Mr. Yates, who liked nothing better than to be talking either of himself or of those belonging to him, immediately entered upon a description of William's notable conduct at the battle of St. Domingo, and the extraordinary courage he had displayed in the taking of a French ship and in defending the colours of his own. Bingley's attention was caught, and Georgiana was grateful to him for asking questions to prolong the story, and for interpolating expressions of admiration which she felt but could not utter. The more she saw and heard of him, the more delighted she was with the young hero, for such he now appeared to be; and the more she commended Kitty's good sense in bestowing her devotion upon such a worthy object. She looked forward to further opportunities of hearing from Mr. Price's own lips the account of some of his adventures; but recollecting that if events took the much-desired course there would be plenty of such opportunities, she decided that it would be best to employ the remainder of the time which she might spend in his company that evening by discoursing of Kitty, in the hope of gaining some assurance of the strength of his inclinations. He knew her to be Kitty's friend, and the subject of Kitty would naturally become the chief bond between them when they came to know each other a little better. Shortly after supper, William Price claimed her hand for a second time; and at the first interval in the dance long enough for any connected conversation, Georgiana began: "Who is that dancing with Miss Bennet? Do you know, Mr. Price?" "It is a Mr. Churchill, a great friend of the Knightleys. I believe he is rather agreeable, but Miss Bennet tells me she does not like him," replied William Price, laughing. "Why should she not like him, I wonder?" asked Georgiana. "Oh, I hardly know. Just a fancy, I think. He and I had a great set-to here one day--an argument, I mean; and I was fairly worsted--it was about foxhunting, so perhaps I deserved to be; but Miss Bennet very kindly took my side, and was quite vexed with Mr. Churchill when he retired with the honours of war." "Kitty is so loyal to her friends," said Georgiana. "Yes, she is a delightful girl, and Mrs. Knightley, too, is the kindest person imaginable. She has been so good to both my brother and myself, and I have never enjoyed my leave so much." "It must be a very pleasant house to stay in," said Georgiana. "Miss Bennet is very sorry to be going away, I know." "Yes, is it not a pity she has to go? And down to the depths of the country, too. I must not disparage it, Miss Darcy, for I am reminded that it is your home as well; but when people go so far off one is desperately afraid of not seeing them again. You are not leaving town with Miss Bennet, are you?" Georgiana was explaining their respective plans when the summons came for them to rejoin the set; but an interruption soon occurred in the shape of a slight accident. A lady dancing next to William Price, in turning sharply, trod upon her dress, with the result that she slipped and fell upon the polished floor with her foot twisted under her. The young lieutenant sprang forward, lifted her with skillful and gentle touch, and carried her, pale and suffering, to an adjoining room, where Mrs. Knightley and several friends hastened to her aid. A servant was sent for a surgeon, and William Price returned to Georgiana with the news that, pending his arrival, the lady was being treated for what appeared to be a severe sprain. "Poor thing!" said Georgiana, trembling. "I am so sorry for her. It must have caused intense pain. I was afraid she might have broken it." "No, it is bad enough, but fortunately it is not broken; I could perceive that," replied the young man. "You must not prognosticate such sad things, Miss Darcy; you see they very nearly come true." Georgiana looked into his face for enlightenment, then broke into a smile. "Oh, Mr. Price, you are unkind to assume that I was responsible for it. I only suggested a broken leg, and it was you who said it had been a reality in your case. How did it happen? Was it in action?" William led her to a seat, as the incident had unnerved her for more dancing, but could not be persuaded to give a narrative in the style of Mr. Yates; he only laughed and said that it had been about as glorious an affair as falling down in a ball-room. "One of our fellows had foolishly got himself into a very awkward place at the storming of a fort, and I was so stupid as to get in the way of a shower of falling rocks, one of which, when it reached me, decided to stay as close to me as it could; so I was severely reprimanded, and had to spend six weeks in hospital at the very busiest time." Georgiana listened with interest, certain that there was another version of the story which would show her companion up in a different light, and she inquired: "What did you say about examinations?" "Only that I had some books, and a good friend who helped me to the utmost of his power, so that while I was lying by I contrived to work up my subject enough to have scraped through." They talked for some time longer, until William had to go in search of his next partner, while Georgiana was carried off by her hostess, who placed her at a small table to drink coffee with herself and Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. The Gardiners were, of course, no strangers to Georgiana, and she showed the pleasure she felt in meeting them again. "Is it not kind of Mrs. Gardiner to have lent Kitty to me for so long, Miss Darcy?" said Mrs. Knightley. "I feel I can ill spare her now; I shall miss her after the happy time we have had together." Georgiana said what was proper, and Mrs. Gardiner added: "Perhaps she will be able to come to you another year." "Indeed, I hope so. I should like her to come any time; but another year, you know, she may not be so free; the claims of a house of her own may be paramount." "Certainly they may be; but it seems early to anticipate that," said Mrs. Gardiner. "Early? Oh, no, I do not think so. I shall not be at all surprised to be asked to help in buying Kitty's wedding clothes before Christmas," returned Mrs. Knightley, smiling mysteriously. Mrs. Gardiner expressed inquiring surprise, while Georgiana listened with interest for what Mrs. Knightley would say, regarding her as the chief authority in the affair, as far as it had gone. Her hostess proceeded: "It is quite between ourselves, you know, Mrs. Gardiner; I know I am perfectly safe in mentioning it, as you are Kitty's aunt and Miss Darcy her greatest friend; and you can imagine whether it is a pleasure to me to find that two young people in whom I am interested are so much interested in each other." "Undoubtedly," said Mrs. Gardiner; "but pray enlighten me, Mrs. Knightley, as to who the other person is." "You have met him to-night, Mrs. Gardiner, the young naval officer, Mr. Price, whom I introduced to you." Mrs. Gardiner was very anxious to learn more particulars, and Mrs. Knightley gave her full information as to William Price's career and prospects, while as to Kitty, she affirmed she had every reason to believe that both were equally attracted, and that an engagement would shortly be formed between them, subject to the approval of their friends. Mrs. Gardiner agreed that it was very good news if the young man was all Mrs. Knightley believed him, and remarked what a delight it would be to her sister, Mrs. Bennet, who had always wanted Kitty to be settled. "Mr. Price _is_ all we think him, I can assure you; Mr. Knightley will answer for him. But, pray, do not mention a word of this to anyone; let it not go beyond us four; I am most desirous that the affair should pass to its easy and natural conclusion." "I quite understand that, and of course we shall wait until Kitty tells us," said her aunt. "What do you think of it all, Miss Darcy? Has Kitty mentioned the matter to you?" Georgiana replied that she had, and on further questioning owned that she felt sure that if what Mrs. Knightley expected came to pass, it would make Kitty very happy. Mrs. Knightley called upon her to join in commendations of the young man, and this she could sincerely do; and she rose from the table feeling as if everything were settled, and it only remained to congratulate the two persons most concerned. A minute later she met Kitty, flying in search of her. Kitty seized her friend's hand and drew her into a quiet corner of Mrs. Knightley's morning-room, where the two girls could seat themselves on a sofa partly hidden by a screen and be quite secluded. "I wanted so much to see you before I went, Georgiana," began Kitty in an excited undertone. "I thought I should never get to you, and this is my last chance, as we start so early on Friday. Now do tell me what you think of him. You can judge now, cannot you? Is he not delightful? Is he not handsome, and a noble creature? Is he not all I said?" "Yes, indeed, dear Kitty, he is," responded Georgiana, with tender sympathy. "I can quite understand your feelings. I am sure anyone would be very proud to have gained the affection of such a man." "Oh, I am so glad to hear you say so. Do you think I have gained it? Sometimes I think so; sometimes I am not sure. Mrs. Knightley thinks I have." "I know she does; I have heard her say so, and she would not mislead you, Kitty, I am sure. She cares so much for your welfare." "Yes, indeed, she has been very kind. I cannot tell you what I should have done without her. She has done everything, she thinks of everything. To-night, when she was arranging the supper partners, I was standing near him, but not very near, and he had not asked me; I suppose he was waiting to see if he might, as we had already danced together a great deal, and she looked up from her list and said: 'And Mr. Price, I do not think I have put anyone down for you: will you take Miss Bennet?' in that kind way, not to make me feel uncomfortable, as if it had been planned. So he came and offered me his arm with such an air! And, after all, we did not talk much at supper; I was too happy, but when I asked him if he liked my dress, he paid me such an elegant compliment on it--something about a rose." "He is a most agreeable companion," said Georgiana. "I should never tire of hearing him converse. The marvellous adventures he has had! It is like a glimpse of a new world to meet a person who has actually been through those things, and who describes them with such modesty and simplicity. Such a man seldom comes into our quiet lives." "Oh, but they are so horrible, it quite frightens me to hear about them; if I were married to him I would never let him go to sea again, for fear of his coming back without an arm, or a leg, or an eye." "But it is his profession, Kitty." "I know, but it is a horrid profession, the only thing about him that I don't like, except for the uniform, and a man in a black coat looks positively nothing beside him." "Oh, Kitty, as if the uniform mattered! Do not let me hear you talk so foolishly," said Georgiana, really pained. "Well, perhaps it is foolish, but it does make a difference, you know. Bingley has been teasing me half the evening about a young man that he says they have got for me down in the country, whom I shall be sure to like, the Rector of Kympton, I believe. As if I could possibly look at a clergyman after knowing William Price." "Perhaps it is not fair to compare two such different types of men, but Mr. Morland is very nice, Kitty; I am sure you will think so." "I am sure I shall not; I don't want to see him: how can I think anyone nice when I am away from here? Oh, if I could only see Price once more, just once more, to make sure; but as he says, how can one ever see anybody down in the wilds of Derbyshire?" "Kitty, here is the music beginning again, and we shall be asked for," said Georgiana, standing up. "Do not be unhappy or over-anxious about this, and do not show too much what you feel, for I am sure it will all come out right if you have patience." "Do you really think it is so? That is such a comfort; but I wish he had spoken to-night. Mrs. Knightley thought he would." "Dear Kitty, whenever it comes, I wish you all the happiness in the world; write to me very fully, and, as I said, have patience and self-command. Now we really ought to go." Kitty pressed her friend's hand, and Georgiana tried to calm her as they walked back to the ball-room, by talking on indifferent topics, for she feared the girl's burning cheeks and nervous manner would betray her agitation and its cause. Miss Bingley met them as they entered the room, and asked Georgiana if she was ready to go, as Mrs. Hurst seemed inclined for it. "Yes, I am quite ready," said Georgiana. "I think I am engaged to Mr. Bingley for another dance, but he will not mind missing it." "Charles is over there, talking to Mr. Price, but I have told him we want to go, so he will be expecting us," said Miss Bingley, and led the way across the room, Kitty not unnaturally following. Mr. Bingley welcomed them warmly, calling out: "Here, Kitty, come and add your entreaties to mine. I want this young gentleman to come down to Desborough and shoot our pheasants in November, but he is not sure if he can manage it; I never heard such nonsense. If anyone is entitled to ask for leave when he wants it, I should think he is." Kitty was rendered perfectly incapable of speech for the first moment after hearing these words; never had a wish been so suddenly and gloriously placed in the way of accomplishment; but she found an unexpected ally in Miss Bingley, who supported her brother's invitation, having, like him, been attracted by the young lieutenant's agreeable demeanour and high reputation. William Price stood still, looking diffidently from one to another, and expressing in disjointed sentences his gratitude, his uncertainty, and his extreme pleasure should he be able to accept. Mr. Bingley exerted all his powers of persuasion, and Kitty's bright eyes shot glances not less eloquent. Georgiana turned a little away, feeling suddenly very tired and spiritless, and Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, who came up at that moment, remarked on it. "Georgiana tired?" exclaimed Bingley; "then let us go at once. You are not used to these late hours, and I don't know what Mrs. Darcy will say to me if I take them a poor account of you. We are all neighbours in the country, you know, Mr. Price. Then that is settled? You will come to us if you can possibly get away, and I hope nothing will prevent it. You do not expect to receive the command of the Mediterranean squadron, do you?" "No, sir," replied William, laughing, "neither that nor any other command this year, I am afraid." "Well, well, I wish you luck. Shall I see you again before I leave town?" William was beginning to reply negatively, when Miss Bingley, who was leading the whole party towards the cloak-room, turned and asked Mr. Price if he would not come and see them some time in Grosvenor Street. She called on her sister to ratify the invitation, which Mrs. Hurst did, and it was courteously accepted. There followed a confusion of good-byes and a getting of cloaks, and the three ladies were placed in the coach while the two gentlemen prepared to walk. Georgiana had warmly embraced Kitty at parting, and had intimated that she knew how much the arrangement by Bingley meant to her friend; and her last impression of Mrs. Knightley's ball was of William Price waving farewell in the doorway and then ascending the steps to where Kitty awaited him in the vestibule. Chapter X Colonel Fitzwilliam had come to London because he thought it was the place where he would be most likely to meet Miss Crawford again, and he had taken up literary work merely to pass away the time until that longed-for event should occur. Two months had elapsed before he heard of her arrival, with her sister, but it was not many days after that he contrived to be present at the house of a mutual friend, where he knew her to be expected. Her manner of greeting him on this occasion was not free from embarrassment; it was neither cordial nor unfriendly, and so brief was the encounter that he could discover but little from it of the state of her mind towards him. Another casual meeting seemed to promise more hopefully, but hardly had they exchanged a few sentences when the appearance of Sir Walter and Miss Elliot turned the conversation into channels more congenial to the new-comers, and Colonel Fitzwilliam was forced to stand aside and see Miss Crawford taken possession of without any semblance of unwillingness on her part. He then devoted himself to Mrs. Grant, and tried to propose an expedition, a theatre party, but that lady hesitatingly replied that she could arrange nothing without her sister. Colonel Fitzwilliam applied for permission to call, which was readily accorded, but on availing himself of it the following day only learned that the ladies were gone to Richmond with a party. The manservant obliged him, unasked, with the information that it was Mr. Crawford's party, and the Colonel was left to speculate gloomily on the chances of Sir Walter Elliot being one of the number, and what was of greater import whether, if it was so, it was with Miss Crawford's approval. He had gone to call on the Hursts after leaving Mrs. Grant's house, and had not again seen the object of his thoughts and hopes, when, a few days later, he directed his steps towards Mrs. Annesley's residence in Hans Place. He could scarcely believe it was but three months since the severance of his engagement with Georgiana, it seemed to have retreated so far into the background of events, but he had pondered earnestly over their interview in Grosvenor Street, and from her demeanour had concluded that his presence was not objectionable to her, so that any further meeting might help to re-establish their old cousinly relations, a result which their friends would rejoice in. It was therefore with a tolerably easy mind that was ushered into the presence of the two ladies, and found Georgiana in great good looks and far less shy and confused than on the previous occasion; indeed, in a few moments any awkwardness between them seemed to have quite melted away, and she was readily answering his questions about Mrs. Knightley's ball. "It certainly seems to have been a great success, for I never knew you so enthusiastic about a ball before, Georgiana," said her cousin, smiling. "It was better than the Bath assemblies, I gather?" "Oh--Bath!" exclaimed Georgiana, with a note of contempt in her voice which spoke volumes. "You laugh at me, Cousin Robert, but it was a beautiful ball. Even Mr. Bingley said so, and he must have been to a great number." "Hundreds, if not thousands, I should think," returned her cousin. "Bingley's shoemaker must have made a fortune. But who were the partners who contributed to such enjoyment? for they are usually the really important part. Two Mr. Prices you have mentioned, Captain Carter and Mr. Dixon; who else?" "Oh, I forget who else; Mr. Hurst and Mr. Bingley, of course, and Mr. Knightley, but he was very grave and terrible, I was almost too frightened to move, and Mr. Gardiner, and then there was Mr. Yates, but I did not dance with him. Do you remember him, Cousin Robert? he said he knew you at Bath." Georgiana had been so disagreeably struck by Mr. Yates's way of speaking of her relatives whom he had met, that she had not intended to mention it to Colonel Fitzwilliam, but the rest of his talk had eradicated his first impression, and she had unguardedly given utterance to his name. Fruitless regret and vexation overcame her when, glancing up at her cousin, she perceived his countenance darken, and noted the change in his voice as he replied, with an effort: "Yes, we did meet in Bath, but not in the pleasantest of circumstances. Mr. Yates may be a more agreeable man away from the companions he then had." "I do not think he was particularly agreeable," said Georgiana, falteringly, "but I thought--he appeared to me to be an interesting talker." "Yes, that is quite his line; if Yates can do nothing else he can certainly use his tongue," replied Colonel Fitzwilliam, not without bitterness. "But do not let us concern ourselves with him, Georgiana; what about the walk in Kensington Gardens that we had thought of? Will Mrs. Annesley very kindly let me escort you both there this delightfully fine morning?" Mrs. Annesley willingly acceded, and the two ladies having attired themselves, a hackney coach was called, which conveyed them a mile on their way towards Kensington Place. Georgiana was somewhat silent during the drive. She did not wish to speculate on her cousin's private affairs, but having been the innocent cause of recalling painful thoughts to him inevitably produced the wish to atone, to help; and she found herself wondering, while trying not to wonder, what could possibly be the connection between Mr. Yates, Cousin Robert and a lady in Bath now said to be in London. To be sure, it was none of her business, she had no right to wish to know, and yet

playing

How many times the word 'playing' appears in the text?

what you have to do," said Georgiana, highly diverted. "It is not a matter of fortune, is it? Anybody can do it," rejoined William Price. "I am sure you can, Miss Darcy." "No, indeed; I dislike very much some things I have to do." "But if you found you positively had to do them, and there was no way out, then you would decide to like them, would you not? It would make them so much easier." This was a new idea to Georgiana, and she considered it a little before replying, with a smile: "I am sure there are some things I should never like doing, such as sitting on the back seat of a carriage." "I know that it is disagreeable to some people, but I am sure, if one thought long enough, one could find a way to make it less so," said the young lieutenant, with great earnestness. "For instance"--he considered--"when the window was open the rain and wind would not do so much damage to the feathers in a lady's bonnet as if she were opposite; and at night one could shut one's eyes and imagine one was travelling forwards--it would be difficult to tell the difference." He looked inquiringly at Georgiana, who was so much entertained by his arguments that she said, laughingly: "I was right in calling you fortunate, Mr. Price, for you seemed to have secured a sovereign remedy against all ills. Do tell me how you would console yourself if you slipped down now and broke your leg, so that you could not dance any more for a long time? I should like to know whether your principle always holds good." "Now, Miss Darcy, you are driving me into a corner. I only said if I positively had to do the distasteful thing and there was no way out. I beg to inform you in the plainest language that there is a way out of your suggestion--that is, not to fall and break my leg, and it is the way I mean to adopt. But if such a thing did happen to me, I should certainly try to console myself--as yet I am not quite sure how--yes, I have thought of a method, but I do not think I had better tell you what it is." "He means he would have Kitty to sit beside him and talk to him," thought Georgiana. "I wonder what he would be like if he were ill? He would have just the same merry smile, I believe." Aloud she said: "I am not so strong-minded as you, Mr. Price, I'm afraid. I should never be able to think of any way of consoling myself for a broken leg." "I hope you will never have to endure anything one-twentieth a part disagreeable, Miss Darcy," her partner replied, dropping his gay manner for a moment. "Although it helped me to get through my examinations, even now I cannot think very kindly of it." "Were you--has it actually happened to you?" exclaimed Georgiana, with a horrified face; and she never felt less pleasure at the arrival of a new partner than at that moment. Most unwillingly she placed her arm in his to be led away, wanting far more to hear the history of William Price's misfortune; while the young man, full of concern at having startled her, walked a few steps beside her to say: "It is all right, Miss Darcy, because, you see, that guarantees that it will not happen again to-night." Bingley, who was her partner, asked the name of her companion, and Georgiana told what she knew of him, describing him as Kitty's friend. Bingley recollected having heard of him from Kitty, and pleased with his appearance, and always attracted by a new face, expressed a wish to know him, and Georgiana looked forward to making the introduction when her dances with Bingley should be over. This, however, was not to be. Kitty and Mr. Price were dancing together, and occasionally passed them in the set, when Georgiana could observe her friend's flushed cheek and air of radiant happiness; but at its conclusion they were swept away in a crowd, and Bingley and Georgiana, looking round for chairs, were accosted by Mr. Knightley, with the request to present Mr. and Mrs. Yates, who were anxious to know them. The name was unfamiliar to both, and so were the faces of the couple who approached--Mr. Yates with his usual aspect of complete self-satisfaction, and his wife, a woman of fashion, with a considerable share of good looks, but an expression of countenance from which weariness and impatience were never long absent. The lady fell to Bingley's share, and Georgiana, on her part, learned from Mr. Yates that he had heard her name and wished for the pleasure of her acquaintance, as he had already made that of her brother and sister in Bath. Georgiana replied to inquiries after their health and Colonel Fitzwilliam's, whom, Mr. Yates told her, he knew very well indeed, and he desired to send his compliments to the Colonel, if Miss Darcy should be seeing him. "He is in London, I believe?" Georgiana assented. "Ah, yes, I understood that; and the lady is in town, too, I fancy." Georgiana's look in reply to this was so blank that Mr. Yates, evidently not caring to trust himself in the deep waters of explanation, continued: "Do present him my cordial regards, and say I hope he has forgiven me. I was so unfortunate as to do him a little disservice, but it was easily put right; I saw to that myself. Lady Catherine de Bourgh, I am sure, had made _amende honorable_. You know Lady Catherine, Miss Darcy? Your aunt? Of course, I beg your pardon; I should have recollected. Do, pray, remember me to her, too. You were not in Bath this year, were you? Well, you did not lose much; I have known pleasanter seasons." Georgiana only bowed; Mr. Yates's familiar allusion to Colonel Fitzwilliam had not pleased her, and an instinct, which she had not time to analyse, led her to connect it with her cousin's depressed spirits. The next moment her companion introduced a more welcome subject by saying: "I think I saw you dancing with my young cousin, William Price; a smart young fellow, is he not?" "Is he your cousin?" asked Georgiana, in some surprise. "Yes, or rather, my wife's, through the mother; but we have all known him for years, he seems quite like one of ourselves, and spends half his time at our house when in town. Though I often tell my wife it is no compliment to us, for he is for ever playing with our children; we cannot get him out of the nursery." Georgiana felt that this was just as it should be; Mr. Price's being fond of the children accorded him well with the "merry, kind smile" that was so characteristic of him. She ventured upon an inquiry as to his naval career, and Mr. Yates, who liked nothing better than to be talking either of himself or of those belonging to him, immediately entered upon a description of William's notable conduct at the battle of St. Domingo, and the extraordinary courage he had displayed in the taking of a French ship and in defending the colours of his own. Bingley's attention was caught, and Georgiana was grateful to him for asking questions to prolong the story, and for interpolating expressions of admiration which she felt but could not utter. The more she saw and heard of him, the more delighted she was with the young hero, for such he now appeared to be; and the more she commended Kitty's good sense in bestowing her devotion upon such a worthy object. She looked forward to further opportunities of hearing from Mr. Price's own lips the account of some of his adventures; but recollecting that if events took the much-desired course there would be plenty of such opportunities, she decided that it would be best to employ the remainder of the time which she might spend in his company that evening by discoursing of Kitty, in the hope of gaining some assurance of the strength of his inclinations. He knew her to be Kitty's friend, and the subject of Kitty would naturally become the chief bond between them when they came to know each other a little better. Shortly after supper, William Price claimed her hand for a second time; and at the first interval in the dance long enough for any connected conversation, Georgiana began: "Who is that dancing with Miss Bennet? Do you know, Mr. Price?" "It is a Mr. Churchill, a great friend of the Knightleys. I believe he is rather agreeable, but Miss Bennet tells me she does not like him," replied William Price, laughing. "Why should she not like him, I wonder?" asked Georgiana. "Oh, I hardly know. Just a fancy, I think. He and I had a great set-to here one day--an argument, I mean; and I was fairly worsted--it was about foxhunting, so perhaps I deserved to be; but Miss Bennet very kindly took my side, and was quite vexed with Mr. Churchill when he retired with the honours of war." "Kitty is so loyal to her friends," said Georgiana. "Yes, she is a delightful girl, and Mrs. Knightley, too, is the kindest person imaginable. She has been so good to both my brother and myself, and I have never enjoyed my leave so much." "It must be a very pleasant house to stay in," said Georgiana. "Miss Bennet is very sorry to be going away, I know." "Yes, is it not a pity she has to go? And down to the depths of the country, too. I must not disparage it, Miss Darcy, for I am reminded that it is your home as well; but when people go so far off one is desperately afraid of not seeing them again. You are not leaving town with Miss Bennet, are you?" Georgiana was explaining their respective plans when the summons came for them to rejoin the set; but an interruption soon occurred in the shape of a slight accident. A lady dancing next to William Price, in turning sharply, trod upon her dress, with the result that she slipped and fell upon the polished floor with her foot twisted under her. The young lieutenant sprang forward, lifted her with skillful and gentle touch, and carried her, pale and suffering, to an adjoining room, where Mrs. Knightley and several friends hastened to her aid. A servant was sent for a surgeon, and William Price returned to Georgiana with the news that, pending his arrival, the lady was being treated for what appeared to be a severe sprain. "Poor thing!" said Georgiana, trembling. "I am so sorry for her. It must have caused intense pain. I was afraid she might have broken it." "No, it is bad enough, but fortunately it is not broken; I could perceive that," replied the young man. "You must not prognosticate such sad things, Miss Darcy; you see they very nearly come true." Georgiana looked into his face for enlightenment, then broke into a smile. "Oh, Mr. Price, you are unkind to assume that I was responsible for it. I only suggested a broken leg, and it was you who said it had been a reality in your case. How did it happen? Was it in action?" William led her to a seat, as the incident had unnerved her for more dancing, but could not be persuaded to give a narrative in the style of Mr. Yates; he only laughed and said that it had been about as glorious an affair as falling down in a ball-room. "One of our fellows had foolishly got himself into a very awkward place at the storming of a fort, and I was so stupid as to get in the way of a shower of falling rocks, one of which, when it reached me, decided to stay as close to me as it could; so I was severely reprimanded, and had to spend six weeks in hospital at the very busiest time." Georgiana listened with interest, certain that there was another version of the story which would show her companion up in a different light, and she inquired: "What did you say about examinations?" "Only that I had some books, and a good friend who helped me to the utmost of his power, so that while I was lying by I contrived to work up my subject enough to have scraped through." They talked for some time longer, until William had to go in search of his next partner, while Georgiana was carried off by her hostess, who placed her at a small table to drink coffee with herself and Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. The Gardiners were, of course, no strangers to Georgiana, and she showed the pleasure she felt in meeting them again. "Is it not kind of Mrs. Gardiner to have lent Kitty to me for so long, Miss Darcy?" said Mrs. Knightley. "I feel I can ill spare her now; I shall miss her after the happy time we have had together." Georgiana said what was proper, and Mrs. Gardiner added: "Perhaps she will be able to come to you another year." "Indeed, I hope so. I should like her to come any time; but another year, you know, she may not be so free; the claims of a house of her own may be paramount." "Certainly they may be; but it seems early to anticipate that," said Mrs. Gardiner. "Early? Oh, no, I do not think so. I shall not be at all surprised to be asked to help in buying Kitty's wedding clothes before Christmas," returned Mrs. Knightley, smiling mysteriously. Mrs. Gardiner expressed inquiring surprise, while Georgiana listened with interest for what Mrs. Knightley would say, regarding her as the chief authority in the affair, as far as it had gone. Her hostess proceeded: "It is quite between ourselves, you know, Mrs. Gardiner; I know I am perfectly safe in mentioning it, as you are Kitty's aunt and Miss Darcy her greatest friend; and you can imagine whether it is a pleasure to me to find that two young people in whom I am interested are so much interested in each other." "Undoubtedly," said Mrs. Gardiner; "but pray enlighten me, Mrs. Knightley, as to who the other person is." "You have met him to-night, Mrs. Gardiner, the young naval officer, Mr. Price, whom I introduced to you." Mrs. Gardiner was very anxious to learn more particulars, and Mrs. Knightley gave her full information as to William Price's career and prospects, while as to Kitty, she affirmed she had every reason to believe that both were equally attracted, and that an engagement would shortly be formed between them, subject to the approval of their friends. Mrs. Gardiner agreed that it was very good news if the young man was all Mrs. Knightley believed him, and remarked what a delight it would be to her sister, Mrs. Bennet, who had always wanted Kitty to be settled. "Mr. Price _is_ all we think him, I can assure you; Mr. Knightley will answer for him. But, pray, do not mention a word of this to anyone; let it not go beyond us four; I am most desirous that the affair should pass to its easy and natural conclusion." "I quite understand that, and of course we shall wait until Kitty tells us," said her aunt. "What do you think of it all, Miss Darcy? Has Kitty mentioned the matter to you?" Georgiana replied that she had, and on further questioning owned that she felt sure that if what Mrs. Knightley expected came to pass, it would make Kitty very happy. Mrs. Knightley called upon her to join in commendations of the young man, and this she could sincerely do; and she rose from the table feeling as if everything were settled, and it only remained to congratulate the two persons most concerned. A minute later she met Kitty, flying in search of her. Kitty seized her friend's hand and drew her into a quiet corner of Mrs. Knightley's morning-room, where the two girls could seat themselves on a sofa partly hidden by a screen and be quite secluded. "I wanted so much to see you before I went, Georgiana," began Kitty in an excited undertone. "I thought I should never get to you, and this is my last chance, as we start so early on Friday. Now do tell me what you think of him. You can judge now, cannot you? Is he not delightful? Is he not handsome, and a noble creature? Is he not all I said?" "Yes, indeed, dear Kitty, he is," responded Georgiana, with tender sympathy. "I can quite understand your feelings. I am sure anyone would be very proud to have gained the affection of such a man." "Oh, I am so glad to hear you say so. Do you think I have gained it? Sometimes I think so; sometimes I am not sure. Mrs. Knightley thinks I have." "I know she does; I have heard her say so, and she would not mislead you, Kitty, I am sure. She cares so much for your welfare." "Yes, indeed, she has been very kind. I cannot tell you what I should have done without her. She has done everything, she thinks of everything. To-night, when she was arranging the supper partners, I was standing near him, but not very near, and he had not asked me; I suppose he was waiting to see if he might, as we had already danced together a great deal, and she looked up from her list and said: 'And Mr. Price, I do not think I have put anyone down for you: will you take Miss Bennet?' in that kind way, not to make me feel uncomfortable, as if it had been planned. So he came and offered me his arm with such an air! And, after all, we did not talk much at supper; I was too happy, but when I asked him if he liked my dress, he paid me such an elegant compliment on it--something about a rose." "He is a most agreeable companion," said Georgiana. "I should never tire of hearing him converse. The marvellous adventures he has had! It is like a glimpse of a new world to meet a person who has actually been through those things, and who describes them with such modesty and simplicity. Such a man seldom comes into our quiet lives." "Oh, but they are so horrible, it quite frightens me to hear about them; if I were married to him I would never let him go to sea again, for fear of his coming back without an arm, or a leg, or an eye." "But it is his profession, Kitty." "I know, but it is a horrid profession, the only thing about him that I don't like, except for the uniform, and a man in a black coat looks positively nothing beside him." "Oh, Kitty, as if the uniform mattered! Do not let me hear you talk so foolishly," said Georgiana, really pained. "Well, perhaps it is foolish, but it does make a difference, you know. Bingley has been teasing me half the evening about a young man that he says they have got for me down in the country, whom I shall be sure to like, the Rector of Kympton, I believe. As if I could possibly look at a clergyman after knowing William Price." "Perhaps it is not fair to compare two such different types of men, but Mr. Morland is very nice, Kitty; I am sure you will think so." "I am sure I shall not; I don't want to see him: how can I think anyone nice when I am away from here? Oh, if I could only see Price once more, just once more, to make sure; but as he says, how can one ever see anybody down in the wilds of Derbyshire?" "Kitty, here is the music beginning again, and we shall be asked for," said Georgiana, standing up. "Do not be unhappy or over-anxious about this, and do not show too much what you feel, for I am sure it will all come out right if you have patience." "Do you really think it is so? That is such a comfort; but I wish he had spoken to-night. Mrs. Knightley thought he would." "Dear Kitty, whenever it comes, I wish you all the happiness in the world; write to me very fully, and, as I said, have patience and self-command. Now we really ought to go." Kitty pressed her friend's hand, and Georgiana tried to calm her as they walked back to the ball-room, by talking on indifferent topics, for she feared the girl's burning cheeks and nervous manner would betray her agitation and its cause. Miss Bingley met them as they entered the room, and asked Georgiana if she was ready to go, as Mrs. Hurst seemed inclined for it. "Yes, I am quite ready," said Georgiana. "I think I am engaged to Mr. Bingley for another dance, but he will not mind missing it." "Charles is over there, talking to Mr. Price, but I have told him we want to go, so he will be expecting us," said Miss Bingley, and led the way across the room, Kitty not unnaturally following. Mr. Bingley welcomed them warmly, calling out: "Here, Kitty, come and add your entreaties to mine. I want this young gentleman to come down to Desborough and shoot our pheasants in November, but he is not sure if he can manage it; I never heard such nonsense. If anyone is entitled to ask for leave when he wants it, I should think he is." Kitty was rendered perfectly incapable of speech for the first moment after hearing these words; never had a wish been so suddenly and gloriously placed in the way of accomplishment; but she found an unexpected ally in Miss Bingley, who supported her brother's invitation, having, like him, been attracted by the young lieutenant's agreeable demeanour and high reputation. William Price stood still, looking diffidently from one to another, and expressing in disjointed sentences his gratitude, his uncertainty, and his extreme pleasure should he be able to accept. Mr. Bingley exerted all his powers of persuasion, and Kitty's bright eyes shot glances not less eloquent. Georgiana turned a little away, feeling suddenly very tired and spiritless, and Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, who came up at that moment, remarked on it. "Georgiana tired?" exclaimed Bingley; "then let us go at once. You are not used to these late hours, and I don't know what Mrs. Darcy will say to me if I take them a poor account of you. We are all neighbours in the country, you know, Mr. Price. Then that is settled? You will come to us if you can possibly get away, and I hope nothing will prevent it. You do not expect to receive the command of the Mediterranean squadron, do you?" "No, sir," replied William, laughing, "neither that nor any other command this year, I am afraid." "Well, well, I wish you luck. Shall I see you again before I leave town?" William was beginning to reply negatively, when Miss Bingley, who was leading the whole party towards the cloak-room, turned and asked Mr. Price if he would not come and see them some time in Grosvenor Street. She called on her sister to ratify the invitation, which Mrs. Hurst did, and it was courteously accepted. There followed a confusion of good-byes and a getting of cloaks, and the three ladies were placed in the coach while the two gentlemen prepared to walk. Georgiana had warmly embraced Kitty at parting, and had intimated that she knew how much the arrangement by Bingley meant to her friend; and her last impression of Mrs. Knightley's ball was of William Price waving farewell in the doorway and then ascending the steps to where Kitty awaited him in the vestibule. Chapter X Colonel Fitzwilliam had come to London because he thought it was the place where he would be most likely to meet Miss Crawford again, and he had taken up literary work merely to pass away the time until that longed-for event should occur. Two months had elapsed before he heard of her arrival, with her sister, but it was not many days after that he contrived to be present at the house of a mutual friend, where he knew her to be expected. Her manner of greeting him on this occasion was not free from embarrassment; it was neither cordial nor unfriendly, and so brief was the encounter that he could discover but little from it of the state of her mind towards him. Another casual meeting seemed to promise more hopefully, but hardly had they exchanged a few sentences when the appearance of Sir Walter and Miss Elliot turned the conversation into channels more congenial to the new-comers, and Colonel Fitzwilliam was forced to stand aside and see Miss Crawford taken possession of without any semblance of unwillingness on her part. He then devoted himself to Mrs. Grant, and tried to propose an expedition, a theatre party, but that lady hesitatingly replied that she could arrange nothing without her sister. Colonel Fitzwilliam applied for permission to call, which was readily accorded, but on availing himself of it the following day only learned that the ladies were gone to Richmond with a party. The manservant obliged him, unasked, with the information that it was Mr. Crawford's party, and the Colonel was left to speculate gloomily on the chances of Sir Walter Elliot being one of the number, and what was of greater import whether, if it was so, it was with Miss Crawford's approval. He had gone to call on the Hursts after leaving Mrs. Grant's house, and had not again seen the object of his thoughts and hopes, when, a few days later, he directed his steps towards Mrs. Annesley's residence in Hans Place. He could scarcely believe it was but three months since the severance of his engagement with Georgiana, it seemed to have retreated so far into the background of events, but he had pondered earnestly over their interview in Grosvenor Street, and from her demeanour had concluded that his presence was not objectionable to her, so that any further meeting might help to re-establish their old cousinly relations, a result which their friends would rejoice in. It was therefore with a tolerably easy mind that was ushered into the presence of the two ladies, and found Georgiana in great good looks and far less shy and confused than on the previous occasion; indeed, in a few moments any awkwardness between them seemed to have quite melted away, and she was readily answering his questions about Mrs. Knightley's ball. "It certainly seems to have been a great success, for I never knew you so enthusiastic about a ball before, Georgiana," said her cousin, smiling. "It was better than the Bath assemblies, I gather?" "Oh--Bath!" exclaimed Georgiana, with a note of contempt in her voice which spoke volumes. "You laugh at me, Cousin Robert, but it was a beautiful ball. Even Mr. Bingley said so, and he must have been to a great number." "Hundreds, if not thousands, I should think," returned her cousin. "Bingley's shoemaker must have made a fortune. But who were the partners who contributed to such enjoyment? for they are usually the really important part. Two Mr. Prices you have mentioned, Captain Carter and Mr. Dixon; who else?" "Oh, I forget who else; Mr. Hurst and Mr. Bingley, of course, and Mr. Knightley, but he was very grave and terrible, I was almost too frightened to move, and Mr. Gardiner, and then there was Mr. Yates, but I did not dance with him. Do you remember him, Cousin Robert? he said he knew you at Bath." Georgiana had been so disagreeably struck by Mr. Yates's way of speaking of her relatives whom he had met, that she had not intended to mention it to Colonel Fitzwilliam, but the rest of his talk had eradicated his first impression, and she had unguardedly given utterance to his name. Fruitless regret and vexation overcame her when, glancing up at her cousin, she perceived his countenance darken, and noted the change in his voice as he replied, with an effort: "Yes, we did meet in Bath, but not in the pleasantest of circumstances. Mr. Yates may be a more agreeable man away from the companions he then had." "I do not think he was particularly agreeable," said Georgiana, falteringly, "but I thought--he appeared to me to be an interesting talker." "Yes, that is quite his line; if Yates can do nothing else he can certainly use his tongue," replied Colonel Fitzwilliam, not without bitterness. "But do not let us concern ourselves with him, Georgiana; what about the walk in Kensington Gardens that we had thought of? Will Mrs. Annesley very kindly let me escort you both there this delightfully fine morning?" Mrs. Annesley willingly acceded, and the two ladies having attired themselves, a hackney coach was called, which conveyed them a mile on their way towards Kensington Place. Georgiana was somewhat silent during the drive. She did not wish to speculate on her cousin's private affairs, but having been the innocent cause of recalling painful thoughts to him inevitably produced the wish to atone, to help; and she found herself wondering, while trying not to wonder, what could possibly be the connection between Mr. Yates, Cousin Robert and a lady in Bath now said to be in London. To be sure, it was none of her business, she had no right to wish to know, and yet

loose

How many times the word 'loose' appears in the text?

what you have to do," said Georgiana, highly diverted. "It is not a matter of fortune, is it? Anybody can do it," rejoined William Price. "I am sure you can, Miss Darcy." "No, indeed; I dislike very much some things I have to do." "But if you found you positively had to do them, and there was no way out, then you would decide to like them, would you not? It would make them so much easier." This was a new idea to Georgiana, and she considered it a little before replying, with a smile: "I am sure there are some things I should never like doing, such as sitting on the back seat of a carriage." "I know that it is disagreeable to some people, but I am sure, if one thought long enough, one could find a way to make it less so," said the young lieutenant, with great earnestness. "For instance"--he considered--"when the window was open the rain and wind would not do so much damage to the feathers in a lady's bonnet as if she were opposite; and at night one could shut one's eyes and imagine one was travelling forwards--it would be difficult to tell the difference." He looked inquiringly at Georgiana, who was so much entertained by his arguments that she said, laughingly: "I was right in calling you fortunate, Mr. Price, for you seemed to have secured a sovereign remedy against all ills. Do tell me how you would console yourself if you slipped down now and broke your leg, so that you could not dance any more for a long time? I should like to know whether your principle always holds good." "Now, Miss Darcy, you are driving me into a corner. I only said if I positively had to do the distasteful thing and there was no way out. I beg to inform you in the plainest language that there is a way out of your suggestion--that is, not to fall and break my leg, and it is the way I mean to adopt. But if such a thing did happen to me, I should certainly try to console myself--as yet I am not quite sure how--yes, I have thought of a method, but I do not think I had better tell you what it is." "He means he would have Kitty to sit beside him and talk to him," thought Georgiana. "I wonder what he would be like if he were ill? He would have just the same merry smile, I believe." Aloud she said: "I am not so strong-minded as you, Mr. Price, I'm afraid. I should never be able to think of any way of consoling myself for a broken leg." "I hope you will never have to endure anything one-twentieth a part disagreeable, Miss Darcy," her partner replied, dropping his gay manner for a moment. "Although it helped me to get through my examinations, even now I cannot think very kindly of it." "Were you--has it actually happened to you?" exclaimed Georgiana, with a horrified face; and she never felt less pleasure at the arrival of a new partner than at that moment. Most unwillingly she placed her arm in his to be led away, wanting far more to hear the history of William Price's misfortune; while the young man, full of concern at having startled her, walked a few steps beside her to say: "It is all right, Miss Darcy, because, you see, that guarantees that it will not happen again to-night." Bingley, who was her partner, asked the name of her companion, and Georgiana told what she knew of him, describing him as Kitty's friend. Bingley recollected having heard of him from Kitty, and pleased with his appearance, and always attracted by a new face, expressed a wish to know him, and Georgiana looked forward to making the introduction when her dances with Bingley should be over. This, however, was not to be. Kitty and Mr. Price were dancing together, and occasionally passed them in the set, when Georgiana could observe her friend's flushed cheek and air of radiant happiness; but at its conclusion they were swept away in a crowd, and Bingley and Georgiana, looking round for chairs, were accosted by Mr. Knightley, with the request to present Mr. and Mrs. Yates, who were anxious to know them. The name was unfamiliar to both, and so were the faces of the couple who approached--Mr. Yates with his usual aspect of complete self-satisfaction, and his wife, a woman of fashion, with a considerable share of good looks, but an expression of countenance from which weariness and impatience were never long absent. The lady fell to Bingley's share, and Georgiana, on her part, learned from Mr. Yates that he had heard her name and wished for the pleasure of her acquaintance, as he had already made that of her brother and sister in Bath. Georgiana replied to inquiries after their health and Colonel Fitzwilliam's, whom, Mr. Yates told her, he knew very well indeed, and he desired to send his compliments to the Colonel, if Miss Darcy should be seeing him. "He is in London, I believe?" Georgiana assented. "Ah, yes, I understood that; and the lady is in town, too, I fancy." Georgiana's look in reply to this was so blank that Mr. Yates, evidently not caring to trust himself in the deep waters of explanation, continued: "Do present him my cordial regards, and say I hope he has forgiven me. I was so unfortunate as to do him a little disservice, but it was easily put right; I saw to that myself. Lady Catherine de Bourgh, I am sure, had made _amende honorable_. You know Lady Catherine, Miss Darcy? Your aunt? Of course, I beg your pardon; I should have recollected. Do, pray, remember me to her, too. You were not in Bath this year, were you? Well, you did not lose much; I have known pleasanter seasons." Georgiana only bowed; Mr. Yates's familiar allusion to Colonel Fitzwilliam had not pleased her, and an instinct, which she had not time to analyse, led her to connect it with her cousin's depressed spirits. The next moment her companion introduced a more welcome subject by saying: "I think I saw you dancing with my young cousin, William Price; a smart young fellow, is he not?" "Is he your cousin?" asked Georgiana, in some surprise. "Yes, or rather, my wife's, through the mother; but we have all known him for years, he seems quite like one of ourselves, and spends half his time at our house when in town. Though I often tell my wife it is no compliment to us, for he is for ever playing with our children; we cannot get him out of the nursery." Georgiana felt that this was just as it should be; Mr. Price's being fond of the children accorded him well with the "merry, kind smile" that was so characteristic of him. She ventured upon an inquiry as to his naval career, and Mr. Yates, who liked nothing better than to be talking either of himself or of those belonging to him, immediately entered upon a description of William's notable conduct at the battle of St. Domingo, and the extraordinary courage he had displayed in the taking of a French ship and in defending the colours of his own. Bingley's attention was caught, and Georgiana was grateful to him for asking questions to prolong the story, and for interpolating expressions of admiration which she felt but could not utter. The more she saw and heard of him, the more delighted she was with the young hero, for such he now appeared to be; and the more she commended Kitty's good sense in bestowing her devotion upon such a worthy object. She looked forward to further opportunities of hearing from Mr. Price's own lips the account of some of his adventures; but recollecting that if events took the much-desired course there would be plenty of such opportunities, she decided that it would be best to employ the remainder of the time which she might spend in his company that evening by discoursing of Kitty, in the hope of gaining some assurance of the strength of his inclinations. He knew her to be Kitty's friend, and the subject of Kitty would naturally become the chief bond between them when they came to know each other a little better. Shortly after supper, William Price claimed her hand for a second time; and at the first interval in the dance long enough for any connected conversation, Georgiana began: "Who is that dancing with Miss Bennet? Do you know, Mr. Price?" "It is a Mr. Churchill, a great friend of the Knightleys. I believe he is rather agreeable, but Miss Bennet tells me she does not like him," replied William Price, laughing. "Why should she not like him, I wonder?" asked Georgiana. "Oh, I hardly know. Just a fancy, I think. He and I had a great set-to here one day--an argument, I mean; and I was fairly worsted--it was about foxhunting, so perhaps I deserved to be; but Miss Bennet very kindly took my side, and was quite vexed with Mr. Churchill when he retired with the honours of war." "Kitty is so loyal to her friends," said Georgiana. "Yes, she is a delightful girl, and Mrs. Knightley, too, is the kindest person imaginable. She has been so good to both my brother and myself, and I have never enjoyed my leave so much." "It must be a very pleasant house to stay in," said Georgiana. "Miss Bennet is very sorry to be going away, I know." "Yes, is it not a pity she has to go? And down to the depths of the country, too. I must not disparage it, Miss Darcy, for I am reminded that it is your home as well; but when people go so far off one is desperately afraid of not seeing them again. You are not leaving town with Miss Bennet, are you?" Georgiana was explaining their respective plans when the summons came for them to rejoin the set; but an interruption soon occurred in the shape of a slight accident. A lady dancing next to William Price, in turning sharply, trod upon her dress, with the result that she slipped and fell upon the polished floor with her foot twisted under her. The young lieutenant sprang forward, lifted her with skillful and gentle touch, and carried her, pale and suffering, to an adjoining room, where Mrs. Knightley and several friends hastened to her aid. A servant was sent for a surgeon, and William Price returned to Georgiana with the news that, pending his arrival, the lady was being treated for what appeared to be a severe sprain. "Poor thing!" said Georgiana, trembling. "I am so sorry for her. It must have caused intense pain. I was afraid she might have broken it." "No, it is bad enough, but fortunately it is not broken; I could perceive that," replied the young man. "You must not prognosticate such sad things, Miss Darcy; you see they very nearly come true." Georgiana looked into his face for enlightenment, then broke into a smile. "Oh, Mr. Price, you are unkind to assume that I was responsible for it. I only suggested a broken leg, and it was you who said it had been a reality in your case. How did it happen? Was it in action?" William led her to a seat, as the incident had unnerved her for more dancing, but could not be persuaded to give a narrative in the style of Mr. Yates; he only laughed and said that it had been about as glorious an affair as falling down in a ball-room. "One of our fellows had foolishly got himself into a very awkward place at the storming of a fort, and I was so stupid as to get in the way of a shower of falling rocks, one of which, when it reached me, decided to stay as close to me as it could; so I was severely reprimanded, and had to spend six weeks in hospital at the very busiest time." Georgiana listened with interest, certain that there was another version of the story which would show her companion up in a different light, and she inquired: "What did you say about examinations?" "Only that I had some books, and a good friend who helped me to the utmost of his power, so that while I was lying by I contrived to work up my subject enough to have scraped through." They talked for some time longer, until William had to go in search of his next partner, while Georgiana was carried off by her hostess, who placed her at a small table to drink coffee with herself and Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. The Gardiners were, of course, no strangers to Georgiana, and she showed the pleasure she felt in meeting them again. "Is it not kind of Mrs. Gardiner to have lent Kitty to me for so long, Miss Darcy?" said Mrs. Knightley. "I feel I can ill spare her now; I shall miss her after the happy time we have had together." Georgiana said what was proper, and Mrs. Gardiner added: "Perhaps she will be able to come to you another year." "Indeed, I hope so. I should like her to come any time; but another year, you know, she may not be so free; the claims of a house of her own may be paramount." "Certainly they may be; but it seems early to anticipate that," said Mrs. Gardiner. "Early? Oh, no, I do not think so. I shall not be at all surprised to be asked to help in buying Kitty's wedding clothes before Christmas," returned Mrs. Knightley, smiling mysteriously. Mrs. Gardiner expressed inquiring surprise, while Georgiana listened with interest for what Mrs. Knightley would say, regarding her as the chief authority in the affair, as far as it had gone. Her hostess proceeded: "It is quite between ourselves, you know, Mrs. Gardiner; I know I am perfectly safe in mentioning it, as you are Kitty's aunt and Miss Darcy her greatest friend; and you can imagine whether it is a pleasure to me to find that two young people in whom I am interested are so much interested in each other." "Undoubtedly," said Mrs. Gardiner; "but pray enlighten me, Mrs. Knightley, as to who the other person is." "You have met him to-night, Mrs. Gardiner, the young naval officer, Mr. Price, whom I introduced to you." Mrs. Gardiner was very anxious to learn more particulars, and Mrs. Knightley gave her full information as to William Price's career and prospects, while as to Kitty, she affirmed she had every reason to believe that both were equally attracted, and that an engagement would shortly be formed between them, subject to the approval of their friends. Mrs. Gardiner agreed that it was very good news if the young man was all Mrs. Knightley believed him, and remarked what a delight it would be to her sister, Mrs. Bennet, who had always wanted Kitty to be settled. "Mr. Price _is_ all we think him, I can assure you; Mr. Knightley will answer for him. But, pray, do not mention a word of this to anyone; let it not go beyond us four; I am most desirous that the affair should pass to its easy and natural conclusion." "I quite understand that, and of course we shall wait until Kitty tells us," said her aunt. "What do you think of it all, Miss Darcy? Has Kitty mentioned the matter to you?" Georgiana replied that she had, and on further questioning owned that she felt sure that if what Mrs. Knightley expected came to pass, it would make Kitty very happy. Mrs. Knightley called upon her to join in commendations of the young man, and this she could sincerely do; and she rose from the table feeling as if everything were settled, and it only remained to congratulate the two persons most concerned. A minute later she met Kitty, flying in search of her. Kitty seized her friend's hand and drew her into a quiet corner of Mrs. Knightley's morning-room, where the two girls could seat themselves on a sofa partly hidden by a screen and be quite secluded. "I wanted so much to see you before I went, Georgiana," began Kitty in an excited undertone. "I thought I should never get to you, and this is my last chance, as we start so early on Friday. Now do tell me what you think of him. You can judge now, cannot you? Is he not delightful? Is he not handsome, and a noble creature? Is he not all I said?" "Yes, indeed, dear Kitty, he is," responded Georgiana, with tender sympathy. "I can quite understand your feelings. I am sure anyone would be very proud to have gained the affection of such a man." "Oh, I am so glad to hear you say so. Do you think I have gained it? Sometimes I think so; sometimes I am not sure. Mrs. Knightley thinks I have." "I know she does; I have heard her say so, and she would not mislead you, Kitty, I am sure. She cares so much for your welfare." "Yes, indeed, she has been very kind. I cannot tell you what I should have done without her. She has done everything, she thinks of everything. To-night, when she was arranging the supper partners, I was standing near him, but not very near, and he had not asked me; I suppose he was waiting to see if he might, as we had already danced together a great deal, and she looked up from her list and said: 'And Mr. Price, I do not think I have put anyone down for you: will you take Miss Bennet?' in that kind way, not to make me feel uncomfortable, as if it had been planned. So he came and offered me his arm with such an air! And, after all, we did not talk much at supper; I was too happy, but when I asked him if he liked my dress, he paid me such an elegant compliment on it--something about a rose." "He is a most agreeable companion," said Georgiana. "I should never tire of hearing him converse. The marvellous adventures he has had! It is like a glimpse of a new world to meet a person who has actually been through those things, and who describes them with such modesty and simplicity. Such a man seldom comes into our quiet lives." "Oh, but they are so horrible, it quite frightens me to hear about them; if I were married to him I would never let him go to sea again, for fear of his coming back without an arm, or a leg, or an eye." "But it is his profession, Kitty." "I know, but it is a horrid profession, the only thing about him that I don't like, except for the uniform, and a man in a black coat looks positively nothing beside him." "Oh, Kitty, as if the uniform mattered! Do not let me hear you talk so foolishly," said Georgiana, really pained. "Well, perhaps it is foolish, but it does make a difference, you know. Bingley has been teasing me half the evening about a young man that he says they have got for me down in the country, whom I shall be sure to like, the Rector of Kympton, I believe. As if I could possibly look at a clergyman after knowing William Price." "Perhaps it is not fair to compare two such different types of men, but Mr. Morland is very nice, Kitty; I am sure you will think so." "I am sure I shall not; I don't want to see him: how can I think anyone nice when I am away from here? Oh, if I could only see Price once more, just once more, to make sure; but as he says, how can one ever see anybody down in the wilds of Derbyshire?" "Kitty, here is the music beginning again, and we shall be asked for," said Georgiana, standing up. "Do not be unhappy or over-anxious about this, and do not show too much what you feel, for I am sure it will all come out right if you have patience." "Do you really think it is so? That is such a comfort; but I wish he had spoken to-night. Mrs. Knightley thought he would." "Dear Kitty, whenever it comes, I wish you all the happiness in the world; write to me very fully, and, as I said, have patience and self-command. Now we really ought to go." Kitty pressed her friend's hand, and Georgiana tried to calm her as they walked back to the ball-room, by talking on indifferent topics, for she feared the girl's burning cheeks and nervous manner would betray her agitation and its cause. Miss Bingley met them as they entered the room, and asked Georgiana if she was ready to go, as Mrs. Hurst seemed inclined for it. "Yes, I am quite ready," said Georgiana. "I think I am engaged to Mr. Bingley for another dance, but he will not mind missing it." "Charles is over there, talking to Mr. Price, but I have told him we want to go, so he will be expecting us," said Miss Bingley, and led the way across the room, Kitty not unnaturally following. Mr. Bingley welcomed them warmly, calling out: "Here, Kitty, come and add your entreaties to mine. I want this young gentleman to come down to Desborough and shoot our pheasants in November, but he is not sure if he can manage it; I never heard such nonsense. If anyone is entitled to ask for leave when he wants it, I should think he is." Kitty was rendered perfectly incapable of speech for the first moment after hearing these words; never had a wish been so suddenly and gloriously placed in the way of accomplishment; but she found an unexpected ally in Miss Bingley, who supported her brother's invitation, having, like him, been attracted by the young lieutenant's agreeable demeanour and high reputation. William Price stood still, looking diffidently from one to another, and expressing in disjointed sentences his gratitude, his uncertainty, and his extreme pleasure should he be able to accept. Mr. Bingley exerted all his powers of persuasion, and Kitty's bright eyes shot glances not less eloquent. Georgiana turned a little away, feeling suddenly very tired and spiritless, and Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, who came up at that moment, remarked on it. "Georgiana tired?" exclaimed Bingley; "then let us go at once. You are not used to these late hours, and I don't know what Mrs. Darcy will say to me if I take them a poor account of you. We are all neighbours in the country, you know, Mr. Price. Then that is settled? You will come to us if you can possibly get away, and I hope nothing will prevent it. You do not expect to receive the command of the Mediterranean squadron, do you?" "No, sir," replied William, laughing, "neither that nor any other command this year, I am afraid." "Well, well, I wish you luck. Shall I see you again before I leave town?" William was beginning to reply negatively, when Miss Bingley, who was leading the whole party towards the cloak-room, turned and asked Mr. Price if he would not come and see them some time in Grosvenor Street. She called on her sister to ratify the invitation, which Mrs. Hurst did, and it was courteously accepted. There followed a confusion of good-byes and a getting of cloaks, and the three ladies were placed in the coach while the two gentlemen prepared to walk. Georgiana had warmly embraced Kitty at parting, and had intimated that she knew how much the arrangement by Bingley meant to her friend; and her last impression of Mrs. Knightley's ball was of William Price waving farewell in the doorway and then ascending the steps to where Kitty awaited him in the vestibule. Chapter X Colonel Fitzwilliam had come to London because he thought it was the place where he would be most likely to meet Miss Crawford again, and he had taken up literary work merely to pass away the time until that longed-for event should occur. Two months had elapsed before he heard of her arrival, with her sister, but it was not many days after that he contrived to be present at the house of a mutual friend, where he knew her to be expected. Her manner of greeting him on this occasion was not free from embarrassment; it was neither cordial nor unfriendly, and so brief was the encounter that he could discover but little from it of the state of her mind towards him. Another casual meeting seemed to promise more hopefully, but hardly had they exchanged a few sentences when the appearance of Sir Walter and Miss Elliot turned the conversation into channels more congenial to the new-comers, and Colonel Fitzwilliam was forced to stand aside and see Miss Crawford taken possession of without any semblance of unwillingness on her part. He then devoted himself to Mrs. Grant, and tried to propose an expedition, a theatre party, but that lady hesitatingly replied that she could arrange nothing without her sister. Colonel Fitzwilliam applied for permission to call, which was readily accorded, but on availing himself of it the following day only learned that the ladies were gone to Richmond with a party. The manservant obliged him, unasked, with the information that it was Mr. Crawford's party, and the Colonel was left to speculate gloomily on the chances of Sir Walter Elliot being one of the number, and what was of greater import whether, if it was so, it was with Miss Crawford's approval. He had gone to call on the Hursts after leaving Mrs. Grant's house, and had not again seen the object of his thoughts and hopes, when, a few days later, he directed his steps towards Mrs. Annesley's residence in Hans Place. He could scarcely believe it was but three months since the severance of his engagement with Georgiana, it seemed to have retreated so far into the background of events, but he had pondered earnestly over their interview in Grosvenor Street, and from her demeanour had concluded that his presence was not objectionable to her, so that any further meeting might help to re-establish their old cousinly relations, a result which their friends would rejoice in. It was therefore with a tolerably easy mind that was ushered into the presence of the two ladies, and found Georgiana in great good looks and far less shy and confused than on the previous occasion; indeed, in a few moments any awkwardness between them seemed to have quite melted away, and she was readily answering his questions about Mrs. Knightley's ball. "It certainly seems to have been a great success, for I never knew you so enthusiastic about a ball before, Georgiana," said her cousin, smiling. "It was better than the Bath assemblies, I gather?" "Oh--Bath!" exclaimed Georgiana, with a note of contempt in her voice which spoke volumes. "You laugh at me, Cousin Robert, but it was a beautiful ball. Even Mr. Bingley said so, and he must have been to a great number." "Hundreds, if not thousands, I should think," returned her cousin. "Bingley's shoemaker must have made a fortune. But who were the partners who contributed to such enjoyment? for they are usually the really important part. Two Mr. Prices you have mentioned, Captain Carter and Mr. Dixon; who else?" "Oh, I forget who else; Mr. Hurst and Mr. Bingley, of course, and Mr. Knightley, but he was very grave and terrible, I was almost too frightened to move, and Mr. Gardiner, and then there was Mr. Yates, but I did not dance with him. Do you remember him, Cousin Robert? he said he knew you at Bath." Georgiana had been so disagreeably struck by Mr. Yates's way of speaking of her relatives whom he had met, that she had not intended to mention it to Colonel Fitzwilliam, but the rest of his talk had eradicated his first impression, and she had unguardedly given utterance to his name. Fruitless regret and vexation overcame her when, glancing up at her cousin, she perceived his countenance darken, and noted the change in his voice as he replied, with an effort: "Yes, we did meet in Bath, but not in the pleasantest of circumstances. Mr. Yates may be a more agreeable man away from the companions he then had." "I do not think he was particularly agreeable," said Georgiana, falteringly, "but I thought--he appeared to me to be an interesting talker." "Yes, that is quite his line; if Yates can do nothing else he can certainly use his tongue," replied Colonel Fitzwilliam, not without bitterness. "But do not let us concern ourselves with him, Georgiana; what about the walk in Kensington Gardens that we had thought of? Will Mrs. Annesley very kindly let me escort you both there this delightfully fine morning?" Mrs. Annesley willingly acceded, and the two ladies having attired themselves, a hackney coach was called, which conveyed them a mile on their way towards Kensington Place. Georgiana was somewhat silent during the drive. She did not wish to speculate on her cousin's private affairs, but having been the innocent cause of recalling painful thoughts to him inevitably produced the wish to atone, to help; and she found herself wondering, while trying not to wonder, what could possibly be the connection between Mr. Yates, Cousin Robert and a lady in Bath now said to be in London. To be sure, it was none of her business, she had no right to wish to know, and yet

hope

How many times the word 'hope' appears in the text?

what you have to do," said Georgiana, highly diverted. "It is not a matter of fortune, is it? Anybody can do it," rejoined William Price. "I am sure you can, Miss Darcy." "No, indeed; I dislike very much some things I have to do." "But if you found you positively had to do them, and there was no way out, then you would decide to like them, would you not? It would make them so much easier." This was a new idea to Georgiana, and she considered it a little before replying, with a smile: "I am sure there are some things I should never like doing, such as sitting on the back seat of a carriage." "I know that it is disagreeable to some people, but I am sure, if one thought long enough, one could find a way to make it less so," said the young lieutenant, with great earnestness. "For instance"--he considered--"when the window was open the rain and wind would not do so much damage to the feathers in a lady's bonnet as if she were opposite; and at night one could shut one's eyes and imagine one was travelling forwards--it would be difficult to tell the difference." He looked inquiringly at Georgiana, who was so much entertained by his arguments that she said, laughingly: "I was right in calling you fortunate, Mr. Price, for you seemed to have secured a sovereign remedy against all ills. Do tell me how you would console yourself if you slipped down now and broke your leg, so that you could not dance any more for a long time? I should like to know whether your principle always holds good." "Now, Miss Darcy, you are driving me into a corner. I only said if I positively had to do the distasteful thing and there was no way out. I beg to inform you in the plainest language that there is a way out of your suggestion--that is, not to fall and break my leg, and it is the way I mean to adopt. But if such a thing did happen to me, I should certainly try to console myself--as yet I am not quite sure how--yes, I have thought of a method, but I do not think I had better tell you what it is." "He means he would have Kitty to sit beside him and talk to him," thought Georgiana. "I wonder what he would be like if he were ill? He would have just the same merry smile, I believe." Aloud she said: "I am not so strong-minded as you, Mr. Price, I'm afraid. I should never be able to think of any way of consoling myself for a broken leg." "I hope you will never have to endure anything one-twentieth a part disagreeable, Miss Darcy," her partner replied, dropping his gay manner for a moment. "Although it helped me to get through my examinations, even now I cannot think very kindly of it." "Were you--has it actually happened to you?" exclaimed Georgiana, with a horrified face; and she never felt less pleasure at the arrival of a new partner than at that moment. Most unwillingly she placed her arm in his to be led away, wanting far more to hear the history of William Price's misfortune; while the young man, full of concern at having startled her, walked a few steps beside her to say: "It is all right, Miss Darcy, because, you see, that guarantees that it will not happen again to-night." Bingley, who was her partner, asked the name of her companion, and Georgiana told what she knew of him, describing him as Kitty's friend. Bingley recollected having heard of him from Kitty, and pleased with his appearance, and always attracted by a new face, expressed a wish to know him, and Georgiana looked forward to making the introduction when her dances with Bingley should be over. This, however, was not to be. Kitty and Mr. Price were dancing together, and occasionally passed them in the set, when Georgiana could observe her friend's flushed cheek and air of radiant happiness; but at its conclusion they were swept away in a crowd, and Bingley and Georgiana, looking round for chairs, were accosted by Mr. Knightley, with the request to present Mr. and Mrs. Yates, who were anxious to know them. The name was unfamiliar to both, and so were the faces of the couple who approached--Mr. Yates with his usual aspect of complete self-satisfaction, and his wife, a woman of fashion, with a considerable share of good looks, but an expression of countenance from which weariness and impatience were never long absent. The lady fell to Bingley's share, and Georgiana, on her part, learned from Mr. Yates that he had heard her name and wished for the pleasure of her acquaintance, as he had already made that of her brother and sister in Bath. Georgiana replied to inquiries after their health and Colonel Fitzwilliam's, whom, Mr. Yates told her, he knew very well indeed, and he desired to send his compliments to the Colonel, if Miss Darcy should be seeing him. "He is in London, I believe?" Georgiana assented. "Ah, yes, I understood that; and the lady is in town, too, I fancy." Georgiana's look in reply to this was so blank that Mr. Yates, evidently not caring to trust himself in the deep waters of explanation, continued: "Do present him my cordial regards, and say I hope he has forgiven me. I was so unfortunate as to do him a little disservice, but it was easily put right; I saw to that myself. Lady Catherine de Bourgh, I am sure, had made _amende honorable_. You know Lady Catherine, Miss Darcy? Your aunt? Of course, I beg your pardon; I should have recollected. Do, pray, remember me to her, too. You were not in Bath this year, were you? Well, you did not lose much; I have known pleasanter seasons." Georgiana only bowed; Mr. Yates's familiar allusion to Colonel Fitzwilliam had not pleased her, and an instinct, which she had not time to analyse, led her to connect it with her cousin's depressed spirits. The next moment her companion introduced a more welcome subject by saying: "I think I saw you dancing with my young cousin, William Price; a smart young fellow, is he not?" "Is he your cousin?" asked Georgiana, in some surprise. "Yes, or rather, my wife's, through the mother; but we have all known him for years, he seems quite like one of ourselves, and spends half his time at our house when in town. Though I often tell my wife it is no compliment to us, for he is for ever playing with our children; we cannot get him out of the nursery." Georgiana felt that this was just as it should be; Mr. Price's being fond of the children accorded him well with the "merry, kind smile" that was so characteristic of him. She ventured upon an inquiry as to his naval career, and Mr. Yates, who liked nothing better than to be talking either of himself or of those belonging to him, immediately entered upon a description of William's notable conduct at the battle of St. Domingo, and the extraordinary courage he had displayed in the taking of a French ship and in defending the colours of his own. Bingley's attention was caught, and Georgiana was grateful to him for asking questions to prolong the story, and for interpolating expressions of admiration which she felt but could not utter. The more she saw and heard of him, the more delighted she was with the young hero, for such he now appeared to be; and the more she commended Kitty's good sense in bestowing her devotion upon such a worthy object. She looked forward to further opportunities of hearing from Mr. Price's own lips the account of some of his adventures; but recollecting that if events took the much-desired course there would be plenty of such opportunities, she decided that it would be best to employ the remainder of the time which she might spend in his company that evening by discoursing of Kitty, in the hope of gaining some assurance of the strength of his inclinations. He knew her to be Kitty's friend, and the subject of Kitty would naturally become the chief bond between them when they came to know each other a little better. Shortly after supper, William Price claimed her hand for a second time; and at the first interval in the dance long enough for any connected conversation, Georgiana began: "Who is that dancing with Miss Bennet? Do you know, Mr. Price?" "It is a Mr. Churchill, a great friend of the Knightleys. I believe he is rather agreeable, but Miss Bennet tells me she does not like him," replied William Price, laughing. "Why should she not like him, I wonder?" asked Georgiana. "Oh, I hardly know. Just a fancy, I think. He and I had a great set-to here one day--an argument, I mean; and I was fairly worsted--it was about foxhunting, so perhaps I deserved to be; but Miss Bennet very kindly took my side, and was quite vexed with Mr. Churchill when he retired with the honours of war." "Kitty is so loyal to her friends," said Georgiana. "Yes, she is a delightful girl, and Mrs. Knightley, too, is the kindest person imaginable. She has been so good to both my brother and myself, and I have never enjoyed my leave so much." "It must be a very pleasant house to stay in," said Georgiana. "Miss Bennet is very sorry to be going away, I know." "Yes, is it not a pity she has to go? And down to the depths of the country, too. I must not disparage it, Miss Darcy, for I am reminded that it is your home as well; but when people go so far off one is desperately afraid of not seeing them again. You are not leaving town with Miss Bennet, are you?" Georgiana was explaining their respective plans when the summons came for them to rejoin the set; but an interruption soon occurred in the shape of a slight accident. A lady dancing next to William Price, in turning sharply, trod upon her dress, with the result that she slipped and fell upon the polished floor with her foot twisted under her. The young lieutenant sprang forward, lifted her with skillful and gentle touch, and carried her, pale and suffering, to an adjoining room, where Mrs. Knightley and several friends hastened to her aid. A servant was sent for a surgeon, and William Price returned to Georgiana with the news that, pending his arrival, the lady was being treated for what appeared to be a severe sprain. "Poor thing!" said Georgiana, trembling. "I am so sorry for her. It must have caused intense pain. I was afraid she might have broken it." "No, it is bad enough, but fortunately it is not broken; I could perceive that," replied the young man. "You must not prognosticate such sad things, Miss Darcy; you see they very nearly come true." Georgiana looked into his face for enlightenment, then broke into a smile. "Oh, Mr. Price, you are unkind to assume that I was responsible for it. I only suggested a broken leg, and it was you who said it had been a reality in your case. How did it happen? Was it in action?" William led her to a seat, as the incident had unnerved her for more dancing, but could not be persuaded to give a narrative in the style of Mr. Yates; he only laughed and said that it had been about as glorious an affair as falling down in a ball-room. "One of our fellows had foolishly got himself into a very awkward place at the storming of a fort, and I was so stupid as to get in the way of a shower of falling rocks, one of which, when it reached me, decided to stay as close to me as it could; so I was severely reprimanded, and had to spend six weeks in hospital at the very busiest time." Georgiana listened with interest, certain that there was another version of the story which would show her companion up in a different light, and she inquired: "What did you say about examinations?" "Only that I had some books, and a good friend who helped me to the utmost of his power, so that while I was lying by I contrived to work up my subject enough to have scraped through." They talked for some time longer, until William had to go in search of his next partner, while Georgiana was carried off by her hostess, who placed her at a small table to drink coffee with herself and Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. The Gardiners were, of course, no strangers to Georgiana, and she showed the pleasure she felt in meeting them again. "Is it not kind of Mrs. Gardiner to have lent Kitty to me for so long, Miss Darcy?" said Mrs. Knightley. "I feel I can ill spare her now; I shall miss her after the happy time we have had together." Georgiana said what was proper, and Mrs. Gardiner added: "Perhaps she will be able to come to you another year." "Indeed, I hope so. I should like her to come any time; but another year, you know, she may not be so free; the claims of a house of her own may be paramount." "Certainly they may be; but it seems early to anticipate that," said Mrs. Gardiner. "Early? Oh, no, I do not think so. I shall not be at all surprised to be asked to help in buying Kitty's wedding clothes before Christmas," returned Mrs. Knightley, smiling mysteriously. Mrs. Gardiner expressed inquiring surprise, while Georgiana listened with interest for what Mrs. Knightley would say, regarding her as the chief authority in the affair, as far as it had gone. Her hostess proceeded: "It is quite between ourselves, you know, Mrs. Gardiner; I know I am perfectly safe in mentioning it, as you are Kitty's aunt and Miss Darcy her greatest friend; and you can imagine whether it is a pleasure to me to find that two young people in whom I am interested are so much interested in each other." "Undoubtedly," said Mrs. Gardiner; "but pray enlighten me, Mrs. Knightley, as to who the other person is." "You have met him to-night, Mrs. Gardiner, the young naval officer, Mr. Price, whom I introduced to you." Mrs. Gardiner was very anxious to learn more particulars, and Mrs. Knightley gave her full information as to William Price's career and prospects, while as to Kitty, she affirmed she had every reason to believe that both were equally attracted, and that an engagement would shortly be formed between them, subject to the approval of their friends. Mrs. Gardiner agreed that it was very good news if the young man was all Mrs. Knightley believed him, and remarked what a delight it would be to her sister, Mrs. Bennet, who had always wanted Kitty to be settled. "Mr. Price _is_ all we think him, I can assure you; Mr. Knightley will answer for him. But, pray, do not mention a word of this to anyone; let it not go beyond us four; I am most desirous that the affair should pass to its easy and natural conclusion." "I quite understand that, and of course we shall wait until Kitty tells us," said her aunt. "What do you think of it all, Miss Darcy? Has Kitty mentioned the matter to you?" Georgiana replied that she had, and on further questioning owned that she felt sure that if what Mrs. Knightley expected came to pass, it would make Kitty very happy. Mrs. Knightley called upon her to join in commendations of the young man, and this she could sincerely do; and she rose from the table feeling as if everything were settled, and it only remained to congratulate the two persons most concerned. A minute later she met Kitty, flying in search of her. Kitty seized her friend's hand and drew her into a quiet corner of Mrs. Knightley's morning-room, where the two girls could seat themselves on a sofa partly hidden by a screen and be quite secluded. "I wanted so much to see you before I went, Georgiana," began Kitty in an excited undertone. "I thought I should never get to you, and this is my last chance, as we start so early on Friday. Now do tell me what you think of him. You can judge now, cannot you? Is he not delightful? Is he not handsome, and a noble creature? Is he not all I said?" "Yes, indeed, dear Kitty, he is," responded Georgiana, with tender sympathy. "I can quite understand your feelings. I am sure anyone would be very proud to have gained the affection of such a man." "Oh, I am so glad to hear you say so. Do you think I have gained it? Sometimes I think so; sometimes I am not sure. Mrs. Knightley thinks I have." "I know she does; I have heard her say so, and she would not mislead you, Kitty, I am sure. She cares so much for your welfare." "Yes, indeed, she has been very kind. I cannot tell you what I should have done without her. She has done everything, she thinks of everything. To-night, when she was arranging the supper partners, I was standing near him, but not very near, and he had not asked me; I suppose he was waiting to see if he might, as we had already danced together a great deal, and she looked up from her list and said: 'And Mr. Price, I do not think I have put anyone down for you: will you take Miss Bennet?' in that kind way, not to make me feel uncomfortable, as if it had been planned. So he came and offered me his arm with such an air! And, after all, we did not talk much at supper; I was too happy, but when I asked him if he liked my dress, he paid me such an elegant compliment on it--something about a rose." "He is a most agreeable companion," said Georgiana. "I should never tire of hearing him converse. The marvellous adventures he has had! It is like a glimpse of a new world to meet a person who has actually been through those things, and who describes them with such modesty and simplicity. Such a man seldom comes into our quiet lives." "Oh, but they are so horrible, it quite frightens me to hear about them; if I were married to him I would never let him go to sea again, for fear of his coming back without an arm, or a leg, or an eye." "But it is his profession, Kitty." "I know, but it is a horrid profession, the only thing about him that I don't like, except for the uniform, and a man in a black coat looks positively nothing beside him." "Oh, Kitty, as if the uniform mattered! Do not let me hear you talk so foolishly," said Georgiana, really pained. "Well, perhaps it is foolish, but it does make a difference, you know. Bingley has been teasing me half the evening about a young man that he says they have got for me down in the country, whom I shall be sure to like, the Rector of Kympton, I believe. As if I could possibly look at a clergyman after knowing William Price." "Perhaps it is not fair to compare two such different types of men, but Mr. Morland is very nice, Kitty; I am sure you will think so." "I am sure I shall not; I don't want to see him: how can I think anyone nice when I am away from here? Oh, if I could only see Price once more, just once more, to make sure; but as he says, how can one ever see anybody down in the wilds of Derbyshire?" "Kitty, here is the music beginning again, and we shall be asked for," said Georgiana, standing up. "Do not be unhappy or over-anxious about this, and do not show too much what you feel, for I am sure it will all come out right if you have patience." "Do you really think it is so? That is such a comfort; but I wish he had spoken to-night. Mrs. Knightley thought he would." "Dear Kitty, whenever it comes, I wish you all the happiness in the world; write to me very fully, and, as I said, have patience and self-command. Now we really ought to go." Kitty pressed her friend's hand, and Georgiana tried to calm her as they walked back to the ball-room, by talking on indifferent topics, for she feared the girl's burning cheeks and nervous manner would betray her agitation and its cause. Miss Bingley met them as they entered the room, and asked Georgiana if she was ready to go, as Mrs. Hurst seemed inclined for it. "Yes, I am quite ready," said Georgiana. "I think I am engaged to Mr. Bingley for another dance, but he will not mind missing it." "Charles is over there, talking to Mr. Price, but I have told him we want to go, so he will be expecting us," said Miss Bingley, and led the way across the room, Kitty not unnaturally following. Mr. Bingley welcomed them warmly, calling out: "Here, Kitty, come and add your entreaties to mine. I want this young gentleman to come down to Desborough and shoot our pheasants in November, but he is not sure if he can manage it; I never heard such nonsense. If anyone is entitled to ask for leave when he wants it, I should think he is." Kitty was rendered perfectly incapable of speech for the first moment after hearing these words; never had a wish been so suddenly and gloriously placed in the way of accomplishment; but she found an unexpected ally in Miss Bingley, who supported her brother's invitation, having, like him, been attracted by the young lieutenant's agreeable demeanour and high reputation. William Price stood still, looking diffidently from one to another, and expressing in disjointed sentences his gratitude, his uncertainty, and his extreme pleasure should he be able to accept. Mr. Bingley exerted all his powers of persuasion, and Kitty's bright eyes shot glances not less eloquent. Georgiana turned a little away, feeling suddenly very tired and spiritless, and Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, who came up at that moment, remarked on it. "Georgiana tired?" exclaimed Bingley; "then let us go at once. You are not used to these late hours, and I don't know what Mrs. Darcy will say to me if I take them a poor account of you. We are all neighbours in the country, you know, Mr. Price. Then that is settled? You will come to us if you can possibly get away, and I hope nothing will prevent it. You do not expect to receive the command of the Mediterranean squadron, do you?" "No, sir," replied William, laughing, "neither that nor any other command this year, I am afraid." "Well, well, I wish you luck. Shall I see you again before I leave town?" William was beginning to reply negatively, when Miss Bingley, who was leading the whole party towards the cloak-room, turned and asked Mr. Price if he would not come and see them some time in Grosvenor Street. She called on her sister to ratify the invitation, which Mrs. Hurst did, and it was courteously accepted. There followed a confusion of good-byes and a getting of cloaks, and the three ladies were placed in the coach while the two gentlemen prepared to walk. Georgiana had warmly embraced Kitty at parting, and had intimated that she knew how much the arrangement by Bingley meant to her friend; and her last impression of Mrs. Knightley's ball was of William Price waving farewell in the doorway and then ascending the steps to where Kitty awaited him in the vestibule. Chapter X Colonel Fitzwilliam had come to London because he thought it was the place where he would be most likely to meet Miss Crawford again, and he had taken up literary work merely to pass away the time until that longed-for event should occur. Two months had elapsed before he heard of her arrival, with her sister, but it was not many days after that he contrived to be present at the house of a mutual friend, where he knew her to be expected. Her manner of greeting him on this occasion was not free from embarrassment; it was neither cordial nor unfriendly, and so brief was the encounter that he could discover but little from it of the state of her mind towards him. Another casual meeting seemed to promise more hopefully, but hardly had they exchanged a few sentences when the appearance of Sir Walter and Miss Elliot turned the conversation into channels more congenial to the new-comers, and Colonel Fitzwilliam was forced to stand aside and see Miss Crawford taken possession of without any semblance of unwillingness on her part. He then devoted himself to Mrs. Grant, and tried to propose an expedition, a theatre party, but that lady hesitatingly replied that she could arrange nothing without her sister. Colonel Fitzwilliam applied for permission to call, which was readily accorded, but on availing himself of it the following day only learned that the ladies were gone to Richmond with a party. The manservant obliged him, unasked, with the information that it was Mr. Crawford's party, and the Colonel was left to speculate gloomily on the chances of Sir Walter Elliot being one of the number, and what was of greater import whether, if it was so, it was with Miss Crawford's approval. He had gone to call on the Hursts after leaving Mrs. Grant's house, and had not again seen the object of his thoughts and hopes, when, a few days later, he directed his steps towards Mrs. Annesley's residence in Hans Place. He could scarcely believe it was but three months since the severance of his engagement with Georgiana, it seemed to have retreated so far into the background of events, but he had pondered earnestly over their interview in Grosvenor Street, and from her demeanour had concluded that his presence was not objectionable to her, so that any further meeting might help to re-establish their old cousinly relations, a result which their friends would rejoice in. It was therefore with a tolerably easy mind that was ushered into the presence of the two ladies, and found Georgiana in great good looks and far less shy and confused than on the previous occasion; indeed, in a few moments any awkwardness between them seemed to have quite melted away, and she was readily answering his questions about Mrs. Knightley's ball. "It certainly seems to have been a great success, for I never knew you so enthusiastic about a ball before, Georgiana," said her cousin, smiling. "It was better than the Bath assemblies, I gather?" "Oh--Bath!" exclaimed Georgiana, with a note of contempt in her voice which spoke volumes. "You laugh at me, Cousin Robert, but it was a beautiful ball. Even Mr. Bingley said so, and he must have been to a great number." "Hundreds, if not thousands, I should think," returned her cousin. "Bingley's shoemaker must have made a fortune. But who were the partners who contributed to such enjoyment? for they are usually the really important part. Two Mr. Prices you have mentioned, Captain Carter and Mr. Dixon; who else?" "Oh, I forget who else; Mr. Hurst and Mr. Bingley, of course, and Mr. Knightley, but he was very grave and terrible, I was almost too frightened to move, and Mr. Gardiner, and then there was Mr. Yates, but I did not dance with him. Do you remember him, Cousin Robert? he said he knew you at Bath." Georgiana had been so disagreeably struck by Mr. Yates's way of speaking of her relatives whom he had met, that she had not intended to mention it to Colonel Fitzwilliam, but the rest of his talk had eradicated his first impression, and she had unguardedly given utterance to his name. Fruitless regret and vexation overcame her when, glancing up at her cousin, she perceived his countenance darken, and noted the change in his voice as he replied, with an effort: "Yes, we did meet in Bath, but not in the pleasantest of circumstances. Mr. Yates may be a more agreeable man away from the companions he then had." "I do not think he was particularly agreeable," said Georgiana, falteringly, "but I thought--he appeared to me to be an interesting talker." "Yes, that is quite his line; if Yates can do nothing else he can certainly use his tongue," replied Colonel Fitzwilliam, not without bitterness. "But do not let us concern ourselves with him, Georgiana; what about the walk in Kensington Gardens that we had thought of? Will Mrs. Annesley very kindly let me escort you both there this delightfully fine morning?" Mrs. Annesley willingly acceded, and the two ladies having attired themselves, a hackney coach was called, which conveyed them a mile on their way towards Kensington Place. Georgiana was somewhat silent during the drive. She did not wish to speculate on her cousin's private affairs, but having been the innocent cause of recalling painful thoughts to him inevitably produced the wish to atone, to help; and she found herself wondering, while trying not to wonder, what could possibly be the connection between Mr. Yates, Cousin Robert and a lady in Bath now said to be in London. To be sure, it was none of her business, she had no right to wish to know, and yet

other

How many times the word 'other' appears in the text?

what you have to do," said Georgiana, highly diverted. "It is not a matter of fortune, is it? Anybody can do it," rejoined William Price. "I am sure you can, Miss Darcy." "No, indeed; I dislike very much some things I have to do." "But if you found you positively had to do them, and there was no way out, then you would decide to like them, would you not? It would make them so much easier." This was a new idea to Georgiana, and she considered it a little before replying, with a smile: "I am sure there are some things I should never like doing, such as sitting on the back seat of a carriage." "I know that it is disagreeable to some people, but I am sure, if one thought long enough, one could find a way to make it less so," said the young lieutenant, with great earnestness. "For instance"--he considered--"when the window was open the rain and wind would not do so much damage to the feathers in a lady's bonnet as if she were opposite; and at night one could shut one's eyes and imagine one was travelling forwards--it would be difficult to tell the difference." He looked inquiringly at Georgiana, who was so much entertained by his arguments that she said, laughingly: "I was right in calling you fortunate, Mr. Price, for you seemed to have secured a sovereign remedy against all ills. Do tell me how you would console yourself if you slipped down now and broke your leg, so that you could not dance any more for a long time? I should like to know whether your principle always holds good." "Now, Miss Darcy, you are driving me into a corner. I only said if I positively had to do the distasteful thing and there was no way out. I beg to inform you in the plainest language that there is a way out of your suggestion--that is, not to fall and break my leg, and it is the way I mean to adopt. But if such a thing did happen to me, I should certainly try to console myself--as yet I am not quite sure how--yes, I have thought of a method, but I do not think I had better tell you what it is." "He means he would have Kitty to sit beside him and talk to him," thought Georgiana. "I wonder what he would be like if he were ill? He would have just the same merry smile, I believe." Aloud she said: "I am not so strong-minded as you, Mr. Price, I'm afraid. I should never be able to think of any way of consoling myself for a broken leg." "I hope you will never have to endure anything one-twentieth a part disagreeable, Miss Darcy," her partner replied, dropping his gay manner for a moment. "Although it helped me to get through my examinations, even now I cannot think very kindly of it." "Were you--has it actually happened to you?" exclaimed Georgiana, with a horrified face; and she never felt less pleasure at the arrival of a new partner than at that moment. Most unwillingly she placed her arm in his to be led away, wanting far more to hear the history of William Price's misfortune; while the young man, full of concern at having startled her, walked a few steps beside her to say: "It is all right, Miss Darcy, because, you see, that guarantees that it will not happen again to-night." Bingley, who was her partner, asked the name of her companion, and Georgiana told what she knew of him, describing him as Kitty's friend. Bingley recollected having heard of him from Kitty, and pleased with his appearance, and always attracted by a new face, expressed a wish to know him, and Georgiana looked forward to making the introduction when her dances with Bingley should be over. This, however, was not to be. Kitty and Mr. Price were dancing together, and occasionally passed them in the set, when Georgiana could observe her friend's flushed cheek and air of radiant happiness; but at its conclusion they were swept away in a crowd, and Bingley and Georgiana, looking round for chairs, were accosted by Mr. Knightley, with the request to present Mr. and Mrs. Yates, who were anxious to know them. The name was unfamiliar to both, and so were the faces of the couple who approached--Mr. Yates with his usual aspect of complete self-satisfaction, and his wife, a woman of fashion, with a considerable share of good looks, but an expression of countenance from which weariness and impatience were never long absent. The lady fell to Bingley's share, and Georgiana, on her part, learned from Mr. Yates that he had heard her name and wished for the pleasure of her acquaintance, as he had already made that of her brother and sister in Bath. Georgiana replied to inquiries after their health and Colonel Fitzwilliam's, whom, Mr. Yates told her, he knew very well indeed, and he desired to send his compliments to the Colonel, if Miss Darcy should be seeing him. "He is in London, I believe?" Georgiana assented. "Ah, yes, I understood that; and the lady is in town, too, I fancy." Georgiana's look in reply to this was so blank that Mr. Yates, evidently not caring to trust himself in the deep waters of explanation, continued: "Do present him my cordial regards, and say I hope he has forgiven me. I was so unfortunate as to do him a little disservice, but it was easily put right; I saw to that myself. Lady Catherine de Bourgh, I am sure, had made _amende honorable_. You know Lady Catherine, Miss Darcy? Your aunt? Of course, I beg your pardon; I should have recollected. Do, pray, remember me to her, too. You were not in Bath this year, were you? Well, you did not lose much; I have known pleasanter seasons." Georgiana only bowed; Mr. Yates's familiar allusion to Colonel Fitzwilliam had not pleased her, and an instinct, which she had not time to analyse, led her to connect it with her cousin's depressed spirits. The next moment her companion introduced a more welcome subject by saying: "I think I saw you dancing with my young cousin, William Price; a smart young fellow, is he not?" "Is he your cousin?" asked Georgiana, in some surprise. "Yes, or rather, my wife's, through the mother; but we have all known him for years, he seems quite like one of ourselves, and spends half his time at our house when in town. Though I often tell my wife it is no compliment to us, for he is for ever playing with our children; we cannot get him out of the nursery." Georgiana felt that this was just as it should be; Mr. Price's being fond of the children accorded him well with the "merry, kind smile" that was so characteristic of him. She ventured upon an inquiry as to his naval career, and Mr. Yates, who liked nothing better than to be talking either of himself or of those belonging to him, immediately entered upon a description of William's notable conduct at the battle of St. Domingo, and the extraordinary courage he had displayed in the taking of a French ship and in defending the colours of his own. Bingley's attention was caught, and Georgiana was grateful to him for asking questions to prolong the story, and for interpolating expressions of admiration which she felt but could not utter. The more she saw and heard of him, the more delighted she was with the young hero, for such he now appeared to be; and the more she commended Kitty's good sense in bestowing her devotion upon such a worthy object. She looked forward to further opportunities of hearing from Mr. Price's own lips the account of some of his adventures; but recollecting that if events took the much-desired course there would be plenty of such opportunities, she decided that it would be best to employ the remainder of the time which she might spend in his company that evening by discoursing of Kitty, in the hope of gaining some assurance of the strength of his inclinations. He knew her to be Kitty's friend, and the subject of Kitty would naturally become the chief bond between them when they came to know each other a little better. Shortly after supper, William Price claimed her hand for a second time; and at the first interval in the dance long enough for any connected conversation, Georgiana began: "Who is that dancing with Miss Bennet? Do you know, Mr. Price?" "It is a Mr. Churchill, a great friend of the Knightleys. I believe he is rather agreeable, but Miss Bennet tells me she does not like him," replied William Price, laughing. "Why should she not like him, I wonder?" asked Georgiana. "Oh, I hardly know. Just a fancy, I think. He and I had a great set-to here one day--an argument, I mean; and I was fairly worsted--it was about foxhunting, so perhaps I deserved to be; but Miss Bennet very kindly took my side, and was quite vexed with Mr. Churchill when he retired with the honours of war." "Kitty is so loyal to her friends," said Georgiana. "Yes, she is a delightful girl, and Mrs. Knightley, too, is the kindest person imaginable. She has been so good to both my brother and myself, and I have never enjoyed my leave so much." "It must be a very pleasant house to stay in," said Georgiana. "Miss Bennet is very sorry to be going away, I know." "Yes, is it not a pity she has to go? And down to the depths of the country, too. I must not disparage it, Miss Darcy, for I am reminded that it is your home as well; but when people go so far off one is desperately afraid of not seeing them again. You are not leaving town with Miss Bennet, are you?" Georgiana was explaining their respective plans when the summons came for them to rejoin the set; but an interruption soon occurred in the shape of a slight accident. A lady dancing next to William Price, in turning sharply, trod upon her dress, with the result that she slipped and fell upon the polished floor with her foot twisted under her. The young lieutenant sprang forward, lifted her with skillful and gentle touch, and carried her, pale and suffering, to an adjoining room, where Mrs. Knightley and several friends hastened to her aid. A servant was sent for a surgeon, and William Price returned to Georgiana with the news that, pending his arrival, the lady was being treated for what appeared to be a severe sprain. "Poor thing!" said Georgiana, trembling. "I am so sorry for her. It must have caused intense pain. I was afraid she might have broken it." "No, it is bad enough, but fortunately it is not broken; I could perceive that," replied the young man. "You must not prognosticate such sad things, Miss Darcy; you see they very nearly come true." Georgiana looked into his face for enlightenment, then broke into a smile. "Oh, Mr. Price, you are unkind to assume that I was responsible for it. I only suggested a broken leg, and it was you who said it had been a reality in your case. How did it happen? Was it in action?" William led her to a seat, as the incident had unnerved her for more dancing, but could not be persuaded to give a narrative in the style of Mr. Yates; he only laughed and said that it had been about as glorious an affair as falling down in a ball-room. "One of our fellows had foolishly got himself into a very awkward place at the storming of a fort, and I was so stupid as to get in the way of a shower of falling rocks, one of which, when it reached me, decided to stay as close to me as it could; so I was severely reprimanded, and had to spend six weeks in hospital at the very busiest time." Georgiana listened with interest, certain that there was another version of the story which would show her companion up in a different light, and she inquired: "What did you say about examinations?" "Only that I had some books, and a good friend who helped me to the utmost of his power, so that while I was lying by I contrived to work up my subject enough to have scraped through." They talked for some time longer, until William had to go in search of his next partner, while Georgiana was carried off by her hostess, who placed her at a small table to drink coffee with herself and Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. The Gardiners were, of course, no strangers to Georgiana, and she showed the pleasure she felt in meeting them again. "Is it not kind of Mrs. Gardiner to have lent Kitty to me for so long, Miss Darcy?" said Mrs. Knightley. "I feel I can ill spare her now; I shall miss her after the happy time we have had together." Georgiana said what was proper, and Mrs. Gardiner added: "Perhaps she will be able to come to you another year." "Indeed, I hope so. I should like her to come any time; but another year, you know, she may not be so free; the claims of a house of her own may be paramount." "Certainly they may be; but it seems early to anticipate that," said Mrs. Gardiner. "Early? Oh, no, I do not think so. I shall not be at all surprised to be asked to help in buying Kitty's wedding clothes before Christmas," returned Mrs. Knightley, smiling mysteriously. Mrs. Gardiner expressed inquiring surprise, while Georgiana listened with interest for what Mrs. Knightley would say, regarding her as the chief authority in the affair, as far as it had gone. Her hostess proceeded: "It is quite between ourselves, you know, Mrs. Gardiner; I know I am perfectly safe in mentioning it, as you are Kitty's aunt and Miss Darcy her greatest friend; and you can imagine whether it is a pleasure to me to find that two young people in whom I am interested are so much interested in each other." "Undoubtedly," said Mrs. Gardiner; "but pray enlighten me, Mrs. Knightley, as to who the other person is." "You have met him to-night, Mrs. Gardiner, the young naval officer, Mr. Price, whom I introduced to you." Mrs. Gardiner was very anxious to learn more particulars, and Mrs. Knightley gave her full information as to William Price's career and prospects, while as to Kitty, she affirmed she had every reason to believe that both were equally attracted, and that an engagement would shortly be formed between them, subject to the approval of their friends. Mrs. Gardiner agreed that it was very good news if the young man was all Mrs. Knightley believed him, and remarked what a delight it would be to her sister, Mrs. Bennet, who had always wanted Kitty to be settled. "Mr. Price _is_ all we think him, I can assure you; Mr. Knightley will answer for him. But, pray, do not mention a word of this to anyone; let it not go beyond us four; I am most desirous that the affair should pass to its easy and natural conclusion." "I quite understand that, and of course we shall wait until Kitty tells us," said her aunt. "What do you think of it all, Miss Darcy? Has Kitty mentioned the matter to you?" Georgiana replied that she had, and on further questioning owned that she felt sure that if what Mrs. Knightley expected came to pass, it would make Kitty very happy. Mrs. Knightley called upon her to join in commendations of the young man, and this she could sincerely do; and she rose from the table feeling as if everything were settled, and it only remained to congratulate the two persons most concerned. A minute later she met Kitty, flying in search of her. Kitty seized her friend's hand and drew her into a quiet corner of Mrs. Knightley's morning-room, where the two girls could seat themselves on a sofa partly hidden by a screen and be quite secluded. "I wanted so much to see you before I went, Georgiana," began Kitty in an excited undertone. "I thought I should never get to you, and this is my last chance, as we start so early on Friday. Now do tell me what you think of him. You can judge now, cannot you? Is he not delightful? Is he not handsome, and a noble creature? Is he not all I said?" "Yes, indeed, dear Kitty, he is," responded Georgiana, with tender sympathy. "I can quite understand your feelings. I am sure anyone would be very proud to have gained the affection of such a man." "Oh, I am so glad to hear you say so. Do you think I have gained it? Sometimes I think so; sometimes I am not sure. Mrs. Knightley thinks I have." "I know she does; I have heard her say so, and she would not mislead you, Kitty, I am sure. She cares so much for your welfare." "Yes, indeed, she has been very kind. I cannot tell you what I should have done without her. She has done everything, she thinks of everything. To-night, when she was arranging the supper partners, I was standing near him, but not very near, and he had not asked me; I suppose he was waiting to see if he might, as we had already danced together a great deal, and she looked up from her list and said: 'And Mr. Price, I do not think I have put anyone down for you: will you take Miss Bennet?' in that kind way, not to make me feel uncomfortable, as if it had been planned. So he came and offered me his arm with such an air! And, after all, we did not talk much at supper; I was too happy, but when I asked him if he liked my dress, he paid me such an elegant compliment on it--something about a rose." "He is a most agreeable companion," said Georgiana. "I should never tire of hearing him converse. The marvellous adventures he has had! It is like a glimpse of a new world to meet a person who has actually been through those things, and who describes them with such modesty and simplicity. Such a man seldom comes into our quiet lives." "Oh, but they are so horrible, it quite frightens me to hear about them; if I were married to him I would never let him go to sea again, for fear of his coming back without an arm, or a leg, or an eye." "But it is his profession, Kitty." "I know, but it is a horrid profession, the only thing about him that I don't like, except for the uniform, and a man in a black coat looks positively nothing beside him." "Oh, Kitty, as if the uniform mattered! Do not let me hear you talk so foolishly," said Georgiana, really pained. "Well, perhaps it is foolish, but it does make a difference, you know. Bingley has been teasing me half the evening about a young man that he says they have got for me down in the country, whom I shall be sure to like, the Rector of Kympton, I believe. As if I could possibly look at a clergyman after knowing William Price." "Perhaps it is not fair to compare two such different types of men, but Mr. Morland is very nice, Kitty; I am sure you will think so." "I am sure I shall not; I don't want to see him: how can I think anyone nice when I am away from here? Oh, if I could only see Price once more, just once more, to make sure; but as he says, how can one ever see anybody down in the wilds of Derbyshire?" "Kitty, here is the music beginning again, and we shall be asked for," said Georgiana, standing up. "Do not be unhappy or over-anxious about this, and do not show too much what you feel, for I am sure it will all come out right if you have patience." "Do you really think it is so? That is such a comfort; but I wish he had spoken to-night. Mrs. Knightley thought he would." "Dear Kitty, whenever it comes, I wish you all the happiness in the world; write to me very fully, and, as I said, have patience and self-command. Now we really ought to go." Kitty pressed her friend's hand, and Georgiana tried to calm her as they walked back to the ball-room, by talking on indifferent topics, for she feared the girl's burning cheeks and nervous manner would betray her agitation and its cause. Miss Bingley met them as they entered the room, and asked Georgiana if she was ready to go, as Mrs. Hurst seemed inclined for it. "Yes, I am quite ready," said Georgiana. "I think I am engaged to Mr. Bingley for another dance, but he will not mind missing it." "Charles is over there, talking to Mr. Price, but I have told him we want to go, so he will be expecting us," said Miss Bingley, and led the way across the room, Kitty not unnaturally following. Mr. Bingley welcomed them warmly, calling out: "Here, Kitty, come and add your entreaties to mine. I want this young gentleman to come down to Desborough and shoot our pheasants in November, but he is not sure if he can manage it; I never heard such nonsense. If anyone is entitled to ask for leave when he wants it, I should think he is." Kitty was rendered perfectly incapable of speech for the first moment after hearing these words; never had a wish been so suddenly and gloriously placed in the way of accomplishment; but she found an unexpected ally in Miss Bingley, who supported her brother's invitation, having, like him, been attracted by the young lieutenant's agreeable demeanour and high reputation. William Price stood still, looking diffidently from one to another, and expressing in disjointed sentences his gratitude, his uncertainty, and his extreme pleasure should he be able to accept. Mr. Bingley exerted all his powers of persuasion, and Kitty's bright eyes shot glances not less eloquent. Georgiana turned a little away, feeling suddenly very tired and spiritless, and Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, who came up at that moment, remarked on it. "Georgiana tired?" exclaimed Bingley; "then let us go at once. You are not used to these late hours, and I don't know what Mrs. Darcy will say to me if I take them a poor account of you. We are all neighbours in the country, you know, Mr. Price. Then that is settled? You will come to us if you can possibly get away, and I hope nothing will prevent it. You do not expect to receive the command of the Mediterranean squadron, do you?" "No, sir," replied William, laughing, "neither that nor any other command this year, I am afraid." "Well, well, I wish you luck. Shall I see you again before I leave town?" William was beginning to reply negatively, when Miss Bingley, who was leading the whole party towards the cloak-room, turned and asked Mr. Price if he would not come and see them some time in Grosvenor Street. She called on her sister to ratify the invitation, which Mrs. Hurst did, and it was courteously accepted. There followed a confusion of good-byes and a getting of cloaks, and the three ladies were placed in the coach while the two gentlemen prepared to walk. Georgiana had warmly embraced Kitty at parting, and had intimated that she knew how much the arrangement by Bingley meant to her friend; and her last impression of Mrs. Knightley's ball was of William Price waving farewell in the doorway and then ascending the steps to where Kitty awaited him in the vestibule. Chapter X Colonel Fitzwilliam had come to London because he thought it was the place where he would be most likely to meet Miss Crawford again, and he had taken up literary work merely to pass away the time until that longed-for event should occur. Two months had elapsed before he heard of her arrival, with her sister, but it was not many days after that he contrived to be present at the house of a mutual friend, where he knew her to be expected. Her manner of greeting him on this occasion was not free from embarrassment; it was neither cordial nor unfriendly, and so brief was the encounter that he could discover but little from it of the state of her mind towards him. Another casual meeting seemed to promise more hopefully, but hardly had they exchanged a few sentences when the appearance of Sir Walter and Miss Elliot turned the conversation into channels more congenial to the new-comers, and Colonel Fitzwilliam was forced to stand aside and see Miss Crawford taken possession of without any semblance of unwillingness on her part. He then devoted himself to Mrs. Grant, and tried to propose an expedition, a theatre party, but that lady hesitatingly replied that she could arrange nothing without her sister. Colonel Fitzwilliam applied for permission to call, which was readily accorded, but on availing himself of it the following day only learned that the ladies were gone to Richmond with a party. The manservant obliged him, unasked, with the information that it was Mr. Crawford's party, and the Colonel was left to speculate gloomily on the chances of Sir Walter Elliot being one of the number, and what was of greater import whether, if it was so, it was with Miss Crawford's approval. He had gone to call on the Hursts after leaving Mrs. Grant's house, and had not again seen the object of his thoughts and hopes, when, a few days later, he directed his steps towards Mrs. Annesley's residence in Hans Place. He could scarcely believe it was but three months since the severance of his engagement with Georgiana, it seemed to have retreated so far into the background of events, but he had pondered earnestly over their interview in Grosvenor Street, and from her demeanour had concluded that his presence was not objectionable to her, so that any further meeting might help to re-establish their old cousinly relations, a result which their friends would rejoice in. It was therefore with a tolerably easy mind that was ushered into the presence of the two ladies, and found Georgiana in great good looks and far less shy and confused than on the previous occasion; indeed, in a few moments any awkwardness between them seemed to have quite melted away, and she was readily answering his questions about Mrs. Knightley's ball. "It certainly seems to have been a great success, for I never knew you so enthusiastic about a ball before, Georgiana," said her cousin, smiling. "It was better than the Bath assemblies, I gather?" "Oh--Bath!" exclaimed Georgiana, with a note of contempt in her voice which spoke volumes. "You laugh at me, Cousin Robert, but it was a beautiful ball. Even Mr. Bingley said so, and he must have been to a great number." "Hundreds, if not thousands, I should think," returned her cousin. "Bingley's shoemaker must have made a fortune. But who were the partners who contributed to such enjoyment? for they are usually the really important part. Two Mr. Prices you have mentioned, Captain Carter and Mr. Dixon; who else?" "Oh, I forget who else; Mr. Hurst and Mr. Bingley, of course, and Mr. Knightley, but he was very grave and terrible, I was almost too frightened to move, and Mr. Gardiner, and then there was Mr. Yates, but I did not dance with him. Do you remember him, Cousin Robert? he said he knew you at Bath." Georgiana had been so disagreeably struck by Mr. Yates's way of speaking of her relatives whom he had met, that she had not intended to mention it to Colonel Fitzwilliam, but the rest of his talk had eradicated his first impression, and she had unguardedly given utterance to his name. Fruitless regret and vexation overcame her when, glancing up at her cousin, she perceived his countenance darken, and noted the change in his voice as he replied, with an effort: "Yes, we did meet in Bath, but not in the pleasantest of circumstances. Mr. Yates may be a more agreeable man away from the companions he then had." "I do not think he was particularly agreeable," said Georgiana, falteringly, "but I thought--he appeared to me to be an interesting talker." "Yes, that is quite his line; if Yates can do nothing else he can certainly use his tongue," replied Colonel Fitzwilliam, not without bitterness. "But do not let us concern ourselves with him, Georgiana; what about the walk in Kensington Gardens that we had thought of? Will Mrs. Annesley very kindly let me escort you both there this delightfully fine morning?" Mrs. Annesley willingly acceded, and the two ladies having attired themselves, a hackney coach was called, which conveyed them a mile on their way towards Kensington Place. Georgiana was somewhat silent during the drive. She did not wish to speculate on her cousin's private affairs, but having been the innocent cause of recalling painful thoughts to him inevitably produced the wish to atone, to help; and she found herself wondering, while trying not to wonder, what could possibly be the connection between Mr. Yates, Cousin Robert and a lady in Bath now said to be in London. To be sure, it was none of her business, she had no right to wish to know, and yet

outlook

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what you have to do," said Georgiana, highly diverted. "It is not a matter of fortune, is it? Anybody can do it," rejoined William Price. "I am sure you can, Miss Darcy." "No, indeed; I dislike very much some things I have to do." "But if you found you positively had to do them, and there was no way out, then you would decide to like them, would you not? It would make them so much easier." This was a new idea to Georgiana, and she considered it a little before replying, with a smile: "I am sure there are some things I should never like doing, such as sitting on the back seat of a carriage." "I know that it is disagreeable to some people, but I am sure, if one thought long enough, one could find a way to make it less so," said the young lieutenant, with great earnestness. "For instance"--he considered--"when the window was open the rain and wind would not do so much damage to the feathers in a lady's bonnet as if she were opposite; and at night one could shut one's eyes and imagine one was travelling forwards--it would be difficult to tell the difference." He looked inquiringly at Georgiana, who was so much entertained by his arguments that she said, laughingly: "I was right in calling you fortunate, Mr. Price, for you seemed to have secured a sovereign remedy against all ills. Do tell me how you would console yourself if you slipped down now and broke your leg, so that you could not dance any more for a long time? I should like to know whether your principle always holds good." "Now, Miss Darcy, you are driving me into a corner. I only said if I positively had to do the distasteful thing and there was no way out. I beg to inform you in the plainest language that there is a way out of your suggestion--that is, not to fall and break my leg, and it is the way I mean to adopt. But if such a thing did happen to me, I should certainly try to console myself--as yet I am not quite sure how--yes, I have thought of a method, but I do not think I had better tell you what it is." "He means he would have Kitty to sit beside him and talk to him," thought Georgiana. "I wonder what he would be like if he were ill? He would have just the same merry smile, I believe." Aloud she said: "I am not so strong-minded as you, Mr. Price, I'm afraid. I should never be able to think of any way of consoling myself for a broken leg." "I hope you will never have to endure anything one-twentieth a part disagreeable, Miss Darcy," her partner replied, dropping his gay manner for a moment. "Although it helped me to get through my examinations, even now I cannot think very kindly of it." "Were you--has it actually happened to you?" exclaimed Georgiana, with a horrified face; and she never felt less pleasure at the arrival of a new partner than at that moment. Most unwillingly she placed her arm in his to be led away, wanting far more to hear the history of William Price's misfortune; while the young man, full of concern at having startled her, walked a few steps beside her to say: "It is all right, Miss Darcy, because, you see, that guarantees that it will not happen again to-night." Bingley, who was her partner, asked the name of her companion, and Georgiana told what she knew of him, describing him as Kitty's friend. Bingley recollected having heard of him from Kitty, and pleased with his appearance, and always attracted by a new face, expressed a wish to know him, and Georgiana looked forward to making the introduction when her dances with Bingley should be over. This, however, was not to be. Kitty and Mr. Price were dancing together, and occasionally passed them in the set, when Georgiana could observe her friend's flushed cheek and air of radiant happiness; but at its conclusion they were swept away in a crowd, and Bingley and Georgiana, looking round for chairs, were accosted by Mr. Knightley, with the request to present Mr. and Mrs. Yates, who were anxious to know them. The name was unfamiliar to both, and so were the faces of the couple who approached--Mr. Yates with his usual aspect of complete self-satisfaction, and his wife, a woman of fashion, with a considerable share of good looks, but an expression of countenance from which weariness and impatience were never long absent. The lady fell to Bingley's share, and Georgiana, on her part, learned from Mr. Yates that he had heard her name and wished for the pleasure of her acquaintance, as he had already made that of her brother and sister in Bath. Georgiana replied to inquiries after their health and Colonel Fitzwilliam's, whom, Mr. Yates told her, he knew very well indeed, and he desired to send his compliments to the Colonel, if Miss Darcy should be seeing him. "He is in London, I believe?" Georgiana assented. "Ah, yes, I understood that; and the lady is in town, too, I fancy." Georgiana's look in reply to this was so blank that Mr. Yates, evidently not caring to trust himself in the deep waters of explanation, continued: "Do present him my cordial regards, and say I hope he has forgiven me. I was so unfortunate as to do him a little disservice, but it was easily put right; I saw to that myself. Lady Catherine de Bourgh, I am sure, had made _amende honorable_. You know Lady Catherine, Miss Darcy? Your aunt? Of course, I beg your pardon; I should have recollected. Do, pray, remember me to her, too. You were not in Bath this year, were you? Well, you did not lose much; I have known pleasanter seasons." Georgiana only bowed; Mr. Yates's familiar allusion to Colonel Fitzwilliam had not pleased her, and an instinct, which she had not time to analyse, led her to connect it with her cousin's depressed spirits. The next moment her companion introduced a more welcome subject by saying: "I think I saw you dancing with my young cousin, William Price; a smart young fellow, is he not?" "Is he your cousin?" asked Georgiana, in some surprise. "Yes, or rather, my wife's, through the mother; but we have all known him for years, he seems quite like one of ourselves, and spends half his time at our house when in town. Though I often tell my wife it is no compliment to us, for he is for ever playing with our children; we cannot get him out of the nursery." Georgiana felt that this was just as it should be; Mr. Price's being fond of the children accorded him well with the "merry, kind smile" that was so characteristic of him. She ventured upon an inquiry as to his naval career, and Mr. Yates, who liked nothing better than to be talking either of himself or of those belonging to him, immediately entered upon a description of William's notable conduct at the battle of St. Domingo, and the extraordinary courage he had displayed in the taking of a French ship and in defending the colours of his own. Bingley's attention was caught, and Georgiana was grateful to him for asking questions to prolong the story, and for interpolating expressions of admiration which she felt but could not utter. The more she saw and heard of him, the more delighted she was with the young hero, for such he now appeared to be; and the more she commended Kitty's good sense in bestowing her devotion upon such a worthy object. She looked forward to further opportunities of hearing from Mr. Price's own lips the account of some of his adventures; but recollecting that if events took the much-desired course there would be plenty of such opportunities, she decided that it would be best to employ the remainder of the time which she might spend in his company that evening by discoursing of Kitty, in the hope of gaining some assurance of the strength of his inclinations. He knew her to be Kitty's friend, and the subject of Kitty would naturally become the chief bond between them when they came to know each other a little better. Shortly after supper, William Price claimed her hand for a second time; and at the first interval in the dance long enough for any connected conversation, Georgiana began: "Who is that dancing with Miss Bennet? Do you know, Mr. Price?" "It is a Mr. Churchill, a great friend of the Knightleys. I believe he is rather agreeable, but Miss Bennet tells me she does not like him," replied William Price, laughing. "Why should she not like him, I wonder?" asked Georgiana. "Oh, I hardly know. Just a fancy, I think. He and I had a great set-to here one day--an argument, I mean; and I was fairly worsted--it was about foxhunting, so perhaps I deserved to be; but Miss Bennet very kindly took my side, and was quite vexed with Mr. Churchill when he retired with the honours of war." "Kitty is so loyal to her friends," said Georgiana. "Yes, she is a delightful girl, and Mrs. Knightley, too, is the kindest person imaginable. She has been so good to both my brother and myself, and I have never enjoyed my leave so much." "It must be a very pleasant house to stay in," said Georgiana. "Miss Bennet is very sorry to be going away, I know." "Yes, is it not a pity she has to go? And down to the depths of the country, too. I must not disparage it, Miss Darcy, for I am reminded that it is your home as well; but when people go so far off one is desperately afraid of not seeing them again. You are not leaving town with Miss Bennet, are you?" Georgiana was explaining their respective plans when the summons came for them to rejoin the set; but an interruption soon occurred in the shape of a slight accident. A lady dancing next to William Price, in turning sharply, trod upon her dress, with the result that she slipped and fell upon the polished floor with her foot twisted under her. The young lieutenant sprang forward, lifted her with skillful and gentle touch, and carried her, pale and suffering, to an adjoining room, where Mrs. Knightley and several friends hastened to her aid. A servant was sent for a surgeon, and William Price returned to Georgiana with the news that, pending his arrival, the lady was being treated for what appeared to be a severe sprain. "Poor thing!" said Georgiana, trembling. "I am so sorry for her. It must have caused intense pain. I was afraid she might have broken it." "No, it is bad enough, but fortunately it is not broken; I could perceive that," replied the young man. "You must not prognosticate such sad things, Miss Darcy; you see they very nearly come true." Georgiana looked into his face for enlightenment, then broke into a smile. "Oh, Mr. Price, you are unkind to assume that I was responsible for it. I only suggested a broken leg, and it was you who said it had been a reality in your case. How did it happen? Was it in action?" William led her to a seat, as the incident had unnerved her for more dancing, but could not be persuaded to give a narrative in the style of Mr. Yates; he only laughed and said that it had been about as glorious an affair as falling down in a ball-room. "One of our fellows had foolishly got himself into a very awkward place at the storming of a fort, and I was so stupid as to get in the way of a shower of falling rocks, one of which, when it reached me, decided to stay as close to me as it could; so I was severely reprimanded, and had to spend six weeks in hospital at the very busiest time." Georgiana listened with interest, certain that there was another version of the story which would show her companion up in a different light, and she inquired: "What did you say about examinations?" "Only that I had some books, and a good friend who helped me to the utmost of his power, so that while I was lying by I contrived to work up my subject enough to have scraped through." They talked for some time longer, until William had to go in search of his next partner, while Georgiana was carried off by her hostess, who placed her at a small table to drink coffee with herself and Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. The Gardiners were, of course, no strangers to Georgiana, and she showed the pleasure she felt in meeting them again. "Is it not kind of Mrs. Gardiner to have lent Kitty to me for so long, Miss Darcy?" said Mrs. Knightley. "I feel I can ill spare her now; I shall miss her after the happy time we have had together." Georgiana said what was proper, and Mrs. Gardiner added: "Perhaps she will be able to come to you another year." "Indeed, I hope so. I should like her to come any time; but another year, you know, she may not be so free; the claims of a house of her own may be paramount." "Certainly they may be; but it seems early to anticipate that," said Mrs. Gardiner. "Early? Oh, no, I do not think so. I shall not be at all surprised to be asked to help in buying Kitty's wedding clothes before Christmas," returned Mrs. Knightley, smiling mysteriously. Mrs. Gardiner expressed inquiring surprise, while Georgiana listened with interest for what Mrs. Knightley would say, regarding her as the chief authority in the affair, as far as it had gone. Her hostess proceeded: "It is quite between ourselves, you know, Mrs. Gardiner; I know I am perfectly safe in mentioning it, as you are Kitty's aunt and Miss Darcy her greatest friend; and you can imagine whether it is a pleasure to me to find that two young people in whom I am interested are so much interested in each other." "Undoubtedly," said Mrs. Gardiner; "but pray enlighten me, Mrs. Knightley, as to who the other person is." "You have met him to-night, Mrs. Gardiner, the young naval officer, Mr. Price, whom I introduced to you." Mrs. Gardiner was very anxious to learn more particulars, and Mrs. Knightley gave her full information as to William Price's career and prospects, while as to Kitty, she affirmed she had every reason to believe that both were equally attracted, and that an engagement would shortly be formed between them, subject to the approval of their friends. Mrs. Gardiner agreed that it was very good news if the young man was all Mrs. Knightley believed him, and remarked what a delight it would be to her sister, Mrs. Bennet, who had always wanted Kitty to be settled. "Mr. Price _is_ all we think him, I can assure you; Mr. Knightley will answer for him. But, pray, do not mention a word of this to anyone; let it not go beyond us four; I am most desirous that the affair should pass to its easy and natural conclusion." "I quite understand that, and of course we shall wait until Kitty tells us," said her aunt. "What do you think of it all, Miss Darcy? Has Kitty mentioned the matter to you?" Georgiana replied that she had, and on further questioning owned that she felt sure that if what Mrs. Knightley expected came to pass, it would make Kitty very happy. Mrs. Knightley called upon her to join in commendations of the young man, and this she could sincerely do; and she rose from the table feeling as if everything were settled, and it only remained to congratulate the two persons most concerned. A minute later she met Kitty, flying in search of her. Kitty seized her friend's hand and drew her into a quiet corner of Mrs. Knightley's morning-room, where the two girls could seat themselves on a sofa partly hidden by a screen and be quite secluded. "I wanted so much to see you before I went, Georgiana," began Kitty in an excited undertone. "I thought I should never get to you, and this is my last chance, as we start so early on Friday. Now do tell me what you think of him. You can judge now, cannot you? Is he not delightful? Is he not handsome, and a noble creature? Is he not all I said?" "Yes, indeed, dear Kitty, he is," responded Georgiana, with tender sympathy. "I can quite understand your feelings. I am sure anyone would be very proud to have gained the affection of such a man." "Oh, I am so glad to hear you say so. Do you think I have gained it? Sometimes I think so; sometimes I am not sure. Mrs. Knightley thinks I have." "I know she does; I have heard her say so, and she would not mislead you, Kitty, I am sure. She cares so much for your welfare." "Yes, indeed, she has been very kind. I cannot tell you what I should have done without her. She has done everything, she thinks of everything. To-night, when she was arranging the supper partners, I was standing near him, but not very near, and he had not asked me; I suppose he was waiting to see if he might, as we had already danced together a great deal, and she looked up from her list and said: 'And Mr. Price, I do not think I have put anyone down for you: will you take Miss Bennet?' in that kind way, not to make me feel uncomfortable, as if it had been planned. So he came and offered me his arm with such an air! And, after all, we did not talk much at supper; I was too happy, but when I asked him if he liked my dress, he paid me such an elegant compliment on it--something about a rose." "He is a most agreeable companion," said Georgiana. "I should never tire of hearing him converse. The marvellous adventures he has had! It is like a glimpse of a new world to meet a person who has actually been through those things, and who describes them with such modesty and simplicity. Such a man seldom comes into our quiet lives." "Oh, but they are so horrible, it quite frightens me to hear about them; if I were married to him I would never let him go to sea again, for fear of his coming back without an arm, or a leg, or an eye." "But it is his profession, Kitty." "I know, but it is a horrid profession, the only thing about him that I don't like, except for the uniform, and a man in a black coat looks positively nothing beside him." "Oh, Kitty, as if the uniform mattered! Do not let me hear you talk so foolishly," said Georgiana, really pained. "Well, perhaps it is foolish, but it does make a difference, you know. Bingley has been teasing me half the evening about a young man that he says they have got for me down in the country, whom I shall be sure to like, the Rector of Kympton, I believe. As if I could possibly look at a clergyman after knowing William Price." "Perhaps it is not fair to compare two such different types of men, but Mr. Morland is very nice, Kitty; I am sure you will think so." "I am sure I shall not; I don't want to see him: how can I think anyone nice when I am away from here? Oh, if I could only see Price once more, just once more, to make sure; but as he says, how can one ever see anybody down in the wilds of Derbyshire?" "Kitty, here is the music beginning again, and we shall be asked for," said Georgiana, standing up. "Do not be unhappy or over-anxious about this, and do not show too much what you feel, for I am sure it will all come out right if you have patience." "Do you really think it is so? That is such a comfort; but I wish he had spoken to-night. Mrs. Knightley thought he would." "Dear Kitty, whenever it comes, I wish you all the happiness in the world; write to me very fully, and, as I said, have patience and self-command. Now we really ought to go." Kitty pressed her friend's hand, and Georgiana tried to calm her as they walked back to the ball-room, by talking on indifferent topics, for she feared the girl's burning cheeks and nervous manner would betray her agitation and its cause. Miss Bingley met them as they entered the room, and asked Georgiana if she was ready to go, as Mrs. Hurst seemed inclined for it. "Yes, I am quite ready," said Georgiana. "I think I am engaged to Mr. Bingley for another dance, but he will not mind missing it." "Charles is over there, talking to Mr. Price, but I have told him we want to go, so he will be expecting us," said Miss Bingley, and led the way across the room, Kitty not unnaturally following. Mr. Bingley welcomed them warmly, calling out: "Here, Kitty, come and add your entreaties to mine. I want this young gentleman to come down to Desborough and shoot our pheasants in November, but he is not sure if he can manage it; I never heard such nonsense. If anyone is entitled to ask for leave when he wants it, I should think he is." Kitty was rendered perfectly incapable of speech for the first moment after hearing these words; never had a wish been so suddenly and gloriously placed in the way of accomplishment; but she found an unexpected ally in Miss Bingley, who supported her brother's invitation, having, like him, been attracted by the young lieutenant's agreeable demeanour and high reputation. William Price stood still, looking diffidently from one to another, and expressing in disjointed sentences his gratitude, his uncertainty, and his extreme pleasure should he be able to accept. Mr. Bingley exerted all his powers of persuasion, and Kitty's bright eyes shot glances not less eloquent. Georgiana turned a little away, feeling suddenly very tired and spiritless, and Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, who came up at that moment, remarked on it. "Georgiana tired?" exclaimed Bingley; "then let us go at once. You are not used to these late hours, and I don't know what Mrs. Darcy will say to me if I take them a poor account of you. We are all neighbours in the country, you know, Mr. Price. Then that is settled? You will come to us if you can possibly get away, and I hope nothing will prevent it. You do not expect to receive the command of the Mediterranean squadron, do you?" "No, sir," replied William, laughing, "neither that nor any other command this year, I am afraid." "Well, well, I wish you luck. Shall I see you again before I leave town?" William was beginning to reply negatively, when Miss Bingley, who was leading the whole party towards the cloak-room, turned and asked Mr. Price if he would not come and see them some time in Grosvenor Street. She called on her sister to ratify the invitation, which Mrs. Hurst did, and it was courteously accepted. There followed a confusion of good-byes and a getting of cloaks, and the three ladies were placed in the coach while the two gentlemen prepared to walk. Georgiana had warmly embraced Kitty at parting, and had intimated that she knew how much the arrangement by Bingley meant to her friend; and her last impression of Mrs. Knightley's ball was of William Price waving farewell in the doorway and then ascending the steps to where Kitty awaited him in the vestibule. Chapter X Colonel Fitzwilliam had come to London because he thought it was the place where he would be most likely to meet Miss Crawford again, and he had taken up literary work merely to pass away the time until that longed-for event should occur. Two months had elapsed before he heard of her arrival, with her sister, but it was not many days after that he contrived to be present at the house of a mutual friend, where he knew her to be expected. Her manner of greeting him on this occasion was not free from embarrassment; it was neither cordial nor unfriendly, and so brief was the encounter that he could discover but little from it of the state of her mind towards him. Another casual meeting seemed to promise more hopefully, but hardly had they exchanged a few sentences when the appearance of Sir Walter and Miss Elliot turned the conversation into channels more congenial to the new-comers, and Colonel Fitzwilliam was forced to stand aside and see Miss Crawford taken possession of without any semblance of unwillingness on her part. He then devoted himself to Mrs. Grant, and tried to propose an expedition, a theatre party, but that lady hesitatingly replied that she could arrange nothing without her sister. Colonel Fitzwilliam applied for permission to call, which was readily accorded, but on availing himself of it the following day only learned that the ladies were gone to Richmond with a party. The manservant obliged him, unasked, with the information that it was Mr. Crawford's party, and the Colonel was left to speculate gloomily on the chances of Sir Walter Elliot being one of the number, and what was of greater import whether, if it was so, it was with Miss Crawford's approval. He had gone to call on the Hursts after leaving Mrs. Grant's house, and had not again seen the object of his thoughts and hopes, when, a few days later, he directed his steps towards Mrs. Annesley's residence in Hans Place. He could scarcely believe it was but three months since the severance of his engagement with Georgiana, it seemed to have retreated so far into the background of events, but he had pondered earnestly over their interview in Grosvenor Street, and from her demeanour had concluded that his presence was not objectionable to her, so that any further meeting might help to re-establish their old cousinly relations, a result which their friends would rejoice in. It was therefore with a tolerably easy mind that was ushered into the presence of the two ladies, and found Georgiana in great good looks and far less shy and confused than on the previous occasion; indeed, in a few moments any awkwardness between them seemed to have quite melted away, and she was readily answering his questions about Mrs. Knightley's ball. "It certainly seems to have been a great success, for I never knew you so enthusiastic about a ball before, Georgiana," said her cousin, smiling. "It was better than the Bath assemblies, I gather?" "Oh--Bath!" exclaimed Georgiana, with a note of contempt in her voice which spoke volumes. "You laugh at me, Cousin Robert, but it was a beautiful ball. Even Mr. Bingley said so, and he must have been to a great number." "Hundreds, if not thousands, I should think," returned her cousin. "Bingley's shoemaker must have made a fortune. But who were the partners who contributed to such enjoyment? for they are usually the really important part. Two Mr. Prices you have mentioned, Captain Carter and Mr. Dixon; who else?" "Oh, I forget who else; Mr. Hurst and Mr. Bingley, of course, and Mr. Knightley, but he was very grave and terrible, I was almost too frightened to move, and Mr. Gardiner, and then there was Mr. Yates, but I did not dance with him. Do you remember him, Cousin Robert? he said he knew you at Bath." Georgiana had been so disagreeably struck by Mr. Yates's way of speaking of her relatives whom he had met, that she had not intended to mention it to Colonel Fitzwilliam, but the rest of his talk had eradicated his first impression, and she had unguardedly given utterance to his name. Fruitless regret and vexation overcame her when, glancing up at her cousin, she perceived his countenance darken, and noted the change in his voice as he replied, with an effort: "Yes, we did meet in Bath, but not in the pleasantest of circumstances. Mr. Yates may be a more agreeable man away from the companions he then had." "I do not think he was particularly agreeable," said Georgiana, falteringly, "but I thought--he appeared to me to be an interesting talker." "Yes, that is quite his line; if Yates can do nothing else he can certainly use his tongue," replied Colonel Fitzwilliam, not without bitterness. "But do not let us concern ourselves with him, Georgiana; what about the walk in Kensington Gardens that we had thought of? Will Mrs. Annesley very kindly let me escort you both there this delightfully fine morning?" Mrs. Annesley willingly acceded, and the two ladies having attired themselves, a hackney coach was called, which conveyed them a mile on their way towards Kensington Place. Georgiana was somewhat silent during the drive. She did not wish to speculate on her cousin's private affairs, but having been the innocent cause of recalling painful thoughts to him inevitably produced the wish to atone, to help; and she found herself wondering, while trying not to wonder, what could possibly be the connection between Mr. Yates, Cousin Robert and a lady in Bath now said to be in London. To be sure, it was none of her business, she had no right to wish to know, and yet

surprise

How many times the word 'surprise' appears in the text?

what you have to do," said Georgiana, highly diverted. "It is not a matter of fortune, is it? Anybody can do it," rejoined William Price. "I am sure you can, Miss Darcy." "No, indeed; I dislike very much some things I have to do." "But if you found you positively had to do them, and there was no way out, then you would decide to like them, would you not? It would make them so much easier." This was a new idea to Georgiana, and she considered it a little before replying, with a smile: "I am sure there are some things I should never like doing, such as sitting on the back seat of a carriage." "I know that it is disagreeable to some people, but I am sure, if one thought long enough, one could find a way to make it less so," said the young lieutenant, with great earnestness. "For instance"--he considered--"when the window was open the rain and wind would not do so much damage to the feathers in a lady's bonnet as if she were opposite; and at night one could shut one's eyes and imagine one was travelling forwards--it would be difficult to tell the difference." He looked inquiringly at Georgiana, who was so much entertained by his arguments that she said, laughingly: "I was right in calling you fortunate, Mr. Price, for you seemed to have secured a sovereign remedy against all ills. Do tell me how you would console yourself if you slipped down now and broke your leg, so that you could not dance any more for a long time? I should like to know whether your principle always holds good." "Now, Miss Darcy, you are driving me into a corner. I only said if I positively had to do the distasteful thing and there was no way out. I beg to inform you in the plainest language that there is a way out of your suggestion--that is, not to fall and break my leg, and it is the way I mean to adopt. But if such a thing did happen to me, I should certainly try to console myself--as yet I am not quite sure how--yes, I have thought of a method, but I do not think I had better tell you what it is." "He means he would have Kitty to sit beside him and talk to him," thought Georgiana. "I wonder what he would be like if he were ill? He would have just the same merry smile, I believe." Aloud she said: "I am not so strong-minded as you, Mr. Price, I'm afraid. I should never be able to think of any way of consoling myself for a broken leg." "I hope you will never have to endure anything one-twentieth a part disagreeable, Miss Darcy," her partner replied, dropping his gay manner for a moment. "Although it helped me to get through my examinations, even now I cannot think very kindly of it." "Were you--has it actually happened to you?" exclaimed Georgiana, with a horrified face; and she never felt less pleasure at the arrival of a new partner than at that moment. Most unwillingly she placed her arm in his to be led away, wanting far more to hear the history of William Price's misfortune; while the young man, full of concern at having startled her, walked a few steps beside her to say: "It is all right, Miss Darcy, because, you see, that guarantees that it will not happen again to-night." Bingley, who was her partner, asked the name of her companion, and Georgiana told what she knew of him, describing him as Kitty's friend. Bingley recollected having heard of him from Kitty, and pleased with his appearance, and always attracted by a new face, expressed a wish to know him, and Georgiana looked forward to making the introduction when her dances with Bingley should be over. This, however, was not to be. Kitty and Mr. Price were dancing together, and occasionally passed them in the set, when Georgiana could observe her friend's flushed cheek and air of radiant happiness; but at its conclusion they were swept away in a crowd, and Bingley and Georgiana, looking round for chairs, were accosted by Mr. Knightley, with the request to present Mr. and Mrs. Yates, who were anxious to know them. The name was unfamiliar to both, and so were the faces of the couple who approached--Mr. Yates with his usual aspect of complete self-satisfaction, and his wife, a woman of fashion, with a considerable share of good looks, but an expression of countenance from which weariness and impatience were never long absent. The lady fell to Bingley's share, and Georgiana, on her part, learned from Mr. Yates that he had heard her name and wished for the pleasure of her acquaintance, as he had already made that of her brother and sister in Bath. Georgiana replied to inquiries after their health and Colonel Fitzwilliam's, whom, Mr. Yates told her, he knew very well indeed, and he desired to send his compliments to the Colonel, if Miss Darcy should be seeing him. "He is in London, I believe?" Georgiana assented. "Ah, yes, I understood that; and the lady is in town, too, I fancy." Georgiana's look in reply to this was so blank that Mr. Yates, evidently not caring to trust himself in the deep waters of explanation, continued: "Do present him my cordial regards, and say I hope he has forgiven me. I was so unfortunate as to do him a little disservice, but it was easily put right; I saw to that myself. Lady Catherine de Bourgh, I am sure, had made _amende honorable_. You know Lady Catherine, Miss Darcy? Your aunt? Of course, I beg your pardon; I should have recollected. Do, pray, remember me to her, too. You were not in Bath this year, were you? Well, you did not lose much; I have known pleasanter seasons." Georgiana only bowed; Mr. Yates's familiar allusion to Colonel Fitzwilliam had not pleased her, and an instinct, which she had not time to analyse, led her to connect it with her cousin's depressed spirits. The next moment her companion introduced a more welcome subject by saying: "I think I saw you dancing with my young cousin, William Price; a smart young fellow, is he not?" "Is he your cousin?" asked Georgiana, in some surprise. "Yes, or rather, my wife's, through the mother; but we have all known him for years, he seems quite like one of ourselves, and spends half his time at our house when in town. Though I often tell my wife it is no compliment to us, for he is for ever playing with our children; we cannot get him out of the nursery." Georgiana felt that this was just as it should be; Mr. Price's being fond of the children accorded him well with the "merry, kind smile" that was so characteristic of him. She ventured upon an inquiry as to his naval career, and Mr. Yates, who liked nothing better than to be talking either of himself or of those belonging to him, immediately entered upon a description of William's notable conduct at the battle of St. Domingo, and the extraordinary courage he had displayed in the taking of a French ship and in defending the colours of his own. Bingley's attention was caught, and Georgiana was grateful to him for asking questions to prolong the story, and for interpolating expressions of admiration which she felt but could not utter. The more she saw and heard of him, the more delighted she was with the young hero, for such he now appeared to be; and the more she commended Kitty's good sense in bestowing her devotion upon such a worthy object. She looked forward to further opportunities of hearing from Mr. Price's own lips the account of some of his adventures; but recollecting that if events took the much-desired course there would be plenty of such opportunities, she decided that it would be best to employ the remainder of the time which she might spend in his company that evening by discoursing of Kitty, in the hope of gaining some assurance of the strength of his inclinations. He knew her to be Kitty's friend, and the subject of Kitty would naturally become the chief bond between them when they came to know each other a little better. Shortly after supper, William Price claimed her hand for a second time; and at the first interval in the dance long enough for any connected conversation, Georgiana began: "Who is that dancing with Miss Bennet? Do you know, Mr. Price?" "It is a Mr. Churchill, a great friend of the Knightleys. I believe he is rather agreeable, but Miss Bennet tells me she does not like him," replied William Price, laughing. "Why should she not like him, I wonder?" asked Georgiana. "Oh, I hardly know. Just a fancy, I think. He and I had a great set-to here one day--an argument, I mean; and I was fairly worsted--it was about foxhunting, so perhaps I deserved to be; but Miss Bennet very kindly took my side, and was quite vexed with Mr. Churchill when he retired with the honours of war." "Kitty is so loyal to her friends," said Georgiana. "Yes, she is a delightful girl, and Mrs. Knightley, too, is the kindest person imaginable. She has been so good to both my brother and myself, and I have never enjoyed my leave so much." "It must be a very pleasant house to stay in," said Georgiana. "Miss Bennet is very sorry to be going away, I know." "Yes, is it not a pity she has to go? And down to the depths of the country, too. I must not disparage it, Miss Darcy, for I am reminded that it is your home as well; but when people go so far off one is desperately afraid of not seeing them again. You are not leaving town with Miss Bennet, are you?" Georgiana was explaining their respective plans when the summons came for them to rejoin the set; but an interruption soon occurred in the shape of a slight accident. A lady dancing next to William Price, in turning sharply, trod upon her dress, with the result that she slipped and fell upon the polished floor with her foot twisted under her. The young lieutenant sprang forward, lifted her with skillful and gentle touch, and carried her, pale and suffering, to an adjoining room, where Mrs. Knightley and several friends hastened to her aid. A servant was sent for a surgeon, and William Price returned to Georgiana with the news that, pending his arrival, the lady was being treated for what appeared to be a severe sprain. "Poor thing!" said Georgiana, trembling. "I am so sorry for her. It must have caused intense pain. I was afraid she might have broken it." "No, it is bad enough, but fortunately it is not broken; I could perceive that," replied the young man. "You must not prognosticate such sad things, Miss Darcy; you see they very nearly come true." Georgiana looked into his face for enlightenment, then broke into a smile. "Oh, Mr. Price, you are unkind to assume that I was responsible for it. I only suggested a broken leg, and it was you who said it had been a reality in your case. How did it happen? Was it in action?" William led her to a seat, as the incident had unnerved her for more dancing, but could not be persuaded to give a narrative in the style of Mr. Yates; he only laughed and said that it had been about as glorious an affair as falling down in a ball-room. "One of our fellows had foolishly got himself into a very awkward place at the storming of a fort, and I was so stupid as to get in the way of a shower of falling rocks, one of which, when it reached me, decided to stay as close to me as it could; so I was severely reprimanded, and had to spend six weeks in hospital at the very busiest time." Georgiana listened with interest, certain that there was another version of the story which would show her companion up in a different light, and she inquired: "What did you say about examinations?" "Only that I had some books, and a good friend who helped me to the utmost of his power, so that while I was lying by I contrived to work up my subject enough to have scraped through." They talked for some time longer, until William had to go in search of his next partner, while Georgiana was carried off by her hostess, who placed her at a small table to drink coffee with herself and Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. The Gardiners were, of course, no strangers to Georgiana, and she showed the pleasure she felt in meeting them again. "Is it not kind of Mrs. Gardiner to have lent Kitty to me for so long, Miss Darcy?" said Mrs. Knightley. "I feel I can ill spare her now; I shall miss her after the happy time we have had together." Georgiana said what was proper, and Mrs. Gardiner added: "Perhaps she will be able to come to you another year." "Indeed, I hope so. I should like her to come any time; but another year, you know, she may not be so free; the claims of a house of her own may be paramount." "Certainly they may be; but it seems early to anticipate that," said Mrs. Gardiner. "Early? Oh, no, I do not think so. I shall not be at all surprised to be asked to help in buying Kitty's wedding clothes before Christmas," returned Mrs. Knightley, smiling mysteriously. Mrs. Gardiner expressed inquiring surprise, while Georgiana listened with interest for what Mrs. Knightley would say, regarding her as the chief authority in the affair, as far as it had gone. Her hostess proceeded: "It is quite between ourselves, you know, Mrs. Gardiner; I know I am perfectly safe in mentioning it, as you are Kitty's aunt and Miss Darcy her greatest friend; and you can imagine whether it is a pleasure to me to find that two young people in whom I am interested are so much interested in each other." "Undoubtedly," said Mrs. Gardiner; "but pray enlighten me, Mrs. Knightley, as to who the other person is." "You have met him to-night, Mrs. Gardiner, the young naval officer, Mr. Price, whom I introduced to you." Mrs. Gardiner was very anxious to learn more particulars, and Mrs. Knightley gave her full information as to William Price's career and prospects, while as to Kitty, she affirmed she had every reason to believe that both were equally attracted, and that an engagement would shortly be formed between them, subject to the approval of their friends. Mrs. Gardiner agreed that it was very good news if the young man was all Mrs. Knightley believed him, and remarked what a delight it would be to her sister, Mrs. Bennet, who had always wanted Kitty to be settled. "Mr. Price _is_ all we think him, I can assure you; Mr. Knightley will answer for him. But, pray, do not mention a word of this to anyone; let it not go beyond us four; I am most desirous that the affair should pass to its easy and natural conclusion." "I quite understand that, and of course we shall wait until Kitty tells us," said her aunt. "What do you think of it all, Miss Darcy? Has Kitty mentioned the matter to you?" Georgiana replied that she had, and on further questioning owned that she felt sure that if what Mrs. Knightley expected came to pass, it would make Kitty very happy. Mrs. Knightley called upon her to join in commendations of the young man, and this she could sincerely do; and she rose from the table feeling as if everything were settled, and it only remained to congratulate the two persons most concerned. A minute later she met Kitty, flying in search of her. Kitty seized her friend's hand and drew her into a quiet corner of Mrs. Knightley's morning-room, where the two girls could seat themselves on a sofa partly hidden by a screen and be quite secluded. "I wanted so much to see you before I went, Georgiana," began Kitty in an excited undertone. "I thought I should never get to you, and this is my last chance, as we start so early on Friday. Now do tell me what you think of him. You can judge now, cannot you? Is he not delightful? Is he not handsome, and a noble creature? Is he not all I said?" "Yes, indeed, dear Kitty, he is," responded Georgiana, with tender sympathy. "I can quite understand your feelings. I am sure anyone would be very proud to have gained the affection of such a man." "Oh, I am so glad to hear you say so. Do you think I have gained it? Sometimes I think so; sometimes I am not sure. Mrs. Knightley thinks I have." "I know she does; I have heard her say so, and she would not mislead you, Kitty, I am sure. She cares so much for your welfare." "Yes, indeed, she has been very kind. I cannot tell you what I should have done without her. She has done everything, she thinks of everything. To-night, when she was arranging the supper partners, I was standing near him, but not very near, and he had not asked me; I suppose he was waiting to see if he might, as we had already danced together a great deal, and she looked up from her list and said: 'And Mr. Price, I do not think I have put anyone down for you: will you take Miss Bennet?' in that kind way, not to make me feel uncomfortable, as if it had been planned. So he came and offered me his arm with such an air! And, after all, we did not talk much at supper; I was too happy, but when I asked him if he liked my dress, he paid me such an elegant compliment on it--something about a rose." "He is a most agreeable companion," said Georgiana. "I should never tire of hearing him converse. The marvellous adventures he has had! It is like a glimpse of a new world to meet a person who has actually been through those things, and who describes them with such modesty and simplicity. Such a man seldom comes into our quiet lives." "Oh, but they are so horrible, it quite frightens me to hear about them; if I were married to him I would never let him go to sea again, for fear of his coming back without an arm, or a leg, or an eye." "But it is his profession, Kitty." "I know, but it is a horrid profession, the only thing about him that I don't like, except for the uniform, and a man in a black coat looks positively nothing beside him." "Oh, Kitty, as if the uniform mattered! Do not let me hear you talk so foolishly," said Georgiana, really pained. "Well, perhaps it is foolish, but it does make a difference, you know. Bingley has been teasing me half the evening about a young man that he says they have got for me down in the country, whom I shall be sure to like, the Rector of Kympton, I believe. As if I could possibly look at a clergyman after knowing William Price." "Perhaps it is not fair to compare two such different types of men, but Mr. Morland is very nice, Kitty; I am sure you will think so." "I am sure I shall not; I don't want to see him: how can I think anyone nice when I am away from here? Oh, if I could only see Price once more, just once more, to make sure; but as he says, how can one ever see anybody down in the wilds of Derbyshire?" "Kitty, here is the music beginning again, and we shall be asked for," said Georgiana, standing up. "Do not be unhappy or over-anxious about this, and do not show too much what you feel, for I am sure it will all come out right if you have patience." "Do you really think it is so? That is such a comfort; but I wish he had spoken to-night. Mrs. Knightley thought he would." "Dear Kitty, whenever it comes, I wish you all the happiness in the world; write to me very fully, and, as I said, have patience and self-command. Now we really ought to go." Kitty pressed her friend's hand, and Georgiana tried to calm her as they walked back to the ball-room, by talking on indifferent topics, for she feared the girl's burning cheeks and nervous manner would betray her agitation and its cause. Miss Bingley met them as they entered the room, and asked Georgiana if she was ready to go, as Mrs. Hurst seemed inclined for it. "Yes, I am quite ready," said Georgiana. "I think I am engaged to Mr. Bingley for another dance, but he will not mind missing it." "Charles is over there, talking to Mr. Price, but I have told him we want to go, so he will be expecting us," said Miss Bingley, and led the way across the room, Kitty not unnaturally following. Mr. Bingley welcomed them warmly, calling out: "Here, Kitty, come and add your entreaties to mine. I want this young gentleman to come down to Desborough and shoot our pheasants in November, but he is not sure if he can manage it; I never heard such nonsense. If anyone is entitled to ask for leave when he wants it, I should think he is." Kitty was rendered perfectly incapable of speech for the first moment after hearing these words; never had a wish been so suddenly and gloriously placed in the way of accomplishment; but she found an unexpected ally in Miss Bingley, who supported her brother's invitation, having, like him, been attracted by the young lieutenant's agreeable demeanour and high reputation. William Price stood still, looking diffidently from one to another, and expressing in disjointed sentences his gratitude, his uncertainty, and his extreme pleasure should he be able to accept. Mr. Bingley exerted all his powers of persuasion, and Kitty's bright eyes shot glances not less eloquent. Georgiana turned a little away, feeling suddenly very tired and spiritless, and Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, who came up at that moment, remarked on it. "Georgiana tired?" exclaimed Bingley; "then let us go at once. You are not used to these late hours, and I don't know what Mrs. Darcy will say to me if I take them a poor account of you. We are all neighbours in the country, you know, Mr. Price. Then that is settled? You will come to us if you can possibly get away, and I hope nothing will prevent it. You do not expect to receive the command of the Mediterranean squadron, do you?" "No, sir," replied William, laughing, "neither that nor any other command this year, I am afraid." "Well, well, I wish you luck. Shall I see you again before I leave town?" William was beginning to reply negatively, when Miss Bingley, who was leading the whole party towards the cloak-room, turned and asked Mr. Price if he would not come and see them some time in Grosvenor Street. She called on her sister to ratify the invitation, which Mrs. Hurst did, and it was courteously accepted. There followed a confusion of good-byes and a getting of cloaks, and the three ladies were placed in the coach while the two gentlemen prepared to walk. Georgiana had warmly embraced Kitty at parting, and had intimated that she knew how much the arrangement by Bingley meant to her friend; and her last impression of Mrs. Knightley's ball was of William Price waving farewell in the doorway and then ascending the steps to where Kitty awaited him in the vestibule. Chapter X Colonel Fitzwilliam had come to London because he thought it was the place where he would be most likely to meet Miss Crawford again, and he had taken up literary work merely to pass away the time until that longed-for event should occur. Two months had elapsed before he heard of her arrival, with her sister, but it was not many days after that he contrived to be present at the house of a mutual friend, where he knew her to be expected. Her manner of greeting him on this occasion was not free from embarrassment; it was neither cordial nor unfriendly, and so brief was the encounter that he could discover but little from it of the state of her mind towards him. Another casual meeting seemed to promise more hopefully, but hardly had they exchanged a few sentences when the appearance of Sir Walter and Miss Elliot turned the conversation into channels more congenial to the new-comers, and Colonel Fitzwilliam was forced to stand aside and see Miss Crawford taken possession of without any semblance of unwillingness on her part. He then devoted himself to Mrs. Grant, and tried to propose an expedition, a theatre party, but that lady hesitatingly replied that she could arrange nothing without her sister. Colonel Fitzwilliam applied for permission to call, which was readily accorded, but on availing himself of it the following day only learned that the ladies were gone to Richmond with a party. The manservant obliged him, unasked, with the information that it was Mr. Crawford's party, and the Colonel was left to speculate gloomily on the chances of Sir Walter Elliot being one of the number, and what was of greater import whether, if it was so, it was with Miss Crawford's approval. He had gone to call on the Hursts after leaving Mrs. Grant's house, and had not again seen the object of his thoughts and hopes, when, a few days later, he directed his steps towards Mrs. Annesley's residence in Hans Place. He could scarcely believe it was but three months since the severance of his engagement with Georgiana, it seemed to have retreated so far into the background of events, but he had pondered earnestly over their interview in Grosvenor Street, and from her demeanour had concluded that his presence was not objectionable to her, so that any further meeting might help to re-establish their old cousinly relations, a result which their friends would rejoice in. It was therefore with a tolerably easy mind that was ushered into the presence of the two ladies, and found Georgiana in great good looks and far less shy and confused than on the previous occasion; indeed, in a few moments any awkwardness between them seemed to have quite melted away, and she was readily answering his questions about Mrs. Knightley's ball. "It certainly seems to have been a great success, for I never knew you so enthusiastic about a ball before, Georgiana," said her cousin, smiling. "It was better than the Bath assemblies, I gather?" "Oh--Bath!" exclaimed Georgiana, with a note of contempt in her voice which spoke volumes. "You laugh at me, Cousin Robert, but it was a beautiful ball. Even Mr. Bingley said so, and he must have been to a great number." "Hundreds, if not thousands, I should think," returned her cousin. "Bingley's shoemaker must have made a fortune. But who were the partners who contributed to such enjoyment? for they are usually the really important part. Two Mr. Prices you have mentioned, Captain Carter and Mr. Dixon; who else?" "Oh, I forget who else; Mr. Hurst and Mr. Bingley, of course, and Mr. Knightley, but he was very grave and terrible, I was almost too frightened to move, and Mr. Gardiner, and then there was Mr. Yates, but I did not dance with him. Do you remember him, Cousin Robert? he said he knew you at Bath." Georgiana had been so disagreeably struck by Mr. Yates's way of speaking of her relatives whom he had met, that she had not intended to mention it to Colonel Fitzwilliam, but the rest of his talk had eradicated his first impression, and she had unguardedly given utterance to his name. Fruitless regret and vexation overcame her when, glancing up at her cousin, she perceived his countenance darken, and noted the change in his voice as he replied, with an effort: "Yes, we did meet in Bath, but not in the pleasantest of circumstances. Mr. Yates may be a more agreeable man away from the companions he then had." "I do not think he was particularly agreeable," said Georgiana, falteringly, "but I thought--he appeared to me to be an interesting talker." "Yes, that is quite his line; if Yates can do nothing else he can certainly use his tongue," replied Colonel Fitzwilliam, not without bitterness. "But do not let us concern ourselves with him, Georgiana; what about the walk in Kensington Gardens that we had thought of? Will Mrs. Annesley very kindly let me escort you both there this delightfully fine morning?" Mrs. Annesley willingly acceded, and the two ladies having attired themselves, a hackney coach was called, which conveyed them a mile on their way towards Kensington Place. Georgiana was somewhat silent during the drive. She did not wish to speculate on her cousin's private affairs, but having been the innocent cause of recalling painful thoughts to him inevitably produced the wish to atone, to help; and she found herself wondering, while trying not to wonder, what could possibly be the connection between Mr. Yates, Cousin Robert and a lady in Bath now said to be in London. To be sure, it was none of her business, she had no right to wish to know, and yet

rather

How many times the word 'rather' appears in the text?

what you have to do," said Georgiana, highly diverted. "It is not a matter of fortune, is it? Anybody can do it," rejoined William Price. "I am sure you can, Miss Darcy." "No, indeed; I dislike very much some things I have to do." "But if you found you positively had to do them, and there was no way out, then you would decide to like them, would you not? It would make them so much easier." This was a new idea to Georgiana, and she considered it a little before replying, with a smile: "I am sure there are some things I should never like doing, such as sitting on the back seat of a carriage." "I know that it is disagreeable to some people, but I am sure, if one thought long enough, one could find a way to make it less so," said the young lieutenant, with great earnestness. "For instance"--he considered--"when the window was open the rain and wind would not do so much damage to the feathers in a lady's bonnet as if she were opposite; and at night one could shut one's eyes and imagine one was travelling forwards--it would be difficult to tell the difference." He looked inquiringly at Georgiana, who was so much entertained by his arguments that she said, laughingly: "I was right in calling you fortunate, Mr. Price, for you seemed to have secured a sovereign remedy against all ills. Do tell me how you would console yourself if you slipped down now and broke your leg, so that you could not dance any more for a long time? I should like to know whether your principle always holds good." "Now, Miss Darcy, you are driving me into a corner. I only said if I positively had to do the distasteful thing and there was no way out. I beg to inform you in the plainest language that there is a way out of your suggestion--that is, not to fall and break my leg, and it is the way I mean to adopt. But if such a thing did happen to me, I should certainly try to console myself--as yet I am not quite sure how--yes, I have thought of a method, but I do not think I had better tell you what it is." "He means he would have Kitty to sit beside him and talk to him," thought Georgiana. "I wonder what he would be like if he were ill? He would have just the same merry smile, I believe." Aloud she said: "I am not so strong-minded as you, Mr. Price, I'm afraid. I should never be able to think of any way of consoling myself for a broken leg." "I hope you will never have to endure anything one-twentieth a part disagreeable, Miss Darcy," her partner replied, dropping his gay manner for a moment. "Although it helped me to get through my examinations, even now I cannot think very kindly of it." "Were you--has it actually happened to you?" exclaimed Georgiana, with a horrified face; and she never felt less pleasure at the arrival of a new partner than at that moment. Most unwillingly she placed her arm in his to be led away, wanting far more to hear the history of William Price's misfortune; while the young man, full of concern at having startled her, walked a few steps beside her to say: "It is all right, Miss Darcy, because, you see, that guarantees that it will not happen again to-night." Bingley, who was her partner, asked the name of her companion, and Georgiana told what she knew of him, describing him as Kitty's friend. Bingley recollected having heard of him from Kitty, and pleased with his appearance, and always attracted by a new face, expressed a wish to know him, and Georgiana looked forward to making the introduction when her dances with Bingley should be over. This, however, was not to be. Kitty and Mr. Price were dancing together, and occasionally passed them in the set, when Georgiana could observe her friend's flushed cheek and air of radiant happiness; but at its conclusion they were swept away in a crowd, and Bingley and Georgiana, looking round for chairs, were accosted by Mr. Knightley, with the request to present Mr. and Mrs. Yates, who were anxious to know them. The name was unfamiliar to both, and so were the faces of the couple who approached--Mr. Yates with his usual aspect of complete self-satisfaction, and his wife, a woman of fashion, with a considerable share of good looks, but an expression of countenance from which weariness and impatience were never long absent. The lady fell to Bingley's share, and Georgiana, on her part, learned from Mr. Yates that he had heard her name and wished for the pleasure of her acquaintance, as he had already made that of her brother and sister in Bath. Georgiana replied to inquiries after their health and Colonel Fitzwilliam's, whom, Mr. Yates told her, he knew very well indeed, and he desired to send his compliments to the Colonel, if Miss Darcy should be seeing him. "He is in London, I believe?" Georgiana assented. "Ah, yes, I understood that; and the lady is in town, too, I fancy." Georgiana's look in reply to this was so blank that Mr. Yates, evidently not caring to trust himself in the deep waters of explanation, continued: "Do present him my cordial regards, and say I hope he has forgiven me. I was so unfortunate as to do him a little disservice, but it was easily put right; I saw to that myself. Lady Catherine de Bourgh, I am sure, had made _amende honorable_. You know Lady Catherine, Miss Darcy? Your aunt? Of course, I beg your pardon; I should have recollected. Do, pray, remember me to her, too. You were not in Bath this year, were you? Well, you did not lose much; I have known pleasanter seasons." Georgiana only bowed; Mr. Yates's familiar allusion to Colonel Fitzwilliam had not pleased her, and an instinct, which she had not time to analyse, led her to connect it with her cousin's depressed spirits. The next moment her companion introduced a more welcome subject by saying: "I think I saw you dancing with my young cousin, William Price; a smart young fellow, is he not?" "Is he your cousin?" asked Georgiana, in some surprise. "Yes, or rather, my wife's, through the mother; but we have all known him for years, he seems quite like one of ourselves, and spends half his time at our house when in town. Though I often tell my wife it is no compliment to us, for he is for ever playing with our children; we cannot get him out of the nursery." Georgiana felt that this was just as it should be; Mr. Price's being fond of the children accorded him well with the "merry, kind smile" that was so characteristic of him. She ventured upon an inquiry as to his naval career, and Mr. Yates, who liked nothing better than to be talking either of himself or of those belonging to him, immediately entered upon a description of William's notable conduct at the battle of St. Domingo, and the extraordinary courage he had displayed in the taking of a French ship and in defending the colours of his own. Bingley's attention was caught, and Georgiana was grateful to him for asking questions to prolong the story, and for interpolating expressions of admiration which she felt but could not utter. The more she saw and heard of him, the more delighted she was with the young hero, for such he now appeared to be; and the more she commended Kitty's good sense in bestowing her devotion upon such a worthy object. She looked forward to further opportunities of hearing from Mr. Price's own lips the account of some of his adventures; but recollecting that if events took the much-desired course there would be plenty of such opportunities, she decided that it would be best to employ the remainder of the time which she might spend in his company that evening by discoursing of Kitty, in the hope of gaining some assurance of the strength of his inclinations. He knew her to be Kitty's friend, and the subject of Kitty would naturally become the chief bond between them when they came to know each other a little better. Shortly after supper, William Price claimed her hand for a second time; and at the first interval in the dance long enough for any connected conversation, Georgiana began: "Who is that dancing with Miss Bennet? Do you know, Mr. Price?" "It is a Mr. Churchill, a great friend of the Knightleys. I believe he is rather agreeable, but Miss Bennet tells me she does not like him," replied William Price, laughing. "Why should she not like him, I wonder?" asked Georgiana. "Oh, I hardly know. Just a fancy, I think. He and I had a great set-to here one day--an argument, I mean; and I was fairly worsted--it was about foxhunting, so perhaps I deserved to be; but Miss Bennet very kindly took my side, and was quite vexed with Mr. Churchill when he retired with the honours of war." "Kitty is so loyal to her friends," said Georgiana. "Yes, she is a delightful girl, and Mrs. Knightley, too, is the kindest person imaginable. She has been so good to both my brother and myself, and I have never enjoyed my leave so much." "It must be a very pleasant house to stay in," said Georgiana. "Miss Bennet is very sorry to be going away, I know." "Yes, is it not a pity she has to go? And down to the depths of the country, too. I must not disparage it, Miss Darcy, for I am reminded that it is your home as well; but when people go so far off one is desperately afraid of not seeing them again. You are not leaving town with Miss Bennet, are you?" Georgiana was explaining their respective plans when the summons came for them to rejoin the set; but an interruption soon occurred in the shape of a slight accident. A lady dancing next to William Price, in turning sharply, trod upon her dress, with the result that she slipped and fell upon the polished floor with her foot twisted under her. The young lieutenant sprang forward, lifted her with skillful and gentle touch, and carried her, pale and suffering, to an adjoining room, where Mrs. Knightley and several friends hastened to her aid. A servant was sent for a surgeon, and William Price returned to Georgiana with the news that, pending his arrival, the lady was being treated for what appeared to be a severe sprain. "Poor thing!" said Georgiana, trembling. "I am so sorry for her. It must have caused intense pain. I was afraid she might have broken it." "No, it is bad enough, but fortunately it is not broken; I could perceive that," replied the young man. "You must not prognosticate such sad things, Miss Darcy; you see they very nearly come true." Georgiana looked into his face for enlightenment, then broke into a smile. "Oh, Mr. Price, you are unkind to assume that I was responsible for it. I only suggested a broken leg, and it was you who said it had been a reality in your case. How did it happen? Was it in action?" William led her to a seat, as the incident had unnerved her for more dancing, but could not be persuaded to give a narrative in the style of Mr. Yates; he only laughed and said that it had been about as glorious an affair as falling down in a ball-room. "One of our fellows had foolishly got himself into a very awkward place at the storming of a fort, and I was so stupid as to get in the way of a shower of falling rocks, one of which, when it reached me, decided to stay as close to me as it could; so I was severely reprimanded, and had to spend six weeks in hospital at the very busiest time." Georgiana listened with interest, certain that there was another version of the story which would show her companion up in a different light, and she inquired: "What did you say about examinations?" "Only that I had some books, and a good friend who helped me to the utmost of his power, so that while I was lying by I contrived to work up my subject enough to have scraped through." They talked for some time longer, until William had to go in search of his next partner, while Georgiana was carried off by her hostess, who placed her at a small table to drink coffee with herself and Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. The Gardiners were, of course, no strangers to Georgiana, and she showed the pleasure she felt in meeting them again. "Is it not kind of Mrs. Gardiner to have lent Kitty to me for so long, Miss Darcy?" said Mrs. Knightley. "I feel I can ill spare her now; I shall miss her after the happy time we have had together." Georgiana said what was proper, and Mrs. Gardiner added: "Perhaps she will be able to come to you another year." "Indeed, I hope so. I should like her to come any time; but another year, you know, she may not be so free; the claims of a house of her own may be paramount." "Certainly they may be; but it seems early to anticipate that," said Mrs. Gardiner. "Early? Oh, no, I do not think so. I shall not be at all surprised to be asked to help in buying Kitty's wedding clothes before Christmas," returned Mrs. Knightley, smiling mysteriously. Mrs. Gardiner expressed inquiring surprise, while Georgiana listened with interest for what Mrs. Knightley would say, regarding her as the chief authority in the affair, as far as it had gone. Her hostess proceeded: "It is quite between ourselves, you know, Mrs. Gardiner; I know I am perfectly safe in mentioning it, as you are Kitty's aunt and Miss Darcy her greatest friend; and you can imagine whether it is a pleasure to me to find that two young people in whom I am interested are so much interested in each other." "Undoubtedly," said Mrs. Gardiner; "but pray enlighten me, Mrs. Knightley, as to who the other person is." "You have met him to-night, Mrs. Gardiner, the young naval officer, Mr. Price, whom I introduced to you." Mrs. Gardiner was very anxious to learn more particulars, and Mrs. Knightley gave her full information as to William Price's career and prospects, while as to Kitty, she affirmed she had every reason to believe that both were equally attracted, and that an engagement would shortly be formed between them, subject to the approval of their friends. Mrs. Gardiner agreed that it was very good news if the young man was all Mrs. Knightley believed him, and remarked what a delight it would be to her sister, Mrs. Bennet, who had always wanted Kitty to be settled. "Mr. Price _is_ all we think him, I can assure you; Mr. Knightley will answer for him. But, pray, do not mention a word of this to anyone; let it not go beyond us four; I am most desirous that the affair should pass to its easy and natural conclusion." "I quite understand that, and of course we shall wait until Kitty tells us," said her aunt. "What do you think of it all, Miss Darcy? Has Kitty mentioned the matter to you?" Georgiana replied that she had, and on further questioning owned that she felt sure that if what Mrs. Knightley expected came to pass, it would make Kitty very happy. Mrs. Knightley called upon her to join in commendations of the young man, and this she could sincerely do; and she rose from the table feeling as if everything were settled, and it only remained to congratulate the two persons most concerned. A minute later she met Kitty, flying in search of her. Kitty seized her friend's hand and drew her into a quiet corner of Mrs. Knightley's morning-room, where the two girls could seat themselves on a sofa partly hidden by a screen and be quite secluded. "I wanted so much to see you before I went, Georgiana," began Kitty in an excited undertone. "I thought I should never get to you, and this is my last chance, as we start so early on Friday. Now do tell me what you think of him. You can judge now, cannot you? Is he not delightful? Is he not handsome, and a noble creature? Is he not all I said?" "Yes, indeed, dear Kitty, he is," responded Georgiana, with tender sympathy. "I can quite understand your feelings. I am sure anyone would be very proud to have gained the affection of such a man." "Oh, I am so glad to hear you say so. Do you think I have gained it? Sometimes I think so; sometimes I am not sure. Mrs. Knightley thinks I have." "I know she does; I have heard her say so, and she would not mislead you, Kitty, I am sure. She cares so much for your welfare." "Yes, indeed, she has been very kind. I cannot tell you what I should have done without her. She has done everything, she thinks of everything. To-night, when she was arranging the supper partners, I was standing near him, but not very near, and he had not asked me; I suppose he was waiting to see if he might, as we had already danced together a great deal, and she looked up from her list and said: 'And Mr. Price, I do not think I have put anyone down for you: will you take Miss Bennet?' in that kind way, not to make me feel uncomfortable, as if it had been planned. So he came and offered me his arm with such an air! And, after all, we did not talk much at supper; I was too happy, but when I asked him if he liked my dress, he paid me such an elegant compliment on it--something about a rose." "He is a most agreeable companion," said Georgiana. "I should never tire of hearing him converse. The marvellous adventures he has had! It is like a glimpse of a new world to meet a person who has actually been through those things, and who describes them with such modesty and simplicity. Such a man seldom comes into our quiet lives." "Oh, but they are so horrible, it quite frightens me to hear about them; if I were married to him I would never let him go to sea again, for fear of his coming back without an arm, or a leg, or an eye." "But it is his profession, Kitty." "I know, but it is a horrid profession, the only thing about him that I don't like, except for the uniform, and a man in a black coat looks positively nothing beside him." "Oh, Kitty, as if the uniform mattered! Do not let me hear you talk so foolishly," said Georgiana, really pained. "Well, perhaps it is foolish, but it does make a difference, you know. Bingley has been teasing me half the evening about a young man that he says they have got for me down in the country, whom I shall be sure to like, the Rector of Kympton, I believe. As if I could possibly look at a clergyman after knowing William Price." "Perhaps it is not fair to compare two such different types of men, but Mr. Morland is very nice, Kitty; I am sure you will think so." "I am sure I shall not; I don't want to see him: how can I think anyone nice when I am away from here? Oh, if I could only see Price once more, just once more, to make sure; but as he says, how can one ever see anybody down in the wilds of Derbyshire?" "Kitty, here is the music beginning again, and we shall be asked for," said Georgiana, standing up. "Do not be unhappy or over-anxious about this, and do not show too much what you feel, for I am sure it will all come out right if you have patience." "Do you really think it is so? That is such a comfort; but I wish he had spoken to-night. Mrs. Knightley thought he would." "Dear Kitty, whenever it comes, I wish you all the happiness in the world; write to me very fully, and, as I said, have patience and self-command. Now we really ought to go." Kitty pressed her friend's hand, and Georgiana tried to calm her as they walked back to the ball-room, by talking on indifferent topics, for she feared the girl's burning cheeks and nervous manner would betray her agitation and its cause. Miss Bingley met them as they entered the room, and asked Georgiana if she was ready to go, as Mrs. Hurst seemed inclined for it. "Yes, I am quite ready," said Georgiana. "I think I am engaged to Mr. Bingley for another dance, but he will not mind missing it." "Charles is over there, talking to Mr. Price, but I have told him we want to go, so he will be expecting us," said Miss Bingley, and led the way across the room, Kitty not unnaturally following. Mr. Bingley welcomed them warmly, calling out: "Here, Kitty, come and add your entreaties to mine. I want this young gentleman to come down to Desborough and shoot our pheasants in November, but he is not sure if he can manage it; I never heard such nonsense. If anyone is entitled to ask for leave when he wants it, I should think he is." Kitty was rendered perfectly incapable of speech for the first moment after hearing these words; never had a wish been so suddenly and gloriously placed in the way of accomplishment; but she found an unexpected ally in Miss Bingley, who supported her brother's invitation, having, like him, been attracted by the young lieutenant's agreeable demeanour and high reputation. William Price stood still, looking diffidently from one to another, and expressing in disjointed sentences his gratitude, his uncertainty, and his extreme pleasure should he be able to accept. Mr. Bingley exerted all his powers of persuasion, and Kitty's bright eyes shot glances not less eloquent. Georgiana turned a little away, feeling suddenly very tired and spiritless, and Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, who came up at that moment, remarked on it. "Georgiana tired?" exclaimed Bingley; "then let us go at once. You are not used to these late hours, and I don't know what Mrs. Darcy will say to me if I take them a poor account of you. We are all neighbours in the country, you know, Mr. Price. Then that is settled? You will come to us if you can possibly get away, and I hope nothing will prevent it. You do not expect to receive the command of the Mediterranean squadron, do you?" "No, sir," replied William, laughing, "neither that nor any other command this year, I am afraid." "Well, well, I wish you luck. Shall I see you again before I leave town?" William was beginning to reply negatively, when Miss Bingley, who was leading the whole party towards the cloak-room, turned and asked Mr. Price if he would not come and see them some time in Grosvenor Street. She called on her sister to ratify the invitation, which Mrs. Hurst did, and it was courteously accepted. There followed a confusion of good-byes and a getting of cloaks, and the three ladies were placed in the coach while the two gentlemen prepared to walk. Georgiana had warmly embraced Kitty at parting, and had intimated that she knew how much the arrangement by Bingley meant to her friend; and her last impression of Mrs. Knightley's ball was of William Price waving farewell in the doorway and then ascending the steps to where Kitty awaited him in the vestibule. Chapter X Colonel Fitzwilliam had come to London because he thought it was the place where he would be most likely to meet Miss Crawford again, and he had taken up literary work merely to pass away the time until that longed-for event should occur. Two months had elapsed before he heard of her arrival, with her sister, but it was not many days after that he contrived to be present at the house of a mutual friend, where he knew her to be expected. Her manner of greeting him on this occasion was not free from embarrassment; it was neither cordial nor unfriendly, and so brief was the encounter that he could discover but little from it of the state of her mind towards him. Another casual meeting seemed to promise more hopefully, but hardly had they exchanged a few sentences when the appearance of Sir Walter and Miss Elliot turned the conversation into channels more congenial to the new-comers, and Colonel Fitzwilliam was forced to stand aside and see Miss Crawford taken possession of without any semblance of unwillingness on her part. He then devoted himself to Mrs. Grant, and tried to propose an expedition, a theatre party, but that lady hesitatingly replied that she could arrange nothing without her sister. Colonel Fitzwilliam applied for permission to call, which was readily accorded, but on availing himself of it the following day only learned that the ladies were gone to Richmond with a party. The manservant obliged him, unasked, with the information that it was Mr. Crawford's party, and the Colonel was left to speculate gloomily on the chances of Sir Walter Elliot being one of the number, and what was of greater import whether, if it was so, it was with Miss Crawford's approval. He had gone to call on the Hursts after leaving Mrs. Grant's house, and had not again seen the object of his thoughts and hopes, when, a few days later, he directed his steps towards Mrs. Annesley's residence in Hans Place. He could scarcely believe it was but three months since the severance of his engagement with Georgiana, it seemed to have retreated so far into the background of events, but he had pondered earnestly over their interview in Grosvenor Street, and from her demeanour had concluded that his presence was not objectionable to her, so that any further meeting might help to re-establish their old cousinly relations, a result which their friends would rejoice in. It was therefore with a tolerably easy mind that was ushered into the presence of the two ladies, and found Georgiana in great good looks and far less shy and confused than on the previous occasion; indeed, in a few moments any awkwardness between them seemed to have quite melted away, and she was readily answering his questions about Mrs. Knightley's ball. "It certainly seems to have been a great success, for I never knew you so enthusiastic about a ball before, Georgiana," said her cousin, smiling. "It was better than the Bath assemblies, I gather?" "Oh--Bath!" exclaimed Georgiana, with a note of contempt in her voice which spoke volumes. "You laugh at me, Cousin Robert, but it was a beautiful ball. Even Mr. Bingley said so, and he must have been to a great number." "Hundreds, if not thousands, I should think," returned her cousin. "Bingley's shoemaker must have made a fortune. But who were the partners who contributed to such enjoyment? for they are usually the really important part. Two Mr. Prices you have mentioned, Captain Carter and Mr. Dixon; who else?" "Oh, I forget who else; Mr. Hurst and Mr. Bingley, of course, and Mr. Knightley, but he was very grave and terrible, I was almost too frightened to move, and Mr. Gardiner, and then there was Mr. Yates, but I did not dance with him. Do you remember him, Cousin Robert? he said he knew you at Bath." Georgiana had been so disagreeably struck by Mr. Yates's way of speaking of her relatives whom he had met, that she had not intended to mention it to Colonel Fitzwilliam, but the rest of his talk had eradicated his first impression, and she had unguardedly given utterance to his name. Fruitless regret and vexation overcame her when, glancing up at her cousin, she perceived his countenance darken, and noted the change in his voice as he replied, with an effort: "Yes, we did meet in Bath, but not in the pleasantest of circumstances. Mr. Yates may be a more agreeable man away from the companions he then had." "I do not think he was particularly agreeable," said Georgiana, falteringly, "but I thought--he appeared to me to be an interesting talker." "Yes, that is quite his line; if Yates can do nothing else he can certainly use his tongue," replied Colonel Fitzwilliam, not without bitterness. "But do not let us concern ourselves with him, Georgiana; what about the walk in Kensington Gardens that we had thought of? Will Mrs. Annesley very kindly let me escort you both there this delightfully fine morning?" Mrs. Annesley willingly acceded, and the two ladies having attired themselves, a hackney coach was called, which conveyed them a mile on their way towards Kensington Place. Georgiana was somewhat silent during the drive. She did not wish to speculate on her cousin's private affairs, but having been the innocent cause of recalling painful thoughts to him inevitably produced the wish to atone, to help; and she found herself wondering, while trying not to wonder, what could possibly be the connection between Mr. Yates, Cousin Robert and a lady in Bath now said to be in London. To be sure, it was none of her business, she had no right to wish to know, and yet

fall

How many times the word 'fall' appears in the text?

what you have to do," said Georgiana, highly diverted. "It is not a matter of fortune, is it? Anybody can do it," rejoined William Price. "I am sure you can, Miss Darcy." "No, indeed; I dislike very much some things I have to do." "But if you found you positively had to do them, and there was no way out, then you would decide to like them, would you not? It would make them so much easier." This was a new idea to Georgiana, and she considered it a little before replying, with a smile: "I am sure there are some things I should never like doing, such as sitting on the back seat of a carriage." "I know that it is disagreeable to some people, but I am sure, if one thought long enough, one could find a way to make it less so," said the young lieutenant, with great earnestness. "For instance"--he considered--"when the window was open the rain and wind would not do so much damage to the feathers in a lady's bonnet as if she were opposite; and at night one could shut one's eyes and imagine one was travelling forwards--it would be difficult to tell the difference." He looked inquiringly at Georgiana, who was so much entertained by his arguments that she said, laughingly: "I was right in calling you fortunate, Mr. Price, for you seemed to have secured a sovereign remedy against all ills. Do tell me how you would console yourself if you slipped down now and broke your leg, so that you could not dance any more for a long time? I should like to know whether your principle always holds good." "Now, Miss Darcy, you are driving me into a corner. I only said if I positively had to do the distasteful thing and there was no way out. I beg to inform you in the plainest language that there is a way out of your suggestion--that is, not to fall and break my leg, and it is the way I mean to adopt. But if such a thing did happen to me, I should certainly try to console myself--as yet I am not quite sure how--yes, I have thought of a method, but I do not think I had better tell you what it is." "He means he would have Kitty to sit beside him and talk to him," thought Georgiana. "I wonder what he would be like if he were ill? He would have just the same merry smile, I believe." Aloud she said: "I am not so strong-minded as you, Mr. Price, I'm afraid. I should never be able to think of any way of consoling myself for a broken leg." "I hope you will never have to endure anything one-twentieth a part disagreeable, Miss Darcy," her partner replied, dropping his gay manner for a moment. "Although it helped me to get through my examinations, even now I cannot think very kindly of it." "Were you--has it actually happened to you?" exclaimed Georgiana, with a horrified face; and she never felt less pleasure at the arrival of a new partner than at that moment. Most unwillingly she placed her arm in his to be led away, wanting far more to hear the history of William Price's misfortune; while the young man, full of concern at having startled her, walked a few steps beside her to say: "It is all right, Miss Darcy, because, you see, that guarantees that it will not happen again to-night." Bingley, who was her partner, asked the name of her companion, and Georgiana told what she knew of him, describing him as Kitty's friend. Bingley recollected having heard of him from Kitty, and pleased with his appearance, and always attracted by a new face, expressed a wish to know him, and Georgiana looked forward to making the introduction when her dances with Bingley should be over. This, however, was not to be. Kitty and Mr. Price were dancing together, and occasionally passed them in the set, when Georgiana could observe her friend's flushed cheek and air of radiant happiness; but at its conclusion they were swept away in a crowd, and Bingley and Georgiana, looking round for chairs, were accosted by Mr. Knightley, with the request to present Mr. and Mrs. Yates, who were anxious to know them. The name was unfamiliar to both, and so were the faces of the couple who approached--Mr. Yates with his usual aspect of complete self-satisfaction, and his wife, a woman of fashion, with a considerable share of good looks, but an expression of countenance from which weariness and impatience were never long absent. The lady fell to Bingley's share, and Georgiana, on her part, learned from Mr. Yates that he had heard her name and wished for the pleasure of her acquaintance, as he had already made that of her brother and sister in Bath. Georgiana replied to inquiries after their health and Colonel Fitzwilliam's, whom, Mr. Yates told her, he knew very well indeed, and he desired to send his compliments to the Colonel, if Miss Darcy should be seeing him. "He is in London, I believe?" Georgiana assented. "Ah, yes, I understood that; and the lady is in town, too, I fancy." Georgiana's look in reply to this was so blank that Mr. Yates, evidently not caring to trust himself in the deep waters of explanation, continued: "Do present him my cordial regards, and say I hope he has forgiven me. I was so unfortunate as to do him a little disservice, but it was easily put right; I saw to that myself. Lady Catherine de Bourgh, I am sure, had made _amende honorable_. You know Lady Catherine, Miss Darcy? Your aunt? Of course, I beg your pardon; I should have recollected. Do, pray, remember me to her, too. You were not in Bath this year, were you? Well, you did not lose much; I have known pleasanter seasons." Georgiana only bowed; Mr. Yates's familiar allusion to Colonel Fitzwilliam had not pleased her, and an instinct, which she had not time to analyse, led her to connect it with her cousin's depressed spirits. The next moment her companion introduced a more welcome subject by saying: "I think I saw you dancing with my young cousin, William Price; a smart young fellow, is he not?" "Is he your cousin?" asked Georgiana, in some surprise. "Yes, or rather, my wife's, through the mother; but we have all known him for years, he seems quite like one of ourselves, and spends half his time at our house when in town. Though I often tell my wife it is no compliment to us, for he is for ever playing with our children; we cannot get him out of the nursery." Georgiana felt that this was just as it should be; Mr. Price's being fond of the children accorded him well with the "merry, kind smile" that was so characteristic of him. She ventured upon an inquiry as to his naval career, and Mr. Yates, who liked nothing better than to be talking either of himself or of those belonging to him, immediately entered upon a description of William's notable conduct at the battle of St. Domingo, and the extraordinary courage he had displayed in the taking of a French ship and in defending the colours of his own. Bingley's attention was caught, and Georgiana was grateful to him for asking questions to prolong the story, and for interpolating expressions of admiration which she felt but could not utter. The more she saw and heard of him, the more delighted she was with the young hero, for such he now appeared to be; and the more she commended Kitty's good sense in bestowing her devotion upon such a worthy object. She looked forward to further opportunities of hearing from Mr. Price's own lips the account of some of his adventures; but recollecting that if events took the much-desired course there would be plenty of such opportunities, she decided that it would be best to employ the remainder of the time which she might spend in his company that evening by discoursing of Kitty, in the hope of gaining some assurance of the strength of his inclinations. He knew her to be Kitty's friend, and the subject of Kitty would naturally become the chief bond between them when they came to know each other a little better. Shortly after supper, William Price claimed her hand for a second time; and at the first interval in the dance long enough for any connected conversation, Georgiana began: "Who is that dancing with Miss Bennet? Do you know, Mr. Price?" "It is a Mr. Churchill, a great friend of the Knightleys. I believe he is rather agreeable, but Miss Bennet tells me she does not like him," replied William Price, laughing. "Why should she not like him, I wonder?" asked Georgiana. "Oh, I hardly know. Just a fancy, I think. He and I had a great set-to here one day--an argument, I mean; and I was fairly worsted--it was about foxhunting, so perhaps I deserved to be; but Miss Bennet very kindly took my side, and was quite vexed with Mr. Churchill when he retired with the honours of war." "Kitty is so loyal to her friends," said Georgiana. "Yes, she is a delightful girl, and Mrs. Knightley, too, is the kindest person imaginable. She has been so good to both my brother and myself, and I have never enjoyed my leave so much." "It must be a very pleasant house to stay in," said Georgiana. "Miss Bennet is very sorry to be going away, I know." "Yes, is it not a pity she has to go? And down to the depths of the country, too. I must not disparage it, Miss Darcy, for I am reminded that it is your home as well; but when people go so far off one is desperately afraid of not seeing them again. You are not leaving town with Miss Bennet, are you?" Georgiana was explaining their respective plans when the summons came for them to rejoin the set; but an interruption soon occurred in the shape of a slight accident. A lady dancing next to William Price, in turning sharply, trod upon her dress, with the result that she slipped and fell upon the polished floor with her foot twisted under her. The young lieutenant sprang forward, lifted her with skillful and gentle touch, and carried her, pale and suffering, to an adjoining room, where Mrs. Knightley and several friends hastened to her aid. A servant was sent for a surgeon, and William Price returned to Georgiana with the news that, pending his arrival, the lady was being treated for what appeared to be a severe sprain. "Poor thing!" said Georgiana, trembling. "I am so sorry for her. It must have caused intense pain. I was afraid she might have broken it." "No, it is bad enough, but fortunately it is not broken; I could perceive that," replied the young man. "You must not prognosticate such sad things, Miss Darcy; you see they very nearly come true." Georgiana looked into his face for enlightenment, then broke into a smile. "Oh, Mr. Price, you are unkind to assume that I was responsible for it. I only suggested a broken leg, and it was you who said it had been a reality in your case. How did it happen? Was it in action?" William led her to a seat, as the incident had unnerved her for more dancing, but could not be persuaded to give a narrative in the style of Mr. Yates; he only laughed and said that it had been about as glorious an affair as falling down in a ball-room. "One of our fellows had foolishly got himself into a very awkward place at the storming of a fort, and I was so stupid as to get in the way of a shower of falling rocks, one of which, when it reached me, decided to stay as close to me as it could; so I was severely reprimanded, and had to spend six weeks in hospital at the very busiest time." Georgiana listened with interest, certain that there was another version of the story which would show her companion up in a different light, and she inquired: "What did you say about examinations?" "Only that I had some books, and a good friend who helped me to the utmost of his power, so that while I was lying by I contrived to work up my subject enough to have scraped through." They talked for some time longer, until William had to go in search of his next partner, while Georgiana was carried off by her hostess, who placed her at a small table to drink coffee with herself and Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. The Gardiners were, of course, no strangers to Georgiana, and she showed the pleasure she felt in meeting them again. "Is it not kind of Mrs. Gardiner to have lent Kitty to me for so long, Miss Darcy?" said Mrs. Knightley. "I feel I can ill spare her now; I shall miss her after the happy time we have had together." Georgiana said what was proper, and Mrs. Gardiner added: "Perhaps she will be able to come to you another year." "Indeed, I hope so. I should like her to come any time; but another year, you know, she may not be so free; the claims of a house of her own may be paramount." "Certainly they may be; but it seems early to anticipate that," said Mrs. Gardiner. "Early? Oh, no, I do not think so. I shall not be at all surprised to be asked to help in buying Kitty's wedding clothes before Christmas," returned Mrs. Knightley, smiling mysteriously. Mrs. Gardiner expressed inquiring surprise, while Georgiana listened with interest for what Mrs. Knightley would say, regarding her as the chief authority in the affair, as far as it had gone. Her hostess proceeded: "It is quite between ourselves, you know, Mrs. Gardiner; I know I am perfectly safe in mentioning it, as you are Kitty's aunt and Miss Darcy her greatest friend; and you can imagine whether it is a pleasure to me to find that two young people in whom I am interested are so much interested in each other." "Undoubtedly," said Mrs. Gardiner; "but pray enlighten me, Mrs. Knightley, as to who the other person is." "You have met him to-night, Mrs. Gardiner, the young naval officer, Mr. Price, whom I introduced to you." Mrs. Gardiner was very anxious to learn more particulars, and Mrs. Knightley gave her full information as to William Price's career and prospects, while as to Kitty, she affirmed she had every reason to believe that both were equally attracted, and that an engagement would shortly be formed between them, subject to the approval of their friends. Mrs. Gardiner agreed that it was very good news if the young man was all Mrs. Knightley believed him, and remarked what a delight it would be to her sister, Mrs. Bennet, who had always wanted Kitty to be settled. "Mr. Price _is_ all we think him, I can assure you; Mr. Knightley will answer for him. But, pray, do not mention a word of this to anyone; let it not go beyond us four; I am most desirous that the affair should pass to its easy and natural conclusion." "I quite understand that, and of course we shall wait until Kitty tells us," said her aunt. "What do you think of it all, Miss Darcy? Has Kitty mentioned the matter to you?" Georgiana replied that she had, and on further questioning owned that she felt sure that if what Mrs. Knightley expected came to pass, it would make Kitty very happy. Mrs. Knightley called upon her to join in commendations of the young man, and this she could sincerely do; and she rose from the table feeling as if everything were settled, and it only remained to congratulate the two persons most concerned. A minute later she met Kitty, flying in search of her. Kitty seized her friend's hand and drew her into a quiet corner of Mrs. Knightley's morning-room, where the two girls could seat themselves on a sofa partly hidden by a screen and be quite secluded. "I wanted so much to see you before I went, Georgiana," began Kitty in an excited undertone. "I thought I should never get to you, and this is my last chance, as we start so early on Friday. Now do tell me what you think of him. You can judge now, cannot you? Is he not delightful? Is he not handsome, and a noble creature? Is he not all I said?" "Yes, indeed, dear Kitty, he is," responded Georgiana, with tender sympathy. "I can quite understand your feelings. I am sure anyone would be very proud to have gained the affection of such a man." "Oh, I am so glad to hear you say so. Do you think I have gained it? Sometimes I think so; sometimes I am not sure. Mrs. Knightley thinks I have." "I know she does; I have heard her say so, and she would not mislead you, Kitty, I am sure. She cares so much for your welfare." "Yes, indeed, she has been very kind. I cannot tell you what I should have done without her. She has done everything, she thinks of everything. To-night, when she was arranging the supper partners, I was standing near him, but not very near, and he had not asked me; I suppose he was waiting to see if he might, as we had already danced together a great deal, and she looked up from her list and said: 'And Mr. Price, I do not think I have put anyone down for you: will you take Miss Bennet?' in that kind way, not to make me feel uncomfortable, as if it had been planned. So he came and offered me his arm with such an air! And, after all, we did not talk much at supper; I was too happy, but when I asked him if he liked my dress, he paid me such an elegant compliment on it--something about a rose." "He is a most agreeable companion," said Georgiana. "I should never tire of hearing him converse. The marvellous adventures he has had! It is like a glimpse of a new world to meet a person who has actually been through those things, and who describes them with such modesty and simplicity. Such a man seldom comes into our quiet lives." "Oh, but they are so horrible, it quite frightens me to hear about them; if I were married to him I would never let him go to sea again, for fear of his coming back without an arm, or a leg, or an eye." "But it is his profession, Kitty." "I know, but it is a horrid profession, the only thing about him that I don't like, except for the uniform, and a man in a black coat looks positively nothing beside him." "Oh, Kitty, as if the uniform mattered! Do not let me hear you talk so foolishly," said Georgiana, really pained. "Well, perhaps it is foolish, but it does make a difference, you know. Bingley has been teasing me half the evening about a young man that he says they have got for me down in the country, whom I shall be sure to like, the Rector of Kympton, I believe. As if I could possibly look at a clergyman after knowing William Price." "Perhaps it is not fair to compare two such different types of men, but Mr. Morland is very nice, Kitty; I am sure you will think so." "I am sure I shall not; I don't want to see him: how can I think anyone nice when I am away from here? Oh, if I could only see Price once more, just once more, to make sure; but as he says, how can one ever see anybody down in the wilds of Derbyshire?" "Kitty, here is the music beginning again, and we shall be asked for," said Georgiana, standing up. "Do not be unhappy or over-anxious about this, and do not show too much what you feel, for I am sure it will all come out right if you have patience." "Do you really think it is so? That is such a comfort; but I wish he had spoken to-night. Mrs. Knightley thought he would." "Dear Kitty, whenever it comes, I wish you all the happiness in the world; write to me very fully, and, as I said, have patience and self-command. Now we really ought to go." Kitty pressed her friend's hand, and Georgiana tried to calm her as they walked back to the ball-room, by talking on indifferent topics, for she feared the girl's burning cheeks and nervous manner would betray her agitation and its cause. Miss Bingley met them as they entered the room, and asked Georgiana if she was ready to go, as Mrs. Hurst seemed inclined for it. "Yes, I am quite ready," said Georgiana. "I think I am engaged to Mr. Bingley for another dance, but he will not mind missing it." "Charles is over there, talking to Mr. Price, but I have told him we want to go, so he will be expecting us," said Miss Bingley, and led the way across the room, Kitty not unnaturally following. Mr. Bingley welcomed them warmly, calling out: "Here, Kitty, come and add your entreaties to mine. I want this young gentleman to come down to Desborough and shoot our pheasants in November, but he is not sure if he can manage it; I never heard such nonsense. If anyone is entitled to ask for leave when he wants it, I should think he is." Kitty was rendered perfectly incapable of speech for the first moment after hearing these words; never had a wish been so suddenly and gloriously placed in the way of accomplishment; but she found an unexpected ally in Miss Bingley, who supported her brother's invitation, having, like him, been attracted by the young lieutenant's agreeable demeanour and high reputation. William Price stood still, looking diffidently from one to another, and expressing in disjointed sentences his gratitude, his uncertainty, and his extreme pleasure should he be able to accept. Mr. Bingley exerted all his powers of persuasion, and Kitty's bright eyes shot glances not less eloquent. Georgiana turned a little away, feeling suddenly very tired and spiritless, and Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, who came up at that moment, remarked on it. "Georgiana tired?" exclaimed Bingley; "then let us go at once. You are not used to these late hours, and I don't know what Mrs. Darcy will say to me if I take them a poor account of you. We are all neighbours in the country, you know, Mr. Price. Then that is settled? You will come to us if you can possibly get away, and I hope nothing will prevent it. You do not expect to receive the command of the Mediterranean squadron, do you?" "No, sir," replied William, laughing, "neither that nor any other command this year, I am afraid." "Well, well, I wish you luck. Shall I see you again before I leave town?" William was beginning to reply negatively, when Miss Bingley, who was leading the whole party towards the cloak-room, turned and asked Mr. Price if he would not come and see them some time in Grosvenor Street. She called on her sister to ratify the invitation, which Mrs. Hurst did, and it was courteously accepted. There followed a confusion of good-byes and a getting of cloaks, and the three ladies were placed in the coach while the two gentlemen prepared to walk. Georgiana had warmly embraced Kitty at parting, and had intimated that she knew how much the arrangement by Bingley meant to her friend; and her last impression of Mrs. Knightley's ball was of William Price waving farewell in the doorway and then ascending the steps to where Kitty awaited him in the vestibule. Chapter X Colonel Fitzwilliam had come to London because he thought it was the place where he would be most likely to meet Miss Crawford again, and he had taken up literary work merely to pass away the time until that longed-for event should occur. Two months had elapsed before he heard of her arrival, with her sister, but it was not many days after that he contrived to be present at the house of a mutual friend, where he knew her to be expected. Her manner of greeting him on this occasion was not free from embarrassment; it was neither cordial nor unfriendly, and so brief was the encounter that he could discover but little from it of the state of her mind towards him. Another casual meeting seemed to promise more hopefully, but hardly had they exchanged a few sentences when the appearance of Sir Walter and Miss Elliot turned the conversation into channels more congenial to the new-comers, and Colonel Fitzwilliam was forced to stand aside and see Miss Crawford taken possession of without any semblance of unwillingness on her part. He then devoted himself to Mrs. Grant, and tried to propose an expedition, a theatre party, but that lady hesitatingly replied that she could arrange nothing without her sister. Colonel Fitzwilliam applied for permission to call, which was readily accorded, but on availing himself of it the following day only learned that the ladies were gone to Richmond with a party. The manservant obliged him, unasked, with the information that it was Mr. Crawford's party, and the Colonel was left to speculate gloomily on the chances of Sir Walter Elliot being one of the number, and what was of greater import whether, if it was so, it was with Miss Crawford's approval. He had gone to call on the Hursts after leaving Mrs. Grant's house, and had not again seen the object of his thoughts and hopes, when, a few days later, he directed his steps towards Mrs. Annesley's residence in Hans Place. He could scarcely believe it was but three months since the severance of his engagement with Georgiana, it seemed to have retreated so far into the background of events, but he had pondered earnestly over their interview in Grosvenor Street, and from her demeanour had concluded that his presence was not objectionable to her, so that any further meeting might help to re-establish their old cousinly relations, a result which their friends would rejoice in. It was therefore with a tolerably easy mind that was ushered into the presence of the two ladies, and found Georgiana in great good looks and far less shy and confused than on the previous occasion; indeed, in a few moments any awkwardness between them seemed to have quite melted away, and she was readily answering his questions about Mrs. Knightley's ball. "It certainly seems to have been a great success, for I never knew you so enthusiastic about a ball before, Georgiana," said her cousin, smiling. "It was better than the Bath assemblies, I gather?" "Oh--Bath!" exclaimed Georgiana, with a note of contempt in her voice which spoke volumes. "You laugh at me, Cousin Robert, but it was a beautiful ball. Even Mr. Bingley said so, and he must have been to a great number." "Hundreds, if not thousands, I should think," returned her cousin. "Bingley's shoemaker must have made a fortune. But who were the partners who contributed to such enjoyment? for they are usually the really important part. Two Mr. Prices you have mentioned, Captain Carter and Mr. Dixon; who else?" "Oh, I forget who else; Mr. Hurst and Mr. Bingley, of course, and Mr. Knightley, but he was very grave and terrible, I was almost too frightened to move, and Mr. Gardiner, and then there was Mr. Yates, but I did not dance with him. Do you remember him, Cousin Robert? he said he knew you at Bath." Georgiana had been so disagreeably struck by Mr. Yates's way of speaking of her relatives whom he had met, that she had not intended to mention it to Colonel Fitzwilliam, but the rest of his talk had eradicated his first impression, and she had unguardedly given utterance to his name. Fruitless regret and vexation overcame her when, glancing up at her cousin, she perceived his countenance darken, and noted the change in his voice as he replied, with an effort: "Yes, we did meet in Bath, but not in the pleasantest of circumstances. Mr. Yates may be a more agreeable man away from the companions he then had." "I do not think he was particularly agreeable," said Georgiana, falteringly, "but I thought--he appeared to me to be an interesting talker." "Yes, that is quite his line; if Yates can do nothing else he can certainly use his tongue," replied Colonel Fitzwilliam, not without bitterness. "But do not let us concern ourselves with him, Georgiana; what about the walk in Kensington Gardens that we had thought of? Will Mrs. Annesley very kindly let me escort you both there this delightfully fine morning?" Mrs. Annesley willingly acceded, and the two ladies having attired themselves, a hackney coach was called, which conveyed them a mile on their way towards Kensington Place. Georgiana was somewhat silent during the drive. She did not wish to speculate on her cousin's private affairs, but having been the innocent cause of recalling painful thoughts to him inevitably produced the wish to atone, to help; and she found herself wondering, while trying not to wonder, what could possibly be the connection between Mr. Yates, Cousin Robert and a lady in Bath now said to be in London. To be sure, it was none of her business, she had no right to wish to know, and yet

out

How many times the word 'out' appears in the text?

what you have to do," said Georgiana, highly diverted. "It is not a matter of fortune, is it? Anybody can do it," rejoined William Price. "I am sure you can, Miss Darcy." "No, indeed; I dislike very much some things I have to do." "But if you found you positively had to do them, and there was no way out, then you would decide to like them, would you not? It would make them so much easier." This was a new idea to Georgiana, and she considered it a little before replying, with a smile: "I am sure there are some things I should never like doing, such as sitting on the back seat of a carriage." "I know that it is disagreeable to some people, but I am sure, if one thought long enough, one could find a way to make it less so," said the young lieutenant, with great earnestness. "For instance"--he considered--"when the window was open the rain and wind would not do so much damage to the feathers in a lady's bonnet as if she were opposite; and at night one could shut one's eyes and imagine one was travelling forwards--it would be difficult to tell the difference." He looked inquiringly at Georgiana, who was so much entertained by his arguments that she said, laughingly: "I was right in calling you fortunate, Mr. Price, for you seemed to have secured a sovereign remedy against all ills. Do tell me how you would console yourself if you slipped down now and broke your leg, so that you could not dance any more for a long time? I should like to know whether your principle always holds good." "Now, Miss Darcy, you are driving me into a corner. I only said if I positively had to do the distasteful thing and there was no way out. I beg to inform you in the plainest language that there is a way out of your suggestion--that is, not to fall and break my leg, and it is the way I mean to adopt. But if such a thing did happen to me, I should certainly try to console myself--as yet I am not quite sure how--yes, I have thought of a method, but I do not think I had better tell you what it is." "He means he would have Kitty to sit beside him and talk to him," thought Georgiana. "I wonder what he would be like if he were ill? He would have just the same merry smile, I believe." Aloud she said: "I am not so strong-minded as you, Mr. Price, I'm afraid. I should never be able to think of any way of consoling myself for a broken leg." "I hope you will never have to endure anything one-twentieth a part disagreeable, Miss Darcy," her partner replied, dropping his gay manner for a moment. "Although it helped me to get through my examinations, even now I cannot think very kindly of it." "Were you--has it actually happened to you?" exclaimed Georgiana, with a horrified face; and she never felt less pleasure at the arrival of a new partner than at that moment. Most unwillingly she placed her arm in his to be led away, wanting far more to hear the history of William Price's misfortune; while the young man, full of concern at having startled her, walked a few steps beside her to say: "It is all right, Miss Darcy, because, you see, that guarantees that it will not happen again to-night." Bingley, who was her partner, asked the name of her companion, and Georgiana told what she knew of him, describing him as Kitty's friend. Bingley recollected having heard of him from Kitty, and pleased with his appearance, and always attracted by a new face, expressed a wish to know him, and Georgiana looked forward to making the introduction when her dances with Bingley should be over. This, however, was not to be. Kitty and Mr. Price were dancing together, and occasionally passed them in the set, when Georgiana could observe her friend's flushed cheek and air of radiant happiness; but at its conclusion they were swept away in a crowd, and Bingley and Georgiana, looking round for chairs, were accosted by Mr. Knightley, with the request to present Mr. and Mrs. Yates, who were anxious to know them. The name was unfamiliar to both, and so were the faces of the couple who approached--Mr. Yates with his usual aspect of complete self-satisfaction, and his wife, a woman of fashion, with a considerable share of good looks, but an expression of countenance from which weariness and impatience were never long absent. The lady fell to Bingley's share, and Georgiana, on her part, learned from Mr. Yates that he had heard her name and wished for the pleasure of her acquaintance, as he had already made that of her brother and sister in Bath. Georgiana replied to inquiries after their health and Colonel Fitzwilliam's, whom, Mr. Yates told her, he knew very well indeed, and he desired to send his compliments to the Colonel, if Miss Darcy should be seeing him. "He is in London, I believe?" Georgiana assented. "Ah, yes, I understood that; and the lady is in town, too, I fancy." Georgiana's look in reply to this was so blank that Mr. Yates, evidently not caring to trust himself in the deep waters of explanation, continued: "Do present him my cordial regards, and say I hope he has forgiven me. I was so unfortunate as to do him a little disservice, but it was easily put right; I saw to that myself. Lady Catherine de Bourgh, I am sure, had made _amende honorable_. You know Lady Catherine, Miss Darcy? Your aunt? Of course, I beg your pardon; I should have recollected. Do, pray, remember me to her, too. You were not in Bath this year, were you? Well, you did not lose much; I have known pleasanter seasons." Georgiana only bowed; Mr. Yates's familiar allusion to Colonel Fitzwilliam had not pleased her, and an instinct, which she had not time to analyse, led her to connect it with her cousin's depressed spirits. The next moment her companion introduced a more welcome subject by saying: "I think I saw you dancing with my young cousin, William Price; a smart young fellow, is he not?" "Is he your cousin?" asked Georgiana, in some surprise. "Yes, or rather, my wife's, through the mother; but we have all known him for years, he seems quite like one of ourselves, and spends half his time at our house when in town. Though I often tell my wife it is no compliment to us, for he is for ever playing with our children; we cannot get him out of the nursery." Georgiana felt that this was just as it should be; Mr. Price's being fond of the children accorded him well with the "merry, kind smile" that was so characteristic of him. She ventured upon an inquiry as to his naval career, and Mr. Yates, who liked nothing better than to be talking either of himself or of those belonging to him, immediately entered upon a description of William's notable conduct at the battle of St. Domingo, and the extraordinary courage he had displayed in the taking of a French ship and in defending the colours of his own. Bingley's attention was caught, and Georgiana was grateful to him for asking questions to prolong the story, and for interpolating expressions of admiration which she felt but could not utter. The more she saw and heard of him, the more delighted she was with the young hero, for such he now appeared to be; and the more she commended Kitty's good sense in bestowing her devotion upon such a worthy object. She looked forward to further opportunities of hearing from Mr. Price's own lips the account of some of his adventures; but recollecting that if events took the much-desired course there would be plenty of such opportunities, she decided that it would be best to employ the remainder of the time which she might spend in his company that evening by discoursing of Kitty, in the hope of gaining some assurance of the strength of his inclinations. He knew her to be Kitty's friend, and the subject of Kitty would naturally become the chief bond between them when they came to know each other a little better. Shortly after supper, William Price claimed her hand for a second time; and at the first interval in the dance long enough for any connected conversation, Georgiana began: "Who is that dancing with Miss Bennet? Do you know, Mr. Price?" "It is a Mr. Churchill, a great friend of the Knightleys. I believe he is rather agreeable, but Miss Bennet tells me she does not like him," replied William Price, laughing. "Why should she not like him, I wonder?" asked Georgiana. "Oh, I hardly know. Just a fancy, I think. He and I had a great set-to here one day--an argument, I mean; and I was fairly worsted--it was about foxhunting, so perhaps I deserved to be; but Miss Bennet very kindly took my side, and was quite vexed with Mr. Churchill when he retired with the honours of war." "Kitty is so loyal to her friends," said Georgiana. "Yes, she is a delightful girl, and Mrs. Knightley, too, is the kindest person imaginable. She has been so good to both my brother and myself, and I have never enjoyed my leave so much." "It must be a very pleasant house to stay in," said Georgiana. "Miss Bennet is very sorry to be going away, I know." "Yes, is it not a pity she has to go? And down to the depths of the country, too. I must not disparage it, Miss Darcy, for I am reminded that it is your home as well; but when people go so far off one is desperately afraid of not seeing them again. You are not leaving town with Miss Bennet, are you?" Georgiana was explaining their respective plans when the summons came for them to rejoin the set; but an interruption soon occurred in the shape of a slight accident. A lady dancing next to William Price, in turning sharply, trod upon her dress, with the result that she slipped and fell upon the polished floor with her foot twisted under her. The young lieutenant sprang forward, lifted her with skillful and gentle touch, and carried her, pale and suffering, to an adjoining room, where Mrs. Knightley and several friends hastened to her aid. A servant was sent for a surgeon, and William Price returned to Georgiana with the news that, pending his arrival, the lady was being treated for what appeared to be a severe sprain. "Poor thing!" said Georgiana, trembling. "I am so sorry for her. It must have caused intense pain. I was afraid she might have broken it." "No, it is bad enough, but fortunately it is not broken; I could perceive that," replied the young man. "You must not prognosticate such sad things, Miss Darcy; you see they very nearly come true." Georgiana looked into his face for enlightenment, then broke into a smile. "Oh, Mr. Price, you are unkind to assume that I was responsible for it. I only suggested a broken leg, and it was you who said it had been a reality in your case. How did it happen? Was it in action?" William led her to a seat, as the incident had unnerved her for more dancing, but could not be persuaded to give a narrative in the style of Mr. Yates; he only laughed and said that it had been about as glorious an affair as falling down in a ball-room. "One of our fellows had foolishly got himself into a very awkward place at the storming of a fort, and I was so stupid as to get in the way of a shower of falling rocks, one of which, when it reached me, decided to stay as close to me as it could; so I was severely reprimanded, and had to spend six weeks in hospital at the very busiest time." Georgiana listened with interest, certain that there was another version of the story which would show her companion up in a different light, and she inquired: "What did you say about examinations?" "Only that I had some books, and a good friend who helped me to the utmost of his power, so that while I was lying by I contrived to work up my subject enough to have scraped through." They talked for some time longer, until William had to go in search of his next partner, while Georgiana was carried off by her hostess, who placed her at a small table to drink coffee with herself and Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. The Gardiners were, of course, no strangers to Georgiana, and she showed the pleasure she felt in meeting them again. "Is it not kind of Mrs. Gardiner to have lent Kitty to me for so long, Miss Darcy?" said Mrs. Knightley. "I feel I can ill spare her now; I shall miss her after the happy time we have had together." Georgiana said what was proper, and Mrs. Gardiner added: "Perhaps she will be able to come to you another year." "Indeed, I hope so. I should like her to come any time; but another year, you know, she may not be so free; the claims of a house of her own may be paramount." "Certainly they may be; but it seems early to anticipate that," said Mrs. Gardiner. "Early? Oh, no, I do not think so. I shall not be at all surprised to be asked to help in buying Kitty's wedding clothes before Christmas," returned Mrs. Knightley, smiling mysteriously. Mrs. Gardiner expressed inquiring surprise, while Georgiana listened with interest for what Mrs. Knightley would say, regarding her as the chief authority in the affair, as far as it had gone. Her hostess proceeded: "It is quite between ourselves, you know, Mrs. Gardiner; I know I am perfectly safe in mentioning it, as you are Kitty's aunt and Miss Darcy her greatest friend; and you can imagine whether it is a pleasure to me to find that two young people in whom I am interested are so much interested in each other." "Undoubtedly," said Mrs. Gardiner; "but pray enlighten me, Mrs. Knightley, as to who the other person is." "You have met him to-night, Mrs. Gardiner, the young naval officer, Mr. Price, whom I introduced to you." Mrs. Gardiner was very anxious to learn more particulars, and Mrs. Knightley gave her full information as to William Price's career and prospects, while as to Kitty, she affirmed she had every reason to believe that both were equally attracted, and that an engagement would shortly be formed between them, subject to the approval of their friends. Mrs. Gardiner agreed that it was very good news if the young man was all Mrs. Knightley believed him, and remarked what a delight it would be to her sister, Mrs. Bennet, who had always wanted Kitty to be settled. "Mr. Price _is_ all we think him, I can assure you; Mr. Knightley will answer for him. But, pray, do not mention a word of this to anyone; let it not go beyond us four; I am most desirous that the affair should pass to its easy and natural conclusion." "I quite understand that, and of course we shall wait until Kitty tells us," said her aunt. "What do you think of it all, Miss Darcy? Has Kitty mentioned the matter to you?" Georgiana replied that she had, and on further questioning owned that she felt sure that if what Mrs. Knightley expected came to pass, it would make Kitty very happy. Mrs. Knightley called upon her to join in commendations of the young man, and this she could sincerely do; and she rose from the table feeling as if everything were settled, and it only remained to congratulate the two persons most concerned. A minute later she met Kitty, flying in search of her. Kitty seized her friend's hand and drew her into a quiet corner of Mrs. Knightley's morning-room, where the two girls could seat themselves on a sofa partly hidden by a screen and be quite secluded. "I wanted so much to see you before I went, Georgiana," began Kitty in an excited undertone. "I thought I should never get to you, and this is my last chance, as we start so early on Friday. Now do tell me what you think of him. You can judge now, cannot you? Is he not delightful? Is he not handsome, and a noble creature? Is he not all I said?" "Yes, indeed, dear Kitty, he is," responded Georgiana, with tender sympathy. "I can quite understand your feelings. I am sure anyone would be very proud to have gained the affection of such a man." "Oh, I am so glad to hear you say so. Do you think I have gained it? Sometimes I think so; sometimes I am not sure. Mrs. Knightley thinks I have." "I know she does; I have heard her say so, and she would not mislead you, Kitty, I am sure. She cares so much for your welfare." "Yes, indeed, she has been very kind. I cannot tell you what I should have done without her. She has done everything, she thinks of everything. To-night, when she was arranging the supper partners, I was standing near him, but not very near, and he had not asked me; I suppose he was waiting to see if he might, as we had already danced together a great deal, and she looked up from her list and said: 'And Mr. Price, I do not think I have put anyone down for you: will you take Miss Bennet?' in that kind way, not to make me feel uncomfortable, as if it had been planned. So he came and offered me his arm with such an air! And, after all, we did not talk much at supper; I was too happy, but when I asked him if he liked my dress, he paid me such an elegant compliment on it--something about a rose." "He is a most agreeable companion," said Georgiana. "I should never tire of hearing him converse. The marvellous adventures he has had! It is like a glimpse of a new world to meet a person who has actually been through those things, and who describes them with such modesty and simplicity. Such a man seldom comes into our quiet lives." "Oh, but they are so horrible, it quite frightens me to hear about them; if I were married to him I would never let him go to sea again, for fear of his coming back without an arm, or a leg, or an eye." "But it is his profession, Kitty." "I know, but it is a horrid profession, the only thing about him that I don't like, except for the uniform, and a man in a black coat looks positively nothing beside him." "Oh, Kitty, as if the uniform mattered! Do not let me hear you talk so foolishly," said Georgiana, really pained. "Well, perhaps it is foolish, but it does make a difference, you know. Bingley has been teasing me half the evening about a young man that he says they have got for me down in the country, whom I shall be sure to like, the Rector of Kympton, I believe. As if I could possibly look at a clergyman after knowing William Price." "Perhaps it is not fair to compare two such different types of men, but Mr. Morland is very nice, Kitty; I am sure you will think so." "I am sure I shall not; I don't want to see him: how can I think anyone nice when I am away from here? Oh, if I could only see Price once more, just once more, to make sure; but as he says, how can one ever see anybody down in the wilds of Derbyshire?" "Kitty, here is the music beginning again, and we shall be asked for," said Georgiana, standing up. "Do not be unhappy or over-anxious about this, and do not show too much what you feel, for I am sure it will all come out right if you have patience." "Do you really think it is so? That is such a comfort; but I wish he had spoken to-night. Mrs. Knightley thought he would." "Dear Kitty, whenever it comes, I wish you all the happiness in the world; write to me very fully, and, as I said, have patience and self-command. Now we really ought to go." Kitty pressed her friend's hand, and Georgiana tried to calm her as they walked back to the ball-room, by talking on indifferent topics, for she feared the girl's burning cheeks and nervous manner would betray her agitation and its cause. Miss Bingley met them as they entered the room, and asked Georgiana if she was ready to go, as Mrs. Hurst seemed inclined for it. "Yes, I am quite ready," said Georgiana. "I think I am engaged to Mr. Bingley for another dance, but he will not mind missing it." "Charles is over there, talking to Mr. Price, but I have told him we want to go, so he will be expecting us," said Miss Bingley, and led the way across the room, Kitty not unnaturally following. Mr. Bingley welcomed them warmly, calling out: "Here, Kitty, come and add your entreaties to mine. I want this young gentleman to come down to Desborough and shoot our pheasants in November, but he is not sure if he can manage it; I never heard such nonsense. If anyone is entitled to ask for leave when he wants it, I should think he is." Kitty was rendered perfectly incapable of speech for the first moment after hearing these words; never had a wish been so suddenly and gloriously placed in the way of accomplishment; but she found an unexpected ally in Miss Bingley, who supported her brother's invitation, having, like him, been attracted by the young lieutenant's agreeable demeanour and high reputation. William Price stood still, looking diffidently from one to another, and expressing in disjointed sentences his gratitude, his uncertainty, and his extreme pleasure should he be able to accept. Mr. Bingley exerted all his powers of persuasion, and Kitty's bright eyes shot glances not less eloquent. Georgiana turned a little away, feeling suddenly very tired and spiritless, and Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, who came up at that moment, remarked on it. "Georgiana tired?" exclaimed Bingley; "then let us go at once. You are not used to these late hours, and I don't know what Mrs. Darcy will say to me if I take them a poor account of you. We are all neighbours in the country, you know, Mr. Price. Then that is settled? You will come to us if you can possibly get away, and I hope nothing will prevent it. You do not expect to receive the command of the Mediterranean squadron, do you?" "No, sir," replied William, laughing, "neither that nor any other command this year, I am afraid." "Well, well, I wish you luck. Shall I see you again before I leave town?" William was beginning to reply negatively, when Miss Bingley, who was leading the whole party towards the cloak-room, turned and asked Mr. Price if he would not come and see them some time in Grosvenor Street. She called on her sister to ratify the invitation, which Mrs. Hurst did, and it was courteously accepted. There followed a confusion of good-byes and a getting of cloaks, and the three ladies were placed in the coach while the two gentlemen prepared to walk. Georgiana had warmly embraced Kitty at parting, and had intimated that she knew how much the arrangement by Bingley meant to her friend; and her last impression of Mrs. Knightley's ball was of William Price waving farewell in the doorway and then ascending the steps to where Kitty awaited him in the vestibule. Chapter X Colonel Fitzwilliam had come to London because he thought it was the place where he would be most likely to meet Miss Crawford again, and he had taken up literary work merely to pass away the time until that longed-for event should occur. Two months had elapsed before he heard of her arrival, with her sister, but it was not many days after that he contrived to be present at the house of a mutual friend, where he knew her to be expected. Her manner of greeting him on this occasion was not free from embarrassment; it was neither cordial nor unfriendly, and so brief was the encounter that he could discover but little from it of the state of her mind towards him. Another casual meeting seemed to promise more hopefully, but hardly had they exchanged a few sentences when the appearance of Sir Walter and Miss Elliot turned the conversation into channels more congenial to the new-comers, and Colonel Fitzwilliam was forced to stand aside and see Miss Crawford taken possession of without any semblance of unwillingness on her part. He then devoted himself to Mrs. Grant, and tried to propose an expedition, a theatre party, but that lady hesitatingly replied that she could arrange nothing without her sister. Colonel Fitzwilliam applied for permission to call, which was readily accorded, but on availing himself of it the following day only learned that the ladies were gone to Richmond with a party. The manservant obliged him, unasked, with the information that it was Mr. Crawford's party, and the Colonel was left to speculate gloomily on the chances of Sir Walter Elliot being one of the number, and what was of greater import whether, if it was so, it was with Miss Crawford's approval. He had gone to call on the Hursts after leaving Mrs. Grant's house, and had not again seen the object of his thoughts and hopes, when, a few days later, he directed his steps towards Mrs. Annesley's residence in Hans Place. He could scarcely believe it was but three months since the severance of his engagement with Georgiana, it seemed to have retreated so far into the background of events, but he had pondered earnestly over their interview in Grosvenor Street, and from her demeanour had concluded that his presence was not objectionable to her, so that any further meeting might help to re-establish their old cousinly relations, a result which their friends would rejoice in. It was therefore with a tolerably easy mind that was ushered into the presence of the two ladies, and found Georgiana in great good looks and far less shy and confused than on the previous occasion; indeed, in a few moments any awkwardness between them seemed to have quite melted away, and she was readily answering his questions about Mrs. Knightley's ball. "It certainly seems to have been a great success, for I never knew you so enthusiastic about a ball before, Georgiana," said her cousin, smiling. "It was better than the Bath assemblies, I gather?" "Oh--Bath!" exclaimed Georgiana, with a note of contempt in her voice which spoke volumes. "You laugh at me, Cousin Robert, but it was a beautiful ball. Even Mr. Bingley said so, and he must have been to a great number." "Hundreds, if not thousands, I should think," returned her cousin. "Bingley's shoemaker must have made a fortune. But who were the partners who contributed to such enjoyment? for they are usually the really important part. Two Mr. Prices you have mentioned, Captain Carter and Mr. Dixon; who else?" "Oh, I forget who else; Mr. Hurst and Mr. Bingley, of course, and Mr. Knightley, but he was very grave and terrible, I was almost too frightened to move, and Mr. Gardiner, and then there was Mr. Yates, but I did not dance with him. Do you remember him, Cousin Robert? he said he knew you at Bath." Georgiana had been so disagreeably struck by Mr. Yates's way of speaking of her relatives whom he had met, that she had not intended to mention it to Colonel Fitzwilliam, but the rest of his talk had eradicated his first impression, and she had unguardedly given utterance to his name. Fruitless regret and vexation overcame her when, glancing up at her cousin, she perceived his countenance darken, and noted the change in his voice as he replied, with an effort: "Yes, we did meet in Bath, but not in the pleasantest of circumstances. Mr. Yates may be a more agreeable man away from the companions he then had." "I do not think he was particularly agreeable," said Georgiana, falteringly, "but I thought--he appeared to me to be an interesting talker." "Yes, that is quite his line; if Yates can do nothing else he can certainly use his tongue," replied Colonel Fitzwilliam, not without bitterness. "But do not let us concern ourselves with him, Georgiana; what about the walk in Kensington Gardens that we had thought of? Will Mrs. Annesley very kindly let me escort you both there this delightfully fine morning?" Mrs. Annesley willingly acceded, and the two ladies having attired themselves, a hackney coach was called, which conveyed them a mile on their way towards Kensington Place. Georgiana was somewhat silent during the drive. She did not wish to speculate on her cousin's private affairs, but having been the innocent cause of recalling painful thoughts to him inevitably produced the wish to atone, to help; and she found herself wondering, while trying not to wonder, what could possibly be the connection between Mr. Yates, Cousin Robert and a lady in Bath now said to be in London. To be sure, it was none of her business, she had no right to wish to know, and yet

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what you have to do," said Georgiana, highly diverted. "It is not a matter of fortune, is it? Anybody can do it," rejoined William Price. "I am sure you can, Miss Darcy." "No, indeed; I dislike very much some things I have to do." "But if you found you positively had to do them, and there was no way out, then you would decide to like them, would you not? It would make them so much easier." This was a new idea to Georgiana, and she considered it a little before replying, with a smile: "I am sure there are some things I should never like doing, such as sitting on the back seat of a carriage." "I know that it is disagreeable to some people, but I am sure, if one thought long enough, one could find a way to make it less so," said the young lieutenant, with great earnestness. "For instance"--he considered--"when the window was open the rain and wind would not do so much damage to the feathers in a lady's bonnet as if she were opposite; and at night one could shut one's eyes and imagine one was travelling forwards--it would be difficult to tell the difference." He looked inquiringly at Georgiana, who was so much entertained by his arguments that she said, laughingly: "I was right in calling you fortunate, Mr. Price, for you seemed to have secured a sovereign remedy against all ills. Do tell me how you would console yourself if you slipped down now and broke your leg, so that you could not dance any more for a long time? I should like to know whether your principle always holds good." "Now, Miss Darcy, you are driving me into a corner. I only said if I positively had to do the distasteful thing and there was no way out. I beg to inform you in the plainest language that there is a way out of your suggestion--that is, not to fall and break my leg, and it is the way I mean to adopt. But if such a thing did happen to me, I should certainly try to console myself--as yet I am not quite sure how--yes, I have thought of a method, but I do not think I had better tell you what it is." "He means he would have Kitty to sit beside him and talk to him," thought Georgiana. "I wonder what he would be like if he were ill? He would have just the same merry smile, I believe." Aloud she said: "I am not so strong-minded as you, Mr. Price, I'm afraid. I should never be able to think of any way of consoling myself for a broken leg." "I hope you will never have to endure anything one-twentieth a part disagreeable, Miss Darcy," her partner replied, dropping his gay manner for a moment. "Although it helped me to get through my examinations, even now I cannot think very kindly of it." "Were you--has it actually happened to you?" exclaimed Georgiana, with a horrified face; and she never felt less pleasure at the arrival of a new partner than at that moment. Most unwillingly she placed her arm in his to be led away, wanting far more to hear the history of William Price's misfortune; while the young man, full of concern at having startled her, walked a few steps beside her to say: "It is all right, Miss Darcy, because, you see, that guarantees that it will not happen again to-night." Bingley, who was her partner, asked the name of her companion, and Georgiana told what she knew of him, describing him as Kitty's friend. Bingley recollected having heard of him from Kitty, and pleased with his appearance, and always attracted by a new face, expressed a wish to know him, and Georgiana looked forward to making the introduction when her dances with Bingley should be over. This, however, was not to be. Kitty and Mr. Price were dancing together, and occasionally passed them in the set, when Georgiana could observe her friend's flushed cheek and air of radiant happiness; but at its conclusion they were swept away in a crowd, and Bingley and Georgiana, looking round for chairs, were accosted by Mr. Knightley, with the request to present Mr. and Mrs. Yates, who were anxious to know them. The name was unfamiliar to both, and so were the faces of the couple who approached--Mr. Yates with his usual aspect of complete self-satisfaction, and his wife, a woman of fashion, with a considerable share of good looks, but an expression of countenance from which weariness and impatience were never long absent. The lady fell to Bingley's share, and Georgiana, on her part, learned from Mr. Yates that he had heard her name and wished for the pleasure of her acquaintance, as he had already made that of her brother and sister in Bath. Georgiana replied to inquiries after their health and Colonel Fitzwilliam's, whom, Mr. Yates told her, he knew very well indeed, and he desired to send his compliments to the Colonel, if Miss Darcy should be seeing him. "He is in London, I believe?" Georgiana assented. "Ah, yes, I understood that; and the lady is in town, too, I fancy." Georgiana's look in reply to this was so blank that Mr. Yates, evidently not caring to trust himself in the deep waters of explanation, continued: "Do present him my cordial regards, and say I hope he has forgiven me. I was so unfortunate as to do him a little disservice, but it was easily put right; I saw to that myself. Lady Catherine de Bourgh, I am sure, had made _amende honorable_. You know Lady Catherine, Miss Darcy? Your aunt? Of course, I beg your pardon; I should have recollected. Do, pray, remember me to her, too. You were not in Bath this year, were you? Well, you did not lose much; I have known pleasanter seasons." Georgiana only bowed; Mr. Yates's familiar allusion to Colonel Fitzwilliam had not pleased her, and an instinct, which she had not time to analyse, led her to connect it with her cousin's depressed spirits. The next moment her companion introduced a more welcome subject by saying: "I think I saw you dancing with my young cousin, William Price; a smart young fellow, is he not?" "Is he your cousin?" asked Georgiana, in some surprise. "Yes, or rather, my wife's, through the mother; but we have all known him for years, he seems quite like one of ourselves, and spends half his time at our house when in town. Though I often tell my wife it is no compliment to us, for he is for ever playing with our children; we cannot get him out of the nursery." Georgiana felt that this was just as it should be; Mr. Price's being fond of the children accorded him well with the "merry, kind smile" that was so characteristic of him. She ventured upon an inquiry as to his naval career, and Mr. Yates, who liked nothing better than to be talking either of himself or of those belonging to him, immediately entered upon a description of William's notable conduct at the battle of St. Domingo, and the extraordinary courage he had displayed in the taking of a French ship and in defending the colours of his own. Bingley's attention was caught, and Georgiana was grateful to him for asking questions to prolong the story, and for interpolating expressions of admiration which she felt but could not utter. The more she saw and heard of him, the more delighted she was with the young hero, for such he now appeared to be; and the more she commended Kitty's good sense in bestowing her devotion upon such a worthy object. She looked forward to further opportunities of hearing from Mr. Price's own lips the account of some of his adventures; but recollecting that if events took the much-desired course there would be plenty of such opportunities, she decided that it would be best to employ the remainder of the time which she might spend in his company that evening by discoursing of Kitty, in the hope of gaining some assurance of the strength of his inclinations. He knew her to be Kitty's friend, and the subject of Kitty would naturally become the chief bond between them when they came to know each other a little better. Shortly after supper, William Price claimed her hand for a second time; and at the first interval in the dance long enough for any connected conversation, Georgiana began: "Who is that dancing with Miss Bennet? Do you know, Mr. Price?" "It is a Mr. Churchill, a great friend of the Knightleys. I believe he is rather agreeable, but Miss Bennet tells me she does not like him," replied William Price, laughing. "Why should she not like him, I wonder?" asked Georgiana. "Oh, I hardly know. Just a fancy, I think. He and I had a great set-to here one day--an argument, I mean; and I was fairly worsted--it was about foxhunting, so perhaps I deserved to be; but Miss Bennet very kindly took my side, and was quite vexed with Mr. Churchill when he retired with the honours of war." "Kitty is so loyal to her friends," said Georgiana. "Yes, she is a delightful girl, and Mrs. Knightley, too, is the kindest person imaginable. She has been so good to both my brother and myself, and I have never enjoyed my leave so much." "It must be a very pleasant house to stay in," said Georgiana. "Miss Bennet is very sorry to be going away, I know." "Yes, is it not a pity she has to go? And down to the depths of the country, too. I must not disparage it, Miss Darcy, for I am reminded that it is your home as well; but when people go so far off one is desperately afraid of not seeing them again. You are not leaving town with Miss Bennet, are you?" Georgiana was explaining their respective plans when the summons came for them to rejoin the set; but an interruption soon occurred in the shape of a slight accident. A lady dancing next to William Price, in turning sharply, trod upon her dress, with the result that she slipped and fell upon the polished floor with her foot twisted under her. The young lieutenant sprang forward, lifted her with skillful and gentle touch, and carried her, pale and suffering, to an adjoining room, where Mrs. Knightley and several friends hastened to her aid. A servant was sent for a surgeon, and William Price returned to Georgiana with the news that, pending his arrival, the lady was being treated for what appeared to be a severe sprain. "Poor thing!" said Georgiana, trembling. "I am so sorry for her. It must have caused intense pain. I was afraid she might have broken it." "No, it is bad enough, but fortunately it is not broken; I could perceive that," replied the young man. "You must not prognosticate such sad things, Miss Darcy; you see they very nearly come true." Georgiana looked into his face for enlightenment, then broke into a smile. "Oh, Mr. Price, you are unkind to assume that I was responsible for it. I only suggested a broken leg, and it was you who said it had been a reality in your case. How did it happen? Was it in action?" William led her to a seat, as the incident had unnerved her for more dancing, but could not be persuaded to give a narrative in the style of Mr. Yates; he only laughed and said that it had been about as glorious an affair as falling down in a ball-room. "One of our fellows had foolishly got himself into a very awkward place at the storming of a fort, and I was so stupid as to get in the way of a shower of falling rocks, one of which, when it reached me, decided to stay as close to me as it could; so I was severely reprimanded, and had to spend six weeks in hospital at the very busiest time." Georgiana listened with interest, certain that there was another version of the story which would show her companion up in a different light, and she inquired: "What did you say about examinations?" "Only that I had some books, and a good friend who helped me to the utmost of his power, so that while I was lying by I contrived to work up my subject enough to have scraped through." They talked for some time longer, until William had to go in search of his next partner, while Georgiana was carried off by her hostess, who placed her at a small table to drink coffee with herself and Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. The Gardiners were, of course, no strangers to Georgiana, and she showed the pleasure she felt in meeting them again. "Is it not kind of Mrs. Gardiner to have lent Kitty to me for so long, Miss Darcy?" said Mrs. Knightley. "I feel I can ill spare her now; I shall miss her after the happy time we have had together." Georgiana said what was proper, and Mrs. Gardiner added: "Perhaps she will be able to come to you another year." "Indeed, I hope so. I should like her to come any time; but another year, you know, she may not be so free; the claims of a house of her own may be paramount." "Certainly they may be; but it seems early to anticipate that," said Mrs. Gardiner. "Early? Oh, no, I do not think so. I shall not be at all surprised to be asked to help in buying Kitty's wedding clothes before Christmas," returned Mrs. Knightley, smiling mysteriously. Mrs. Gardiner expressed inquiring surprise, while Georgiana listened with interest for what Mrs. Knightley would say, regarding her as the chief authority in the affair, as far as it had gone. Her hostess proceeded: "It is quite between ourselves, you know, Mrs. Gardiner; I know I am perfectly safe in mentioning it, as you are Kitty's aunt and Miss Darcy her greatest friend; and you can imagine whether it is a pleasure to me to find that two young people in whom I am interested are so much interested in each other." "Undoubtedly," said Mrs. Gardiner; "but pray enlighten me, Mrs. Knightley, as to who the other person is." "You have met him to-night, Mrs. Gardiner, the young naval officer, Mr. Price, whom I introduced to you." Mrs. Gardiner was very anxious to learn more particulars, and Mrs. Knightley gave her full information as to William Price's career and prospects, while as to Kitty, she affirmed she had every reason to believe that both were equally attracted, and that an engagement would shortly be formed between them, subject to the approval of their friends. Mrs. Gardiner agreed that it was very good news if the young man was all Mrs. Knightley believed him, and remarked what a delight it would be to her sister, Mrs. Bennet, who had always wanted Kitty to be settled. "Mr. Price _is_ all we think him, I can assure you; Mr. Knightley will answer for him. But, pray, do not mention a word of this to anyone; let it not go beyond us four; I am most desirous that the affair should pass to its easy and natural conclusion." "I quite understand that, and of course we shall wait until Kitty tells us," said her aunt. "What do you think of it all, Miss Darcy? Has Kitty mentioned the matter to you?" Georgiana replied that she had, and on further questioning owned that she felt sure that if what Mrs. Knightley expected came to pass, it would make Kitty very happy. Mrs. Knightley called upon her to join in commendations of the young man, and this she could sincerely do; and she rose from the table feeling as if everything were settled, and it only remained to congratulate the two persons most concerned. A minute later she met Kitty, flying in search of her. Kitty seized her friend's hand and drew her into a quiet corner of Mrs. Knightley's morning-room, where the two girls could seat themselves on a sofa partly hidden by a screen and be quite secluded. "I wanted so much to see you before I went, Georgiana," began Kitty in an excited undertone. "I thought I should never get to you, and this is my last chance, as we start so early on Friday. Now do tell me what you think of him. You can judge now, cannot you? Is he not delightful? Is he not handsome, and a noble creature? Is he not all I said?" "Yes, indeed, dear Kitty, he is," responded Georgiana, with tender sympathy. "I can quite understand your feelings. I am sure anyone would be very proud to have gained the affection of such a man." "Oh, I am so glad to hear you say so. Do you think I have gained it? Sometimes I think so; sometimes I am not sure. Mrs. Knightley thinks I have." "I know she does; I have heard her say so, and she would not mislead you, Kitty, I am sure. She cares so much for your welfare." "Yes, indeed, she has been very kind. I cannot tell you what I should have done without her. She has done everything, she thinks of everything. To-night, when she was arranging the supper partners, I was standing near him, but not very near, and he had not asked me; I suppose he was waiting to see if he might, as we had already danced together a great deal, and she looked up from her list and said: 'And Mr. Price, I do not think I have put anyone down for you: will you take Miss Bennet?' in that kind way, not to make me feel uncomfortable, as if it had been planned. So he came and offered me his arm with such an air! And, after all, we did not talk much at supper; I was too happy, but when I asked him if he liked my dress, he paid me such an elegant compliment on it--something about a rose." "He is a most agreeable companion," said Georgiana. "I should never tire of hearing him converse. The marvellous adventures he has had! It is like a glimpse of a new world to meet a person who has actually been through those things, and who describes them with such modesty and simplicity. Such a man seldom comes into our quiet lives." "Oh, but they are so horrible, it quite frightens me to hear about them; if I were married to him I would never let him go to sea again, for fear of his coming back without an arm, or a leg, or an eye." "But it is his profession, Kitty." "I know, but it is a horrid profession, the only thing about him that I don't like, except for the uniform, and a man in a black coat looks positively nothing beside him." "Oh, Kitty, as if the uniform mattered! Do not let me hear you talk so foolishly," said Georgiana, really pained. "Well, perhaps it is foolish, but it does make a difference, you know. Bingley has been teasing me half the evening about a young man that he says they have got for me down in the country, whom I shall be sure to like, the Rector of Kympton, I believe. As if I could possibly look at a clergyman after knowing William Price." "Perhaps it is not fair to compare two such different types of men, but Mr. Morland is very nice, Kitty; I am sure you will think so." "I am sure I shall not; I don't want to see him: how can I think anyone nice when I am away from here? Oh, if I could only see Price once more, just once more, to make sure; but as he says, how can one ever see anybody down in the wilds of Derbyshire?" "Kitty, here is the music beginning again, and we shall be asked for," said Georgiana, standing up. "Do not be unhappy or over-anxious about this, and do not show too much what you feel, for I am sure it will all come out right if you have patience." "Do you really think it is so? That is such a comfort; but I wish he had spoken to-night. Mrs. Knightley thought he would." "Dear Kitty, whenever it comes, I wish you all the happiness in the world; write to me very fully, and, as I said, have patience and self-command. Now we really ought to go." Kitty pressed her friend's hand, and Georgiana tried to calm her as they walked back to the ball-room, by talking on indifferent topics, for she feared the girl's burning cheeks and nervous manner would betray her agitation and its cause. Miss Bingley met them as they entered the room, and asked Georgiana if she was ready to go, as Mrs. Hurst seemed inclined for it. "Yes, I am quite ready," said Georgiana. "I think I am engaged to Mr. Bingley for another dance, but he will not mind missing it." "Charles is over there, talking to Mr. Price, but I have told him we want to go, so he will be expecting us," said Miss Bingley, and led the way across the room, Kitty not unnaturally following. Mr. Bingley welcomed them warmly, calling out: "Here, Kitty, come and add your entreaties to mine. I want this young gentleman to come down to Desborough and shoot our pheasants in November, but he is not sure if he can manage it; I never heard such nonsense. If anyone is entitled to ask for leave when he wants it, I should think he is." Kitty was rendered perfectly incapable of speech for the first moment after hearing these words; never had a wish been so suddenly and gloriously placed in the way of accomplishment; but she found an unexpected ally in Miss Bingley, who supported her brother's invitation, having, like him, been attracted by the young lieutenant's agreeable demeanour and high reputation. William Price stood still, looking diffidently from one to another, and expressing in disjointed sentences his gratitude, his uncertainty, and his extreme pleasure should he be able to accept. Mr. Bingley exerted all his powers of persuasion, and Kitty's bright eyes shot glances not less eloquent. Georgiana turned a little away, feeling suddenly very tired and spiritless, and Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, who came up at that moment, remarked on it. "Georgiana tired?" exclaimed Bingley; "then let us go at once. You are not used to these late hours, and I don't know what Mrs. Darcy will say to me if I take them a poor account of you. We are all neighbours in the country, you know, Mr. Price. Then that is settled? You will come to us if you can possibly get away, and I hope nothing will prevent it. You do not expect to receive the command of the Mediterranean squadron, do you?" "No, sir," replied William, laughing, "neither that nor any other command this year, I am afraid." "Well, well, I wish you luck. Shall I see you again before I leave town?" William was beginning to reply negatively, when Miss Bingley, who was leading the whole party towards the cloak-room, turned and asked Mr. Price if he would not come and see them some time in Grosvenor Street. She called on her sister to ratify the invitation, which Mrs. Hurst did, and it was courteously accepted. There followed a confusion of good-byes and a getting of cloaks, and the three ladies were placed in the coach while the two gentlemen prepared to walk. Georgiana had warmly embraced Kitty at parting, and had intimated that she knew how much the arrangement by Bingley meant to her friend; and her last impression of Mrs. Knightley's ball was of William Price waving farewell in the doorway and then ascending the steps to where Kitty awaited him in the vestibule. Chapter X Colonel Fitzwilliam had come to London because he thought it was the place where he would be most likely to meet Miss Crawford again, and he had taken up literary work merely to pass away the time until that longed-for event should occur. Two months had elapsed before he heard of her arrival, with her sister, but it was not many days after that he contrived to be present at the house of a mutual friend, where he knew her to be expected. Her manner of greeting him on this occasion was not free from embarrassment; it was neither cordial nor unfriendly, and so brief was the encounter that he could discover but little from it of the state of her mind towards him. Another casual meeting seemed to promise more hopefully, but hardly had they exchanged a few sentences when the appearance of Sir Walter and Miss Elliot turned the conversation into channels more congenial to the new-comers, and Colonel Fitzwilliam was forced to stand aside and see Miss Crawford taken possession of without any semblance of unwillingness on her part. He then devoted himself to Mrs. Grant, and tried to propose an expedition, a theatre party, but that lady hesitatingly replied that she could arrange nothing without her sister. Colonel Fitzwilliam applied for permission to call, which was readily accorded, but on availing himself of it the following day only learned that the ladies were gone to Richmond with a party. The manservant obliged him, unasked, with the information that it was Mr. Crawford's party, and the Colonel was left to speculate gloomily on the chances of Sir Walter Elliot being one of the number, and what was of greater import whether, if it was so, it was with Miss Crawford's approval. He had gone to call on the Hursts after leaving Mrs. Grant's house, and had not again seen the object of his thoughts and hopes, when, a few days later, he directed his steps towards Mrs. Annesley's residence in Hans Place. He could scarcely believe it was but three months since the severance of his engagement with Georgiana, it seemed to have retreated so far into the background of events, but he had pondered earnestly over their interview in Grosvenor Street, and from her demeanour had concluded that his presence was not objectionable to her, so that any further meeting might help to re-establish their old cousinly relations, a result which their friends would rejoice in. It was therefore with a tolerably easy mind that was ushered into the presence of the two ladies, and found Georgiana in great good looks and far less shy and confused than on the previous occasion; indeed, in a few moments any awkwardness between them seemed to have quite melted away, and she was readily answering his questions about Mrs. Knightley's ball. "It certainly seems to have been a great success, for I never knew you so enthusiastic about a ball before, Georgiana," said her cousin, smiling. "It was better than the Bath assemblies, I gather?" "Oh--Bath!" exclaimed Georgiana, with a note of contempt in her voice which spoke volumes. "You laugh at me, Cousin Robert, but it was a beautiful ball. Even Mr. Bingley said so, and he must have been to a great number." "Hundreds, if not thousands, I should think," returned her cousin. "Bingley's shoemaker must have made a fortune. But who were the partners who contributed to such enjoyment? for they are usually the really important part. Two Mr. Prices you have mentioned, Captain Carter and Mr. Dixon; who else?" "Oh, I forget who else; Mr. Hurst and Mr. Bingley, of course, and Mr. Knightley, but he was very grave and terrible, I was almost too frightened to move, and Mr. Gardiner, and then there was Mr. Yates, but I did not dance with him. Do you remember him, Cousin Robert? he said he knew you at Bath." Georgiana had been so disagreeably struck by Mr. Yates's way of speaking of her relatives whom he had met, that she had not intended to mention it to Colonel Fitzwilliam, but the rest of his talk had eradicated his first impression, and she had unguardedly given utterance to his name. Fruitless regret and vexation overcame her when, glancing up at her cousin, she perceived his countenance darken, and noted the change in his voice as he replied, with an effort: "Yes, we did meet in Bath, but not in the pleasantest of circumstances. Mr. Yates may be a more agreeable man away from the companions he then had." "I do not think he was particularly agreeable," said Georgiana, falteringly, "but I thought--he appeared to me to be an interesting talker." "Yes, that is quite his line; if Yates can do nothing else he can certainly use his tongue," replied Colonel Fitzwilliam, not without bitterness. "But do not let us concern ourselves with him, Georgiana; what about the walk in Kensington Gardens that we had thought of? Will Mrs. Annesley very kindly let me escort you both there this delightfully fine morning?" Mrs. Annesley willingly acceded, and the two ladies having attired themselves, a hackney coach was called, which conveyed them a mile on their way towards Kensington Place. Georgiana was somewhat silent during the drive. She did not wish to speculate on her cousin's private affairs, but having been the innocent cause of recalling painful thoughts to him inevitably produced the wish to atone, to help; and she found herself wondering, while trying not to wonder, what could possibly be the connection between Mr. Yates, Cousin Robert and a lady in Bath now said to be in London. To be sure, it was none of her business, she had no right to wish to know, and yet

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what you have to do," said Georgiana, highly diverted. "It is not a matter of fortune, is it? Anybody can do it," rejoined William Price. "I am sure you can, Miss Darcy." "No, indeed; I dislike very much some things I have to do." "But if you found you positively had to do them, and there was no way out, then you would decide to like them, would you not? It would make them so much easier." This was a new idea to Georgiana, and she considered it a little before replying, with a smile: "I am sure there are some things I should never like doing, such as sitting on the back seat of a carriage." "I know that it is disagreeable to some people, but I am sure, if one thought long enough, one could find a way to make it less so," said the young lieutenant, with great earnestness. "For instance"--he considered--"when the window was open the rain and wind would not do so much damage to the feathers in a lady's bonnet as if she were opposite; and at night one could shut one's eyes and imagine one was travelling forwards--it would be difficult to tell the difference." He looked inquiringly at Georgiana, who was so much entertained by his arguments that she said, laughingly: "I was right in calling you fortunate, Mr. Price, for you seemed to have secured a sovereign remedy against all ills. Do tell me how you would console yourself if you slipped down now and broke your leg, so that you could not dance any more for a long time? I should like to know whether your principle always holds good." "Now, Miss Darcy, you are driving me into a corner. I only said if I positively had to do the distasteful thing and there was no way out. I beg to inform you in the plainest language that there is a way out of your suggestion--that is, not to fall and break my leg, and it is the way I mean to adopt. But if such a thing did happen to me, I should certainly try to console myself--as yet I am not quite sure how--yes, I have thought of a method, but I do not think I had better tell you what it is." "He means he would have Kitty to sit beside him and talk to him," thought Georgiana. "I wonder what he would be like if he were ill? He would have just the same merry smile, I believe." Aloud she said: "I am not so strong-minded as you, Mr. Price, I'm afraid. I should never be able to think of any way of consoling myself for a broken leg." "I hope you will never have to endure anything one-twentieth a part disagreeable, Miss Darcy," her partner replied, dropping his gay manner for a moment. "Although it helped me to get through my examinations, even now I cannot think very kindly of it." "Were you--has it actually happened to you?" exclaimed Georgiana, with a horrified face; and she never felt less pleasure at the arrival of a new partner than at that moment. Most unwillingly she placed her arm in his to be led away, wanting far more to hear the history of William Price's misfortune; while the young man, full of concern at having startled her, walked a few steps beside her to say: "It is all right, Miss Darcy, because, you see, that guarantees that it will not happen again to-night." Bingley, who was her partner, asked the name of her companion, and Georgiana told what she knew of him, describing him as Kitty's friend. Bingley recollected having heard of him from Kitty, and pleased with his appearance, and always attracted by a new face, expressed a wish to know him, and Georgiana looked forward to making the introduction when her dances with Bingley should be over. This, however, was not to be. Kitty and Mr. Price were dancing together, and occasionally passed them in the set, when Georgiana could observe her friend's flushed cheek and air of radiant happiness; but at its conclusion they were swept away in a crowd, and Bingley and Georgiana, looking round for chairs, were accosted by Mr. Knightley, with the request to present Mr. and Mrs. Yates, who were anxious to know them. The name was unfamiliar to both, and so were the faces of the couple who approached--Mr. Yates with his usual aspect of complete self-satisfaction, and his wife, a woman of fashion, with a considerable share of good looks, but an expression of countenance from which weariness and impatience were never long absent. The lady fell to Bingley's share, and Georgiana, on her part, learned from Mr. Yates that he had heard her name and wished for the pleasure of her acquaintance, as he had already made that of her brother and sister in Bath. Georgiana replied to inquiries after their health and Colonel Fitzwilliam's, whom, Mr. Yates told her, he knew very well indeed, and he desired to send his compliments to the Colonel, if Miss Darcy should be seeing him. "He is in London, I believe?" Georgiana assented. "Ah, yes, I understood that; and the lady is in town, too, I fancy." Georgiana's look in reply to this was so blank that Mr. Yates, evidently not caring to trust himself in the deep waters of explanation, continued: "Do present him my cordial regards, and say I hope he has forgiven me. I was so unfortunate as to do him a little disservice, but it was easily put right; I saw to that myself. Lady Catherine de Bourgh, I am sure, had made _amende honorable_. You know Lady Catherine, Miss Darcy? Your aunt? Of course, I beg your pardon; I should have recollected. Do, pray, remember me to her, too. You were not in Bath this year, were you? Well, you did not lose much; I have known pleasanter seasons." Georgiana only bowed; Mr. Yates's familiar allusion to Colonel Fitzwilliam had not pleased her, and an instinct, which she had not time to analyse, led her to connect it with her cousin's depressed spirits. The next moment her companion introduced a more welcome subject by saying: "I think I saw you dancing with my young cousin, William Price; a smart young fellow, is he not?" "Is he your cousin?" asked Georgiana, in some surprise. "Yes, or rather, my wife's, through the mother; but we have all known him for years, he seems quite like one of ourselves, and spends half his time at our house when in town. Though I often tell my wife it is no compliment to us, for he is for ever playing with our children; we cannot get him out of the nursery." Georgiana felt that this was just as it should be; Mr. Price's being fond of the children accorded him well with the "merry, kind smile" that was so characteristic of him. She ventured upon an inquiry as to his naval career, and Mr. Yates, who liked nothing better than to be talking either of himself or of those belonging to him, immediately entered upon a description of William's notable conduct at the battle of St. Domingo, and the extraordinary courage he had displayed in the taking of a French ship and in defending the colours of his own. Bingley's attention was caught, and Georgiana was grateful to him for asking questions to prolong the story, and for interpolating expressions of admiration which she felt but could not utter. The more she saw and heard of him, the more delighted she was with the young hero, for such he now appeared to be; and the more she commended Kitty's good sense in bestowing her devotion upon such a worthy object. She looked forward to further opportunities of hearing from Mr. Price's own lips the account of some of his adventures; but recollecting that if events took the much-desired course there would be plenty of such opportunities, she decided that it would be best to employ the remainder of the time which she might spend in his company that evening by discoursing of Kitty, in the hope of gaining some assurance of the strength of his inclinations. He knew her to be Kitty's friend, and the subject of Kitty would naturally become the chief bond between them when they came to know each other a little better. Shortly after supper, William Price claimed her hand for a second time; and at the first interval in the dance long enough for any connected conversation, Georgiana began: "Who is that dancing with Miss Bennet? Do you know, Mr. Price?" "It is a Mr. Churchill, a great friend of the Knightleys. I believe he is rather agreeable, but Miss Bennet tells me she does not like him," replied William Price, laughing. "Why should she not like him, I wonder?" asked Georgiana. "Oh, I hardly know. Just a fancy, I think. He and I had a great set-to here one day--an argument, I mean; and I was fairly worsted--it was about foxhunting, so perhaps I deserved to be; but Miss Bennet very kindly took my side, and was quite vexed with Mr. Churchill when he retired with the honours of war." "Kitty is so loyal to her friends," said Georgiana. "Yes, she is a delightful girl, and Mrs. Knightley, too, is the kindest person imaginable. She has been so good to both my brother and myself, and I have never enjoyed my leave so much." "It must be a very pleasant house to stay in," said Georgiana. "Miss Bennet is very sorry to be going away, I know." "Yes, is it not a pity she has to go? And down to the depths of the country, too. I must not disparage it, Miss Darcy, for I am reminded that it is your home as well; but when people go so far off one is desperately afraid of not seeing them again. You are not leaving town with Miss Bennet, are you?" Georgiana was explaining their respective plans when the summons came for them to rejoin the set; but an interruption soon occurred in the shape of a slight accident. A lady dancing next to William Price, in turning sharply, trod upon her dress, with the result that she slipped and fell upon the polished floor with her foot twisted under her. The young lieutenant sprang forward, lifted her with skillful and gentle touch, and carried her, pale and suffering, to an adjoining room, where Mrs. Knightley and several friends hastened to her aid. A servant was sent for a surgeon, and William Price returned to Georgiana with the news that, pending his arrival, the lady was being treated for what appeared to be a severe sprain. "Poor thing!" said Georgiana, trembling. "I am so sorry for her. It must have caused intense pain. I was afraid she might have broken it." "No, it is bad enough, but fortunately it is not broken; I could perceive that," replied the young man. "You must not prognosticate such sad things, Miss Darcy; you see they very nearly come true." Georgiana looked into his face for enlightenment, then broke into a smile. "Oh, Mr. Price, you are unkind to assume that I was responsible for it. I only suggested a broken leg, and it was you who said it had been a reality in your case. How did it happen? Was it in action?" William led her to a seat, as the incident had unnerved her for more dancing, but could not be persuaded to give a narrative in the style of Mr. Yates; he only laughed and said that it had been about as glorious an affair as falling down in a ball-room. "One of our fellows had foolishly got himself into a very awkward place at the storming of a fort, and I was so stupid as to get in the way of a shower of falling rocks, one of which, when it reached me, decided to stay as close to me as it could; so I was severely reprimanded, and had to spend six weeks in hospital at the very busiest time." Georgiana listened with interest, certain that there was another version of the story which would show her companion up in a different light, and she inquired: "What did you say about examinations?" "Only that I had some books, and a good friend who helped me to the utmost of his power, so that while I was lying by I contrived to work up my subject enough to have scraped through." They talked for some time longer, until William had to go in search of his next partner, while Georgiana was carried off by her hostess, who placed her at a small table to drink coffee with herself and Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. The Gardiners were, of course, no strangers to Georgiana, and she showed the pleasure she felt in meeting them again. "Is it not kind of Mrs. Gardiner to have lent Kitty to me for so long, Miss Darcy?" said Mrs. Knightley. "I feel I can ill spare her now; I shall miss her after the happy time we have had together." Georgiana said what was proper, and Mrs. Gardiner added: "Perhaps she will be able to come to you another year." "Indeed, I hope so. I should like her to come any time; but another year, you know, she may not be so free; the claims of a house of her own may be paramount." "Certainly they may be; but it seems early to anticipate that," said Mrs. Gardiner. "Early? Oh, no, I do not think so. I shall not be at all surprised to be asked to help in buying Kitty's wedding clothes before Christmas," returned Mrs. Knightley, smiling mysteriously. Mrs. Gardiner expressed inquiring surprise, while Georgiana listened with interest for what Mrs. Knightley would say, regarding her as the chief authority in the affair, as far as it had gone. Her hostess proceeded: "It is quite between ourselves, you know, Mrs. Gardiner; I know I am perfectly safe in mentioning it, as you are Kitty's aunt and Miss Darcy her greatest friend; and you can imagine whether it is a pleasure to me to find that two young people in whom I am interested are so much interested in each other." "Undoubtedly," said Mrs. Gardiner; "but pray enlighten me, Mrs. Knightley, as to who the other person is." "You have met him to-night, Mrs. Gardiner, the young naval officer, Mr. Price, whom I introduced to you." Mrs. Gardiner was very anxious to learn more particulars, and Mrs. Knightley gave her full information as to William Price's career and prospects, while as to Kitty, she affirmed she had every reason to believe that both were equally attracted, and that an engagement would shortly be formed between them, subject to the approval of their friends. Mrs. Gardiner agreed that it was very good news if the young man was all Mrs. Knightley believed him, and remarked what a delight it would be to her sister, Mrs. Bennet, who had always wanted Kitty to be settled. "Mr. Price _is_ all we think him, I can assure you; Mr. Knightley will answer for him. But, pray, do not mention a word of this to anyone; let it not go beyond us four; I am most desirous that the affair should pass to its easy and natural conclusion." "I quite understand that, and of course we shall wait until Kitty tells us," said her aunt. "What do you think of it all, Miss Darcy? Has Kitty mentioned the matter to you?" Georgiana replied that she had, and on further questioning owned that she felt sure that if what Mrs. Knightley expected came to pass, it would make Kitty very happy. Mrs. Knightley called upon her to join in commendations of the young man, and this she could sincerely do; and she rose from the table feeling as if everything were settled, and it only remained to congratulate the two persons most concerned. A minute later she met Kitty, flying in search of her. Kitty seized her friend's hand and drew her into a quiet corner of Mrs. Knightley's morning-room, where the two girls could seat themselves on a sofa partly hidden by a screen and be quite secluded. "I wanted so much to see you before I went, Georgiana," began Kitty in an excited undertone. "I thought I should never get to you, and this is my last chance, as we start so early on Friday. Now do tell me what you think of him. You can judge now, cannot you? Is he not delightful? Is he not handsome, and a noble creature? Is he not all I said?" "Yes, indeed, dear Kitty, he is," responded Georgiana, with tender sympathy. "I can quite understand your feelings. I am sure anyone would be very proud to have gained the affection of such a man." "Oh, I am so glad to hear you say so. Do you think I have gained it? Sometimes I think so; sometimes I am not sure. Mrs. Knightley thinks I have." "I know she does; I have heard her say so, and she would not mislead you, Kitty, I am sure. She cares so much for your welfare." "Yes, indeed, she has been very kind. I cannot tell you what I should have done without her. She has done everything, she thinks of everything. To-night, when she was arranging the supper partners, I was standing near him, but not very near, and he had not asked me; I suppose he was waiting to see if he might, as we had already danced together a great deal, and she looked up from her list and said: 'And Mr. Price, I do not think I have put anyone down for you: will you take Miss Bennet?' in that kind way, not to make me feel uncomfortable, as if it had been planned. So he came and offered me his arm with such an air! And, after all, we did not talk much at supper; I was too happy, but when I asked him if he liked my dress, he paid me such an elegant compliment on it--something about a rose." "He is a most agreeable companion," said Georgiana. "I should never tire of hearing him converse. The marvellous adventures he has had! It is like a glimpse of a new world to meet a person who has actually been through those things, and who describes them with such modesty and simplicity. Such a man seldom comes into our quiet lives." "Oh, but they are so horrible, it quite frightens me to hear about them; if I were married to him I would never let him go to sea again, for fear of his coming back without an arm, or a leg, or an eye." "But it is his profession, Kitty." "I know, but it is a horrid profession, the only thing about him that I don't like, except for the uniform, and a man in a black coat looks positively nothing beside him." "Oh, Kitty, as if the uniform mattered! Do not let me hear you talk so foolishly," said Georgiana, really pained. "Well, perhaps it is foolish, but it does make a difference, you know. Bingley has been teasing me half the evening about a young man that he says they have got for me down in the country, whom I shall be sure to like, the Rector of Kympton, I believe. As if I could possibly look at a clergyman after knowing William Price." "Perhaps it is not fair to compare two such different types of men, but Mr. Morland is very nice, Kitty; I am sure you will think so." "I am sure I shall not; I don't want to see him: how can I think anyone nice when I am away from here? Oh, if I could only see Price once more, just once more, to make sure; but as he says, how can one ever see anybody down in the wilds of Derbyshire?" "Kitty, here is the music beginning again, and we shall be asked for," said Georgiana, standing up. "Do not be unhappy or over-anxious about this, and do not show too much what you feel, for I am sure it will all come out right if you have patience." "Do you really think it is so? That is such a comfort; but I wish he had spoken to-night. Mrs. Knightley thought he would." "Dear Kitty, whenever it comes, I wish you all the happiness in the world; write to me very fully, and, as I said, have patience and self-command. Now we really ought to go." Kitty pressed her friend's hand, and Georgiana tried to calm her as they walked back to the ball-room, by talking on indifferent topics, for she feared the girl's burning cheeks and nervous manner would betray her agitation and its cause. Miss Bingley met them as they entered the room, and asked Georgiana if she was ready to go, as Mrs. Hurst seemed inclined for it. "Yes, I am quite ready," said Georgiana. "I think I am engaged to Mr. Bingley for another dance, but he will not mind missing it." "Charles is over there, talking to Mr. Price, but I have told him we want to go, so he will be expecting us," said Miss Bingley, and led the way across the room, Kitty not unnaturally following. Mr. Bingley welcomed them warmly, calling out: "Here, Kitty, come and add your entreaties to mine. I want this young gentleman to come down to Desborough and shoot our pheasants in November, but he is not sure if he can manage it; I never heard such nonsense. If anyone is entitled to ask for leave when he wants it, I should think he is." Kitty was rendered perfectly incapable of speech for the first moment after hearing these words; never had a wish been so suddenly and gloriously placed in the way of accomplishment; but she found an unexpected ally in Miss Bingley, who supported her brother's invitation, having, like him, been attracted by the young lieutenant's agreeable demeanour and high reputation. William Price stood still, looking diffidently from one to another, and expressing in disjointed sentences his gratitude, his uncertainty, and his extreme pleasure should he be able to accept. Mr. Bingley exerted all his powers of persuasion, and Kitty's bright eyes shot glances not less eloquent. Georgiana turned a little away, feeling suddenly very tired and spiritless, and Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, who came up at that moment, remarked on it. "Georgiana tired?" exclaimed Bingley; "then let us go at once. You are not used to these late hours, and I don't know what Mrs. Darcy will say to me if I take them a poor account of you. We are all neighbours in the country, you know, Mr. Price. Then that is settled? You will come to us if you can possibly get away, and I hope nothing will prevent it. You do not expect to receive the command of the Mediterranean squadron, do you?" "No, sir," replied William, laughing, "neither that nor any other command this year, I am afraid." "Well, well, I wish you luck. Shall I see you again before I leave town?" William was beginning to reply negatively, when Miss Bingley, who was leading the whole party towards the cloak-room, turned and asked Mr. Price if he would not come and see them some time in Grosvenor Street. She called on her sister to ratify the invitation, which Mrs. Hurst did, and it was courteously accepted. There followed a confusion of good-byes and a getting of cloaks, and the three ladies were placed in the coach while the two gentlemen prepared to walk. Georgiana had warmly embraced Kitty at parting, and had intimated that she knew how much the arrangement by Bingley meant to her friend; and her last impression of Mrs. Knightley's ball was of William Price waving farewell in the doorway and then ascending the steps to where Kitty awaited him in the vestibule. Chapter X Colonel Fitzwilliam had come to London because he thought it was the place where he would be most likely to meet Miss Crawford again, and he had taken up literary work merely to pass away the time until that longed-for event should occur. Two months had elapsed before he heard of her arrival, with her sister, but it was not many days after that he contrived to be present at the house of a mutual friend, where he knew her to be expected. Her manner of greeting him on this occasion was not free from embarrassment; it was neither cordial nor unfriendly, and so brief was the encounter that he could discover but little from it of the state of her mind towards him. Another casual meeting seemed to promise more hopefully, but hardly had they exchanged a few sentences when the appearance of Sir Walter and Miss Elliot turned the conversation into channels more congenial to the new-comers, and Colonel Fitzwilliam was forced to stand aside and see Miss Crawford taken possession of without any semblance of unwillingness on her part. He then devoted himself to Mrs. Grant, and tried to propose an expedition, a theatre party, but that lady hesitatingly replied that she could arrange nothing without her sister. Colonel Fitzwilliam applied for permission to call, which was readily accorded, but on availing himself of it the following day only learned that the ladies were gone to Richmond with a party. The manservant obliged him, unasked, with the information that it was Mr. Crawford's party, and the Colonel was left to speculate gloomily on the chances of Sir Walter Elliot being one of the number, and what was of greater import whether, if it was so, it was with Miss Crawford's approval. He had gone to call on the Hursts after leaving Mrs. Grant's house, and had not again seen the object of his thoughts and hopes, when, a few days later, he directed his steps towards Mrs. Annesley's residence in Hans Place. He could scarcely believe it was but three months since the severance of his engagement with Georgiana, it seemed to have retreated so far into the background of events, but he had pondered earnestly over their interview in Grosvenor Street, and from her demeanour had concluded that his presence was not objectionable to her, so that any further meeting might help to re-establish their old cousinly relations, a result which their friends would rejoice in. It was therefore with a tolerably easy mind that was ushered into the presence of the two ladies, and found Georgiana in great good looks and far less shy and confused than on the previous occasion; indeed, in a few moments any awkwardness between them seemed to have quite melted away, and she was readily answering his questions about Mrs. Knightley's ball. "It certainly seems to have been a great success, for I never knew you so enthusiastic about a ball before, Georgiana," said her cousin, smiling. "It was better than the Bath assemblies, I gather?" "Oh--Bath!" exclaimed Georgiana, with a note of contempt in her voice which spoke volumes. "You laugh at me, Cousin Robert, but it was a beautiful ball. Even Mr. Bingley said so, and he must have been to a great number." "Hundreds, if not thousands, I should think," returned her cousin. "Bingley's shoemaker must have made a fortune. But who were the partners who contributed to such enjoyment? for they are usually the really important part. Two Mr. Prices you have mentioned, Captain Carter and Mr. Dixon; who else?" "Oh, I forget who else; Mr. Hurst and Mr. Bingley, of course, and Mr. Knightley, but he was very grave and terrible, I was almost too frightened to move, and Mr. Gardiner, and then there was Mr. Yates, but I did not dance with him. Do you remember him, Cousin Robert? he said he knew you at Bath." Georgiana had been so disagreeably struck by Mr. Yates's way of speaking of her relatives whom he had met, that she had not intended to mention it to Colonel Fitzwilliam, but the rest of his talk had eradicated his first impression, and she had unguardedly given utterance to his name. Fruitless regret and vexation overcame her when, glancing up at her cousin, she perceived his countenance darken, and noted the change in his voice as he replied, with an effort: "Yes, we did meet in Bath, but not in the pleasantest of circumstances. Mr. Yates may be a more agreeable man away from the companions he then had." "I do not think he was particularly agreeable," said Georgiana, falteringly, "but I thought--he appeared to me to be an interesting talker." "Yes, that is quite his line; if Yates can do nothing else he can certainly use his tongue," replied Colonel Fitzwilliam, not without bitterness. "But do not let us concern ourselves with him, Georgiana; what about the walk in Kensington Gardens that we had thought of? Will Mrs. Annesley very kindly let me escort you both there this delightfully fine morning?" Mrs. Annesley willingly acceded, and the two ladies having attired themselves, a hackney coach was called, which conveyed them a mile on their way towards Kensington Place. Georgiana was somewhat silent during the drive. She did not wish to speculate on her cousin's private affairs, but having been the innocent cause of recalling painful thoughts to him inevitably produced the wish to atone, to help; and she found herself wondering, while trying not to wonder, what could possibly be the connection between Mr. Yates, Cousin Robert and a lady in Bath now said to be in London. To be sure, it was none of her business, she had no right to wish to know, and yet

aunt

How many times the word 'aunt' appears in the text?

what you have to do," said Georgiana, highly diverted. "It is not a matter of fortune, is it? Anybody can do it," rejoined William Price. "I am sure you can, Miss Darcy." "No, indeed; I dislike very much some things I have to do." "But if you found you positively had to do them, and there was no way out, then you would decide to like them, would you not? It would make them so much easier." This was a new idea to Georgiana, and she considered it a little before replying, with a smile: "I am sure there are some things I should never like doing, such as sitting on the back seat of a carriage." "I know that it is disagreeable to some people, but I am sure, if one thought long enough, one could find a way to make it less so," said the young lieutenant, with great earnestness. "For instance"--he considered--"when the window was open the rain and wind would not do so much damage to the feathers in a lady's bonnet as if she were opposite; and at night one could shut one's eyes and imagine one was travelling forwards--it would be difficult to tell the difference." He looked inquiringly at Georgiana, who was so much entertained by his arguments that she said, laughingly: "I was right in calling you fortunate, Mr. Price, for you seemed to have secured a sovereign remedy against all ills. Do tell me how you would console yourself if you slipped down now and broke your leg, so that you could not dance any more for a long time? I should like to know whether your principle always holds good." "Now, Miss Darcy, you are driving me into a corner. I only said if I positively had to do the distasteful thing and there was no way out. I beg to inform you in the plainest language that there is a way out of your suggestion--that is, not to fall and break my leg, and it is the way I mean to adopt. But if such a thing did happen to me, I should certainly try to console myself--as yet I am not quite sure how--yes, I have thought of a method, but I do not think I had better tell you what it is." "He means he would have Kitty to sit beside him and talk to him," thought Georgiana. "I wonder what he would be like if he were ill? He would have just the same merry smile, I believe." Aloud she said: "I am not so strong-minded as you, Mr. Price, I'm afraid. I should never be able to think of any way of consoling myself for a broken leg." "I hope you will never have to endure anything one-twentieth a part disagreeable, Miss Darcy," her partner replied, dropping his gay manner for a moment. "Although it helped me to get through my examinations, even now I cannot think very kindly of it." "Were you--has it actually happened to you?" exclaimed Georgiana, with a horrified face; and she never felt less pleasure at the arrival of a new partner than at that moment. Most unwillingly she placed her arm in his to be led away, wanting far more to hear the history of William Price's misfortune; while the young man, full of concern at having startled her, walked a few steps beside her to say: "It is all right, Miss Darcy, because, you see, that guarantees that it will not happen again to-night." Bingley, who was her partner, asked the name of her companion, and Georgiana told what she knew of him, describing him as Kitty's friend. Bingley recollected having heard of him from Kitty, and pleased with his appearance, and always attracted by a new face, expressed a wish to know him, and Georgiana looked forward to making the introduction when her dances with Bingley should be over. This, however, was not to be. Kitty and Mr. Price were dancing together, and occasionally passed them in the set, when Georgiana could observe her friend's flushed cheek and air of radiant happiness; but at its conclusion they were swept away in a crowd, and Bingley and Georgiana, looking round for chairs, were accosted by Mr. Knightley, with the request to present Mr. and Mrs. Yates, who were anxious to know them. The name was unfamiliar to both, and so were the faces of the couple who approached--Mr. Yates with his usual aspect of complete self-satisfaction, and his wife, a woman of fashion, with a considerable share of good looks, but an expression of countenance from which weariness and impatience were never long absent. The lady fell to Bingley's share, and Georgiana, on her part, learned from Mr. Yates that he had heard her name and wished for the pleasure of her acquaintance, as he had already made that of her brother and sister in Bath. Georgiana replied to inquiries after their health and Colonel Fitzwilliam's, whom, Mr. Yates told her, he knew very well indeed, and he desired to send his compliments to the Colonel, if Miss Darcy should be seeing him. "He is in London, I believe?" Georgiana assented. "Ah, yes, I understood that; and the lady is in town, too, I fancy." Georgiana's look in reply to this was so blank that Mr. Yates, evidently not caring to trust himself in the deep waters of explanation, continued: "Do present him my cordial regards, and say I hope he has forgiven me. I was so unfortunate as to do him a little disservice, but it was easily put right; I saw to that myself. Lady Catherine de Bourgh, I am sure, had made _amende honorable_. You know Lady Catherine, Miss Darcy? Your aunt? Of course, I beg your pardon; I should have recollected. Do, pray, remember me to her, too. You were not in Bath this year, were you? Well, you did not lose much; I have known pleasanter seasons." Georgiana only bowed; Mr. Yates's familiar allusion to Colonel Fitzwilliam had not pleased her, and an instinct, which she had not time to analyse, led her to connect it with her cousin's depressed spirits. The next moment her companion introduced a more welcome subject by saying: "I think I saw you dancing with my young cousin, William Price; a smart young fellow, is he not?" "Is he your cousin?" asked Georgiana, in some surprise. "Yes, or rather, my wife's, through the mother; but we have all known him for years, he seems quite like one of ourselves, and spends half his time at our house when in town. Though I often tell my wife it is no compliment to us, for he is for ever playing with our children; we cannot get him out of the nursery." Georgiana felt that this was just as it should be; Mr. Price's being fond of the children accorded him well with the "merry, kind smile" that was so characteristic of him. She ventured upon an inquiry as to his naval career, and Mr. Yates, who liked nothing better than to be talking either of himself or of those belonging to him, immediately entered upon a description of William's notable conduct at the battle of St. Domingo, and the extraordinary courage he had displayed in the taking of a French ship and in defending the colours of his own. Bingley's attention was caught, and Georgiana was grateful to him for asking questions to prolong the story, and for interpolating expressions of admiration which she felt but could not utter. The more she saw and heard of him, the more delighted she was with the young hero, for such he now appeared to be; and the more she commended Kitty's good sense in bestowing her devotion upon such a worthy object. She looked forward to further opportunities of hearing from Mr. Price's own lips the account of some of his adventures; but recollecting that if events took the much-desired course there would be plenty of such opportunities, she decided that it would be best to employ the remainder of the time which she might spend in his company that evening by discoursing of Kitty, in the hope of gaining some assurance of the strength of his inclinations. He knew her to be Kitty's friend, and the subject of Kitty would naturally become the chief bond between them when they came to know each other a little better. Shortly after supper, William Price claimed her hand for a second time; and at the first interval in the dance long enough for any connected conversation, Georgiana began: "Who is that dancing with Miss Bennet? Do you know, Mr. Price?" "It is a Mr. Churchill, a great friend of the Knightleys. I believe he is rather agreeable, but Miss Bennet tells me she does not like him," replied William Price, laughing. "Why should she not like him, I wonder?" asked Georgiana. "Oh, I hardly know. Just a fancy, I think. He and I had a great set-to here one day--an argument, I mean; and I was fairly worsted--it was about foxhunting, so perhaps I deserved to be; but Miss Bennet very kindly took my side, and was quite vexed with Mr. Churchill when he retired with the honours of war." "Kitty is so loyal to her friends," said Georgiana. "Yes, she is a delightful girl, and Mrs. Knightley, too, is the kindest person imaginable. She has been so good to both my brother and myself, and I have never enjoyed my leave so much." "It must be a very pleasant house to stay in," said Georgiana. "Miss Bennet is very sorry to be going away, I know." "Yes, is it not a pity she has to go? And down to the depths of the country, too. I must not disparage it, Miss Darcy, for I am reminded that it is your home as well; but when people go so far off one is desperately afraid of not seeing them again. You are not leaving town with Miss Bennet, are you?" Georgiana was explaining their respective plans when the summons came for them to rejoin the set; but an interruption soon occurred in the shape of a slight accident. A lady dancing next to William Price, in turning sharply, trod upon her dress, with the result that she slipped and fell upon the polished floor with her foot twisted under her. The young lieutenant sprang forward, lifted her with skillful and gentle touch, and carried her, pale and suffering, to an adjoining room, where Mrs. Knightley and several friends hastened to her aid. A servant was sent for a surgeon, and William Price returned to Georgiana with the news that, pending his arrival, the lady was being treated for what appeared to be a severe sprain. "Poor thing!" said Georgiana, trembling. "I am so sorry for her. It must have caused intense pain. I was afraid she might have broken it." "No, it is bad enough, but fortunately it is not broken; I could perceive that," replied the young man. "You must not prognosticate such sad things, Miss Darcy; you see they very nearly come true." Georgiana looked into his face for enlightenment, then broke into a smile. "Oh, Mr. Price, you are unkind to assume that I was responsible for it. I only suggested a broken leg, and it was you who said it had been a reality in your case. How did it happen? Was it in action?" William led her to a seat, as the incident had unnerved her for more dancing, but could not be persuaded to give a narrative in the style of Mr. Yates; he only laughed and said that it had been about as glorious an affair as falling down in a ball-room. "One of our fellows had foolishly got himself into a very awkward place at the storming of a fort, and I was so stupid as to get in the way of a shower of falling rocks, one of which, when it reached me, decided to stay as close to me as it could; so I was severely reprimanded, and had to spend six weeks in hospital at the very busiest time." Georgiana listened with interest, certain that there was another version of the story which would show her companion up in a different light, and she inquired: "What did you say about examinations?" "Only that I had some books, and a good friend who helped me to the utmost of his power, so that while I was lying by I contrived to work up my subject enough to have scraped through." They talked for some time longer, until William had to go in search of his next partner, while Georgiana was carried off by her hostess, who placed her at a small table to drink coffee with herself and Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. The Gardiners were, of course, no strangers to Georgiana, and she showed the pleasure she felt in meeting them again. "Is it not kind of Mrs. Gardiner to have lent Kitty to me for so long, Miss Darcy?" said Mrs. Knightley. "I feel I can ill spare her now; I shall miss her after the happy time we have had together." Georgiana said what was proper, and Mrs. Gardiner added: "Perhaps she will be able to come to you another year." "Indeed, I hope so. I should like her to come any time; but another year, you know, she may not be so free; the claims of a house of her own may be paramount." "Certainly they may be; but it seems early to anticipate that," said Mrs. Gardiner. "Early? Oh, no, I do not think so. I shall not be at all surprised to be asked to help in buying Kitty's wedding clothes before Christmas," returned Mrs. Knightley, smiling mysteriously. Mrs. Gardiner expressed inquiring surprise, while Georgiana listened with interest for what Mrs. Knightley would say, regarding her as the chief authority in the affair, as far as it had gone. Her hostess proceeded: "It is quite between ourselves, you know, Mrs. Gardiner; I know I am perfectly safe in mentioning it, as you are Kitty's aunt and Miss Darcy her greatest friend; and you can imagine whether it is a pleasure to me to find that two young people in whom I am interested are so much interested in each other." "Undoubtedly," said Mrs. Gardiner; "but pray enlighten me, Mrs. Knightley, as to who the other person is." "You have met him to-night, Mrs. Gardiner, the young naval officer, Mr. Price, whom I introduced to you." Mrs. Gardiner was very anxious to learn more particulars, and Mrs. Knightley gave her full information as to William Price's career and prospects, while as to Kitty, she affirmed she had every reason to believe that both were equally attracted, and that an engagement would shortly be formed between them, subject to the approval of their friends. Mrs. Gardiner agreed that it was very good news if the young man was all Mrs. Knightley believed him, and remarked what a delight it would be to her sister, Mrs. Bennet, who had always wanted Kitty to be settled. "Mr. Price _is_ all we think him, I can assure you; Mr. Knightley will answer for him. But, pray, do not mention a word of this to anyone; let it not go beyond us four; I am most desirous that the affair should pass to its easy and natural conclusion." "I quite understand that, and of course we shall wait until Kitty tells us," said her aunt. "What do you think of it all, Miss Darcy? Has Kitty mentioned the matter to you?" Georgiana replied that she had, and on further questioning owned that she felt sure that if what Mrs. Knightley expected came to pass, it would make Kitty very happy. Mrs. Knightley called upon her to join in commendations of the young man, and this she could sincerely do; and she rose from the table feeling as if everything were settled, and it only remained to congratulate the two persons most concerned. A minute later she met Kitty, flying in search of her. Kitty seized her friend's hand and drew her into a quiet corner of Mrs. Knightley's morning-room, where the two girls could seat themselves on a sofa partly hidden by a screen and be quite secluded. "I wanted so much to see you before I went, Georgiana," began Kitty in an excited undertone. "I thought I should never get to you, and this is my last chance, as we start so early on Friday. Now do tell me what you think of him. You can judge now, cannot you? Is he not delightful? Is he not handsome, and a noble creature? Is he not all I said?" "Yes, indeed, dear Kitty, he is," responded Georgiana, with tender sympathy. "I can quite understand your feelings. I am sure anyone would be very proud to have gained the affection of such a man." "Oh, I am so glad to hear you say so. Do you think I have gained it? Sometimes I think so; sometimes I am not sure. Mrs. Knightley thinks I have." "I know she does; I have heard her say so, and she would not mislead you, Kitty, I am sure. She cares so much for your welfare." "Yes, indeed, she has been very kind. I cannot tell you what I should have done without her. She has done everything, she thinks of everything. To-night, when she was arranging the supper partners, I was standing near him, but not very near, and he had not asked me; I suppose he was waiting to see if he might, as we had already danced together a great deal, and she looked up from her list and said: 'And Mr. Price, I do not think I have put anyone down for you: will you take Miss Bennet?' in that kind way, not to make me feel uncomfortable, as if it had been planned. So he came and offered me his arm with such an air! And, after all, we did not talk much at supper; I was too happy, but when I asked him if he liked my dress, he paid me such an elegant compliment on it--something about a rose." "He is a most agreeable companion," said Georgiana. "I should never tire of hearing him converse. The marvellous adventures he has had! It is like a glimpse of a new world to meet a person who has actually been through those things, and who describes them with such modesty and simplicity. Such a man seldom comes into our quiet lives." "Oh, but they are so horrible, it quite frightens me to hear about them; if I were married to him I would never let him go to sea again, for fear of his coming back without an arm, or a leg, or an eye." "But it is his profession, Kitty." "I know, but it is a horrid profession, the only thing about him that I don't like, except for the uniform, and a man in a black coat looks positively nothing beside him." "Oh, Kitty, as if the uniform mattered! Do not let me hear you talk so foolishly," said Georgiana, really pained. "Well, perhaps it is foolish, but it does make a difference, you know. Bingley has been teasing me half the evening about a young man that he says they have got for me down in the country, whom I shall be sure to like, the Rector of Kympton, I believe. As if I could possibly look at a clergyman after knowing William Price." "Perhaps it is not fair to compare two such different types of men, but Mr. Morland is very nice, Kitty; I am sure you will think so." "I am sure I shall not; I don't want to see him: how can I think anyone nice when I am away from here? Oh, if I could only see Price once more, just once more, to make sure; but as he says, how can one ever see anybody down in the wilds of Derbyshire?" "Kitty, here is the music beginning again, and we shall be asked for," said Georgiana, standing up. "Do not be unhappy or over-anxious about this, and do not show too much what you feel, for I am sure it will all come out right if you have patience." "Do you really think it is so? That is such a comfort; but I wish he had spoken to-night. Mrs. Knightley thought he would." "Dear Kitty, whenever it comes, I wish you all the happiness in the world; write to me very fully, and, as I said, have patience and self-command. Now we really ought to go." Kitty pressed her friend's hand, and Georgiana tried to calm her as they walked back to the ball-room, by talking on indifferent topics, for she feared the girl's burning cheeks and nervous manner would betray her agitation and its cause. Miss Bingley met them as they entered the room, and asked Georgiana if she was ready to go, as Mrs. Hurst seemed inclined for it. "Yes, I am quite ready," said Georgiana. "I think I am engaged to Mr. Bingley for another dance, but he will not mind missing it." "Charles is over there, talking to Mr. Price, but I have told him we want to go, so he will be expecting us," said Miss Bingley, and led the way across the room, Kitty not unnaturally following. Mr. Bingley welcomed them warmly, calling out: "Here, Kitty, come and add your entreaties to mine. I want this young gentleman to come down to Desborough and shoot our pheasants in November, but he is not sure if he can manage it; I never heard such nonsense. If anyone is entitled to ask for leave when he wants it, I should think he is." Kitty was rendered perfectly incapable of speech for the first moment after hearing these words; never had a wish been so suddenly and gloriously placed in the way of accomplishment; but she found an unexpected ally in Miss Bingley, who supported her brother's invitation, having, like him, been attracted by the young lieutenant's agreeable demeanour and high reputation. William Price stood still, looking diffidently from one to another, and expressing in disjointed sentences his gratitude, his uncertainty, and his extreme pleasure should he be able to accept. Mr. Bingley exerted all his powers of persuasion, and Kitty's bright eyes shot glances not less eloquent. Georgiana turned a little away, feeling suddenly very tired and spiritless, and Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, who came up at that moment, remarked on it. "Georgiana tired?" exclaimed Bingley; "then let us go at once. You are not used to these late hours, and I don't know what Mrs. Darcy will say to me if I take them a poor account of you. We are all neighbours in the country, you know, Mr. Price. Then that is settled? You will come to us if you can possibly get away, and I hope nothing will prevent it. You do not expect to receive the command of the Mediterranean squadron, do you?" "No, sir," replied William, laughing, "neither that nor any other command this year, I am afraid." "Well, well, I wish you luck. Shall I see you again before I leave town?" William was beginning to reply negatively, when Miss Bingley, who was leading the whole party towards the cloak-room, turned and asked Mr. Price if he would not come and see them some time in Grosvenor Street. She called on her sister to ratify the invitation, which Mrs. Hurst did, and it was courteously accepted. There followed a confusion of good-byes and a getting of cloaks, and the three ladies were placed in the coach while the two gentlemen prepared to walk. Georgiana had warmly embraced Kitty at parting, and had intimated that she knew how much the arrangement by Bingley meant to her friend; and her last impression of Mrs. Knightley's ball was of William Price waving farewell in the doorway and then ascending the steps to where Kitty awaited him in the vestibule. Chapter X Colonel Fitzwilliam had come to London because he thought it was the place where he would be most likely to meet Miss Crawford again, and he had taken up literary work merely to pass away the time until that longed-for event should occur. Two months had elapsed before he heard of her arrival, with her sister, but it was not many days after that he contrived to be present at the house of a mutual friend, where he knew her to be expected. Her manner of greeting him on this occasion was not free from embarrassment; it was neither cordial nor unfriendly, and so brief was the encounter that he could discover but little from it of the state of her mind towards him. Another casual meeting seemed to promise more hopefully, but hardly had they exchanged a few sentences when the appearance of Sir Walter and Miss Elliot turned the conversation into channels more congenial to the new-comers, and Colonel Fitzwilliam was forced to stand aside and see Miss Crawford taken possession of without any semblance of unwillingness on her part. He then devoted himself to Mrs. Grant, and tried to propose an expedition, a theatre party, but that lady hesitatingly replied that she could arrange nothing without her sister. Colonel Fitzwilliam applied for permission to call, which was readily accorded, but on availing himself of it the following day only learned that the ladies were gone to Richmond with a party. The manservant obliged him, unasked, with the information that it was Mr. Crawford's party, and the Colonel was left to speculate gloomily on the chances of Sir Walter Elliot being one of the number, and what was of greater import whether, if it was so, it was with Miss Crawford's approval. He had gone to call on the Hursts after leaving Mrs. Grant's house, and had not again seen the object of his thoughts and hopes, when, a few days later, he directed his steps towards Mrs. Annesley's residence in Hans Place. He could scarcely believe it was but three months since the severance of his engagement with Georgiana, it seemed to have retreated so far into the background of events, but he had pondered earnestly over their interview in Grosvenor Street, and from her demeanour had concluded that his presence was not objectionable to her, so that any further meeting might help to re-establish their old cousinly relations, a result which their friends would rejoice in. It was therefore with a tolerably easy mind that was ushered into the presence of the two ladies, and found Georgiana in great good looks and far less shy and confused than on the previous occasion; indeed, in a few moments any awkwardness between them seemed to have quite melted away, and she was readily answering his questions about Mrs. Knightley's ball. "It certainly seems to have been a great success, for I never knew you so enthusiastic about a ball before, Georgiana," said her cousin, smiling. "It was better than the Bath assemblies, I gather?" "Oh--Bath!" exclaimed Georgiana, with a note of contempt in her voice which spoke volumes. "You laugh at me, Cousin Robert, but it was a beautiful ball. Even Mr. Bingley said so, and he must have been to a great number." "Hundreds, if not thousands, I should think," returned her cousin. "Bingley's shoemaker must have made a fortune. But who were the partners who contributed to such enjoyment? for they are usually the really important part. Two Mr. Prices you have mentioned, Captain Carter and Mr. Dixon; who else?" "Oh, I forget who else; Mr. Hurst and Mr. Bingley, of course, and Mr. Knightley, but he was very grave and terrible, I was almost too frightened to move, and Mr. Gardiner, and then there was Mr. Yates, but I did not dance with him. Do you remember him, Cousin Robert? he said he knew you at Bath." Georgiana had been so disagreeably struck by Mr. Yates's way of speaking of her relatives whom he had met, that she had not intended to mention it to Colonel Fitzwilliam, but the rest of his talk had eradicated his first impression, and she had unguardedly given utterance to his name. Fruitless regret and vexation overcame her when, glancing up at her cousin, she perceived his countenance darken, and noted the change in his voice as he replied, with an effort: "Yes, we did meet in Bath, but not in the pleasantest of circumstances. Mr. Yates may be a more agreeable man away from the companions he then had." "I do not think he was particularly agreeable," said Georgiana, falteringly, "but I thought--he appeared to me to be an interesting talker." "Yes, that is quite his line; if Yates can do nothing else he can certainly use his tongue," replied Colonel Fitzwilliam, not without bitterness. "But do not let us concern ourselves with him, Georgiana; what about the walk in Kensington Gardens that we had thought of? Will Mrs. Annesley very kindly let me escort you both there this delightfully fine morning?" Mrs. Annesley willingly acceded, and the two ladies having attired themselves, a hackney coach was called, which conveyed them a mile on their way towards Kensington Place. Georgiana was somewhat silent during the drive. She did not wish to speculate on her cousin's private affairs, but having been the innocent cause of recalling painful thoughts to him inevitably produced the wish to atone, to help; and she found herself wondering, while trying not to wonder, what could possibly be the connection between Mr. Yates, Cousin Robert and a lady in Bath now said to be in London. To be sure, it was none of her business, she had no right to wish to know, and yet

pleasure

How many times the word 'pleasure' appears in the text?

what you have to do," said Georgiana, highly diverted. "It is not a matter of fortune, is it? Anybody can do it," rejoined William Price. "I am sure you can, Miss Darcy." "No, indeed; I dislike very much some things I have to do." "But if you found you positively had to do them, and there was no way out, then you would decide to like them, would you not? It would make them so much easier." This was a new idea to Georgiana, and she considered it a little before replying, with a smile: "I am sure there are some things I should never like doing, such as sitting on the back seat of a carriage." "I know that it is disagreeable to some people, but I am sure, if one thought long enough, one could find a way to make it less so," said the young lieutenant, with great earnestness. "For instance"--he considered--"when the window was open the rain and wind would not do so much damage to the feathers in a lady's bonnet as if she were opposite; and at night one could shut one's eyes and imagine one was travelling forwards--it would be difficult to tell the difference." He looked inquiringly at Georgiana, who was so much entertained by his arguments that she said, laughingly: "I was right in calling you fortunate, Mr. Price, for you seemed to have secured a sovereign remedy against all ills. Do tell me how you would console yourself if you slipped down now and broke your leg, so that you could not dance any more for a long time? I should like to know whether your principle always holds good." "Now, Miss Darcy, you are driving me into a corner. I only said if I positively had to do the distasteful thing and there was no way out. I beg to inform you in the plainest language that there is a way out of your suggestion--that is, not to fall and break my leg, and it is the way I mean to adopt. But if such a thing did happen to me, I should certainly try to console myself--as yet I am not quite sure how--yes, I have thought of a method, but I do not think I had better tell you what it is." "He means he would have Kitty to sit beside him and talk to him," thought Georgiana. "I wonder what he would be like if he were ill? He would have just the same merry smile, I believe." Aloud she said: "I am not so strong-minded as you, Mr. Price, I'm afraid. I should never be able to think of any way of consoling myself for a broken leg." "I hope you will never have to endure anything one-twentieth a part disagreeable, Miss Darcy," her partner replied, dropping his gay manner for a moment. "Although it helped me to get through my examinations, even now I cannot think very kindly of it." "Were you--has it actually happened to you?" exclaimed Georgiana, with a horrified face; and she never felt less pleasure at the arrival of a new partner than at that moment. Most unwillingly she placed her arm in his to be led away, wanting far more to hear the history of William Price's misfortune; while the young man, full of concern at having startled her, walked a few steps beside her to say: "It is all right, Miss Darcy, because, you see, that guarantees that it will not happen again to-night." Bingley, who was her partner, asked the name of her companion, and Georgiana told what she knew of him, describing him as Kitty's friend. Bingley recollected having heard of him from Kitty, and pleased with his appearance, and always attracted by a new face, expressed a wish to know him, and Georgiana looked forward to making the introduction when her dances with Bingley should be over. This, however, was not to be. Kitty and Mr. Price were dancing together, and occasionally passed them in the set, when Georgiana could observe her friend's flushed cheek and air of radiant happiness; but at its conclusion they were swept away in a crowd, and Bingley and Georgiana, looking round for chairs, were accosted by Mr. Knightley, with the request to present Mr. and Mrs. Yates, who were anxious to know them. The name was unfamiliar to both, and so were the faces of the couple who approached--Mr. Yates with his usual aspect of complete self-satisfaction, and his wife, a woman of fashion, with a considerable share of good looks, but an expression of countenance from which weariness and impatience were never long absent. The lady fell to Bingley's share, and Georgiana, on her part, learned from Mr. Yates that he had heard her name and wished for the pleasure of her acquaintance, as he had already made that of her brother and sister in Bath. Georgiana replied to inquiries after their health and Colonel Fitzwilliam's, whom, Mr. Yates told her, he knew very well indeed, and he desired to send his compliments to the Colonel, if Miss Darcy should be seeing him. "He is in London, I believe?" Georgiana assented. "Ah, yes, I understood that; and the lady is in town, too, I fancy." Georgiana's look in reply to this was so blank that Mr. Yates, evidently not caring to trust himself in the deep waters of explanation, continued: "Do present him my cordial regards, and say I hope he has forgiven me. I was so unfortunate as to do him a little disservice, but it was easily put right; I saw to that myself. Lady Catherine de Bourgh, I am sure, had made _amende honorable_. You know Lady Catherine, Miss Darcy? Your aunt? Of course, I beg your pardon; I should have recollected. Do, pray, remember me to her, too. You were not in Bath this year, were you? Well, you did not lose much; I have known pleasanter seasons." Georgiana only bowed; Mr. Yates's familiar allusion to Colonel Fitzwilliam had not pleased her, and an instinct, which she had not time to analyse, led her to connect it with her cousin's depressed spirits. The next moment her companion introduced a more welcome subject by saying: "I think I saw you dancing with my young cousin, William Price; a smart young fellow, is he not?" "Is he your cousin?" asked Georgiana, in some surprise. "Yes, or rather, my wife's, through the mother; but we have all known him for years, he seems quite like one of ourselves, and spends half his time at our house when in town. Though I often tell my wife it is no compliment to us, for he is for ever playing with our children; we cannot get him out of the nursery." Georgiana felt that this was just as it should be; Mr. Price's being fond of the children accorded him well with the "merry, kind smile" that was so characteristic of him. She ventured upon an inquiry as to his naval career, and Mr. Yates, who liked nothing better than to be talking either of himself or of those belonging to him, immediately entered upon a description of William's notable conduct at the battle of St. Domingo, and the extraordinary courage he had displayed in the taking of a French ship and in defending the colours of his own. Bingley's attention was caught, and Georgiana was grateful to him for asking questions to prolong the story, and for interpolating expressions of admiration which she felt but could not utter. The more she saw and heard of him, the more delighted she was with the young hero, for such he now appeared to be; and the more she commended Kitty's good sense in bestowing her devotion upon such a worthy object. She looked forward to further opportunities of hearing from Mr. Price's own lips the account of some of his adventures; but recollecting that if events took the much-desired course there would be plenty of such opportunities, she decided that it would be best to employ the remainder of the time which she might spend in his company that evening by discoursing of Kitty, in the hope of gaining some assurance of the strength of his inclinations. He knew her to be Kitty's friend, and the subject of Kitty would naturally become the chief bond between them when they came to know each other a little better. Shortly after supper, William Price claimed her hand for a second time; and at the first interval in the dance long enough for any connected conversation, Georgiana began: "Who is that dancing with Miss Bennet? Do you know, Mr. Price?" "It is a Mr. Churchill, a great friend of the Knightleys. I believe he is rather agreeable, but Miss Bennet tells me she does not like him," replied William Price, laughing. "Why should she not like him, I wonder?" asked Georgiana. "Oh, I hardly know. Just a fancy, I think. He and I had a great set-to here one day--an argument, I mean; and I was fairly worsted--it was about foxhunting, so perhaps I deserved to be; but Miss Bennet very kindly took my side, and was quite vexed with Mr. Churchill when he retired with the honours of war." "Kitty is so loyal to her friends," said Georgiana. "Yes, she is a delightful girl, and Mrs. Knightley, too, is the kindest person imaginable. She has been so good to both my brother and myself, and I have never enjoyed my leave so much." "It must be a very pleasant house to stay in," said Georgiana. "Miss Bennet is very sorry to be going away, I know." "Yes, is it not a pity she has to go? And down to the depths of the country, too. I must not disparage it, Miss Darcy, for I am reminded that it is your home as well; but when people go so far off one is desperately afraid of not seeing them again. You are not leaving town with Miss Bennet, are you?" Georgiana was explaining their respective plans when the summons came for them to rejoin the set; but an interruption soon occurred in the shape of a slight accident. A lady dancing next to William Price, in turning sharply, trod upon her dress, with the result that she slipped and fell upon the polished floor with her foot twisted under her. The young lieutenant sprang forward, lifted her with skillful and gentle touch, and carried her, pale and suffering, to an adjoining room, where Mrs. Knightley and several friends hastened to her aid. A servant was sent for a surgeon, and William Price returned to Georgiana with the news that, pending his arrival, the lady was being treated for what appeared to be a severe sprain. "Poor thing!" said Georgiana, trembling. "I am so sorry for her. It must have caused intense pain. I was afraid she might have broken it." "No, it is bad enough, but fortunately it is not broken; I could perceive that," replied the young man. "You must not prognosticate such sad things, Miss Darcy; you see they very nearly come true." Georgiana looked into his face for enlightenment, then broke into a smile. "Oh, Mr. Price, you are unkind to assume that I was responsible for it. I only suggested a broken leg, and it was you who said it had been a reality in your case. How did it happen? Was it in action?" William led her to a seat, as the incident had unnerved her for more dancing, but could not be persuaded to give a narrative in the style of Mr. Yates; he only laughed and said that it had been about as glorious an affair as falling down in a ball-room. "One of our fellows had foolishly got himself into a very awkward place at the storming of a fort, and I was so stupid as to get in the way of a shower of falling rocks, one of which, when it reached me, decided to stay as close to me as it could; so I was severely reprimanded, and had to spend six weeks in hospital at the very busiest time." Georgiana listened with interest, certain that there was another version of the story which would show her companion up in a different light, and she inquired: "What did you say about examinations?" "Only that I had some books, and a good friend who helped me to the utmost of his power, so that while I was lying by I contrived to work up my subject enough to have scraped through." They talked for some time longer, until William had to go in search of his next partner, while Georgiana was carried off by her hostess, who placed her at a small table to drink coffee with herself and Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. The Gardiners were, of course, no strangers to Georgiana, and she showed the pleasure she felt in meeting them again. "Is it not kind of Mrs. Gardiner to have lent Kitty to me for so long, Miss Darcy?" said Mrs. Knightley. "I feel I can ill spare her now; I shall miss her after the happy time we have had together." Georgiana said what was proper, and Mrs. Gardiner added: "Perhaps she will be able to come to you another year." "Indeed, I hope so. I should like her to come any time; but another year, you know, she may not be so free; the claims of a house of her own may be paramount." "Certainly they may be; but it seems early to anticipate that," said Mrs. Gardiner. "Early? Oh, no, I do not think so. I shall not be at all surprised to be asked to help in buying Kitty's wedding clothes before Christmas," returned Mrs. Knightley, smiling mysteriously. Mrs. Gardiner expressed inquiring surprise, while Georgiana listened with interest for what Mrs. Knightley would say, regarding her as the chief authority in the affair, as far as it had gone. Her hostess proceeded: "It is quite between ourselves, you know, Mrs. Gardiner; I know I am perfectly safe in mentioning it, as you are Kitty's aunt and Miss Darcy her greatest friend; and you can imagine whether it is a pleasure to me to find that two young people in whom I am interested are so much interested in each other." "Undoubtedly," said Mrs. Gardiner; "but pray enlighten me, Mrs. Knightley, as to who the other person is." "You have met him to-night, Mrs. Gardiner, the young naval officer, Mr. Price, whom I introduced to you." Mrs. Gardiner was very anxious to learn more particulars, and Mrs. Knightley gave her full information as to William Price's career and prospects, while as to Kitty, she affirmed she had every reason to believe that both were equally attracted, and that an engagement would shortly be formed between them, subject to the approval of their friends. Mrs. Gardiner agreed that it was very good news if the young man was all Mrs. Knightley believed him, and remarked what a delight it would be to her sister, Mrs. Bennet, who had always wanted Kitty to be settled. "Mr. Price _is_ all we think him, I can assure you; Mr. Knightley will answer for him. But, pray, do not mention a word of this to anyone; let it not go beyond us four; I am most desirous that the affair should pass to its easy and natural conclusion." "I quite understand that, and of course we shall wait until Kitty tells us," said her aunt. "What do you think of it all, Miss Darcy? Has Kitty mentioned the matter to you?" Georgiana replied that she had, and on further questioning owned that she felt sure that if what Mrs. Knightley expected came to pass, it would make Kitty very happy. Mrs. Knightley called upon her to join in commendations of the young man, and this she could sincerely do; and she rose from the table feeling as if everything were settled, and it only remained to congratulate the two persons most concerned. A minute later she met Kitty, flying in search of her. Kitty seized her friend's hand and drew her into a quiet corner of Mrs. Knightley's morning-room, where the two girls could seat themselves on a sofa partly hidden by a screen and be quite secluded. "I wanted so much to see you before I went, Georgiana," began Kitty in an excited undertone. "I thought I should never get to you, and this is my last chance, as we start so early on Friday. Now do tell me what you think of him. You can judge now, cannot you? Is he not delightful? Is he not handsome, and a noble creature? Is he not all I said?" "Yes, indeed, dear Kitty, he is," responded Georgiana, with tender sympathy. "I can quite understand your feelings. I am sure anyone would be very proud to have gained the affection of such a man." "Oh, I am so glad to hear you say so. Do you think I have gained it? Sometimes I think so; sometimes I am not sure. Mrs. Knightley thinks I have." "I know she does; I have heard her say so, and she would not mislead you, Kitty, I am sure. She cares so much for your welfare." "Yes, indeed, she has been very kind. I cannot tell you what I should have done without her. She has done everything, she thinks of everything. To-night, when she was arranging the supper partners, I was standing near him, but not very near, and he had not asked me; I suppose he was waiting to see if he might, as we had already danced together a great deal, and she looked up from her list and said: 'And Mr. Price, I do not think I have put anyone down for you: will you take Miss Bennet?' in that kind way, not to make me feel uncomfortable, as if it had been planned. So he came and offered me his arm with such an air! And, after all, we did not talk much at supper; I was too happy, but when I asked him if he liked my dress, he paid me such an elegant compliment on it--something about a rose." "He is a most agreeable companion," said Georgiana. "I should never tire of hearing him converse. The marvellous adventures he has had! It is like a glimpse of a new world to meet a person who has actually been through those things, and who describes them with such modesty and simplicity. Such a man seldom comes into our quiet lives." "Oh, but they are so horrible, it quite frightens me to hear about them; if I were married to him I would never let him go to sea again, for fear of his coming back without an arm, or a leg, or an eye." "But it is his profession, Kitty." "I know, but it is a horrid profession, the only thing about him that I don't like, except for the uniform, and a man in a black coat looks positively nothing beside him." "Oh, Kitty, as if the uniform mattered! Do not let me hear you talk so foolishly," said Georgiana, really pained. "Well, perhaps it is foolish, but it does make a difference, you know. Bingley has been teasing me half the evening about a young man that he says they have got for me down in the country, whom I shall be sure to like, the Rector of Kympton, I believe. As if I could possibly look at a clergyman after knowing William Price." "Perhaps it is not fair to compare two such different types of men, but Mr. Morland is very nice, Kitty; I am sure you will think so." "I am sure I shall not; I don't want to see him: how can I think anyone nice when I am away from here? Oh, if I could only see Price once more, just once more, to make sure; but as he says, how can one ever see anybody down in the wilds of Derbyshire?" "Kitty, here is the music beginning again, and we shall be asked for," said Georgiana, standing up. "Do not be unhappy or over-anxious about this, and do not show too much what you feel, for I am sure it will all come out right if you have patience." "Do you really think it is so? That is such a comfort; but I wish he had spoken to-night. Mrs. Knightley thought he would." "Dear Kitty, whenever it comes, I wish you all the happiness in the world; write to me very fully, and, as I said, have patience and self-command. Now we really ought to go." Kitty pressed her friend's hand, and Georgiana tried to calm her as they walked back to the ball-room, by talking on indifferent topics, for she feared the girl's burning cheeks and nervous manner would betray her agitation and its cause. Miss Bingley met them as they entered the room, and asked Georgiana if she was ready to go, as Mrs. Hurst seemed inclined for it. "Yes, I am quite ready," said Georgiana. "I think I am engaged to Mr. Bingley for another dance, but he will not mind missing it." "Charles is over there, talking to Mr. Price, but I have told him we want to go, so he will be expecting us," said Miss Bingley, and led the way across the room, Kitty not unnaturally following. Mr. Bingley welcomed them warmly, calling out: "Here, Kitty, come and add your entreaties to mine. I want this young gentleman to come down to Desborough and shoot our pheasants in November, but he is not sure if he can manage it; I never heard such nonsense. If anyone is entitled to ask for leave when he wants it, I should think he is." Kitty was rendered perfectly incapable of speech for the first moment after hearing these words; never had a wish been so suddenly and gloriously placed in the way of accomplishment; but she found an unexpected ally in Miss Bingley, who supported her brother's invitation, having, like him, been attracted by the young lieutenant's agreeable demeanour and high reputation. William Price stood still, looking diffidently from one to another, and expressing in disjointed sentences his gratitude, his uncertainty, and his extreme pleasure should he be able to accept. Mr. Bingley exerted all his powers of persuasion, and Kitty's bright eyes shot glances not less eloquent. Georgiana turned a little away, feeling suddenly very tired and spiritless, and Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, who came up at that moment, remarked on it. "Georgiana tired?" exclaimed Bingley; "then let us go at once. You are not used to these late hours, and I don't know what Mrs. Darcy will say to me if I take them a poor account of you. We are all neighbours in the country, you know, Mr. Price. Then that is settled? You will come to us if you can possibly get away, and I hope nothing will prevent it. You do not expect to receive the command of the Mediterranean squadron, do you?" "No, sir," replied William, laughing, "neither that nor any other command this year, I am afraid." "Well, well, I wish you luck. Shall I see you again before I leave town?" William was beginning to reply negatively, when Miss Bingley, who was leading the whole party towards the cloak-room, turned and asked Mr. Price if he would not come and see them some time in Grosvenor Street. She called on her sister to ratify the invitation, which Mrs. Hurst did, and it was courteously accepted. There followed a confusion of good-byes and a getting of cloaks, and the three ladies were placed in the coach while the two gentlemen prepared to walk. Georgiana had warmly embraced Kitty at parting, and had intimated that she knew how much the arrangement by Bingley meant to her friend; and her last impression of Mrs. Knightley's ball was of William Price waving farewell in the doorway and then ascending the steps to where Kitty awaited him in the vestibule. Chapter X Colonel Fitzwilliam had come to London because he thought it was the place where he would be most likely to meet Miss Crawford again, and he had taken up literary work merely to pass away the time until that longed-for event should occur. Two months had elapsed before he heard of her arrival, with her sister, but it was not many days after that he contrived to be present at the house of a mutual friend, where he knew her to be expected. Her manner of greeting him on this occasion was not free from embarrassment; it was neither cordial nor unfriendly, and so brief was the encounter that he could discover but little from it of the state of her mind towards him. Another casual meeting seemed to promise more hopefully, but hardly had they exchanged a few sentences when the appearance of Sir Walter and Miss Elliot turned the conversation into channels more congenial to the new-comers, and Colonel Fitzwilliam was forced to stand aside and see Miss Crawford taken possession of without any semblance of unwillingness on her part. He then devoted himself to Mrs. Grant, and tried to propose an expedition, a theatre party, but that lady hesitatingly replied that she could arrange nothing without her sister. Colonel Fitzwilliam applied for permission to call, which was readily accorded, but on availing himself of it the following day only learned that the ladies were gone to Richmond with a party. The manservant obliged him, unasked, with the information that it was Mr. Crawford's party, and the Colonel was left to speculate gloomily on the chances of Sir Walter Elliot being one of the number, and what was of greater import whether, if it was so, it was with Miss Crawford's approval. He had gone to call on the Hursts after leaving Mrs. Grant's house, and had not again seen the object of his thoughts and hopes, when, a few days later, he directed his steps towards Mrs. Annesley's residence in Hans Place. He could scarcely believe it was but three months since the severance of his engagement with Georgiana, it seemed to have retreated so far into the background of events, but he had pondered earnestly over their interview in Grosvenor Street, and from her demeanour had concluded that his presence was not objectionable to her, so that any further meeting might help to re-establish their old cousinly relations, a result which their friends would rejoice in. It was therefore with a tolerably easy mind that was ushered into the presence of the two ladies, and found Georgiana in great good looks and far less shy and confused than on the previous occasion; indeed, in a few moments any awkwardness between them seemed to have quite melted away, and she was readily answering his questions about Mrs. Knightley's ball. "It certainly seems to have been a great success, for I never knew you so enthusiastic about a ball before, Georgiana," said her cousin, smiling. "It was better than the Bath assemblies, I gather?" "Oh--Bath!" exclaimed Georgiana, with a note of contempt in her voice which spoke volumes. "You laugh at me, Cousin Robert, but it was a beautiful ball. Even Mr. Bingley said so, and he must have been to a great number." "Hundreds, if not thousands, I should think," returned her cousin. "Bingley's shoemaker must have made a fortune. But who were the partners who contributed to such enjoyment? for they are usually the really important part. Two Mr. Prices you have mentioned, Captain Carter and Mr. Dixon; who else?" "Oh, I forget who else; Mr. Hurst and Mr. Bingley, of course, and Mr. Knightley, but he was very grave and terrible, I was almost too frightened to move, and Mr. Gardiner, and then there was Mr. Yates, but I did not dance with him. Do you remember him, Cousin Robert? he said he knew you at Bath." Georgiana had been so disagreeably struck by Mr. Yates's way of speaking of her relatives whom he had met, that she had not intended to mention it to Colonel Fitzwilliam, but the rest of his talk had eradicated his first impression, and she had unguardedly given utterance to his name. Fruitless regret and vexation overcame her when, glancing up at her cousin, she perceived his countenance darken, and noted the change in his voice as he replied, with an effort: "Yes, we did meet in Bath, but not in the pleasantest of circumstances. Mr. Yates may be a more agreeable man away from the companions he then had." "I do not think he was particularly agreeable," said Georgiana, falteringly, "but I thought--he appeared to me to be an interesting talker." "Yes, that is quite his line; if Yates can do nothing else he can certainly use his tongue," replied Colonel Fitzwilliam, not without bitterness. "But do not let us concern ourselves with him, Georgiana; what about the walk in Kensington Gardens that we had thought of? Will Mrs. Annesley very kindly let me escort you both there this delightfully fine morning?" Mrs. Annesley willingly acceded, and the two ladies having attired themselves, a hackney coach was called, which conveyed them a mile on their way towards Kensington Place. Georgiana was somewhat silent during the drive. She did not wish to speculate on her cousin's private affairs, but having been the innocent cause of recalling painful thoughts to him inevitably produced the wish to atone, to help; and she found herself wondering, while trying not to wonder, what could possibly be the connection between Mr. Yates, Cousin Robert and a lady in Bath now said to be in London. To be sure, it was none of her business, she had no right to wish to know, and yet

dominion

How many times the word 'dominion' appears in the text?

what you have to do," said Georgiana, highly diverted. "It is not a matter of fortune, is it? Anybody can do it," rejoined William Price. "I am sure you can, Miss Darcy." "No, indeed; I dislike very much some things I have to do." "But if you found you positively had to do them, and there was no way out, then you would decide to like them, would you not? It would make them so much easier." This was a new idea to Georgiana, and she considered it a little before replying, with a smile: "I am sure there are some things I should never like doing, such as sitting on the back seat of a carriage." "I know that it is disagreeable to some people, but I am sure, if one thought long enough, one could find a way to make it less so," said the young lieutenant, with great earnestness. "For instance"--he considered--"when the window was open the rain and wind would not do so much damage to the feathers in a lady's bonnet as if she were opposite; and at night one could shut one's eyes and imagine one was travelling forwards--it would be difficult to tell the difference." He looked inquiringly at Georgiana, who was so much entertained by his arguments that she said, laughingly: "I was right in calling you fortunate, Mr. Price, for you seemed to have secured a sovereign remedy against all ills. Do tell me how you would console yourself if you slipped down now and broke your leg, so that you could not dance any more for a long time? I should like to know whether your principle always holds good." "Now, Miss Darcy, you are driving me into a corner. I only said if I positively had to do the distasteful thing and there was no way out. I beg to inform you in the plainest language that there is a way out of your suggestion--that is, not to fall and break my leg, and it is the way I mean to adopt. But if such a thing did happen to me, I should certainly try to console myself--as yet I am not quite sure how--yes, I have thought of a method, but I do not think I had better tell you what it is." "He means he would have Kitty to sit beside him and talk to him," thought Georgiana. "I wonder what he would be like if he were ill? He would have just the same merry smile, I believe." Aloud she said: "I am not so strong-minded as you, Mr. Price, I'm afraid. I should never be able to think of any way of consoling myself for a broken leg." "I hope you will never have to endure anything one-twentieth a part disagreeable, Miss Darcy," her partner replied, dropping his gay manner for a moment. "Although it helped me to get through my examinations, even now I cannot think very kindly of it." "Were you--has it actually happened to you?" exclaimed Georgiana, with a horrified face; and she never felt less pleasure at the arrival of a new partner than at that moment. Most unwillingly she placed her arm in his to be led away, wanting far more to hear the history of William Price's misfortune; while the young man, full of concern at having startled her, walked a few steps beside her to say: "It is all right, Miss Darcy, because, you see, that guarantees that it will not happen again to-night." Bingley, who was her partner, asked the name of her companion, and Georgiana told what she knew of him, describing him as Kitty's friend. Bingley recollected having heard of him from Kitty, and pleased with his appearance, and always attracted by a new face, expressed a wish to know him, and Georgiana looked forward to making the introduction when her dances with Bingley should be over. This, however, was not to be. Kitty and Mr. Price were dancing together, and occasionally passed them in the set, when Georgiana could observe her friend's flushed cheek and air of radiant happiness; but at its conclusion they were swept away in a crowd, and Bingley and Georgiana, looking round for chairs, were accosted by Mr. Knightley, with the request to present Mr. and Mrs. Yates, who were anxious to know them. The name was unfamiliar to both, and so were the faces of the couple who approached--Mr. Yates with his usual aspect of complete self-satisfaction, and his wife, a woman of fashion, with a considerable share of good looks, but an expression of countenance from which weariness and impatience were never long absent. The lady fell to Bingley's share, and Georgiana, on her part, learned from Mr. Yates that he had heard her name and wished for the pleasure of her acquaintance, as he had already made that of her brother and sister in Bath. Georgiana replied to inquiries after their health and Colonel Fitzwilliam's, whom, Mr. Yates told her, he knew very well indeed, and he desired to send his compliments to the Colonel, if Miss Darcy should be seeing him. "He is in London, I believe?" Georgiana assented. "Ah, yes, I understood that; and the lady is in town, too, I fancy." Georgiana's look in reply to this was so blank that Mr. Yates, evidently not caring to trust himself in the deep waters of explanation, continued: "Do present him my cordial regards, and say I hope he has forgiven me. I was so unfortunate as to do him a little disservice, but it was easily put right; I saw to that myself. Lady Catherine de Bourgh, I am sure, had made _amende honorable_. You know Lady Catherine, Miss Darcy? Your aunt? Of course, I beg your pardon; I should have recollected. Do, pray, remember me to her, too. You were not in Bath this year, were you? Well, you did not lose much; I have known pleasanter seasons." Georgiana only bowed; Mr. Yates's familiar allusion to Colonel Fitzwilliam had not pleased her, and an instinct, which she had not time to analyse, led her to connect it with her cousin's depressed spirits. The next moment her companion introduced a more welcome subject by saying: "I think I saw you dancing with my young cousin, William Price; a smart young fellow, is he not?" "Is he your cousin?" asked Georgiana, in some surprise. "Yes, or rather, my wife's, through the mother; but we have all known him for years, he seems quite like one of ourselves, and spends half his time at our house when in town. Though I often tell my wife it is no compliment to us, for he is for ever playing with our children; we cannot get him out of the nursery." Georgiana felt that this was just as it should be; Mr. Price's being fond of the children accorded him well with the "merry, kind smile" that was so characteristic of him. She ventured upon an inquiry as to his naval career, and Mr. Yates, who liked nothing better than to be talking either of himself or of those belonging to him, immediately entered upon a description of William's notable conduct at the battle of St. Domingo, and the extraordinary courage he had displayed in the taking of a French ship and in defending the colours of his own. Bingley's attention was caught, and Georgiana was grateful to him for asking questions to prolong the story, and for interpolating expressions of admiration which she felt but could not utter. The more she saw and heard of him, the more delighted she was with the young hero, for such he now appeared to be; and the more she commended Kitty's good sense in bestowing her devotion upon such a worthy object. She looked forward to further opportunities of hearing from Mr. Price's own lips the account of some of his adventures; but recollecting that if events took the much-desired course there would be plenty of such opportunities, she decided that it would be best to employ the remainder of the time which she might spend in his company that evening by discoursing of Kitty, in the hope of gaining some assurance of the strength of his inclinations. He knew her to be Kitty's friend, and the subject of Kitty would naturally become the chief bond between them when they came to know each other a little better. Shortly after supper, William Price claimed her hand for a second time; and at the first interval in the dance long enough for any connected conversation, Georgiana began: "Who is that dancing with Miss Bennet? Do you know, Mr. Price?" "It is a Mr. Churchill, a great friend of the Knightleys. I believe he is rather agreeable, but Miss Bennet tells me she does not like him," replied William Price, laughing. "Why should she not like him, I wonder?" asked Georgiana. "Oh, I hardly know. Just a fancy, I think. He and I had a great set-to here one day--an argument, I mean; and I was fairly worsted--it was about foxhunting, so perhaps I deserved to be; but Miss Bennet very kindly took my side, and was quite vexed with Mr. Churchill when he retired with the honours of war." "Kitty is so loyal to her friends," said Georgiana. "Yes, she is a delightful girl, and Mrs. Knightley, too, is the kindest person imaginable. She has been so good to both my brother and myself, and I have never enjoyed my leave so much." "It must be a very pleasant house to stay in," said Georgiana. "Miss Bennet is very sorry to be going away, I know." "Yes, is it not a pity she has to go? And down to the depths of the country, too. I must not disparage it, Miss Darcy, for I am reminded that it is your home as well; but when people go so far off one is desperately afraid of not seeing them again. You are not leaving town with Miss Bennet, are you?" Georgiana was explaining their respective plans when the summons came for them to rejoin the set; but an interruption soon occurred in the shape of a slight accident. A lady dancing next to William Price, in turning sharply, trod upon her dress, with the result that she slipped and fell upon the polished floor with her foot twisted under her. The young lieutenant sprang forward, lifted her with skillful and gentle touch, and carried her, pale and suffering, to an adjoining room, where Mrs. Knightley and several friends hastened to her aid. A servant was sent for a surgeon, and William Price returned to Georgiana with the news that, pending his arrival, the lady was being treated for what appeared to be a severe sprain. "Poor thing!" said Georgiana, trembling. "I am so sorry for her. It must have caused intense pain. I was afraid she might have broken it." "No, it is bad enough, but fortunately it is not broken; I could perceive that," replied the young man. "You must not prognosticate such sad things, Miss Darcy; you see they very nearly come true." Georgiana looked into his face for enlightenment, then broke into a smile. "Oh, Mr. Price, you are unkind to assume that I was responsible for it. I only suggested a broken leg, and it was you who said it had been a reality in your case. How did it happen? Was it in action?" William led her to a seat, as the incident had unnerved her for more dancing, but could not be persuaded to give a narrative in the style of Mr. Yates; he only laughed and said that it had been about as glorious an affair as falling down in a ball-room. "One of our fellows had foolishly got himself into a very awkward place at the storming of a fort, and I was so stupid as to get in the way of a shower of falling rocks, one of which, when it reached me, decided to stay as close to me as it could; so I was severely reprimanded, and had to spend six weeks in hospital at the very busiest time." Georgiana listened with interest, certain that there was another version of the story which would show her companion up in a different light, and she inquired: "What did you say about examinations?" "Only that I had some books, and a good friend who helped me to the utmost of his power, so that while I was lying by I contrived to work up my subject enough to have scraped through." They talked for some time longer, until William had to go in search of his next partner, while Georgiana was carried off by her hostess, who placed her at a small table to drink coffee with herself and Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. The Gardiners were, of course, no strangers to Georgiana, and she showed the pleasure she felt in meeting them again. "Is it not kind of Mrs. Gardiner to have lent Kitty to me for so long, Miss Darcy?" said Mrs. Knightley. "I feel I can ill spare her now; I shall miss her after the happy time we have had together." Georgiana said what was proper, and Mrs. Gardiner added: "Perhaps she will be able to come to you another year." "Indeed, I hope so. I should like her to come any time; but another year, you know, she may not be so free; the claims of a house of her own may be paramount." "Certainly they may be; but it seems early to anticipate that," said Mrs. Gardiner. "Early? Oh, no, I do not think so. I shall not be at all surprised to be asked to help in buying Kitty's wedding clothes before Christmas," returned Mrs. Knightley, smiling mysteriously. Mrs. Gardiner expressed inquiring surprise, while Georgiana listened with interest for what Mrs. Knightley would say, regarding her as the chief authority in the affair, as far as it had gone. Her hostess proceeded: "It is quite between ourselves, you know, Mrs. Gardiner; I know I am perfectly safe in mentioning it, as you are Kitty's aunt and Miss Darcy her greatest friend; and you can imagine whether it is a pleasure to me to find that two young people in whom I am interested are so much interested in each other." "Undoubtedly," said Mrs. Gardiner; "but pray enlighten me, Mrs. Knightley, as to who the other person is." "You have met him to-night, Mrs. Gardiner, the young naval officer, Mr. Price, whom I introduced to you." Mrs. Gardiner was very anxious to learn more particulars, and Mrs. Knightley gave her full information as to William Price's career and prospects, while as to Kitty, she affirmed she had every reason to believe that both were equally attracted, and that an engagement would shortly be formed between them, subject to the approval of their friends. Mrs. Gardiner agreed that it was very good news if the young man was all Mrs. Knightley believed him, and remarked what a delight it would be to her sister, Mrs. Bennet, who had always wanted Kitty to be settled. "Mr. Price _is_ all we think him, I can assure you; Mr. Knightley will answer for him. But, pray, do not mention a word of this to anyone; let it not go beyond us four; I am most desirous that the affair should pass to its easy and natural conclusion." "I quite understand that, and of course we shall wait until Kitty tells us," said her aunt. "What do you think of it all, Miss Darcy? Has Kitty mentioned the matter to you?" Georgiana replied that she had, and on further questioning owned that she felt sure that if what Mrs. Knightley expected came to pass, it would make Kitty very happy. Mrs. Knightley called upon her to join in commendations of the young man, and this she could sincerely do; and she rose from the table feeling as if everything were settled, and it only remained to congratulate the two persons most concerned. A minute later she met Kitty, flying in search of her. Kitty seized her friend's hand and drew her into a quiet corner of Mrs. Knightley's morning-room, where the two girls could seat themselves on a sofa partly hidden by a screen and be quite secluded. "I wanted so much to see you before I went, Georgiana," began Kitty in an excited undertone. "I thought I should never get to you, and this is my last chance, as we start so early on Friday. Now do tell me what you think of him. You can judge now, cannot you? Is he not delightful? Is he not handsome, and a noble creature? Is he not all I said?" "Yes, indeed, dear Kitty, he is," responded Georgiana, with tender sympathy. "I can quite understand your feelings. I am sure anyone would be very proud to have gained the affection of such a man." "Oh, I am so glad to hear you say so. Do you think I have gained it? Sometimes I think so; sometimes I am not sure. Mrs. Knightley thinks I have." "I know she does; I have heard her say so, and she would not mislead you, Kitty, I am sure. She cares so much for your welfare." "Yes, indeed, she has been very kind. I cannot tell you what I should have done without her. She has done everything, she thinks of everything. To-night, when she was arranging the supper partners, I was standing near him, but not very near, and he had not asked me; I suppose he was waiting to see if he might, as we had already danced together a great deal, and she looked up from her list and said: 'And Mr. Price, I do not think I have put anyone down for you: will you take Miss Bennet?' in that kind way, not to make me feel uncomfortable, as if it had been planned. So he came and offered me his arm with such an air! And, after all, we did not talk much at supper; I was too happy, but when I asked him if he liked my dress, he paid me such an elegant compliment on it--something about a rose." "He is a most agreeable companion," said Georgiana. "I should never tire of hearing him converse. The marvellous adventures he has had! It is like a glimpse of a new world to meet a person who has actually been through those things, and who describes them with such modesty and simplicity. Such a man seldom comes into our quiet lives." "Oh, but they are so horrible, it quite frightens me to hear about them; if I were married to him I would never let him go to sea again, for fear of his coming back without an arm, or a leg, or an eye." "But it is his profession, Kitty." "I know, but it is a horrid profession, the only thing about him that I don't like, except for the uniform, and a man in a black coat looks positively nothing beside him." "Oh, Kitty, as if the uniform mattered! Do not let me hear you talk so foolishly," said Georgiana, really pained. "Well, perhaps it is foolish, but it does make a difference, you know. Bingley has been teasing me half the evening about a young man that he says they have got for me down in the country, whom I shall be sure to like, the Rector of Kympton, I believe. As if I could possibly look at a clergyman after knowing William Price." "Perhaps it is not fair to compare two such different types of men, but Mr. Morland is very nice, Kitty; I am sure you will think so." "I am sure I shall not; I don't want to see him: how can I think anyone nice when I am away from here? Oh, if I could only see Price once more, just once more, to make sure; but as he says, how can one ever see anybody down in the wilds of Derbyshire?" "Kitty, here is the music beginning again, and we shall be asked for," said Georgiana, standing up. "Do not be unhappy or over-anxious about this, and do not show too much what you feel, for I am sure it will all come out right if you have patience." "Do you really think it is so? That is such a comfort; but I wish he had spoken to-night. Mrs. Knightley thought he would." "Dear Kitty, whenever it comes, I wish you all the happiness in the world; write to me very fully, and, as I said, have patience and self-command. Now we really ought to go." Kitty pressed her friend's hand, and Georgiana tried to calm her as they walked back to the ball-room, by talking on indifferent topics, for she feared the girl's burning cheeks and nervous manner would betray her agitation and its cause. Miss Bingley met them as they entered the room, and asked Georgiana if she was ready to go, as Mrs. Hurst seemed inclined for it. "Yes, I am quite ready," said Georgiana. "I think I am engaged to Mr. Bingley for another dance, but he will not mind missing it." "Charles is over there, talking to Mr. Price, but I have told him we want to go, so he will be expecting us," said Miss Bingley, and led the way across the room, Kitty not unnaturally following. Mr. Bingley welcomed them warmly, calling out: "Here, Kitty, come and add your entreaties to mine. I want this young gentleman to come down to Desborough and shoot our pheasants in November, but he is not sure if he can manage it; I never heard such nonsense. If anyone is entitled to ask for leave when he wants it, I should think he is." Kitty was rendered perfectly incapable of speech for the first moment after hearing these words; never had a wish been so suddenly and gloriously placed in the way of accomplishment; but she found an unexpected ally in Miss Bingley, who supported her brother's invitation, having, like him, been attracted by the young lieutenant's agreeable demeanour and high reputation. William Price stood still, looking diffidently from one to another, and expressing in disjointed sentences his gratitude, his uncertainty, and his extreme pleasure should he be able to accept. Mr. Bingley exerted all his powers of persuasion, and Kitty's bright eyes shot glances not less eloquent. Georgiana turned a little away, feeling suddenly very tired and spiritless, and Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, who came up at that moment, remarked on it. "Georgiana tired?" exclaimed Bingley; "then let us go at once. You are not used to these late hours, and I don't know what Mrs. Darcy will say to me if I take them a poor account of you. We are all neighbours in the country, you know, Mr. Price. Then that is settled? You will come to us if you can possibly get away, and I hope nothing will prevent it. You do not expect to receive the command of the Mediterranean squadron, do you?" "No, sir," replied William, laughing, "neither that nor any other command this year, I am afraid." "Well, well, I wish you luck. Shall I see you again before I leave town?" William was beginning to reply negatively, when Miss Bingley, who was leading the whole party towards the cloak-room, turned and asked Mr. Price if he would not come and see them some time in Grosvenor Street. She called on her sister to ratify the invitation, which Mrs. Hurst did, and it was courteously accepted. There followed a confusion of good-byes and a getting of cloaks, and the three ladies were placed in the coach while the two gentlemen prepared to walk. Georgiana had warmly embraced Kitty at parting, and had intimated that she knew how much the arrangement by Bingley meant to her friend; and her last impression of Mrs. Knightley's ball was of William Price waving farewell in the doorway and then ascending the steps to where Kitty awaited him in the vestibule. Chapter X Colonel Fitzwilliam had come to London because he thought it was the place where he would be most likely to meet Miss Crawford again, and he had taken up literary work merely to pass away the time until that longed-for event should occur. Two months had elapsed before he heard of her arrival, with her sister, but it was not many days after that he contrived to be present at the house of a mutual friend, where he knew her to be expected. Her manner of greeting him on this occasion was not free from embarrassment; it was neither cordial nor unfriendly, and so brief was the encounter that he could discover but little from it of the state of her mind towards him. Another casual meeting seemed to promise more hopefully, but hardly had they exchanged a few sentences when the appearance of Sir Walter and Miss Elliot turned the conversation into channels more congenial to the new-comers, and Colonel Fitzwilliam was forced to stand aside and see Miss Crawford taken possession of without any semblance of unwillingness on her part. He then devoted himself to Mrs. Grant, and tried to propose an expedition, a theatre party, but that lady hesitatingly replied that she could arrange nothing without her sister. Colonel Fitzwilliam applied for permission to call, which was readily accorded, but on availing himself of it the following day only learned that the ladies were gone to Richmond with a party. The manservant obliged him, unasked, with the information that it was Mr. Crawford's party, and the Colonel was left to speculate gloomily on the chances of Sir Walter Elliot being one of the number, and what was of greater import whether, if it was so, it was with Miss Crawford's approval. He had gone to call on the Hursts after leaving Mrs. Grant's house, and had not again seen the object of his thoughts and hopes, when, a few days later, he directed his steps towards Mrs. Annesley's residence in Hans Place. He could scarcely believe it was but three months since the severance of his engagement with Georgiana, it seemed to have retreated so far into the background of events, but he had pondered earnestly over their interview in Grosvenor Street, and from her demeanour had concluded that his presence was not objectionable to her, so that any further meeting might help to re-establish their old cousinly relations, a result which their friends would rejoice in. It was therefore with a tolerably easy mind that was ushered into the presence of the two ladies, and found Georgiana in great good looks and far less shy and confused than on the previous occasion; indeed, in a few moments any awkwardness between them seemed to have quite melted away, and she was readily answering his questions about Mrs. Knightley's ball. "It certainly seems to have been a great success, for I never knew you so enthusiastic about a ball before, Georgiana," said her cousin, smiling. "It was better than the Bath assemblies, I gather?" "Oh--Bath!" exclaimed Georgiana, with a note of contempt in her voice which spoke volumes. "You laugh at me, Cousin Robert, but it was a beautiful ball. Even Mr. Bingley said so, and he must have been to a great number." "Hundreds, if not thousands, I should think," returned her cousin. "Bingley's shoemaker must have made a fortune. But who were the partners who contributed to such enjoyment? for they are usually the really important part. Two Mr. Prices you have mentioned, Captain Carter and Mr. Dixon; who else?" "Oh, I forget who else; Mr. Hurst and Mr. Bingley, of course, and Mr. Knightley, but he was very grave and terrible, I was almost too frightened to move, and Mr. Gardiner, and then there was Mr. Yates, but I did not dance with him. Do you remember him, Cousin Robert? he said he knew you at Bath." Georgiana had been so disagreeably struck by Mr. Yates's way of speaking of her relatives whom he had met, that she had not intended to mention it to Colonel Fitzwilliam, but the rest of his talk had eradicated his first impression, and she had unguardedly given utterance to his name. Fruitless regret and vexation overcame her when, glancing up at her cousin, she perceived his countenance darken, and noted the change in his voice as he replied, with an effort: "Yes, we did meet in Bath, but not in the pleasantest of circumstances. Mr. Yates may be a more agreeable man away from the companions he then had." "I do not think he was particularly agreeable," said Georgiana, falteringly, "but I thought--he appeared to me to be an interesting talker." "Yes, that is quite his line; if Yates can do nothing else he can certainly use his tongue," replied Colonel Fitzwilliam, not without bitterness. "But do not let us concern ourselves with him, Georgiana; what about the walk in Kensington Gardens that we had thought of? Will Mrs. Annesley very kindly let me escort you both there this delightfully fine morning?" Mrs. Annesley willingly acceded, and the two ladies having attired themselves, a hackney coach was called, which conveyed them a mile on their way towards Kensington Place. Georgiana was somewhat silent during the drive. She did not wish to speculate on her cousin's private affairs, but having been the innocent cause of recalling painful thoughts to him inevitably produced the wish to atone, to help; and she found herself wondering, while trying not to wonder, what could possibly be the connection between Mr. Yates, Cousin Robert and a lady in Bath now said to be in London. To be sure, it was none of her business, she had no right to wish to know, and yet

conduct

How many times the word 'conduct' appears in the text?

what you have to do," said Georgiana, highly diverted. "It is not a matter of fortune, is it? Anybody can do it," rejoined William Price. "I am sure you can, Miss Darcy." "No, indeed; I dislike very much some things I have to do." "But if you found you positively had to do them, and there was no way out, then you would decide to like them, would you not? It would make them so much easier." This was a new idea to Georgiana, and she considered it a little before replying, with a smile: "I am sure there are some things I should never like doing, such as sitting on the back seat of a carriage." "I know that it is disagreeable to some people, but I am sure, if one thought long enough, one could find a way to make it less so," said the young lieutenant, with great earnestness. "For instance"--he considered--"when the window was open the rain and wind would not do so much damage to the feathers in a lady's bonnet as if she were opposite; and at night one could shut one's eyes and imagine one was travelling forwards--it would be difficult to tell the difference." He looked inquiringly at Georgiana, who was so much entertained by his arguments that she said, laughingly: "I was right in calling you fortunate, Mr. Price, for you seemed to have secured a sovereign remedy against all ills. Do tell me how you would console yourself if you slipped down now and broke your leg, so that you could not dance any more for a long time? I should like to know whether your principle always holds good." "Now, Miss Darcy, you are driving me into a corner. I only said if I positively had to do the distasteful thing and there was no way out. I beg to inform you in the plainest language that there is a way out of your suggestion--that is, not to fall and break my leg, and it is the way I mean to adopt. But if such a thing did happen to me, I should certainly try to console myself--as yet I am not quite sure how--yes, I have thought of a method, but I do not think I had better tell you what it is." "He means he would have Kitty to sit beside him and talk to him," thought Georgiana. "I wonder what he would be like if he were ill? He would have just the same merry smile, I believe." Aloud she said: "I am not so strong-minded as you, Mr. Price, I'm afraid. I should never be able to think of any way of consoling myself for a broken leg." "I hope you will never have to endure anything one-twentieth a part disagreeable, Miss Darcy," her partner replied, dropping his gay manner for a moment. "Although it helped me to get through my examinations, even now I cannot think very kindly of it." "Were you--has it actually happened to you?" exclaimed Georgiana, with a horrified face; and she never felt less pleasure at the arrival of a new partner than at that moment. Most unwillingly she placed her arm in his to be led away, wanting far more to hear the history of William Price's misfortune; while the young man, full of concern at having startled her, walked a few steps beside her to say: "It is all right, Miss Darcy, because, you see, that guarantees that it will not happen again to-night." Bingley, who was her partner, asked the name of her companion, and Georgiana told what she knew of him, describing him as Kitty's friend. Bingley recollected having heard of him from Kitty, and pleased with his appearance, and always attracted by a new face, expressed a wish to know him, and Georgiana looked forward to making the introduction when her dances with Bingley should be over. This, however, was not to be. Kitty and Mr. Price were dancing together, and occasionally passed them in the set, when Georgiana could observe her friend's flushed cheek and air of radiant happiness; but at its conclusion they were swept away in a crowd, and Bingley and Georgiana, looking round for chairs, were accosted by Mr. Knightley, with the request to present Mr. and Mrs. Yates, who were anxious to know them. The name was unfamiliar to both, and so were the faces of the couple who approached--Mr. Yates with his usual aspect of complete self-satisfaction, and his wife, a woman of fashion, with a considerable share of good looks, but an expression of countenance from which weariness and impatience were never long absent. The lady fell to Bingley's share, and Georgiana, on her part, learned from Mr. Yates that he had heard her name and wished for the pleasure of her acquaintance, as he had already made that of her brother and sister in Bath. Georgiana replied to inquiries after their health and Colonel Fitzwilliam's, whom, Mr. Yates told her, he knew very well indeed, and he desired to send his compliments to the Colonel, if Miss Darcy should be seeing him. "He is in London, I believe?" Georgiana assented. "Ah, yes, I understood that; and the lady is in town, too, I fancy." Georgiana's look in reply to this was so blank that Mr. Yates, evidently not caring to trust himself in the deep waters of explanation, continued: "Do present him my cordial regards, and say I hope he has forgiven me. I was so unfortunate as to do him a little disservice, but it was easily put right; I saw to that myself. Lady Catherine de Bourgh, I am sure, had made _amende honorable_. You know Lady Catherine, Miss Darcy? Your aunt? Of course, I beg your pardon; I should have recollected. Do, pray, remember me to her, too. You were not in Bath this year, were you? Well, you did not lose much; I have known pleasanter seasons." Georgiana only bowed; Mr. Yates's familiar allusion to Colonel Fitzwilliam had not pleased her, and an instinct, which she had not time to analyse, led her to connect it with her cousin's depressed spirits. The next moment her companion introduced a more welcome subject by saying: "I think I saw you dancing with my young cousin, William Price; a smart young fellow, is he not?" "Is he your cousin?" asked Georgiana, in some surprise. "Yes, or rather, my wife's, through the mother; but we have all known him for years, he seems quite like one of ourselves, and spends half his time at our house when in town. Though I often tell my wife it is no compliment to us, for he is for ever playing with our children; we cannot get him out of the nursery." Georgiana felt that this was just as it should be; Mr. Price's being fond of the children accorded him well with the "merry, kind smile" that was so characteristic of him. She ventured upon an inquiry as to his naval career, and Mr. Yates, who liked nothing better than to be talking either of himself or of those belonging to him, immediately entered upon a description of William's notable conduct at the battle of St. Domingo, and the extraordinary courage he had displayed in the taking of a French ship and in defending the colours of his own. Bingley's attention was caught, and Georgiana was grateful to him for asking questions to prolong the story, and for interpolating expressions of admiration which she felt but could not utter. The more she saw and heard of him, the more delighted she was with the young hero, for such he now appeared to be; and the more she commended Kitty's good sense in bestowing her devotion upon such a worthy object. She looked forward to further opportunities of hearing from Mr. Price's own lips the account of some of his adventures; but recollecting that if events took the much-desired course there would be plenty of such opportunities, she decided that it would be best to employ the remainder of the time which she might spend in his company that evening by discoursing of Kitty, in the hope of gaining some assurance of the strength of his inclinations. He knew her to be Kitty's friend, and the subject of Kitty would naturally become the chief bond between them when they came to know each other a little better. Shortly after supper, William Price claimed her hand for a second time; and at the first interval in the dance long enough for any connected conversation, Georgiana began: "Who is that dancing with Miss Bennet? Do you know, Mr. Price?" "It is a Mr. Churchill, a great friend of the Knightleys. I believe he is rather agreeable, but Miss Bennet tells me she does not like him," replied William Price, laughing. "Why should she not like him, I wonder?" asked Georgiana. "Oh, I hardly know. Just a fancy, I think. He and I had a great set-to here one day--an argument, I mean; and I was fairly worsted--it was about foxhunting, so perhaps I deserved to be; but Miss Bennet very kindly took my side, and was quite vexed with Mr. Churchill when he retired with the honours of war." "Kitty is so loyal to her friends," said Georgiana. "Yes, she is a delightful girl, and Mrs. Knightley, too, is the kindest person imaginable. She has been so good to both my brother and myself, and I have never enjoyed my leave so much." "It must be a very pleasant house to stay in," said Georgiana. "Miss Bennet is very sorry to be going away, I know." "Yes, is it not a pity she has to go? And down to the depths of the country, too. I must not disparage it, Miss Darcy, for I am reminded that it is your home as well; but when people go so far off one is desperately afraid of not seeing them again. You are not leaving town with Miss Bennet, are you?" Georgiana was explaining their respective plans when the summons came for them to rejoin the set; but an interruption soon occurred in the shape of a slight accident. A lady dancing next to William Price, in turning sharply, trod upon her dress, with the result that she slipped and fell upon the polished floor with her foot twisted under her. The young lieutenant sprang forward, lifted her with skillful and gentle touch, and carried her, pale and suffering, to an adjoining room, where Mrs. Knightley and several friends hastened to her aid. A servant was sent for a surgeon, and William Price returned to Georgiana with the news that, pending his arrival, the lady was being treated for what appeared to be a severe sprain. "Poor thing!" said Georgiana, trembling. "I am so sorry for her. It must have caused intense pain. I was afraid she might have broken it." "No, it is bad enough, but fortunately it is not broken; I could perceive that," replied the young man. "You must not prognosticate such sad things, Miss Darcy; you see they very nearly come true." Georgiana looked into his face for enlightenment, then broke into a smile. "Oh, Mr. Price, you are unkind to assume that I was responsible for it. I only suggested a broken leg, and it was you who said it had been a reality in your case. How did it happen? Was it in action?" William led her to a seat, as the incident had unnerved her for more dancing, but could not be persuaded to give a narrative in the style of Mr. Yates; he only laughed and said that it had been about as glorious an affair as falling down in a ball-room. "One of our fellows had foolishly got himself into a very awkward place at the storming of a fort, and I was so stupid as to get in the way of a shower of falling rocks, one of which, when it reached me, decided to stay as close to me as it could; so I was severely reprimanded, and had to spend six weeks in hospital at the very busiest time." Georgiana listened with interest, certain that there was another version of the story which would show her companion up in a different light, and she inquired: "What did you say about examinations?" "Only that I had some books, and a good friend who helped me to the utmost of his power, so that while I was lying by I contrived to work up my subject enough to have scraped through." They talked for some time longer, until William had to go in search of his next partner, while Georgiana was carried off by her hostess, who placed her at a small table to drink coffee with herself and Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. The Gardiners were, of course, no strangers to Georgiana, and she showed the pleasure she felt in meeting them again. "Is it not kind of Mrs. Gardiner to have lent Kitty to me for so long, Miss Darcy?" said Mrs. Knightley. "I feel I can ill spare her now; I shall miss her after the happy time we have had together." Georgiana said what was proper, and Mrs. Gardiner added: "Perhaps she will be able to come to you another year." "Indeed, I hope so. I should like her to come any time; but another year, you know, she may not be so free; the claims of a house of her own may be paramount." "Certainly they may be; but it seems early to anticipate that," said Mrs. Gardiner. "Early? Oh, no, I do not think so. I shall not be at all surprised to be asked to help in buying Kitty's wedding clothes before Christmas," returned Mrs. Knightley, smiling mysteriously. Mrs. Gardiner expressed inquiring surprise, while Georgiana listened with interest for what Mrs. Knightley would say, regarding her as the chief authority in the affair, as far as it had gone. Her hostess proceeded: "It is quite between ourselves, you know, Mrs. Gardiner; I know I am perfectly safe in mentioning it, as you are Kitty's aunt and Miss Darcy her greatest friend; and you can imagine whether it is a pleasure to me to find that two young people in whom I am interested are so much interested in each other." "Undoubtedly," said Mrs. Gardiner; "but pray enlighten me, Mrs. Knightley, as to who the other person is." "You have met him to-night, Mrs. Gardiner, the young naval officer, Mr. Price, whom I introduced to you." Mrs. Gardiner was very anxious to learn more particulars, and Mrs. Knightley gave her full information as to William Price's career and prospects, while as to Kitty, she affirmed she had every reason to believe that both were equally attracted, and that an engagement would shortly be formed between them, subject to the approval of their friends. Mrs. Gardiner agreed that it was very good news if the young man was all Mrs. Knightley believed him, and remarked what a delight it would be to her sister, Mrs. Bennet, who had always wanted Kitty to be settled. "Mr. Price _is_ all we think him, I can assure you; Mr. Knightley will answer for him. But, pray, do not mention a word of this to anyone; let it not go beyond us four; I am most desirous that the affair should pass to its easy and natural conclusion." "I quite understand that, and of course we shall wait until Kitty tells us," said her aunt. "What do you think of it all, Miss Darcy? Has Kitty mentioned the matter to you?" Georgiana replied that she had, and on further questioning owned that she felt sure that if what Mrs. Knightley expected came to pass, it would make Kitty very happy. Mrs. Knightley called upon her to join in commendations of the young man, and this she could sincerely do; and she rose from the table feeling as if everything were settled, and it only remained to congratulate the two persons most concerned. A minute later she met Kitty, flying in search of her. Kitty seized her friend's hand and drew her into a quiet corner of Mrs. Knightley's morning-room, where the two girls could seat themselves on a sofa partly hidden by a screen and be quite secluded. "I wanted so much to see you before I went, Georgiana," began Kitty in an excited undertone. "I thought I should never get to you, and this is my last chance, as we start so early on Friday. Now do tell me what you think of him. You can judge now, cannot you? Is he not delightful? Is he not handsome, and a noble creature? Is he not all I said?" "Yes, indeed, dear Kitty, he is," responded Georgiana, with tender sympathy. "I can quite understand your feelings. I am sure anyone would be very proud to have gained the affection of such a man." "Oh, I am so glad to hear you say so. Do you think I have gained it? Sometimes I think so; sometimes I am not sure. Mrs. Knightley thinks I have." "I know she does; I have heard her say so, and she would not mislead you, Kitty, I am sure. She cares so much for your welfare." "Yes, indeed, she has been very kind. I cannot tell you what I should have done without her. She has done everything, she thinks of everything. To-night, when she was arranging the supper partners, I was standing near him, but not very near, and he had not asked me; I suppose he was waiting to see if he might, as we had already danced together a great deal, and she looked up from her list and said: 'And Mr. Price, I do not think I have put anyone down for you: will you take Miss Bennet?' in that kind way, not to make me feel uncomfortable, as if it had been planned. So he came and offered me his arm with such an air! And, after all, we did not talk much at supper; I was too happy, but when I asked him if he liked my dress, he paid me such an elegant compliment on it--something about a rose." "He is a most agreeable companion," said Georgiana. "I should never tire of hearing him converse. The marvellous adventures he has had! It is like a glimpse of a new world to meet a person who has actually been through those things, and who describes them with such modesty and simplicity. Such a man seldom comes into our quiet lives." "Oh, but they are so horrible, it quite frightens me to hear about them; if I were married to him I would never let him go to sea again, for fear of his coming back without an arm, or a leg, or an eye." "But it is his profession, Kitty." "I know, but it is a horrid profession, the only thing about him that I don't like, except for the uniform, and a man in a black coat looks positively nothing beside him." "Oh, Kitty, as if the uniform mattered! Do not let me hear you talk so foolishly," said Georgiana, really pained. "Well, perhaps it is foolish, but it does make a difference, you know. Bingley has been teasing me half the evening about a young man that he says they have got for me down in the country, whom I shall be sure to like, the Rector of Kympton, I believe. As if I could possibly look at a clergyman after knowing William Price." "Perhaps it is not fair to compare two such different types of men, but Mr. Morland is very nice, Kitty; I am sure you will think so." "I am sure I shall not; I don't want to see him: how can I think anyone nice when I am away from here? Oh, if I could only see Price once more, just once more, to make sure; but as he says, how can one ever see anybody down in the wilds of Derbyshire?" "Kitty, here is the music beginning again, and we shall be asked for," said Georgiana, standing up. "Do not be unhappy or over-anxious about this, and do not show too much what you feel, for I am sure it will all come out right if you have patience." "Do you really think it is so? That is such a comfort; but I wish he had spoken to-night. Mrs. Knightley thought he would." "Dear Kitty, whenever it comes, I wish you all the happiness in the world; write to me very fully, and, as I said, have patience and self-command. Now we really ought to go." Kitty pressed her friend's hand, and Georgiana tried to calm her as they walked back to the ball-room, by talking on indifferent topics, for she feared the girl's burning cheeks and nervous manner would betray her agitation and its cause. Miss Bingley met them as they entered the room, and asked Georgiana if she was ready to go, as Mrs. Hurst seemed inclined for it. "Yes, I am quite ready," said Georgiana. "I think I am engaged to Mr. Bingley for another dance, but he will not mind missing it." "Charles is over there, talking to Mr. Price, but I have told him we want to go, so he will be expecting us," said Miss Bingley, and led the way across the room, Kitty not unnaturally following. Mr. Bingley welcomed them warmly, calling out: "Here, Kitty, come and add your entreaties to mine. I want this young gentleman to come down to Desborough and shoot our pheasants in November, but he is not sure if he can manage it; I never heard such nonsense. If anyone is entitled to ask for leave when he wants it, I should think he is." Kitty was rendered perfectly incapable of speech for the first moment after hearing these words; never had a wish been so suddenly and gloriously placed in the way of accomplishment; but she found an unexpected ally in Miss Bingley, who supported her brother's invitation, having, like him, been attracted by the young lieutenant's agreeable demeanour and high reputation. William Price stood still, looking diffidently from one to another, and expressing in disjointed sentences his gratitude, his uncertainty, and his extreme pleasure should he be able to accept. Mr. Bingley exerted all his powers of persuasion, and Kitty's bright eyes shot glances not less eloquent. Georgiana turned a little away, feeling suddenly very tired and spiritless, and Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, who came up at that moment, remarked on it. "Georgiana tired?" exclaimed Bingley; "then let us go at once. You are not used to these late hours, and I don't know what Mrs. Darcy will say to me if I take them a poor account of you. We are all neighbours in the country, you know, Mr. Price. Then that is settled? You will come to us if you can possibly get away, and I hope nothing will prevent it. You do not expect to receive the command of the Mediterranean squadron, do you?" "No, sir," replied William, laughing, "neither that nor any other command this year, I am afraid." "Well, well, I wish you luck. Shall I see you again before I leave town?" William was beginning to reply negatively, when Miss Bingley, who was leading the whole party towards the cloak-room, turned and asked Mr. Price if he would not come and see them some time in Grosvenor Street. She called on her sister to ratify the invitation, which Mrs. Hurst did, and it was courteously accepted. There followed a confusion of good-byes and a getting of cloaks, and the three ladies were placed in the coach while the two gentlemen prepared to walk. Georgiana had warmly embraced Kitty at parting, and had intimated that she knew how much the arrangement by Bingley meant to her friend; and her last impression of Mrs. Knightley's ball was of William Price waving farewell in the doorway and then ascending the steps to where Kitty awaited him in the vestibule. Chapter X Colonel Fitzwilliam had come to London because he thought it was the place where he would be most likely to meet Miss Crawford again, and he had taken up literary work merely to pass away the time until that longed-for event should occur. Two months had elapsed before he heard of her arrival, with her sister, but it was not many days after that he contrived to be present at the house of a mutual friend, where he knew her to be expected. Her manner of greeting him on this occasion was not free from embarrassment; it was neither cordial nor unfriendly, and so brief was the encounter that he could discover but little from it of the state of her mind towards him. Another casual meeting seemed to promise more hopefully, but hardly had they exchanged a few sentences when the appearance of Sir Walter and Miss Elliot turned the conversation into channels more congenial to the new-comers, and Colonel Fitzwilliam was forced to stand aside and see Miss Crawford taken possession of without any semblance of unwillingness on her part. He then devoted himself to Mrs. Grant, and tried to propose an expedition, a theatre party, but that lady hesitatingly replied that she could arrange nothing without her sister. Colonel Fitzwilliam applied for permission to call, which was readily accorded, but on availing himself of it the following day only learned that the ladies were gone to Richmond with a party. The manservant obliged him, unasked, with the information that it was Mr. Crawford's party, and the Colonel was left to speculate gloomily on the chances of Sir Walter Elliot being one of the number, and what was of greater import whether, if it was so, it was with Miss Crawford's approval. He had gone to call on the Hursts after leaving Mrs. Grant's house, and had not again seen the object of his thoughts and hopes, when, a few days later, he directed his steps towards Mrs. Annesley's residence in Hans Place. He could scarcely believe it was but three months since the severance of his engagement with Georgiana, it seemed to have retreated so far into the background of events, but he had pondered earnestly over their interview in Grosvenor Street, and from her demeanour had concluded that his presence was not objectionable to her, so that any further meeting might help to re-establish their old cousinly relations, a result which their friends would rejoice in. It was therefore with a tolerably easy mind that was ushered into the presence of the two ladies, and found Georgiana in great good looks and far less shy and confused than on the previous occasion; indeed, in a few moments any awkwardness between them seemed to have quite melted away, and she was readily answering his questions about Mrs. Knightley's ball. "It certainly seems to have been a great success, for I never knew you so enthusiastic about a ball before, Georgiana," said her cousin, smiling. "It was better than the Bath assemblies, I gather?" "Oh--Bath!" exclaimed Georgiana, with a note of contempt in her voice which spoke volumes. "You laugh at me, Cousin Robert, but it was a beautiful ball. Even Mr. Bingley said so, and he must have been to a great number." "Hundreds, if not thousands, I should think," returned her cousin. "Bingley's shoemaker must have made a fortune. But who were the partners who contributed to such enjoyment? for they are usually the really important part. Two Mr. Prices you have mentioned, Captain Carter and Mr. Dixon; who else?" "Oh, I forget who else; Mr. Hurst and Mr. Bingley, of course, and Mr. Knightley, but he was very grave and terrible, I was almost too frightened to move, and Mr. Gardiner, and then there was Mr. Yates, but I did not dance with him. Do you remember him, Cousin Robert? he said he knew you at Bath." Georgiana had been so disagreeably struck by Mr. Yates's way of speaking of her relatives whom he had met, that she had not intended to mention it to Colonel Fitzwilliam, but the rest of his talk had eradicated his first impression, and she had unguardedly given utterance to his name. Fruitless regret and vexation overcame her when, glancing up at her cousin, she perceived his countenance darken, and noted the change in his voice as he replied, with an effort: "Yes, we did meet in Bath, but not in the pleasantest of circumstances. Mr. Yates may be a more agreeable man away from the companions he then had." "I do not think he was particularly agreeable," said Georgiana, falteringly, "but I thought--he appeared to me to be an interesting talker." "Yes, that is quite his line; if Yates can do nothing else he can certainly use his tongue," replied Colonel Fitzwilliam, not without bitterness. "But do not let us concern ourselves with him, Georgiana; what about the walk in Kensington Gardens that we had thought of? Will Mrs. Annesley very kindly let me escort you both there this delightfully fine morning?" Mrs. Annesley willingly acceded, and the two ladies having attired themselves, a hackney coach was called, which conveyed them a mile on their way towards Kensington Place. Georgiana was somewhat silent during the drive. She did not wish to speculate on her cousin's private affairs, but having been the innocent cause of recalling painful thoughts to him inevitably produced the wish to atone, to help; and she found herself wondering, while trying not to wonder, what could possibly be the connection between Mr. Yates, Cousin Robert and a lady in Bath now said to be in London. To be sure, it was none of her business, she had no right to wish to know, and yet

leg

How many times the word 'leg' appears in the text?

what you have to do," said Georgiana, highly diverted. "It is not a matter of fortune, is it? Anybody can do it," rejoined William Price. "I am sure you can, Miss Darcy." "No, indeed; I dislike very much some things I have to do." "But if you found you positively had to do them, and there was no way out, then you would decide to like them, would you not? It would make them so much easier." This was a new idea to Georgiana, and she considered it a little before replying, with a smile: "I am sure there are some things I should never like doing, such as sitting on the back seat of a carriage." "I know that it is disagreeable to some people, but I am sure, if one thought long enough, one could find a way to make it less so," said the young lieutenant, with great earnestness. "For instance"--he considered--"when the window was open the rain and wind would not do so much damage to the feathers in a lady's bonnet as if she were opposite; and at night one could shut one's eyes and imagine one was travelling forwards--it would be difficult to tell the difference." He looked inquiringly at Georgiana, who was so much entertained by his arguments that she said, laughingly: "I was right in calling you fortunate, Mr. Price, for you seemed to have secured a sovereign remedy against all ills. Do tell me how you would console yourself if you slipped down now and broke your leg, so that you could not dance any more for a long time? I should like to know whether your principle always holds good." "Now, Miss Darcy, you are driving me into a corner. I only said if I positively had to do the distasteful thing and there was no way out. I beg to inform you in the plainest language that there is a way out of your suggestion--that is, not to fall and break my leg, and it is the way I mean to adopt. But if such a thing did happen to me, I should certainly try to console myself--as yet I am not quite sure how--yes, I have thought of a method, but I do not think I had better tell you what it is." "He means he would have Kitty to sit beside him and talk to him," thought Georgiana. "I wonder what he would be like if he were ill? He would have just the same merry smile, I believe." Aloud she said: "I am not so strong-minded as you, Mr. Price, I'm afraid. I should never be able to think of any way of consoling myself for a broken leg." "I hope you will never have to endure anything one-twentieth a part disagreeable, Miss Darcy," her partner replied, dropping his gay manner for a moment. "Although it helped me to get through my examinations, even now I cannot think very kindly of it." "Were you--has it actually happened to you?" exclaimed Georgiana, with a horrified face; and she never felt less pleasure at the arrival of a new partner than at that moment. Most unwillingly she placed her arm in his to be led away, wanting far more to hear the history of William Price's misfortune; while the young man, full of concern at having startled her, walked a few steps beside her to say: "It is all right, Miss Darcy, because, you see, that guarantees that it will not happen again to-night." Bingley, who was her partner, asked the name of her companion, and Georgiana told what she knew of him, describing him as Kitty's friend. Bingley recollected having heard of him from Kitty, and pleased with his appearance, and always attracted by a new face, expressed a wish to know him, and Georgiana looked forward to making the introduction when her dances with Bingley should be over. This, however, was not to be. Kitty and Mr. Price were dancing together, and occasionally passed them in the set, when Georgiana could observe her friend's flushed cheek and air of radiant happiness; but at its conclusion they were swept away in a crowd, and Bingley and Georgiana, looking round for chairs, were accosted by Mr. Knightley, with the request to present Mr. and Mrs. Yates, who were anxious to know them. The name was unfamiliar to both, and so were the faces of the couple who approached--Mr. Yates with his usual aspect of complete self-satisfaction, and his wife, a woman of fashion, with a considerable share of good looks, but an expression of countenance from which weariness and impatience were never long absent. The lady fell to Bingley's share, and Georgiana, on her part, learned from Mr. Yates that he had heard her name and wished for the pleasure of her acquaintance, as he had already made that of her brother and sister in Bath. Georgiana replied to inquiries after their health and Colonel Fitzwilliam's, whom, Mr. Yates told her, he knew very well indeed, and he desired to send his compliments to the Colonel, if Miss Darcy should be seeing him. "He is in London, I believe?" Georgiana assented. "Ah, yes, I understood that; and the lady is in town, too, I fancy." Georgiana's look in reply to this was so blank that Mr. Yates, evidently not caring to trust himself in the deep waters of explanation, continued: "Do present him my cordial regards, and say I hope he has forgiven me. I was so unfortunate as to do him a little disservice, but it was easily put right; I saw to that myself. Lady Catherine de Bourgh, I am sure, had made _amende honorable_. You know Lady Catherine, Miss Darcy? Your aunt? Of course, I beg your pardon; I should have recollected. Do, pray, remember me to her, too. You were not in Bath this year, were you? Well, you did not lose much; I have known pleasanter seasons." Georgiana only bowed; Mr. Yates's familiar allusion to Colonel Fitzwilliam had not pleased her, and an instinct, which she had not time to analyse, led her to connect it with her cousin's depressed spirits. The next moment her companion introduced a more welcome subject by saying: "I think I saw you dancing with my young cousin, William Price; a smart young fellow, is he not?" "Is he your cousin?" asked Georgiana, in some surprise. "Yes, or rather, my wife's, through the mother; but we have all known him for years, he seems quite like one of ourselves, and spends half his time at our house when in town. Though I often tell my wife it is no compliment to us, for he is for ever playing with our children; we cannot get him out of the nursery." Georgiana felt that this was just as it should be; Mr. Price's being fond of the children accorded him well with the "merry, kind smile" that was so characteristic of him. She ventured upon an inquiry as to his naval career, and Mr. Yates, who liked nothing better than to be talking either of himself or of those belonging to him, immediately entered upon a description of William's notable conduct at the battle of St. Domingo, and the extraordinary courage he had displayed in the taking of a French ship and in defending the colours of his own. Bingley's attention was caught, and Georgiana was grateful to him for asking questions to prolong the story, and for interpolating expressions of admiration which she felt but could not utter. The more she saw and heard of him, the more delighted she was with the young hero, for such he now appeared to be; and the more she commended Kitty's good sense in bestowing her devotion upon such a worthy object. She looked forward to further opportunities of hearing from Mr. Price's own lips the account of some of his adventures; but recollecting that if events took the much-desired course there would be plenty of such opportunities, she decided that it would be best to employ the remainder of the time which she might spend in his company that evening by discoursing of Kitty, in the hope of gaining some assurance of the strength of his inclinations. He knew her to be Kitty's friend, and the subject of Kitty would naturally become the chief bond between them when they came to know each other a little better. Shortly after supper, William Price claimed her hand for a second time; and at the first interval in the dance long enough for any connected conversation, Georgiana began: "Who is that dancing with Miss Bennet? Do you know, Mr. Price?" "It is a Mr. Churchill, a great friend of the Knightleys. I believe he is rather agreeable, but Miss Bennet tells me she does not like him," replied William Price, laughing. "Why should she not like him, I wonder?" asked Georgiana. "Oh, I hardly know. Just a fancy, I think. He and I had a great set-to here one day--an argument, I mean; and I was fairly worsted--it was about foxhunting, so perhaps I deserved to be; but Miss Bennet very kindly took my side, and was quite vexed with Mr. Churchill when he retired with the honours of war." "Kitty is so loyal to her friends," said Georgiana. "Yes, she is a delightful girl, and Mrs. Knightley, too, is the kindest person imaginable. She has been so good to both my brother and myself, and I have never enjoyed my leave so much." "It must be a very pleasant house to stay in," said Georgiana. "Miss Bennet is very sorry to be going away, I know." "Yes, is it not a pity she has to go? And down to the depths of the country, too. I must not disparage it, Miss Darcy, for I am reminded that it is your home as well; but when people go so far off one is desperately afraid of not seeing them again. You are not leaving town with Miss Bennet, are you?" Georgiana was explaining their respective plans when the summons came for them to rejoin the set; but an interruption soon occurred in the shape of a slight accident. A lady dancing next to William Price, in turning sharply, trod upon her dress, with the result that she slipped and fell upon the polished floor with her foot twisted under her. The young lieutenant sprang forward, lifted her with skillful and gentle touch, and carried her, pale and suffering, to an adjoining room, where Mrs. Knightley and several friends hastened to her aid. A servant was sent for a surgeon, and William Price returned to Georgiana with the news that, pending his arrival, the lady was being treated for what appeared to be a severe sprain. "Poor thing!" said Georgiana, trembling. "I am so sorry for her. It must have caused intense pain. I was afraid she might have broken it." "No, it is bad enough, but fortunately it is not broken; I could perceive that," replied the young man. "You must not prognosticate such sad things, Miss Darcy; you see they very nearly come true." Georgiana looked into his face for enlightenment, then broke into a smile. "Oh, Mr. Price, you are unkind to assume that I was responsible for it. I only suggested a broken leg, and it was you who said it had been a reality in your case. How did it happen? Was it in action?" William led her to a seat, as the incident had unnerved her for more dancing, but could not be persuaded to give a narrative in the style of Mr. Yates; he only laughed and said that it had been about as glorious an affair as falling down in a ball-room. "One of our fellows had foolishly got himself into a very awkward place at the storming of a fort, and I was so stupid as to get in the way of a shower of falling rocks, one of which, when it reached me, decided to stay as close to me as it could; so I was severely reprimanded, and had to spend six weeks in hospital at the very busiest time." Georgiana listened with interest, certain that there was another version of the story which would show her companion up in a different light, and she inquired: "What did you say about examinations?" "Only that I had some books, and a good friend who helped me to the utmost of his power, so that while I was lying by I contrived to work up my subject enough to have scraped through." They talked for some time longer, until William had to go in search of his next partner, while Georgiana was carried off by her hostess, who placed her at a small table to drink coffee with herself and Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. The Gardiners were, of course, no strangers to Georgiana, and she showed the pleasure she felt in meeting them again. "Is it not kind of Mrs. Gardiner to have lent Kitty to me for so long, Miss Darcy?" said Mrs. Knightley. "I feel I can ill spare her now; I shall miss her after the happy time we have had together." Georgiana said what was proper, and Mrs. Gardiner added: "Perhaps she will be able to come to you another year." "Indeed, I hope so. I should like her to come any time; but another year, you know, she may not be so free; the claims of a house of her own may be paramount." "Certainly they may be; but it seems early to anticipate that," said Mrs. Gardiner. "Early? Oh, no, I do not think so. I shall not be at all surprised to be asked to help in buying Kitty's wedding clothes before Christmas," returned Mrs. Knightley, smiling mysteriously. Mrs. Gardiner expressed inquiring surprise, while Georgiana listened with interest for what Mrs. Knightley would say, regarding her as the chief authority in the affair, as far as it had gone. Her hostess proceeded: "It is quite between ourselves, you know, Mrs. Gardiner; I know I am perfectly safe in mentioning it, as you are Kitty's aunt and Miss Darcy her greatest friend; and you can imagine whether it is a pleasure to me to find that two young people in whom I am interested are so much interested in each other." "Undoubtedly," said Mrs. Gardiner; "but pray enlighten me, Mrs. Knightley, as to who the other person is." "You have met him to-night, Mrs. Gardiner, the young naval officer, Mr. Price, whom I introduced to you." Mrs. Gardiner was very anxious to learn more particulars, and Mrs. Knightley gave her full information as to William Price's career and prospects, while as to Kitty, she affirmed she had every reason to believe that both were equally attracted, and that an engagement would shortly be formed between them, subject to the approval of their friends. Mrs. Gardiner agreed that it was very good news if the young man was all Mrs. Knightley believed him, and remarked what a delight it would be to her sister, Mrs. Bennet, who had always wanted Kitty to be settled. "Mr. Price _is_ all we think him, I can assure you; Mr. Knightley will answer for him. But, pray, do not mention a word of this to anyone; let it not go beyond us four; I am most desirous that the affair should pass to its easy and natural conclusion." "I quite understand that, and of course we shall wait until Kitty tells us," said her aunt. "What do you think of it all, Miss Darcy? Has Kitty mentioned the matter to you?" Georgiana replied that she had, and on further questioning owned that she felt sure that if what Mrs. Knightley expected came to pass, it would make Kitty very happy. Mrs. Knightley called upon her to join in commendations of the young man, and this she could sincerely do; and she rose from the table feeling as if everything were settled, and it only remained to congratulate the two persons most concerned. A minute later she met Kitty, flying in search of her. Kitty seized her friend's hand and drew her into a quiet corner of Mrs. Knightley's morning-room, where the two girls could seat themselves on a sofa partly hidden by a screen and be quite secluded. "I wanted so much to see you before I went, Georgiana," began Kitty in an excited undertone. "I thought I should never get to you, and this is my last chance, as we start so early on Friday. Now do tell me what you think of him. You can judge now, cannot you? Is he not delightful? Is he not handsome, and a noble creature? Is he not all I said?" "Yes, indeed, dear Kitty, he is," responded Georgiana, with tender sympathy. "I can quite understand your feelings. I am sure anyone would be very proud to have gained the affection of such a man." "Oh, I am so glad to hear you say so. Do you think I have gained it? Sometimes I think so; sometimes I am not sure. Mrs. Knightley thinks I have." "I know she does; I have heard her say so, and she would not mislead you, Kitty, I am sure. She cares so much for your welfare." "Yes, indeed, she has been very kind. I cannot tell you what I should have done without her. She has done everything, she thinks of everything. To-night, when she was arranging the supper partners, I was standing near him, but not very near, and he had not asked me; I suppose he was waiting to see if he might, as we had already danced together a great deal, and she looked up from her list and said: 'And Mr. Price, I do not think I have put anyone down for you: will you take Miss Bennet?' in that kind way, not to make me feel uncomfortable, as if it had been planned. So he came and offered me his arm with such an air! And, after all, we did not talk much at supper; I was too happy, but when I asked him if he liked my dress, he paid me such an elegant compliment on it--something about a rose." "He is a most agreeable companion," said Georgiana. "I should never tire of hearing him converse. The marvellous adventures he has had! It is like a glimpse of a new world to meet a person who has actually been through those things, and who describes them with such modesty and simplicity. Such a man seldom comes into our quiet lives." "Oh, but they are so horrible, it quite frightens me to hear about them; if I were married to him I would never let him go to sea again, for fear of his coming back without an arm, or a leg, or an eye." "But it is his profession, Kitty." "I know, but it is a horrid profession, the only thing about him that I don't like, except for the uniform, and a man in a black coat looks positively nothing beside him." "Oh, Kitty, as if the uniform mattered! Do not let me hear you talk so foolishly," said Georgiana, really pained. "Well, perhaps it is foolish, but it does make a difference, you know. Bingley has been teasing me half the evening about a young man that he says they have got for me down in the country, whom I shall be sure to like, the Rector of Kympton, I believe. As if I could possibly look at a clergyman after knowing William Price." "Perhaps it is not fair to compare two such different types of men, but Mr. Morland is very nice, Kitty; I am sure you will think so." "I am sure I shall not; I don't want to see him: how can I think anyone nice when I am away from here? Oh, if I could only see Price once more, just once more, to make sure; but as he says, how can one ever see anybody down in the wilds of Derbyshire?" "Kitty, here is the music beginning again, and we shall be asked for," said Georgiana, standing up. "Do not be unhappy or over-anxious about this, and do not show too much what you feel, for I am sure it will all come out right if you have patience." "Do you really think it is so? That is such a comfort; but I wish he had spoken to-night. Mrs. Knightley thought he would." "Dear Kitty, whenever it comes, I wish you all the happiness in the world; write to me very fully, and, as I said, have patience and self-command. Now we really ought to go." Kitty pressed her friend's hand, and Georgiana tried to calm her as they walked back to the ball-room, by talking on indifferent topics, for she feared the girl's burning cheeks and nervous manner would betray her agitation and its cause. Miss Bingley met them as they entered the room, and asked Georgiana if she was ready to go, as Mrs. Hurst seemed inclined for it. "Yes, I am quite ready," said Georgiana. "I think I am engaged to Mr. Bingley for another dance, but he will not mind missing it." "Charles is over there, talking to Mr. Price, but I have told him we want to go, so he will be expecting us," said Miss Bingley, and led the way across the room, Kitty not unnaturally following. Mr. Bingley welcomed them warmly, calling out: "Here, Kitty, come and add your entreaties to mine. I want this young gentleman to come down to Desborough and shoot our pheasants in November, but he is not sure if he can manage it; I never heard such nonsense. If anyone is entitled to ask for leave when he wants it, I should think he is." Kitty was rendered perfectly incapable of speech for the first moment after hearing these words; never had a wish been so suddenly and gloriously placed in the way of accomplishment; but she found an unexpected ally in Miss Bingley, who supported her brother's invitation, having, like him, been attracted by the young lieutenant's agreeable demeanour and high reputation. William Price stood still, looking diffidently from one to another, and expressing in disjointed sentences his gratitude, his uncertainty, and his extreme pleasure should he be able to accept. Mr. Bingley exerted all his powers of persuasion, and Kitty's bright eyes shot glances not less eloquent. Georgiana turned a little away, feeling suddenly very tired and spiritless, and Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, who came up at that moment, remarked on it. "Georgiana tired?" exclaimed Bingley; "then let us go at once. You are not used to these late hours, and I don't know what Mrs. Darcy will say to me if I take them a poor account of you. We are all neighbours in the country, you know, Mr. Price. Then that is settled? You will come to us if you can possibly get away, and I hope nothing will prevent it. You do not expect to receive the command of the Mediterranean squadron, do you?" "No, sir," replied William, laughing, "neither that nor any other command this year, I am afraid." "Well, well, I wish you luck. Shall I see you again before I leave town?" William was beginning to reply negatively, when Miss Bingley, who was leading the whole party towards the cloak-room, turned and asked Mr. Price if he would not come and see them some time in Grosvenor Street. She called on her sister to ratify the invitation, which Mrs. Hurst did, and it was courteously accepted. There followed a confusion of good-byes and a getting of cloaks, and the three ladies were placed in the coach while the two gentlemen prepared to walk. Georgiana had warmly embraced Kitty at parting, and had intimated that she knew how much the arrangement by Bingley meant to her friend; and her last impression of Mrs. Knightley's ball was of William Price waving farewell in the doorway and then ascending the steps to where Kitty awaited him in the vestibule. Chapter X Colonel Fitzwilliam had come to London because he thought it was the place where he would be most likely to meet Miss Crawford again, and he had taken up literary work merely to pass away the time until that longed-for event should occur. Two months had elapsed before he heard of her arrival, with her sister, but it was not many days after that he contrived to be present at the house of a mutual friend, where he knew her to be expected. Her manner of greeting him on this occasion was not free from embarrassment; it was neither cordial nor unfriendly, and so brief was the encounter that he could discover but little from it of the state of her mind towards him. Another casual meeting seemed to promise more hopefully, but hardly had they exchanged a few sentences when the appearance of Sir Walter and Miss Elliot turned the conversation into channels more congenial to the new-comers, and Colonel Fitzwilliam was forced to stand aside and see Miss Crawford taken possession of without any semblance of unwillingness on her part. He then devoted himself to Mrs. Grant, and tried to propose an expedition, a theatre party, but that lady hesitatingly replied that she could arrange nothing without her sister. Colonel Fitzwilliam applied for permission to call, which was readily accorded, but on availing himself of it the following day only learned that the ladies were gone to Richmond with a party. The manservant obliged him, unasked, with the information that it was Mr. Crawford's party, and the Colonel was left to speculate gloomily on the chances of Sir Walter Elliot being one of the number, and what was of greater import whether, if it was so, it was with Miss Crawford's approval. He had gone to call on the Hursts after leaving Mrs. Grant's house, and had not again seen the object of his thoughts and hopes, when, a few days later, he directed his steps towards Mrs. Annesley's residence in Hans Place. He could scarcely believe it was but three months since the severance of his engagement with Georgiana, it seemed to have retreated so far into the background of events, but he had pondered earnestly over their interview in Grosvenor Street, and from her demeanour had concluded that his presence was not objectionable to her, so that any further meeting might help to re-establish their old cousinly relations, a result which their friends would rejoice in. It was therefore with a tolerably easy mind that was ushered into the presence of the two ladies, and found Georgiana in great good looks and far less shy and confused than on the previous occasion; indeed, in a few moments any awkwardness between them seemed to have quite melted away, and she was readily answering his questions about Mrs. Knightley's ball. "It certainly seems to have been a great success, for I never knew you so enthusiastic about a ball before, Georgiana," said her cousin, smiling. "It was better than the Bath assemblies, I gather?" "Oh--Bath!" exclaimed Georgiana, with a note of contempt in her voice which spoke volumes. "You laugh at me, Cousin Robert, but it was a beautiful ball. Even Mr. Bingley said so, and he must have been to a great number." "Hundreds, if not thousands, I should think," returned her cousin. "Bingley's shoemaker must have made a fortune. But who were the partners who contributed to such enjoyment? for they are usually the really important part. Two Mr. Prices you have mentioned, Captain Carter and Mr. Dixon; who else?" "Oh, I forget who else; Mr. Hurst and Mr. Bingley, of course, and Mr. Knightley, but he was very grave and terrible, I was almost too frightened to move, and Mr. Gardiner, and then there was Mr. Yates, but I did not dance with him. Do you remember him, Cousin Robert? he said he knew you at Bath." Georgiana had been so disagreeably struck by Mr. Yates's way of speaking of her relatives whom he had met, that she had not intended to mention it to Colonel Fitzwilliam, but the rest of his talk had eradicated his first impression, and she had unguardedly given utterance to his name. Fruitless regret and vexation overcame her when, glancing up at her cousin, she perceived his countenance darken, and noted the change in his voice as he replied, with an effort: "Yes, we did meet in Bath, but not in the pleasantest of circumstances. Mr. Yates may be a more agreeable man away from the companions he then had." "I do not think he was particularly agreeable," said Georgiana, falteringly, "but I thought--he appeared to me to be an interesting talker." "Yes, that is quite his line; if Yates can do nothing else he can certainly use his tongue," replied Colonel Fitzwilliam, not without bitterness. "But do not let us concern ourselves with him, Georgiana; what about the walk in Kensington Gardens that we had thought of? Will Mrs. Annesley very kindly let me escort you both there this delightfully fine morning?" Mrs. Annesley willingly acceded, and the two ladies having attired themselves, a hackney coach was called, which conveyed them a mile on their way towards Kensington Place. Georgiana was somewhat silent during the drive. She did not wish to speculate on her cousin's private affairs, but having been the innocent cause of recalling painful thoughts to him inevitably produced the wish to atone, to help; and she found herself wondering, while trying not to wonder, what could possibly be the connection between Mr. Yates, Cousin Robert and a lady in Bath now said to be in London. To be sure, it was none of her business, she had no right to wish to know, and yet

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what you have to do," said Georgiana, highly diverted. "It is not a matter of fortune, is it? Anybody can do it," rejoined William Price. "I am sure you can, Miss Darcy." "No, indeed; I dislike very much some things I have to do." "But if you found you positively had to do them, and there was no way out, then you would decide to like them, would you not? It would make them so much easier." This was a new idea to Georgiana, and she considered it a little before replying, with a smile: "I am sure there are some things I should never like doing, such as sitting on the back seat of a carriage." "I know that it is disagreeable to some people, but I am sure, if one thought long enough, one could find a way to make it less so," said the young lieutenant, with great earnestness. "For instance"--he considered--"when the window was open the rain and wind would not do so much damage to the feathers in a lady's bonnet as if she were opposite; and at night one could shut one's eyes and imagine one was travelling forwards--it would be difficult to tell the difference." He looked inquiringly at Georgiana, who was so much entertained by his arguments that she said, laughingly: "I was right in calling you fortunate, Mr. Price, for you seemed to have secured a sovereign remedy against all ills. Do tell me how you would console yourself if you slipped down now and broke your leg, so that you could not dance any more for a long time? I should like to know whether your principle always holds good." "Now, Miss Darcy, you are driving me into a corner. I only said if I positively had to do the distasteful thing and there was no way out. I beg to inform you in the plainest language that there is a way out of your suggestion--that is, not to fall and break my leg, and it is the way I mean to adopt. But if such a thing did happen to me, I should certainly try to console myself--as yet I am not quite sure how--yes, I have thought of a method, but I do not think I had better tell you what it is." "He means he would have Kitty to sit beside him and talk to him," thought Georgiana. "I wonder what he would be like if he were ill? He would have just the same merry smile, I believe." Aloud she said: "I am not so strong-minded as you, Mr. Price, I'm afraid. I should never be able to think of any way of consoling myself for a broken leg." "I hope you will never have to endure anything one-twentieth a part disagreeable, Miss Darcy," her partner replied, dropping his gay manner for a moment. "Although it helped me to get through my examinations, even now I cannot think very kindly of it." "Were you--has it actually happened to you?" exclaimed Georgiana, with a horrified face; and she never felt less pleasure at the arrival of a new partner than at that moment. Most unwillingly she placed her arm in his to be led away, wanting far more to hear the history of William Price's misfortune; while the young man, full of concern at having startled her, walked a few steps beside her to say: "It is all right, Miss Darcy, because, you see, that guarantees that it will not happen again to-night." Bingley, who was her partner, asked the name of her companion, and Georgiana told what she knew of him, describing him as Kitty's friend. Bingley recollected having heard of him from Kitty, and pleased with his appearance, and always attracted by a new face, expressed a wish to know him, and Georgiana looked forward to making the introduction when her dances with Bingley should be over. This, however, was not to be. Kitty and Mr. Price were dancing together, and occasionally passed them in the set, when Georgiana could observe her friend's flushed cheek and air of radiant happiness; but at its conclusion they were swept away in a crowd, and Bingley and Georgiana, looking round for chairs, were accosted by Mr. Knightley, with the request to present Mr. and Mrs. Yates, who were anxious to know them. The name was unfamiliar to both, and so were the faces of the couple who approached--Mr. Yates with his usual aspect of complete self-satisfaction, and his wife, a woman of fashion, with a considerable share of good looks, but an expression of countenance from which weariness and impatience were never long absent. The lady fell to Bingley's share, and Georgiana, on her part, learned from Mr. Yates that he had heard her name and wished for the pleasure of her acquaintance, as he had already made that of her brother and sister in Bath. Georgiana replied to inquiries after their health and Colonel Fitzwilliam's, whom, Mr. Yates told her, he knew very well indeed, and he desired to send his compliments to the Colonel, if Miss Darcy should be seeing him. "He is in London, I believe?" Georgiana assented. "Ah, yes, I understood that; and the lady is in town, too, I fancy." Georgiana's look in reply to this was so blank that Mr. Yates, evidently not caring to trust himself in the deep waters of explanation, continued: "Do present him my cordial regards, and say I hope he has forgiven me. I was so unfortunate as to do him a little disservice, but it was easily put right; I saw to that myself. Lady Catherine de Bourgh, I am sure, had made _amende honorable_. You know Lady Catherine, Miss Darcy? Your aunt? Of course, I beg your pardon; I should have recollected. Do, pray, remember me to her, too. You were not in Bath this year, were you? Well, you did not lose much; I have known pleasanter seasons." Georgiana only bowed; Mr. Yates's familiar allusion to Colonel Fitzwilliam had not pleased her, and an instinct, which she had not time to analyse, led her to connect it with her cousin's depressed spirits. The next moment her companion introduced a more welcome subject by saying: "I think I saw you dancing with my young cousin, William Price; a smart young fellow, is he not?" "Is he your cousin?" asked Georgiana, in some surprise. "Yes, or rather, my wife's, through the mother; but we have all known him for years, he seems quite like one of ourselves, and spends half his time at our house when in town. Though I often tell my wife it is no compliment to us, for he is for ever playing with our children; we cannot get him out of the nursery." Georgiana felt that this was just as it should be; Mr. Price's being fond of the children accorded him well with the "merry, kind smile" that was so characteristic of him. She ventured upon an inquiry as to his naval career, and Mr. Yates, who liked nothing better than to be talking either of himself or of those belonging to him, immediately entered upon a description of William's notable conduct at the battle of St. Domingo, and the extraordinary courage he had displayed in the taking of a French ship and in defending the colours of his own. Bingley's attention was caught, and Georgiana was grateful to him for asking questions to prolong the story, and for interpolating expressions of admiration which she felt but could not utter. The more she saw and heard of him, the more delighted she was with the young hero, for such he now appeared to be; and the more she commended Kitty's good sense in bestowing her devotion upon such a worthy object. She looked forward to further opportunities of hearing from Mr. Price's own lips the account of some of his adventures; but recollecting that if events took the much-desired course there would be plenty of such opportunities, she decided that it would be best to employ the remainder of the time which she might spend in his company that evening by discoursing of Kitty, in the hope of gaining some assurance of the strength of his inclinations. He knew her to be Kitty's friend, and the subject of Kitty would naturally become the chief bond between them when they came to know each other a little better. Shortly after supper, William Price claimed her hand for a second time; and at the first interval in the dance long enough for any connected conversation, Georgiana began: "Who is that dancing with Miss Bennet? Do you know, Mr. Price?" "It is a Mr. Churchill, a great friend of the Knightleys. I believe he is rather agreeable, but Miss Bennet tells me she does not like him," replied William Price, laughing. "Why should she not like him, I wonder?" asked Georgiana. "Oh, I hardly know. Just a fancy, I think. He and I had a great set-to here one day--an argument, I mean; and I was fairly worsted--it was about foxhunting, so perhaps I deserved to be; but Miss Bennet very kindly took my side, and was quite vexed with Mr. Churchill when he retired with the honours of war." "Kitty is so loyal to her friends," said Georgiana. "Yes, she is a delightful girl, and Mrs. Knightley, too, is the kindest person imaginable. She has been so good to both my brother and myself, and I have never enjoyed my leave so much." "It must be a very pleasant house to stay in," said Georgiana. "Miss Bennet is very sorry to be going away, I know." "Yes, is it not a pity she has to go? And down to the depths of the country, too. I must not disparage it, Miss Darcy, for I am reminded that it is your home as well; but when people go so far off one is desperately afraid of not seeing them again. You are not leaving town with Miss Bennet, are you?" Georgiana was explaining their respective plans when the summons came for them to rejoin the set; but an interruption soon occurred in the shape of a slight accident. A lady dancing next to William Price, in turning sharply, trod upon her dress, with the result that she slipped and fell upon the polished floor with her foot twisted under her. The young lieutenant sprang forward, lifted her with skillful and gentle touch, and carried her, pale and suffering, to an adjoining room, where Mrs. Knightley and several friends hastened to her aid. A servant was sent for a surgeon, and William Price returned to Georgiana with the news that, pending his arrival, the lady was being treated for what appeared to be a severe sprain. "Poor thing!" said Georgiana, trembling. "I am so sorry for her. It must have caused intense pain. I was afraid she might have broken it." "No, it is bad enough, but fortunately it is not broken; I could perceive that," replied the young man. "You must not prognosticate such sad things, Miss Darcy; you see they very nearly come true." Georgiana looked into his face for enlightenment, then broke into a smile. "Oh, Mr. Price, you are unkind to assume that I was responsible for it. I only suggested a broken leg, and it was you who said it had been a reality in your case. How did it happen? Was it in action?" William led her to a seat, as the incident had unnerved her for more dancing, but could not be persuaded to give a narrative in the style of Mr. Yates; he only laughed and said that it had been about as glorious an affair as falling down in a ball-room. "One of our fellows had foolishly got himself into a very awkward place at the storming of a fort, and I was so stupid as to get in the way of a shower of falling rocks, one of which, when it reached me, decided to stay as close to me as it could; so I was severely reprimanded, and had to spend six weeks in hospital at the very busiest time." Georgiana listened with interest, certain that there was another version of the story which would show her companion up in a different light, and she inquired: "What did you say about examinations?" "Only that I had some books, and a good friend who helped me to the utmost of his power, so that while I was lying by I contrived to work up my subject enough to have scraped through." They talked for some time longer, until William had to go in search of his next partner, while Georgiana was carried off by her hostess, who placed her at a small table to drink coffee with herself and Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. The Gardiners were, of course, no strangers to Georgiana, and she showed the pleasure she felt in meeting them again. "Is it not kind of Mrs. Gardiner to have lent Kitty to me for so long, Miss Darcy?" said Mrs. Knightley. "I feel I can ill spare her now; I shall miss her after the happy time we have had together." Georgiana said what was proper, and Mrs. Gardiner added: "Perhaps she will be able to come to you another year." "Indeed, I hope so. I should like her to come any time; but another year, you know, she may not be so free; the claims of a house of her own may be paramount." "Certainly they may be; but it seems early to anticipate that," said Mrs. Gardiner. "Early? Oh, no, I do not think so. I shall not be at all surprised to be asked to help in buying Kitty's wedding clothes before Christmas," returned Mrs. Knightley, smiling mysteriously. Mrs. Gardiner expressed inquiring surprise, while Georgiana listened with interest for what Mrs. Knightley would say, regarding her as the chief authority in the affair, as far as it had gone. Her hostess proceeded: "It is quite between ourselves, you know, Mrs. Gardiner; I know I am perfectly safe in mentioning it, as you are Kitty's aunt and Miss Darcy her greatest friend; and you can imagine whether it is a pleasure to me to find that two young people in whom I am interested are so much interested in each other." "Undoubtedly," said Mrs. Gardiner; "but pray enlighten me, Mrs. Knightley, as to who the other person is." "You have met him to-night, Mrs. Gardiner, the young naval officer, Mr. Price, whom I introduced to you." Mrs. Gardiner was very anxious to learn more particulars, and Mrs. Knightley gave her full information as to William Price's career and prospects, while as to Kitty, she affirmed she had every reason to believe that both were equally attracted, and that an engagement would shortly be formed between them, subject to the approval of their friends. Mrs. Gardiner agreed that it was very good news if the young man was all Mrs. Knightley believed him, and remarked what a delight it would be to her sister, Mrs. Bennet, who had always wanted Kitty to be settled. "Mr. Price _is_ all we think him, I can assure you; Mr. Knightley will answer for him. But, pray, do not mention a word of this to anyone; let it not go beyond us four; I am most desirous that the affair should pass to its easy and natural conclusion." "I quite understand that, and of course we shall wait until Kitty tells us," said her aunt. "What do you think of it all, Miss Darcy? Has Kitty mentioned the matter to you?" Georgiana replied that she had, and on further questioning owned that she felt sure that if what Mrs. Knightley expected came to pass, it would make Kitty very happy. Mrs. Knightley called upon her to join in commendations of the young man, and this she could sincerely do; and she rose from the table feeling as if everything were settled, and it only remained to congratulate the two persons most concerned. A minute later she met Kitty, flying in search of her. Kitty seized her friend's hand and drew her into a quiet corner of Mrs. Knightley's morning-room, where the two girls could seat themselves on a sofa partly hidden by a screen and be quite secluded. "I wanted so much to see you before I went, Georgiana," began Kitty in an excited undertone. "I thought I should never get to you, and this is my last chance, as we start so early on Friday. Now do tell me what you think of him. You can judge now, cannot you? Is he not delightful? Is he not handsome, and a noble creature? Is he not all I said?" "Yes, indeed, dear Kitty, he is," responded Georgiana, with tender sympathy. "I can quite understand your feelings. I am sure anyone would be very proud to have gained the affection of such a man." "Oh, I am so glad to hear you say so. Do you think I have gained it? Sometimes I think so; sometimes I am not sure. Mrs. Knightley thinks I have." "I know she does; I have heard her say so, and she would not mislead you, Kitty, I am sure. She cares so much for your welfare." "Yes, indeed, she has been very kind. I cannot tell you what I should have done without her. She has done everything, she thinks of everything. To-night, when she was arranging the supper partners, I was standing near him, but not very near, and he had not asked me; I suppose he was waiting to see if he might, as we had already danced together a great deal, and she looked up from her list and said: 'And Mr. Price, I do not think I have put anyone down for you: will you take Miss Bennet?' in that kind way, not to make me feel uncomfortable, as if it had been planned. So he came and offered me his arm with such an air! And, after all, we did not talk much at supper; I was too happy, but when I asked him if he liked my dress, he paid me such an elegant compliment on it--something about a rose." "He is a most agreeable companion," said Georgiana. "I should never tire of hearing him converse. The marvellous adventures he has had! It is like a glimpse of a new world to meet a person who has actually been through those things, and who describes them with such modesty and simplicity. Such a man seldom comes into our quiet lives." "Oh, but they are so horrible, it quite frightens me to hear about them; if I were married to him I would never let him go to sea again, for fear of his coming back without an arm, or a leg, or an eye." "But it is his profession, Kitty." "I know, but it is a horrid profession, the only thing about him that I don't like, except for the uniform, and a man in a black coat looks positively nothing beside him." "Oh, Kitty, as if the uniform mattered! Do not let me hear you talk so foolishly," said Georgiana, really pained. "Well, perhaps it is foolish, but it does make a difference, you know. Bingley has been teasing me half the evening about a young man that he says they have got for me down in the country, whom I shall be sure to like, the Rector of Kympton, I believe. As if I could possibly look at a clergyman after knowing William Price." "Perhaps it is not fair to compare two such different types of men, but Mr. Morland is very nice, Kitty; I am sure you will think so." "I am sure I shall not; I don't want to see him: how can I think anyone nice when I am away from here? Oh, if I could only see Price once more, just once more, to make sure; but as he says, how can one ever see anybody down in the wilds of Derbyshire?" "Kitty, here is the music beginning again, and we shall be asked for," said Georgiana, standing up. "Do not be unhappy or over-anxious about this, and do not show too much what you feel, for I am sure it will all come out right if you have patience." "Do you really think it is so? That is such a comfort; but I wish he had spoken to-night. Mrs. Knightley thought he would." "Dear Kitty, whenever it comes, I wish you all the happiness in the world; write to me very fully, and, as I said, have patience and self-command. Now we really ought to go." Kitty pressed her friend's hand, and Georgiana tried to calm her as they walked back to the ball-room, by talking on indifferent topics, for she feared the girl's burning cheeks and nervous manner would betray her agitation and its cause. Miss Bingley met them as they entered the room, and asked Georgiana if she was ready to go, as Mrs. Hurst seemed inclined for it. "Yes, I am quite ready," said Georgiana. "I think I am engaged to Mr. Bingley for another dance, but he will not mind missing it." "Charles is over there, talking to Mr. Price, but I have told him we want to go, so he will be expecting us," said Miss Bingley, and led the way across the room, Kitty not unnaturally following. Mr. Bingley welcomed them warmly, calling out: "Here, Kitty, come and add your entreaties to mine. I want this young gentleman to come down to Desborough and shoot our pheasants in November, but he is not sure if he can manage it; I never heard such nonsense. If anyone is entitled to ask for leave when he wants it, I should think he is." Kitty was rendered perfectly incapable of speech for the first moment after hearing these words; never had a wish been so suddenly and gloriously placed in the way of accomplishment; but she found an unexpected ally in Miss Bingley, who supported her brother's invitation, having, like him, been attracted by the young lieutenant's agreeable demeanour and high reputation. William Price stood still, looking diffidently from one to another, and expressing in disjointed sentences his gratitude, his uncertainty, and his extreme pleasure should he be able to accept. Mr. Bingley exerted all his powers of persuasion, and Kitty's bright eyes shot glances not less eloquent. Georgiana turned a little away, feeling suddenly very tired and spiritless, and Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, who came up at that moment, remarked on it. "Georgiana tired?" exclaimed Bingley; "then let us go at once. You are not used to these late hours, and I don't know what Mrs. Darcy will say to me if I take them a poor account of you. We are all neighbours in the country, you know, Mr. Price. Then that is settled? You will come to us if you can possibly get away, and I hope nothing will prevent it. You do not expect to receive the command of the Mediterranean squadron, do you?" "No, sir," replied William, laughing, "neither that nor any other command this year, I am afraid." "Well, well, I wish you luck. Shall I see you again before I leave town?" William was beginning to reply negatively, when Miss Bingley, who was leading the whole party towards the cloak-room, turned and asked Mr. Price if he would not come and see them some time in Grosvenor Street. She called on her sister to ratify the invitation, which Mrs. Hurst did, and it was courteously accepted. There followed a confusion of good-byes and a getting of cloaks, and the three ladies were placed in the coach while the two gentlemen prepared to walk. Georgiana had warmly embraced Kitty at parting, and had intimated that she knew how much the arrangement by Bingley meant to her friend; and her last impression of Mrs. Knightley's ball was of William Price waving farewell in the doorway and then ascending the steps to where Kitty awaited him in the vestibule. Chapter X Colonel Fitzwilliam had come to London because he thought it was the place where he would be most likely to meet Miss Crawford again, and he had taken up literary work merely to pass away the time until that longed-for event should occur. Two months had elapsed before he heard of her arrival, with her sister, but it was not many days after that he contrived to be present at the house of a mutual friend, where he knew her to be expected. Her manner of greeting him on this occasion was not free from embarrassment; it was neither cordial nor unfriendly, and so brief was the encounter that he could discover but little from it of the state of her mind towards him. Another casual meeting seemed to promise more hopefully, but hardly had they exchanged a few sentences when the appearance of Sir Walter and Miss Elliot turned the conversation into channels more congenial to the new-comers, and Colonel Fitzwilliam was forced to stand aside and see Miss Crawford taken possession of without any semblance of unwillingness on her part. He then devoted himself to Mrs. Grant, and tried to propose an expedition, a theatre party, but that lady hesitatingly replied that she could arrange nothing without her sister. Colonel Fitzwilliam applied for permission to call, which was readily accorded, but on availing himself of it the following day only learned that the ladies were gone to Richmond with a party. The manservant obliged him, unasked, with the information that it was Mr. Crawford's party, and the Colonel was left to speculate gloomily on the chances of Sir Walter Elliot being one of the number, and what was of greater import whether, if it was so, it was with Miss Crawford's approval. He had gone to call on the Hursts after leaving Mrs. Grant's house, and had not again seen the object of his thoughts and hopes, when, a few days later, he directed his steps towards Mrs. Annesley's residence in Hans Place. He could scarcely believe it was but three months since the severance of his engagement with Georgiana, it seemed to have retreated so far into the background of events, but he had pondered earnestly over their interview in Grosvenor Street, and from her demeanour had concluded that his presence was not objectionable to her, so that any further meeting might help to re-establish their old cousinly relations, a result which their friends would rejoice in. It was therefore with a tolerably easy mind that was ushered into the presence of the two ladies, and found Georgiana in great good looks and far less shy and confused than on the previous occasion; indeed, in a few moments any awkwardness between them seemed to have quite melted away, and she was readily answering his questions about Mrs. Knightley's ball. "It certainly seems to have been a great success, for I never knew you so enthusiastic about a ball before, Georgiana," said her cousin, smiling. "It was better than the Bath assemblies, I gather?" "Oh--Bath!" exclaimed Georgiana, with a note of contempt in her voice which spoke volumes. "You laugh at me, Cousin Robert, but it was a beautiful ball. Even Mr. Bingley said so, and he must have been to a great number." "Hundreds, if not thousands, I should think," returned her cousin. "Bingley's shoemaker must have made a fortune. But who were the partners who contributed to such enjoyment? for they are usually the really important part. Two Mr. Prices you have mentioned, Captain Carter and Mr. Dixon; who else?" "Oh, I forget who else; Mr. Hurst and Mr. Bingley, of course, and Mr. Knightley, but he was very grave and terrible, I was almost too frightened to move, and Mr. Gardiner, and then there was Mr. Yates, but I did not dance with him. Do you remember him, Cousin Robert? he said he knew you at Bath." Georgiana had been so disagreeably struck by Mr. Yates's way of speaking of her relatives whom he had met, that she had not intended to mention it to Colonel Fitzwilliam, but the rest of his talk had eradicated his first impression, and she had unguardedly given utterance to his name. Fruitless regret and vexation overcame her when, glancing up at her cousin, she perceived his countenance darken, and noted the change in his voice as he replied, with an effort: "Yes, we did meet in Bath, but not in the pleasantest of circumstances. Mr. Yates may be a more agreeable man away from the companions he then had." "I do not think he was particularly agreeable," said Georgiana, falteringly, "but I thought--he appeared to me to be an interesting talker." "Yes, that is quite his line; if Yates can do nothing else he can certainly use his tongue," replied Colonel Fitzwilliam, not without bitterness. "But do not let us concern ourselves with him, Georgiana; what about the walk in Kensington Gardens that we had thought of? Will Mrs. Annesley very kindly let me escort you both there this delightfully fine morning?" Mrs. Annesley willingly acceded, and the two ladies having attired themselves, a hackney coach was called, which conveyed them a mile on their way towards Kensington Place. Georgiana was somewhat silent during the drive. She did not wish to speculate on her cousin's private affairs, but having been the innocent cause of recalling painful thoughts to him inevitably produced the wish to atone, to help; and she found herself wondering, while trying not to wonder, what could possibly be the connection between Mr. Yates, Cousin Robert and a lady in Bath now said to be in London. To be sure, it was none of her business, she had no right to wish to know, and yet

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How many times the word 'only' appears in the text?

what. SHE'S CRYING. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Well, it's time to wrap up, folks -- A FIGURE appears at the passenger side window, which Annie doesn't notice. She's wiping the tears away with her hand. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) We hope you'll call again soon. The figure TAPS on the window -- WALTER (muffled, outside car) Annie? DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) ... and let us know how it's going. -- and taps again. WALTER Annie? She turns. He's pointing at the locked door. She searches for the button. Finally finds it so that Walter can open the door. ANNIE I'm sorry, Walter. I just heard the most amazing thing on the radio. They start toward the front door, Walter and Annie carrying presents, an overnight bag of Annie's. ANNIE People call up these shows and you can't believe the stuff they say. It's the end of privacy as we know it, this country is just one big global village with everyone out there going blah blah blah -- As they enter the house, we hear Silent Night and we see a Christmas tree, glittering with lights. CUT TO: A CHRISTMAS TREE GLITTERING WITH LIGHTS as we pull back to reveal: INT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY MORNING As Jonah opens his presents under the tree and we cut from gift to gift: A BROOKS ROBINSON BASEBALL GLOVE which Jonah loves and which he puts on his hand and keeps on while continuing to open: A TIE which mystifies him, but he hangs it around his neck. A PLAID SHIRT A MAP OF THE UNITED STATES -- the kind that's used in schoolrooms that pulls down from a roller. And now Sam brings out a long narrow present from behind the door and Jonah opens -- A NEW FISHING ROD EXT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY As Jonah poses with all his Christmas presents -- his tie hanging around his neck over his bathrobe and new plaid shirt, his baseball glove, fishing rod -- as Sam takes his picture. INT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY (OR POSSIBLY EXT. DECK HOUSEBOAT) Sam opens his present from Jonah, which is something he made in woodworking class. SAM The hopes are perfect -- beautiful, identical, smooth -- and they are for something really amazing I feel it in my bones -- JONAH It's a spice rack. SAM We desperately need a spice rack. Desperately. CUT TO: INT. KITCHEN OF HOUSEBOAT - DAY SAM And we desperately need spices. Where Sam is putting the spices they have -- pepper, salt, paprika and oregano -- into the spice rack, which has room for at least twenty more. Jonah is methodically making pancakes. JONAH Dad? About last night? SAM It's never happening again. Right? JONAH Right. There's a knock on the door. SAM Then it never happened. Sam goes to answer the door. TWO YOUNG WOMEN are standing there. Both are wearing quite a lot of Spandex. One of them is named LULU. It says so on her jacket. The other is JOBETH. SAM Hi. LULU Hi. Sam? SAM Yes? LULU (looking in and seeing Jonah) You must be Jonah. Jonah nods. LULU (to her friend) See. I told you. Sam and Jonah. I'm LULU. This is JoBeth. JoBeth nods, and continues to nod as Lulu talks. LULU (continues) We live two piers over, don't we? Number 12, right? We're having like a really neat open house today from like four to whenever if you care to stop by. SAM Thanks, but... we've got plans. LULU Well, here's the number. If you ever find yourself Sleepless, give us a call. We also... do babysitting. She winks. JoBeth nods. Sam nods. Lulu waves goodbye, and she and JoBeth sashay off down the dock. Jonah closes the door and turns to Sam. JONAH Not. SAM My feelings exactly. EXT. LAKE UNION MARINA - EARLY MORNING Jonah and Sam are fishing off a dingy. SAM How many people do you think heard that thing last night? JONAH It plays in 50 states. SAM What?! JONAH Nobody else is going to know it was us. SAM You're right. (after a beat) You better hope so. EXT. BALTIMORE SUN - MORNING INT. LIFESTYLE SECTION - DAY A large open newsroom-type space with REPORTERS at computers. Around the perimeter are glass-partitioned offices and meeting rooms. Inside one of the offices is BECKY, the Lifestyle editor of the Sun. She's at a table with Annie, now a reporter for the section, and two other colleagues -- KEITH and WYATT. Wyatt is playing Gameboy. KEITH This man sells the greatest soup you've ever eaten, there's a line around the block, and he is, I am not kidding, the meanest man in America. (beat) I feel strongly about this, Becky. This is not just about soup. BECKY Do it. What else? WYATT New Year's Eve. Please don't make me write it. Becky looks at Wyatt, notices the Gameboy. BECKY Wyatt, I do not mean to remind you of your mother, but if you don't put that game away, no TV for a week. WYATT (pushing it to the center of the table) Would someone look this up, don't tell me where. Becky is riffling through some papers on the table, among which are some tearsheets from the Associated Press wire. BECKY Listen to this. Phone service in the greater Chicago area was tied up for two hours Christmas Eve because some kid called a phone-in show to get a wife for his father. Two thousand women called in for the number. KEITH Jesus. ANNIE I heard it. This kid calls up and says my dad needs a wife and I'm talking to myself in the car saying, this is completely disgusting, you're taking advantage of a child, and then the father gets on and this shrinkette says, do you want to talk about it? And he says no as a matter of fact I don't, and I am saying, bravo! Right on! Don't talk to her, it's none of her business -- (she's completely into this story now) -- and then suddenly, for no reason at all, he's talking about how much he loved his wife, and how he just -- (she snaps her fingers) fell in love with her and I am crying. Me. A tear is actually rolling down my face. It was like what happens when I watch those phone company ads. I don't have to see the whole ad, I just have to see the part where the daughter gives her mother a refrigerator with a big red bow on it, have you seen that one? Everyone looks at her. Apparently she's finished. BECKY You should write something about this. ANNIE About what? BECKY Whatever it is. KEITH (waving the AP story) What it is is, there are a lot of desperate women out there looking for love. WYATT Especially over a certain age. Annie is looking at them. This isn't what she was talking about at all, although she isn't quite sure what she was talking about. KEITH It is easier to be killed by a terrorist after the age of 40 than it is to get married -- ANNIE That is not true. That statistic is not true. BECKY It's not true, but it feels true. ANNIE There's practically a whole book about how that statistic is not true -- WYATT Calm down. You brought it up -- ANNIE (sharply) I did not, Wyatt. A beat, everyone pauses. Things are a little out of hand. BECKY So where were we? WYATT New Year's Eve. I'll do it, okay? BECKY Okay. ANNIE If someone is a widower, why do they say he was widowed? Why don't they say he was widowered? Everyone looks at her strangely. ANNIE I was jus wondering. EXT. BALTIMORE STREET - DAY Annie walking purposefully, followed by Becky, hurrying to catch up. BECKY What was that about up there? ANNIE What was what? BECKY What's with you? ANNIE Nothing's with me. INT. BALTIMORE RESTAURANT - DAY Becky and Annie are having lunch. BECKY "Sleepless in Seattle"? ANNIE That's what she called him on the show. Because he can't sleep. BECKY And now 2,000 women want his number. The guy could be a crackhead, a psychopath, a flasher, a junkie, a transvestite, a chain-saw murderer, or someone really sick, like Rick. ANNIE Actually, he sounded nice. BECKY Oh? Oh, really? Now we're getting down to it. ANNIE Not. She reaches down for her purse. INT/EXT. REMODEL HOUSE - DAY A hand reaching down to pick something up -- the Seattle newspaper, and PULL BACK TO REVEAL: Sam carrying the paper down/up the stairs to an old house that's being renovated. Jonah, who is playing Cameboy, is walking along with him. WORKMEN are active everywhere. Dry wall going up, cabinets being installed, tile being set. One of Sam's partners, BOB LANGMAN, is walking with him, and JAY MATHEWS, the on-site supervisor, is waiting for them in an unfinished doorframe. Bob is hefty, older, always eating something dietetic. Jay is younger and always wears as little as possible, even in cold weather. BOB LANGMAN Now she wants a circular stairwell off the den. JAY (to Jonah, in b.g.) Punch me, punch in right here. (points to his stomach; Jonah punches) And she wants the Sub-Zero with the side-by-side doors -- BOB Which means -- SAM The cabinets have to be redone -- They all nod at each other. The woman has been a nightmare. BOB So we thought -- JAY Since you're on the make again -- Sam looks at Jonah -- SAM Great. This is great. The whole town knows. Just out of curiosity, how do you two know? BOB Grace heard it. SAM Grace the dispatcher. Great. BOB The point is, take the client out to dinner and ask her to marry you and then maybe we won't have to redo the kitchen cabinets. SAM Why me? What about Jay? JAY Hey, my plate is full. SAM Well, okay. What's the big deal? If she'll forget the new fireplace, I'll marry her. Just point me in the right direction. JONAH Dad, I don't know about this one -- SAM Oh, you're changing your mind -- JONAH No, I'm not, but -- SAM What's the matter with this one? Wouldn't you like to have Imelda Marcos as your mother? JONAH Dad -- Sam cuffs him good-naturedly. SAM We better take the measurements for the new cabinets. He walks away past some workmen, ladders, etc. and starts checking the cross-beams in the ceiling over in another area of the site. Bob follows after him. Jay tosses Jonah a hammer and they start knocking nails into the wall. BOB Sam, if you're not doing anything New Year's -- obviously you're not doing anything New Year's -- we're having some people over, all of them married, not one even remotely interested in playing around. Does that sound great or what? (whistfully) I can't think of the last time I was at a party when anything actually happened. SAM Thanks, but I'll pass. It's kind of a big night. I don't like to leave Jonah alone. CUT TO: SHOT OF HOUSEBOAT BEING TOWED BY A TUG DOWN THE RIVER (OR A SEAPLANE LANDING) - TWILIGHT EXT. HOUSEBOAT - TWILIGHT Jonah watching it. Sam visible in the distance in the kitchen. INT. KITCHEN - TWILIGHT As Sam is busy installing the spice rack. He marks the wall, hammers in the nails, etc. SAM (as he starts putting new spices into the rack, in alphabetical order) Does red pepper go under R or P? JONAH P. (beat) Dad? SAM (absently) What? JONAH I forgot to mention. Jed called -- SAM Just out of curiosity, do you have any friends whose names don't begin with a J? I feel like it was a failure of the imagination on our part naming you Jonah. (looking at the spices) What is marjoram? Does anyone know? JONAH Jed is having a slumber party New Year's Eve and he invited me. A beat. SAM Fine. Fine. JONAH So I can go. SAM Sure. (almost done with the spices) Looking good. JONAH Shouldn't you have used a toggle bolt? SAM I think I know how to have a spice rack. He puts in the last spice. They stand back to admire it. A beat. The rack falls off the wall. The rack itself doesn't break, but about six of the glass jars of spices break. There's paprika and thyme and currying powder, etc. all over the floor along with shards of glass. SAM God fucking dammit! Shit! Fuck. Piss. Jonah bursts into tears. SAM (still angry) I'm sorry. (softening) I'm sorry. He picks up Jonah and holds him. SAM I'm sorry. I'm just -- JONAH Stressed. SAM Right. I'm sorry, Jonah, I'm sorry. And he holds Jonah as Jonah calms down. Sam closes his eyes tight. INT. A TELEVISION SET OF NEW YEAR'S EVE ON TIMES SQUARE And pull back to reveal: INT. HOUSEBOAT - NIGHT Sam, alone, watching the ball drop. He's got a bag of Doritos and a beer. A VOICE Can I have half your beer? SAM Sure. It's Maggie. She takes his bottle of beer and pours half of it into a glass. MAGGIE What did I used to say? Here's looking at you? Here's mud in your eye? SAM Here's to us. You used to say here's to us. (he looks at her and his eyes well with tears) Oh babe. I miss you so much it hurts. He reaches out for her. She's gone. And we hear the television set now counting down to midnight in New York. CUT TO: INT. NEW YEAR'S EVE PARTY IN BALTIMORE - NIGHT The same television show counting down to midnight. Champagne corks popping, etc. And we see Walter and Annie. WALTER Happy New Year, darling. ANNIE Happy New Year. They start to dance. WALTER I was thinking, I have to go up to Boston for the AAP convention and then visit Winston-Hughes about switching over our computers. Why don't we meet in New York for Valentine's Day weekend? ANNIE Walter, I'd love to -- WALTER We'll stay at the Plaza -- ANNIE Go for a walk in Central Park -- WALTER Go to the Symphony -- A beat. ANNIE We will? (beat) The Symphony? (beat) Okay. (beat) I'll take you to the Russian Tea Room for pelmeni. WALTER What is it? ANNIE It's delicious, trust me. WALTER Does it have wheat in it? ANNIE I don't think so. They go on dancing. It's one of those parties where everyone looks so happy and so in love. Annie, however, looks thoughtful. ET. MARINA PARKING AREA - DAY Sam gets out of his car and starts down the dock toward his houseboat. He's carrying a bag of groceries. In the parking lot is a U.S. MAIL TRUCK. EXT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY Sam approaches his boat and a puzzled look comes over his face. A MAILMAN with a sack of mail is standing outside the front door of the houseboat. Jonah is signing a receipt for the mail. JONAH Look at this, Dad. They're all for you -- Sam picks up an envelop and looks at it. It's addressed to Sleepless in Seattle c/o Dr. Marcia Fieldstone, Radio Station KWRS in Chicago. He's stunned. As he signs the receipt: MAILMAN If you're having trouble sleeping, you might want to try drinking a glass of water from the other side. JONAH I thought that was for hiccups. MAILMAN Does it work for hiccups? JONAH For hiccups, a spoonful of sugar, you hold it in your mouth for a minute. MAILMAN Really? The mailman starts back toward the mail truck. Sam and Jonah start toward the door. INT. HOUSEBOAT - NIGHT Sam is in the kitchen making dinner. Jonah is sitting at the table, reading the letters from the stack they found by the door. SAM Just out of curiosity, how did they get our address? JONAH They called and asked for it. (reading) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle. You are the most attractive man I've ever laid ears on." Jonah rolls his eyes, tosses the letter into a pile of rejects, opens another. SAM How did they get our phone number? JONAH You have to give them your phone number or they won't let you go on the air. Sam nods as if this makes perfect sense. JONAH (continues, reading) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle: I am an SWF"-- (to Sam) What is that? SAM Thank God. Something you don't know. It's a single white female. JONAH This is no good. She's looking for someone French. Or Greek. (puzzled, he throws the letter into the reject pile, opens another) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle: I live in Tulsa." Where is that? -- SAM Oklahoma. Do you know where that is? JONAH Somewhere in the middle. SAM I'm not going to think about what they're not teaching you in school. I am not going to think about it. (beat) Generally speaking I think we should rule out people who don't live somewhere near here -- JONAH She's willing to fly anywhere. As Jonah hands Sam the picture. SAM She looks like my third grade teacher. I hated my third grade teacher. Hold it! Wait a minute! She is my third grade teacher! JONAH Dad, you're not taking this seriously. SAM This is not how you do it. (referring to the hamburger) You want this on an English muffin or a bun? JONAH English muffin. How do you do it? SAM You see someone you like, you get a feeling about them, you ask them if they want to have a drink or -- JONAH -- a slice of pizza -- SAM But not dinner necessarily on the first date because by the time you're halfway through dinner you might be sorry you asked them to dinner whereas if it's just a drink, if you like them you can always ask them for dinner but if you don't you can go home if you see what I mean. (beat) I wonder if it still works this way. JONAH It doesn't. They ask you. SAM I'm starting to notice that. INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie and Walter are making love. JONAH (V.O.) If you get a new wife, I guess you'll have sex with her, huh? SAM (V.O.) What do you think? JONAH (V.O.) Will she scratch up your back? SAM (V.O.) What? JONAH'S BEDROOM - NIGHT As Sam puts Jonah to sleep. Jonah is holding his teddy bear while this conversation concludes. JONAH In the movies women are always scratching up guy's back and screaming and stuff. When they're having sex. SAM Whose show was this on? JONAH Jed's got cables. SAM Go to sleep. He kisses him good-night. JONAH Kiss Howard. (he holds out the teddy bear) G'night, Howard. INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie and Walter have just finished making love. Walter falling asleep. Annie lying in bed, with her eyes open. She starts to get out of bed. Puts on a robe. INT. STAIRWAY - HOUSE As Annie comes downstairs in a bathrobe. She opens the door to the street. EXT. STREET - NIGHT As Annie starts to run down the street. CLOSEUP OF: ANNIE, RUNNING And now we widen out to see a misty highway she's running down. Past a sign saying: Seattle Approximately 3,000 miles. Past another sign: Your nerves are shot. And another: Your feet are cold. And another: Will you find love. And another: Before you're cold? And another: Burma Shave. And Annie continues to run, and now we see she's running across a map of the United States -- it's a little like the one we saw in the beginning of the movie -- it's like the famous map of the United States by Saul Steinberg, but instead of being about New York, this one is about Seattle. In the distance, at the very edge of the map, we see two indistinct figures -- a map and a young boy. They start to wave at her, very slowly. Annie's eyes widen. CUT TO: INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie in bed, eyes open. Walter fast asleep. She gets out of bed, puts on her robe (just as she did in the dream sequence). INT. STAIRWELL - NIGHT As Annie comes down the stairs. INT. KITCHEN - HOUSE She turns the light on. Opens the refrigerator. Closes it. Opens it again. Takes out some milk. Sits down at the kitchen table with a bowl, corn flakes, banana. She's about to assemble it when: She sees: THE RADIO She stands up, turns it on to the station Dr. Marcia Fieldstone is on. She sits back down with her corn flakes. ANNOUNCER (V.O.) Up next, "You and Your Emotions" with Dr. Marcia Fieldstone, clinical psychologist and the best friend you never had. (the teaser continues) WOMAN'S VOICE (V.O.) He says he doesn't love me any more. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why do you want to be with someone who doesn't love you? ANOTHER WOMAN (V.O.) Every time I come close to orgasm he stops and goes to make himself a sandwich -- DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why don't you make him a sandwich beforehand? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) When I met my wife, it was so clear. I jus knew. Annie starts at hearing Sam's voice. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) What was it that made you know? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) I don't think I could really describe it. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why not? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) And if I could describe it, it probably wouldn't be on a radio show. (he laughs to himself) But what the hell. It's not one specific thing. It's more of a feeling. (continuing) You touch her for the first time, and suddenly... you're home. It's almost like... magic. Annie closes her eyes. ANNOUNCER (V.O.) We'll be back after this commercial with Dr. Marcia Fieldstone. EXT. BALTIMORE - PEABODY LIBRARY - DAY We see Annie's car pull into a parking space outside the Peabody Library. Annie gets out of the car. INT. LIBRARY - DAY As Annie strides purposefully across the library and enters: INT. ANNIE'S BROTHER TOM'S OFFICE - DAY Annie bursts into Tom's office and walks over to his desk. We barely has time to look up. ANNIE I think I'm going crazy, Tom. I really do. Are you happily married? TOM (completely panicked by the question) What? ANNIE I mean, why did you get married? Was it all fireworks and trumpets and -- TOM (regaining composure) I got married because Betsy said we had to break up or get married. So we get married. ANNIE But when you met her, did you believe she was the only person for you? That in some mystical, cosmic way, it was fated? TOM Annie, when you meet someone and you're attracted to them, it just means that your subconscious is attracted to their subconscious, subconsciously. So what we think of as chemistry is just two neuroses knowing that they are a perfect match. ANNIE I don't even know him. But I'm having all these fantasies about a man I've never met, who lives in Seattle. TOM It rains nine months of the year in Seattle. ANNIE I know, I know. I do not want to move to Seattle. But what I really don't want to do is end up always wondering what might have happened and knowing I could have done something. What do you think? (Tom opens his mouth to say something, but before anything comes out, Annie fills the void) It's just cold feet, isn't it? Everyone panics before they get married, didn't you? TOM Yes, I did. ANNIE Thank you, Tom. I feel so much better just having blown this off. TOM Any time. INT. PEABODY LIBRARY - DAY As Annie walks through it and pushes the door to exit. EXT. A DOOR OPENING TO SEATTLE STREET - DAY Sam and Jay walk out of the Arctic Building onto the street. JAY Sandy has a girlfriend, Clenda ... She's a weightlifter, but it's not like her neck is bigger than her head or anything -- SAM I'm not asking you to set me up, Jay. That's not what I need your help for. I want to know what it's like over there. JAY And that's what I'm trying to tell you. What women are looking over, okay? Pecs and a cute butt. SAM You mean, like, "He has the cutest butt"? Where did I hear that recently? JAY Everywhere. You can't even turn on the news without hearing about how some babe thought some guy's butt was cute. Who the first babe to say this was I don't know, but it caught on. INT. SEATTLE RESTAURANT - DAY Sam and Jay at the counter. Out the window, we can see water. JAY When's the latest time you were out there? SAM (trying to remember) Seventy... eight. JAY Well. Things are different. First, you have to be friends. You have to like each other. Then you neck. This can go on for years. Then you have tests. Then you get to do it with a condom. (beat) The good news is, split the check. SAM I don't think it could let a woman pay for dinner. JAY Great. They'll have a parade in your honor. You'll be Man of the Year in Seattle Magazine. Tira misu. SAM What's tira misu? JAY You'll find out. SAM What is it? JAY You'll see. SAM Some woman is going to want me to do it to her and I'm not going to know what it is. JAY You'll like it. SAM (grimly) This is going to be tougher than I thought. EXT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY EVENING Sam coming home. INT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY EVENING As he enters. It's very quiet. Too quiet. SAM Jonah? No answers. SAM Jonah? He starts to look concerned. SAM Jonah? He goes down the hall to Jonah's room. The door is shut. He opens it. Jonah is sitting on his bed listening to a tape. Earphones on. Next to him is a young girl named JESSICA. SAM Jonah? Jonah takes off the earphones. JONAH Hi, Dad. Dad, this is Jessica. SAM It's nice to meet you, Jessica. JONAH Dad, this is amazing. If you play this backwards, it says "Paul is dead." SAM I know. JONAH How do you know? Sam shrugs, turns to go back down the hall. JONAH Dad, could you close the door? JESSICA H and G. (Sam looks back) Hi and goodbye. Sam closes the door to Jonah's room. Hold on Sam. SAM (to himself) Get a life. INT. HOUSEBOAT - CONTINUOUS As Sam comes downstairs, goes into his office. Closes the door. INT. SAM'S OFFICE AT HOME - CONTINUOUS He goes to the phone. Looks up a number in the phone book. Picks up the phone and dials a number. SAM Hi, Victoria?... It's Sam Baldwin, I don't know if you remember me. Oh? Well, great. I was wondering if you wanted to have a drink... Friday, say... Dinner?... Sure, dinner would be fine. Sure. Dinner. INT. AN UNFINISHED DINNER ON A PLATE IN ANNIE'S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT Annie is watching "An Affair to Remember" on television, tears pouring down her face. Cary Grant is saying: "Are you in love with him?" Deborah Kerr replies: "I'm not now." She's sitting at the dining room table. A dozen pieces of paper litter the table. Annie's been unsuccessfully typing a letter on an old Underwood typewriter. ANNIE Now those were the days when people knew how to be in love. She takes a blast from the wine glass to her right. Becky leans in, refilling the glass. Annie begins to type and sob and look at the TV. BECKY You're a basket case. ANNIE (as she types) They knew it. Time, distance, nothing could separate them. Because they knew. It was right. It was real. It was... BECKY ... movie. (beat) That's your problem. You don't want to be in love. You want to be in love in a movie. (beat) Read it to me. ANNIE (reading her letter) "Dear Sleepless and Son..." BECKY It sounds like the name of a mattress store -- ANNIE "I am not the sort of person who listens to call-in radio shows" -- Becky flops on the couch. BECKY And this woman is a writer! That's what everyone writes at the beginning of letters to strangers. ANNIE I know that. You think I don't know that? "I know that's a dumb way to begin, but it's the only way I can think of to convey what happened to me the other night when I heard the two of you on the radio. On the other hand, maybe I'm just losing my mind." BECKY You are. You're losing your mind. What about Walter? ANNIE I'm going to marry Walter. I just have to get this out of my system. BECKY Right. ANNIE I should say something in this about magic. BECKY What? ANNIE I don't know. I mean, what if I never meet him? What if this man is my destiny and I never meet him? BECKY Your destiny can be your doom. Look at me and Rick. ANNIE (typing some more) "I want to meet you..." Cary Grant says: "How about the top of the Empire State Building?" BECKY "On top of the Empire State Building at sunset on Valentine's Day." ANNIE Good. Perfect. I'll be in New York with Walter, I can squeeze it in. She types in Becky's idea. Then she takes the piece of paper out of the typewriter, smashes it into a ball and tosses it up in the air and into Becky's lap. BECKY You want to hear about destiny? If my husband hadn't gone on a diet, which caused me to leave him, I would never have been on that flight to

gameboy

How many times the word 'gameboy' appears in the text?

what. SHE'S CRYING. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Well, it's time to wrap up, folks -- A FIGURE appears at the passenger side window, which Annie doesn't notice. She's wiping the tears away with her hand. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) We hope you'll call again soon. The figure TAPS on the window -- WALTER (muffled, outside car) Annie? DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) ... and let us know how it's going. -- and taps again. WALTER Annie? She turns. He's pointing at the locked door. She searches for the button. Finally finds it so that Walter can open the door. ANNIE I'm sorry, Walter. I just heard the most amazing thing on the radio. They start toward the front door, Walter and Annie carrying presents, an overnight bag of Annie's. ANNIE People call up these shows and you can't believe the stuff they say. It's the end of privacy as we know it, this country is just one big global village with everyone out there going blah blah blah -- As they enter the house, we hear Silent Night and we see a Christmas tree, glittering with lights. CUT TO: A CHRISTMAS TREE GLITTERING WITH LIGHTS as we pull back to reveal: INT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY MORNING As Jonah opens his presents under the tree and we cut from gift to gift: A BROOKS ROBINSON BASEBALL GLOVE which Jonah loves and which he puts on his hand and keeps on while continuing to open: A TIE which mystifies him, but he hangs it around his neck. A PLAID SHIRT A MAP OF THE UNITED STATES -- the kind that's used in schoolrooms that pulls down from a roller. And now Sam brings out a long narrow present from behind the door and Jonah opens -- A NEW FISHING ROD EXT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY As Jonah poses with all his Christmas presents -- his tie hanging around his neck over his bathrobe and new plaid shirt, his baseball glove, fishing rod -- as Sam takes his picture. INT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY (OR POSSIBLY EXT. DECK HOUSEBOAT) Sam opens his present from Jonah, which is something he made in woodworking class. SAM The hopes are perfect -- beautiful, identical, smooth -- and they are for something really amazing I feel it in my bones -- JONAH It's a spice rack. SAM We desperately need a spice rack. Desperately. CUT TO: INT. KITCHEN OF HOUSEBOAT - DAY SAM And we desperately need spices. Where Sam is putting the spices they have -- pepper, salt, paprika and oregano -- into the spice rack, which has room for at least twenty more. Jonah is methodically making pancakes. JONAH Dad? About last night? SAM It's never happening again. Right? JONAH Right. There's a knock on the door. SAM Then it never happened. Sam goes to answer the door. TWO YOUNG WOMEN are standing there. Both are wearing quite a lot of Spandex. One of them is named LULU. It says so on her jacket. The other is JOBETH. SAM Hi. LULU Hi. Sam? SAM Yes? LULU (looking in and seeing Jonah) You must be Jonah. Jonah nods. LULU (to her friend) See. I told you. Sam and Jonah. I'm LULU. This is JoBeth. JoBeth nods, and continues to nod as Lulu talks. LULU (continues) We live two piers over, don't we? Number 12, right? We're having like a really neat open house today from like four to whenever if you care to stop by. SAM Thanks, but... we've got plans. LULU Well, here's the number. If you ever find yourself Sleepless, give us a call. We also... do babysitting. She winks. JoBeth nods. Sam nods. Lulu waves goodbye, and she and JoBeth sashay off down the dock. Jonah closes the door and turns to Sam. JONAH Not. SAM My feelings exactly. EXT. LAKE UNION MARINA - EARLY MORNING Jonah and Sam are fishing off a dingy. SAM How many people do you think heard that thing last night? JONAH It plays in 50 states. SAM What?! JONAH Nobody else is going to know it was us. SAM You're right. (after a beat) You better hope so. EXT. BALTIMORE SUN - MORNING INT. LIFESTYLE SECTION - DAY A large open newsroom-type space with REPORTERS at computers. Around the perimeter are glass-partitioned offices and meeting rooms. Inside one of the offices is BECKY, the Lifestyle editor of the Sun. She's at a table with Annie, now a reporter for the section, and two other colleagues -- KEITH and WYATT. Wyatt is playing Gameboy. KEITH This man sells the greatest soup you've ever eaten, there's a line around the block, and he is, I am not kidding, the meanest man in America. (beat) I feel strongly about this, Becky. This is not just about soup. BECKY Do it. What else? WYATT New Year's Eve. Please don't make me write it. Becky looks at Wyatt, notices the Gameboy. BECKY Wyatt, I do not mean to remind you of your mother, but if you don't put that game away, no TV for a week. WYATT (pushing it to the center of the table) Would someone look this up, don't tell me where. Becky is riffling through some papers on the table, among which are some tearsheets from the Associated Press wire. BECKY Listen to this. Phone service in the greater Chicago area was tied up for two hours Christmas Eve because some kid called a phone-in show to get a wife for his father. Two thousand women called in for the number. KEITH Jesus. ANNIE I heard it. This kid calls up and says my dad needs a wife and I'm talking to myself in the car saying, this is completely disgusting, you're taking advantage of a child, and then the father gets on and this shrinkette says, do you want to talk about it? And he says no as a matter of fact I don't, and I am saying, bravo! Right on! Don't talk to her, it's none of her business -- (she's completely into this story now) -- and then suddenly, for no reason at all, he's talking about how much he loved his wife, and how he just -- (she snaps her fingers) fell in love with her and I am crying. Me. A tear is actually rolling down my face. It was like what happens when I watch those phone company ads. I don't have to see the whole ad, I just have to see the part where the daughter gives her mother a refrigerator with a big red bow on it, have you seen that one? Everyone looks at her. Apparently she's finished. BECKY You should write something about this. ANNIE About what? BECKY Whatever it is. KEITH (waving the AP story) What it is is, there are a lot of desperate women out there looking for love. WYATT Especially over a certain age. Annie is looking at them. This isn't what she was talking about at all, although she isn't quite sure what she was talking about. KEITH It is easier to be killed by a terrorist after the age of 40 than it is to get married -- ANNIE That is not true. That statistic is not true. BECKY It's not true, but it feels true. ANNIE There's practically a whole book about how that statistic is not true -- WYATT Calm down. You brought it up -- ANNIE (sharply) I did not, Wyatt. A beat, everyone pauses. Things are a little out of hand. BECKY So where were we? WYATT New Year's Eve. I'll do it, okay? BECKY Okay. ANNIE If someone is a widower, why do they say he was widowed? Why don't they say he was widowered? Everyone looks at her strangely. ANNIE I was jus wondering. EXT. BALTIMORE STREET - DAY Annie walking purposefully, followed by Becky, hurrying to catch up. BECKY What was that about up there? ANNIE What was what? BECKY What's with you? ANNIE Nothing's with me. INT. BALTIMORE RESTAURANT - DAY Becky and Annie are having lunch. BECKY "Sleepless in Seattle"? ANNIE That's what she called him on the show. Because he can't sleep. BECKY And now 2,000 women want his number. The guy could be a crackhead, a psychopath, a flasher, a junkie, a transvestite, a chain-saw murderer, or someone really sick, like Rick. ANNIE Actually, he sounded nice. BECKY Oh? Oh, really? Now we're getting down to it. ANNIE Not. She reaches down for her purse. INT/EXT. REMODEL HOUSE - DAY A hand reaching down to pick something up -- the Seattle newspaper, and PULL BACK TO REVEAL: Sam carrying the paper down/up the stairs to an old house that's being renovated. Jonah, who is playing Cameboy, is walking along with him. WORKMEN are active everywhere. Dry wall going up, cabinets being installed, tile being set. One of Sam's partners, BOB LANGMAN, is walking with him, and JAY MATHEWS, the on-site supervisor, is waiting for them in an unfinished doorframe. Bob is hefty, older, always eating something dietetic. Jay is younger and always wears as little as possible, even in cold weather. BOB LANGMAN Now she wants a circular stairwell off the den. JAY (to Jonah, in b.g.) Punch me, punch in right here. (points to his stomach; Jonah punches) And she wants the Sub-Zero with the side-by-side doors -- BOB Which means -- SAM The cabinets have to be redone -- They all nod at each other. The woman has been a nightmare. BOB So we thought -- JAY Since you're on the make again -- Sam looks at Jonah -- SAM Great. This is great. The whole town knows. Just out of curiosity, how do you two know? BOB Grace heard it. SAM Grace the dispatcher. Great. BOB The point is, take the client out to dinner and ask her to marry you and then maybe we won't have to redo the kitchen cabinets. SAM Why me? What about Jay? JAY Hey, my plate is full. SAM Well, okay. What's the big deal? If she'll forget the new fireplace, I'll marry her. Just point me in the right direction. JONAH Dad, I don't know about this one -- SAM Oh, you're changing your mind -- JONAH No, I'm not, but -- SAM What's the matter with this one? Wouldn't you like to have Imelda Marcos as your mother? JONAH Dad -- Sam cuffs him good-naturedly. SAM We better take the measurements for the new cabinets. He walks away past some workmen, ladders, etc. and starts checking the cross-beams in the ceiling over in another area of the site. Bob follows after him. Jay tosses Jonah a hammer and they start knocking nails into the wall. BOB Sam, if you're not doing anything New Year's -- obviously you're not doing anything New Year's -- we're having some people over, all of them married, not one even remotely interested in playing around. Does that sound great or what? (whistfully) I can't think of the last time I was at a party when anything actually happened. SAM Thanks, but I'll pass. It's kind of a big night. I don't like to leave Jonah alone. CUT TO: SHOT OF HOUSEBOAT BEING TOWED BY A TUG DOWN THE RIVER (OR A SEAPLANE LANDING) - TWILIGHT EXT. HOUSEBOAT - TWILIGHT Jonah watching it. Sam visible in the distance in the kitchen. INT. KITCHEN - TWILIGHT As Sam is busy installing the spice rack. He marks the wall, hammers in the nails, etc. SAM (as he starts putting new spices into the rack, in alphabetical order) Does red pepper go under R or P? JONAH P. (beat) Dad? SAM (absently) What? JONAH I forgot to mention. Jed called -- SAM Just out of curiosity, do you have any friends whose names don't begin with a J? I feel like it was a failure of the imagination on our part naming you Jonah. (looking at the spices) What is marjoram? Does anyone know? JONAH Jed is having a slumber party New Year's Eve and he invited me. A beat. SAM Fine. Fine. JONAH So I can go. SAM Sure. (almost done with the spices) Looking good. JONAH Shouldn't you have used a toggle bolt? SAM I think I know how to have a spice rack. He puts in the last spice. They stand back to admire it. A beat. The rack falls off the wall. The rack itself doesn't break, but about six of the glass jars of spices break. There's paprika and thyme and currying powder, etc. all over the floor along with shards of glass. SAM God fucking dammit! Shit! Fuck. Piss. Jonah bursts into tears. SAM (still angry) I'm sorry. (softening) I'm sorry. He picks up Jonah and holds him. SAM I'm sorry. I'm just -- JONAH Stressed. SAM Right. I'm sorry, Jonah, I'm sorry. And he holds Jonah as Jonah calms down. Sam closes his eyes tight. INT. A TELEVISION SET OF NEW YEAR'S EVE ON TIMES SQUARE And pull back to reveal: INT. HOUSEBOAT - NIGHT Sam, alone, watching the ball drop. He's got a bag of Doritos and a beer. A VOICE Can I have half your beer? SAM Sure. It's Maggie. She takes his bottle of beer and pours half of it into a glass. MAGGIE What did I used to say? Here's looking at you? Here's mud in your eye? SAM Here's to us. You used to say here's to us. (he looks at her and his eyes well with tears) Oh babe. I miss you so much it hurts. He reaches out for her. She's gone. And we hear the television set now counting down to midnight in New York. CUT TO: INT. NEW YEAR'S EVE PARTY IN BALTIMORE - NIGHT The same television show counting down to midnight. Champagne corks popping, etc. And we see Walter and Annie. WALTER Happy New Year, darling. ANNIE Happy New Year. They start to dance. WALTER I was thinking, I have to go up to Boston for the AAP convention and then visit Winston-Hughes about switching over our computers. Why don't we meet in New York for Valentine's Day weekend? ANNIE Walter, I'd love to -- WALTER We'll stay at the Plaza -- ANNIE Go for a walk in Central Park -- WALTER Go to the Symphony -- A beat. ANNIE We will? (beat) The Symphony? (beat) Okay. (beat) I'll take you to the Russian Tea Room for pelmeni. WALTER What is it? ANNIE It's delicious, trust me. WALTER Does it have wheat in it? ANNIE I don't think so. They go on dancing. It's one of those parties where everyone looks so happy and so in love. Annie, however, looks thoughtful. ET. MARINA PARKING AREA - DAY Sam gets out of his car and starts down the dock toward his houseboat. He's carrying a bag of groceries. In the parking lot is a U.S. MAIL TRUCK. EXT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY Sam approaches his boat and a puzzled look comes over his face. A MAILMAN with a sack of mail is standing outside the front door of the houseboat. Jonah is signing a receipt for the mail. JONAH Look at this, Dad. They're all for you -- Sam picks up an envelop and looks at it. It's addressed to Sleepless in Seattle c/o Dr. Marcia Fieldstone, Radio Station KWRS in Chicago. He's stunned. As he signs the receipt: MAILMAN If you're having trouble sleeping, you might want to try drinking a glass of water from the other side. JONAH I thought that was for hiccups. MAILMAN Does it work for hiccups? JONAH For hiccups, a spoonful of sugar, you hold it in your mouth for a minute. MAILMAN Really? The mailman starts back toward the mail truck. Sam and Jonah start toward the door. INT. HOUSEBOAT - NIGHT Sam is in the kitchen making dinner. Jonah is sitting at the table, reading the letters from the stack they found by the door. SAM Just out of curiosity, how did they get our address? JONAH They called and asked for it. (reading) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle. You are the most attractive man I've ever laid ears on." Jonah rolls his eyes, tosses the letter into a pile of rejects, opens another. SAM How did they get our phone number? JONAH You have to give them your phone number or they won't let you go on the air. Sam nods as if this makes perfect sense. JONAH (continues, reading) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle: I am an SWF"-- (to Sam) What is that? SAM Thank God. Something you don't know. It's a single white female. JONAH This is no good. She's looking for someone French. Or Greek. (puzzled, he throws the letter into the reject pile, opens another) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle: I live in Tulsa." Where is that? -- SAM Oklahoma. Do you know where that is? JONAH Somewhere in the middle. SAM I'm not going to think about what they're not teaching you in school. I am not going to think about it. (beat) Generally speaking I think we should rule out people who don't live somewhere near here -- JONAH She's willing to fly anywhere. As Jonah hands Sam the picture. SAM She looks like my third grade teacher. I hated my third grade teacher. Hold it! Wait a minute! She is my third grade teacher! JONAH Dad, you're not taking this seriously. SAM This is not how you do it. (referring to the hamburger) You want this on an English muffin or a bun? JONAH English muffin. How do you do it? SAM You see someone you like, you get a feeling about them, you ask them if they want to have a drink or -- JONAH -- a slice of pizza -- SAM But not dinner necessarily on the first date because by the time you're halfway through dinner you might be sorry you asked them to dinner whereas if it's just a drink, if you like them you can always ask them for dinner but if you don't you can go home if you see what I mean. (beat) I wonder if it still works this way. JONAH It doesn't. They ask you. SAM I'm starting to notice that. INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie and Walter are making love. JONAH (V.O.) If you get a new wife, I guess you'll have sex with her, huh? SAM (V.O.) What do you think? JONAH (V.O.) Will she scratch up your back? SAM (V.O.) What? JONAH'S BEDROOM - NIGHT As Sam puts Jonah to sleep. Jonah is holding his teddy bear while this conversation concludes. JONAH In the movies women are always scratching up guy's back and screaming and stuff. When they're having sex. SAM Whose show was this on? JONAH Jed's got cables. SAM Go to sleep. He kisses him good-night. JONAH Kiss Howard. (he holds out the teddy bear) G'night, Howard. INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie and Walter have just finished making love. Walter falling asleep. Annie lying in bed, with her eyes open. She starts to get out of bed. Puts on a robe. INT. STAIRWAY - HOUSE As Annie comes downstairs in a bathrobe. She opens the door to the street. EXT. STREET - NIGHT As Annie starts to run down the street. CLOSEUP OF: ANNIE, RUNNING And now we widen out to see a misty highway she's running down. Past a sign saying: Seattle Approximately 3,000 miles. Past another sign: Your nerves are shot. And another: Your feet are cold. And another: Will you find love. And another: Before you're cold? And another: Burma Shave. And Annie continues to run, and now we see she's running across a map of the United States -- it's a little like the one we saw in the beginning of the movie -- it's like the famous map of the United States by Saul Steinberg, but instead of being about New York, this one is about Seattle. In the distance, at the very edge of the map, we see two indistinct figures -- a map and a young boy. They start to wave at her, very slowly. Annie's eyes widen. CUT TO: INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie in bed, eyes open. Walter fast asleep. She gets out of bed, puts on her robe (just as she did in the dream sequence). INT. STAIRWELL - NIGHT As Annie comes down the stairs. INT. KITCHEN - HOUSE She turns the light on. Opens the refrigerator. Closes it. Opens it again. Takes out some milk. Sits down at the kitchen table with a bowl, corn flakes, banana. She's about to assemble it when: She sees: THE RADIO She stands up, turns it on to the station Dr. Marcia Fieldstone is on. She sits back down with her corn flakes. ANNOUNCER (V.O.) Up next, "You and Your Emotions" with Dr. Marcia Fieldstone, clinical psychologist and the best friend you never had. (the teaser continues) WOMAN'S VOICE (V.O.) He says he doesn't love me any more. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why do you want to be with someone who doesn't love you? ANOTHER WOMAN (V.O.) Every time I come close to orgasm he stops and goes to make himself a sandwich -- DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why don't you make him a sandwich beforehand? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) When I met my wife, it was so clear. I jus knew. Annie starts at hearing Sam's voice. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) What was it that made you know? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) I don't think I could really describe it. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why not? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) And if I could describe it, it probably wouldn't be on a radio show. (he laughs to himself) But what the hell. It's not one specific thing. It's more of a feeling. (continuing) You touch her for the first time, and suddenly... you're home. It's almost like... magic. Annie closes her eyes. ANNOUNCER (V.O.) We'll be back after this commercial with Dr. Marcia Fieldstone. EXT. BALTIMORE - PEABODY LIBRARY - DAY We see Annie's car pull into a parking space outside the Peabody Library. Annie gets out of the car. INT. LIBRARY - DAY As Annie strides purposefully across the library and enters: INT. ANNIE'S BROTHER TOM'S OFFICE - DAY Annie bursts into Tom's office and walks over to his desk. We barely has time to look up. ANNIE I think I'm going crazy, Tom. I really do. Are you happily married? TOM (completely panicked by the question) What? ANNIE I mean, why did you get married? Was it all fireworks and trumpets and -- TOM (regaining composure) I got married because Betsy said we had to break up or get married. So we get married. ANNIE But when you met her, did you believe she was the only person for you? That in some mystical, cosmic way, it was fated? TOM Annie, when you meet someone and you're attracted to them, it just means that your subconscious is attracted to their subconscious, subconsciously. So what we think of as chemistry is just two neuroses knowing that they are a perfect match. ANNIE I don't even know him. But I'm having all these fantasies about a man I've never met, who lives in Seattle. TOM It rains nine months of the year in Seattle. ANNIE I know, I know. I do not want to move to Seattle. But what I really don't want to do is end up always wondering what might have happened and knowing I could have done something. What do you think? (Tom opens his mouth to say something, but before anything comes out, Annie fills the void) It's just cold feet, isn't it? Everyone panics before they get married, didn't you? TOM Yes, I did. ANNIE Thank you, Tom. I feel so much better just having blown this off. TOM Any time. INT. PEABODY LIBRARY - DAY As Annie walks through it and pushes the door to exit. EXT. A DOOR OPENING TO SEATTLE STREET - DAY Sam and Jay walk out of the Arctic Building onto the street. JAY Sandy has a girlfriend, Clenda ... She's a weightlifter, but it's not like her neck is bigger than her head or anything -- SAM I'm not asking you to set me up, Jay. That's not what I need your help for. I want to know what it's like over there. JAY And that's what I'm trying to tell you. What women are looking over, okay? Pecs and a cute butt. SAM You mean, like, "He has the cutest butt"? Where did I hear that recently? JAY Everywhere. You can't even turn on the news without hearing about how some babe thought some guy's butt was cute. Who the first babe to say this was I don't know, but it caught on. INT. SEATTLE RESTAURANT - DAY Sam and Jay at the counter. Out the window, we can see water. JAY When's the latest time you were out there? SAM (trying to remember) Seventy... eight. JAY Well. Things are different. First, you have to be friends. You have to like each other. Then you neck. This can go on for years. Then you have tests. Then you get to do it with a condom. (beat) The good news is, split the check. SAM I don't think it could let a woman pay for dinner. JAY Great. They'll have a parade in your honor. You'll be Man of the Year in Seattle Magazine. Tira misu. SAM What's tira misu? JAY You'll find out. SAM What is it? JAY You'll see. SAM Some woman is going to want me to do it to her and I'm not going to know what it is. JAY You'll like it. SAM (grimly) This is going to be tougher than I thought. EXT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY EVENING Sam coming home. INT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY EVENING As he enters. It's very quiet. Too quiet. SAM Jonah? No answers. SAM Jonah? He starts to look concerned. SAM Jonah? He goes down the hall to Jonah's room. The door is shut. He opens it. Jonah is sitting on his bed listening to a tape. Earphones on. Next to him is a young girl named JESSICA. SAM Jonah? Jonah takes off the earphones. JONAH Hi, Dad. Dad, this is Jessica. SAM It's nice to meet you, Jessica. JONAH Dad, this is amazing. If you play this backwards, it says "Paul is dead." SAM I know. JONAH How do you know? Sam shrugs, turns to go back down the hall. JONAH Dad, could you close the door? JESSICA H and G. (Sam looks back) Hi and goodbye. Sam closes the door to Jonah's room. Hold on Sam. SAM (to himself) Get a life. INT. HOUSEBOAT - CONTINUOUS As Sam comes downstairs, goes into his office. Closes the door. INT. SAM'S OFFICE AT HOME - CONTINUOUS He goes to the phone. Looks up a number in the phone book. Picks up the phone and dials a number. SAM Hi, Victoria?... It's Sam Baldwin, I don't know if you remember me. Oh? Well, great. I was wondering if you wanted to have a drink... Friday, say... Dinner?... Sure, dinner would be fine. Sure. Dinner. INT. AN UNFINISHED DINNER ON A PLATE IN ANNIE'S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT Annie is watching "An Affair to Remember" on television, tears pouring down her face. Cary Grant is saying: "Are you in love with him?" Deborah Kerr replies: "I'm not now." She's sitting at the dining room table. A dozen pieces of paper litter the table. Annie's been unsuccessfully typing a letter on an old Underwood typewriter. ANNIE Now those were the days when people knew how to be in love. She takes a blast from the wine glass to her right. Becky leans in, refilling the glass. Annie begins to type and sob and look at the TV. BECKY You're a basket case. ANNIE (as she types) They knew it. Time, distance, nothing could separate them. Because they knew. It was right. It was real. It was... BECKY ... movie. (beat) That's your problem. You don't want to be in love. You want to be in love in a movie. (beat) Read it to me. ANNIE (reading her letter) "Dear Sleepless and Son..." BECKY It sounds like the name of a mattress store -- ANNIE "I am not the sort of person who listens to call-in radio shows" -- Becky flops on the couch. BECKY And this woman is a writer! That's what everyone writes at the beginning of letters to strangers. ANNIE I know that. You think I don't know that? "I know that's a dumb way to begin, but it's the only way I can think of to convey what happened to me the other night when I heard the two of you on the radio. On the other hand, maybe I'm just losing my mind." BECKY You are. You're losing your mind. What about Walter? ANNIE I'm going to marry Walter. I just have to get this out of my system. BECKY Right. ANNIE I should say something in this about magic. BECKY What? ANNIE I don't know. I mean, what if I never meet him? What if this man is my destiny and I never meet him? BECKY Your destiny can be your doom. Look at me and Rick. ANNIE (typing some more) "I want to meet you..." Cary Grant says: "How about the top of the Empire State Building?" BECKY "On top of the Empire State Building at sunset on Valentine's Day." ANNIE Good. Perfect. I'll be in New York with Walter, I can squeeze it in. She types in Becky's idea. Then she takes the piece of paper out of the typewriter, smashes it into a ball and tosses it up in the air and into Becky's lap. BECKY You want to hear about destiny? If my husband hadn't gone on a diet, which caused me to leave him, I would never have been on that flight to

pull

How many times the word 'pull' appears in the text?

what. SHE'S CRYING. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Well, it's time to wrap up, folks -- A FIGURE appears at the passenger side window, which Annie doesn't notice. She's wiping the tears away with her hand. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) We hope you'll call again soon. The figure TAPS on the window -- WALTER (muffled, outside car) Annie? DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) ... and let us know how it's going. -- and taps again. WALTER Annie? She turns. He's pointing at the locked door. She searches for the button. Finally finds it so that Walter can open the door. ANNIE I'm sorry, Walter. I just heard the most amazing thing on the radio. They start toward the front door, Walter and Annie carrying presents, an overnight bag of Annie's. ANNIE People call up these shows and you can't believe the stuff they say. It's the end of privacy as we know it, this country is just one big global village with everyone out there going blah blah blah -- As they enter the house, we hear Silent Night and we see a Christmas tree, glittering with lights. CUT TO: A CHRISTMAS TREE GLITTERING WITH LIGHTS as we pull back to reveal: INT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY MORNING As Jonah opens his presents under the tree and we cut from gift to gift: A BROOKS ROBINSON BASEBALL GLOVE which Jonah loves and which he puts on his hand and keeps on while continuing to open: A TIE which mystifies him, but he hangs it around his neck. A PLAID SHIRT A MAP OF THE UNITED STATES -- the kind that's used in schoolrooms that pulls down from a roller. And now Sam brings out a long narrow present from behind the door and Jonah opens -- A NEW FISHING ROD EXT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY As Jonah poses with all his Christmas presents -- his tie hanging around his neck over his bathrobe and new plaid shirt, his baseball glove, fishing rod -- as Sam takes his picture. INT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY (OR POSSIBLY EXT. DECK HOUSEBOAT) Sam opens his present from Jonah, which is something he made in woodworking class. SAM The hopes are perfect -- beautiful, identical, smooth -- and they are for something really amazing I feel it in my bones -- JONAH It's a spice rack. SAM We desperately need a spice rack. Desperately. CUT TO: INT. KITCHEN OF HOUSEBOAT - DAY SAM And we desperately need spices. Where Sam is putting the spices they have -- pepper, salt, paprika and oregano -- into the spice rack, which has room for at least twenty more. Jonah is methodically making pancakes. JONAH Dad? About last night? SAM It's never happening again. Right? JONAH Right. There's a knock on the door. SAM Then it never happened. Sam goes to answer the door. TWO YOUNG WOMEN are standing there. Both are wearing quite a lot of Spandex. One of them is named LULU. It says so on her jacket. The other is JOBETH. SAM Hi. LULU Hi. Sam? SAM Yes? LULU (looking in and seeing Jonah) You must be Jonah. Jonah nods. LULU (to her friend) See. I told you. Sam and Jonah. I'm LULU. This is JoBeth. JoBeth nods, and continues to nod as Lulu talks. LULU (continues) We live two piers over, don't we? Number 12, right? We're having like a really neat open house today from like four to whenever if you care to stop by. SAM Thanks, but... we've got plans. LULU Well, here's the number. If you ever find yourself Sleepless, give us a call. We also... do babysitting. She winks. JoBeth nods. Sam nods. Lulu waves goodbye, and she and JoBeth sashay off down the dock. Jonah closes the door and turns to Sam. JONAH Not. SAM My feelings exactly. EXT. LAKE UNION MARINA - EARLY MORNING Jonah and Sam are fishing off a dingy. SAM How many people do you think heard that thing last night? JONAH It plays in 50 states. SAM What?! JONAH Nobody else is going to know it was us. SAM You're right. (after a beat) You better hope so. EXT. BALTIMORE SUN - MORNING INT. LIFESTYLE SECTION - DAY A large open newsroom-type space with REPORTERS at computers. Around the perimeter are glass-partitioned offices and meeting rooms. Inside one of the offices is BECKY, the Lifestyle editor of the Sun. She's at a table with Annie, now a reporter for the section, and two other colleagues -- KEITH and WYATT. Wyatt is playing Gameboy. KEITH This man sells the greatest soup you've ever eaten, there's a line around the block, and he is, I am not kidding, the meanest man in America. (beat) I feel strongly about this, Becky. This is not just about soup. BECKY Do it. What else? WYATT New Year's Eve. Please don't make me write it. Becky looks at Wyatt, notices the Gameboy. BECKY Wyatt, I do not mean to remind you of your mother, but if you don't put that game away, no TV for a week. WYATT (pushing it to the center of the table) Would someone look this up, don't tell me where. Becky is riffling through some papers on the table, among which are some tearsheets from the Associated Press wire. BECKY Listen to this. Phone service in the greater Chicago area was tied up for two hours Christmas Eve because some kid called a phone-in show to get a wife for his father. Two thousand women called in for the number. KEITH Jesus. ANNIE I heard it. This kid calls up and says my dad needs a wife and I'm talking to myself in the car saying, this is completely disgusting, you're taking advantage of a child, and then the father gets on and this shrinkette says, do you want to talk about it? And he says no as a matter of fact I don't, and I am saying, bravo! Right on! Don't talk to her, it's none of her business -- (she's completely into this story now) -- and then suddenly, for no reason at all, he's talking about how much he loved his wife, and how he just -- (she snaps her fingers) fell in love with her and I am crying. Me. A tear is actually rolling down my face. It was like what happens when I watch those phone company ads. I don't have to see the whole ad, I just have to see the part where the daughter gives her mother a refrigerator with a big red bow on it, have you seen that one? Everyone looks at her. Apparently she's finished. BECKY You should write something about this. ANNIE About what? BECKY Whatever it is. KEITH (waving the AP story) What it is is, there are a lot of desperate women out there looking for love. WYATT Especially over a certain age. Annie is looking at them. This isn't what she was talking about at all, although she isn't quite sure what she was talking about. KEITH It is easier to be killed by a terrorist after the age of 40 than it is to get married -- ANNIE That is not true. That statistic is not true. BECKY It's not true, but it feels true. ANNIE There's practically a whole book about how that statistic is not true -- WYATT Calm down. You brought it up -- ANNIE (sharply) I did not, Wyatt. A beat, everyone pauses. Things are a little out of hand. BECKY So where were we? WYATT New Year's Eve. I'll do it, okay? BECKY Okay. ANNIE If someone is a widower, why do they say he was widowed? Why don't they say he was widowered? Everyone looks at her strangely. ANNIE I was jus wondering. EXT. BALTIMORE STREET - DAY Annie walking purposefully, followed by Becky, hurrying to catch up. BECKY What was that about up there? ANNIE What was what? BECKY What's with you? ANNIE Nothing's with me. INT. BALTIMORE RESTAURANT - DAY Becky and Annie are having lunch. BECKY "Sleepless in Seattle"? ANNIE That's what she called him on the show. Because he can't sleep. BECKY And now 2,000 women want his number. The guy could be a crackhead, a psychopath, a flasher, a junkie, a transvestite, a chain-saw murderer, or someone really sick, like Rick. ANNIE Actually, he sounded nice. BECKY Oh? Oh, really? Now we're getting down to it. ANNIE Not. She reaches down for her purse. INT/EXT. REMODEL HOUSE - DAY A hand reaching down to pick something up -- the Seattle newspaper, and PULL BACK TO REVEAL: Sam carrying the paper down/up the stairs to an old house that's being renovated. Jonah, who is playing Cameboy, is walking along with him. WORKMEN are active everywhere. Dry wall going up, cabinets being installed, tile being set. One of Sam's partners, BOB LANGMAN, is walking with him, and JAY MATHEWS, the on-site supervisor, is waiting for them in an unfinished doorframe. Bob is hefty, older, always eating something dietetic. Jay is younger and always wears as little as possible, even in cold weather. BOB LANGMAN Now she wants a circular stairwell off the den. JAY (to Jonah, in b.g.) Punch me, punch in right here. (points to his stomach; Jonah punches) And she wants the Sub-Zero with the side-by-side doors -- BOB Which means -- SAM The cabinets have to be redone -- They all nod at each other. The woman has been a nightmare. BOB So we thought -- JAY Since you're on the make again -- Sam looks at Jonah -- SAM Great. This is great. The whole town knows. Just out of curiosity, how do you two know? BOB Grace heard it. SAM Grace the dispatcher. Great. BOB The point is, take the client out to dinner and ask her to marry you and then maybe we won't have to redo the kitchen cabinets. SAM Why me? What about Jay? JAY Hey, my plate is full. SAM Well, okay. What's the big deal? If she'll forget the new fireplace, I'll marry her. Just point me in the right direction. JONAH Dad, I don't know about this one -- SAM Oh, you're changing your mind -- JONAH No, I'm not, but -- SAM What's the matter with this one? Wouldn't you like to have Imelda Marcos as your mother? JONAH Dad -- Sam cuffs him good-naturedly. SAM We better take the measurements for the new cabinets. He walks away past some workmen, ladders, etc. and starts checking the cross-beams in the ceiling over in another area of the site. Bob follows after him. Jay tosses Jonah a hammer and they start knocking nails into the wall. BOB Sam, if you're not doing anything New Year's -- obviously you're not doing anything New Year's -- we're having some people over, all of them married, not one even remotely interested in playing around. Does that sound great or what? (whistfully) I can't think of the last time I was at a party when anything actually happened. SAM Thanks, but I'll pass. It's kind of a big night. I don't like to leave Jonah alone. CUT TO: SHOT OF HOUSEBOAT BEING TOWED BY A TUG DOWN THE RIVER (OR A SEAPLANE LANDING) - TWILIGHT EXT. HOUSEBOAT - TWILIGHT Jonah watching it. Sam visible in the distance in the kitchen. INT. KITCHEN - TWILIGHT As Sam is busy installing the spice rack. He marks the wall, hammers in the nails, etc. SAM (as he starts putting new spices into the rack, in alphabetical order) Does red pepper go under R or P? JONAH P. (beat) Dad? SAM (absently) What? JONAH I forgot to mention. Jed called -- SAM Just out of curiosity, do you have any friends whose names don't begin with a J? I feel like it was a failure of the imagination on our part naming you Jonah. (looking at the spices) What is marjoram? Does anyone know? JONAH Jed is having a slumber party New Year's Eve and he invited me. A beat. SAM Fine. Fine. JONAH So I can go. SAM Sure. (almost done with the spices) Looking good. JONAH Shouldn't you have used a toggle bolt? SAM I think I know how to have a spice rack. He puts in the last spice. They stand back to admire it. A beat. The rack falls off the wall. The rack itself doesn't break, but about six of the glass jars of spices break. There's paprika and thyme and currying powder, etc. all over the floor along with shards of glass. SAM God fucking dammit! Shit! Fuck. Piss. Jonah bursts into tears. SAM (still angry) I'm sorry. (softening) I'm sorry. He picks up Jonah and holds him. SAM I'm sorry. I'm just -- JONAH Stressed. SAM Right. I'm sorry, Jonah, I'm sorry. And he holds Jonah as Jonah calms down. Sam closes his eyes tight. INT. A TELEVISION SET OF NEW YEAR'S EVE ON TIMES SQUARE And pull back to reveal: INT. HOUSEBOAT - NIGHT Sam, alone, watching the ball drop. He's got a bag of Doritos and a beer. A VOICE Can I have half your beer? SAM Sure. It's Maggie. She takes his bottle of beer and pours half of it into a glass. MAGGIE What did I used to say? Here's looking at you? Here's mud in your eye? SAM Here's to us. You used to say here's to us. (he looks at her and his eyes well with tears) Oh babe. I miss you so much it hurts. He reaches out for her. She's gone. And we hear the television set now counting down to midnight in New York. CUT TO: INT. NEW YEAR'S EVE PARTY IN BALTIMORE - NIGHT The same television show counting down to midnight. Champagne corks popping, etc. And we see Walter and Annie. WALTER Happy New Year, darling. ANNIE Happy New Year. They start to dance. WALTER I was thinking, I have to go up to Boston for the AAP convention and then visit Winston-Hughes about switching over our computers. Why don't we meet in New York for Valentine's Day weekend? ANNIE Walter, I'd love to -- WALTER We'll stay at the Plaza -- ANNIE Go for a walk in Central Park -- WALTER Go to the Symphony -- A beat. ANNIE We will? (beat) The Symphony? (beat) Okay. (beat) I'll take you to the Russian Tea Room for pelmeni. WALTER What is it? ANNIE It's delicious, trust me. WALTER Does it have wheat in it? ANNIE I don't think so. They go on dancing. It's one of those parties where everyone looks so happy and so in love. Annie, however, looks thoughtful. ET. MARINA PARKING AREA - DAY Sam gets out of his car and starts down the dock toward his houseboat. He's carrying a bag of groceries. In the parking lot is a U.S. MAIL TRUCK. EXT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY Sam approaches his boat and a puzzled look comes over his face. A MAILMAN with a sack of mail is standing outside the front door of the houseboat. Jonah is signing a receipt for the mail. JONAH Look at this, Dad. They're all for you -- Sam picks up an envelop and looks at it. It's addressed to Sleepless in Seattle c/o Dr. Marcia Fieldstone, Radio Station KWRS in Chicago. He's stunned. As he signs the receipt: MAILMAN If you're having trouble sleeping, you might want to try drinking a glass of water from the other side. JONAH I thought that was for hiccups. MAILMAN Does it work for hiccups? JONAH For hiccups, a spoonful of sugar, you hold it in your mouth for a minute. MAILMAN Really? The mailman starts back toward the mail truck. Sam and Jonah start toward the door. INT. HOUSEBOAT - NIGHT Sam is in the kitchen making dinner. Jonah is sitting at the table, reading the letters from the stack they found by the door. SAM Just out of curiosity, how did they get our address? JONAH They called and asked for it. (reading) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle. You are the most attractive man I've ever laid ears on." Jonah rolls his eyes, tosses the letter into a pile of rejects, opens another. SAM How did they get our phone number? JONAH You have to give them your phone number or they won't let you go on the air. Sam nods as if this makes perfect sense. JONAH (continues, reading) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle: I am an SWF"-- (to Sam) What is that? SAM Thank God. Something you don't know. It's a single white female. JONAH This is no good. She's looking for someone French. Or Greek. (puzzled, he throws the letter into the reject pile, opens another) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle: I live in Tulsa." Where is that? -- SAM Oklahoma. Do you know where that is? JONAH Somewhere in the middle. SAM I'm not going to think about what they're not teaching you in school. I am not going to think about it. (beat) Generally speaking I think we should rule out people who don't live somewhere near here -- JONAH She's willing to fly anywhere. As Jonah hands Sam the picture. SAM She looks like my third grade teacher. I hated my third grade teacher. Hold it! Wait a minute! She is my third grade teacher! JONAH Dad, you're not taking this seriously. SAM This is not how you do it. (referring to the hamburger) You want this on an English muffin or a bun? JONAH English muffin. How do you do it? SAM You see someone you like, you get a feeling about them, you ask them if they want to have a drink or -- JONAH -- a slice of pizza -- SAM But not dinner necessarily on the first date because by the time you're halfway through dinner you might be sorry you asked them to dinner whereas if it's just a drink, if you like them you can always ask them for dinner but if you don't you can go home if you see what I mean. (beat) I wonder if it still works this way. JONAH It doesn't. They ask you. SAM I'm starting to notice that. INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie and Walter are making love. JONAH (V.O.) If you get a new wife, I guess you'll have sex with her, huh? SAM (V.O.) What do you think? JONAH (V.O.) Will she scratch up your back? SAM (V.O.) What? JONAH'S BEDROOM - NIGHT As Sam puts Jonah to sleep. Jonah is holding his teddy bear while this conversation concludes. JONAH In the movies women are always scratching up guy's back and screaming and stuff. When they're having sex. SAM Whose show was this on? JONAH Jed's got cables. SAM Go to sleep. He kisses him good-night. JONAH Kiss Howard. (he holds out the teddy bear) G'night, Howard. INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie and Walter have just finished making love. Walter falling asleep. Annie lying in bed, with her eyes open. She starts to get out of bed. Puts on a robe. INT. STAIRWAY - HOUSE As Annie comes downstairs in a bathrobe. She opens the door to the street. EXT. STREET - NIGHT As Annie starts to run down the street. CLOSEUP OF: ANNIE, RUNNING And now we widen out to see a misty highway she's running down. Past a sign saying: Seattle Approximately 3,000 miles. Past another sign: Your nerves are shot. And another: Your feet are cold. And another: Will you find love. And another: Before you're cold? And another: Burma Shave. And Annie continues to run, and now we see she's running across a map of the United States -- it's a little like the one we saw in the beginning of the movie -- it's like the famous map of the United States by Saul Steinberg, but instead of being about New York, this one is about Seattle. In the distance, at the very edge of the map, we see two indistinct figures -- a map and a young boy. They start to wave at her, very slowly. Annie's eyes widen. CUT TO: INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie in bed, eyes open. Walter fast asleep. She gets out of bed, puts on her robe (just as she did in the dream sequence). INT. STAIRWELL - NIGHT As Annie comes down the stairs. INT. KITCHEN - HOUSE She turns the light on. Opens the refrigerator. Closes it. Opens it again. Takes out some milk. Sits down at the kitchen table with a bowl, corn flakes, banana. She's about to assemble it when: She sees: THE RADIO She stands up, turns it on to the station Dr. Marcia Fieldstone is on. She sits back down with her corn flakes. ANNOUNCER (V.O.) Up next, "You and Your Emotions" with Dr. Marcia Fieldstone, clinical psychologist and the best friend you never had. (the teaser continues) WOMAN'S VOICE (V.O.) He says he doesn't love me any more. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why do you want to be with someone who doesn't love you? ANOTHER WOMAN (V.O.) Every time I come close to orgasm he stops and goes to make himself a sandwich -- DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why don't you make him a sandwich beforehand? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) When I met my wife, it was so clear. I jus knew. Annie starts at hearing Sam's voice. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) What was it that made you know? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) I don't think I could really describe it. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why not? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) And if I could describe it, it probably wouldn't be on a radio show. (he laughs to himself) But what the hell. It's not one specific thing. It's more of a feeling. (continuing) You touch her for the first time, and suddenly... you're home. It's almost like... magic. Annie closes her eyes. ANNOUNCER (V.O.) We'll be back after this commercial with Dr. Marcia Fieldstone. EXT. BALTIMORE - PEABODY LIBRARY - DAY We see Annie's car pull into a parking space outside the Peabody Library. Annie gets out of the car. INT. LIBRARY - DAY As Annie strides purposefully across the library and enters: INT. ANNIE'S BROTHER TOM'S OFFICE - DAY Annie bursts into Tom's office and walks over to his desk. We barely has time to look up. ANNIE I think I'm going crazy, Tom. I really do. Are you happily married? TOM (completely panicked by the question) What? ANNIE I mean, why did you get married? Was it all fireworks and trumpets and -- TOM (regaining composure) I got married because Betsy said we had to break up or get married. So we get married. ANNIE But when you met her, did you believe she was the only person for you? That in some mystical, cosmic way, it was fated? TOM Annie, when you meet someone and you're attracted to them, it just means that your subconscious is attracted to their subconscious, subconsciously. So what we think of as chemistry is just two neuroses knowing that they are a perfect match. ANNIE I don't even know him. But I'm having all these fantasies about a man I've never met, who lives in Seattle. TOM It rains nine months of the year in Seattle. ANNIE I know, I know. I do not want to move to Seattle. But what I really don't want to do is end up always wondering what might have happened and knowing I could have done something. What do you think? (Tom opens his mouth to say something, but before anything comes out, Annie fills the void) It's just cold feet, isn't it? Everyone panics before they get married, didn't you? TOM Yes, I did. ANNIE Thank you, Tom. I feel so much better just having blown this off. TOM Any time. INT. PEABODY LIBRARY - DAY As Annie walks through it and pushes the door to exit. EXT. A DOOR OPENING TO SEATTLE STREET - DAY Sam and Jay walk out of the Arctic Building onto the street. JAY Sandy has a girlfriend, Clenda ... She's a weightlifter, but it's not like her neck is bigger than her head or anything -- SAM I'm not asking you to set me up, Jay. That's not what I need your help for. I want to know what it's like over there. JAY And that's what I'm trying to tell you. What women are looking over, okay? Pecs and a cute butt. SAM You mean, like, "He has the cutest butt"? Where did I hear that recently? JAY Everywhere. You can't even turn on the news without hearing about how some babe thought some guy's butt was cute. Who the first babe to say this was I don't know, but it caught on. INT. SEATTLE RESTAURANT - DAY Sam and Jay at the counter. Out the window, we can see water. JAY When's the latest time you were out there? SAM (trying to remember) Seventy... eight. JAY Well. Things are different. First, you have to be friends. You have to like each other. Then you neck. This can go on for years. Then you have tests. Then you get to do it with a condom. (beat) The good news is, split the check. SAM I don't think it could let a woman pay for dinner. JAY Great. They'll have a parade in your honor. You'll be Man of the Year in Seattle Magazine. Tira misu. SAM What's tira misu? JAY You'll find out. SAM What is it? JAY You'll see. SAM Some woman is going to want me to do it to her and I'm not going to know what it is. JAY You'll like it. SAM (grimly) This is going to be tougher than I thought. EXT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY EVENING Sam coming home. INT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY EVENING As he enters. It's very quiet. Too quiet. SAM Jonah? No answers. SAM Jonah? He starts to look concerned. SAM Jonah? He goes down the hall to Jonah's room. The door is shut. He opens it. Jonah is sitting on his bed listening to a tape. Earphones on. Next to him is a young girl named JESSICA. SAM Jonah? Jonah takes off the earphones. JONAH Hi, Dad. Dad, this is Jessica. SAM It's nice to meet you, Jessica. JONAH Dad, this is amazing. If you play this backwards, it says "Paul is dead." SAM I know. JONAH How do you know? Sam shrugs, turns to go back down the hall. JONAH Dad, could you close the door? JESSICA H and G. (Sam looks back) Hi and goodbye. Sam closes the door to Jonah's room. Hold on Sam. SAM (to himself) Get a life. INT. HOUSEBOAT - CONTINUOUS As Sam comes downstairs, goes into his office. Closes the door. INT. SAM'S OFFICE AT HOME - CONTINUOUS He goes to the phone. Looks up a number in the phone book. Picks up the phone and dials a number. SAM Hi, Victoria?... It's Sam Baldwin, I don't know if you remember me. Oh? Well, great. I was wondering if you wanted to have a drink... Friday, say... Dinner?... Sure, dinner would be fine. Sure. Dinner. INT. AN UNFINISHED DINNER ON A PLATE IN ANNIE'S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT Annie is watching "An Affair to Remember" on television, tears pouring down her face. Cary Grant is saying: "Are you in love with him?" Deborah Kerr replies: "I'm not now." She's sitting at the dining room table. A dozen pieces of paper litter the table. Annie's been unsuccessfully typing a letter on an old Underwood typewriter. ANNIE Now those were the days when people knew how to be in love. She takes a blast from the wine glass to her right. Becky leans in, refilling the glass. Annie begins to type and sob and look at the TV. BECKY You're a basket case. ANNIE (as she types) They knew it. Time, distance, nothing could separate them. Because they knew. It was right. It was real. It was... BECKY ... movie. (beat) That's your problem. You don't want to be in love. You want to be in love in a movie. (beat) Read it to me. ANNIE (reading her letter) "Dear Sleepless and Son..." BECKY It sounds like the name of a mattress store -- ANNIE "I am not the sort of person who listens to call-in radio shows" -- Becky flops on the couch. BECKY And this woman is a writer! That's what everyone writes at the beginning of letters to strangers. ANNIE I know that. You think I don't know that? "I know that's a dumb way to begin, but it's the only way I can think of to convey what happened to me the other night when I heard the two of you on the radio. On the other hand, maybe I'm just losing my mind." BECKY You are. You're losing your mind. What about Walter? ANNIE I'm going to marry Walter. I just have to get this out of my system. BECKY Right. ANNIE I should say something in this about magic. BECKY What? ANNIE I don't know. I mean, what if I never meet him? What if this man is my destiny and I never meet him? BECKY Your destiny can be your doom. Look at me and Rick. ANNIE (typing some more) "I want to meet you..." Cary Grant says: "How about the top of the Empire State Building?" BECKY "On top of the Empire State Building at sunset on Valentine's Day." ANNIE Good. Perfect. I'll be in New York with Walter, I can squeeze it in. She types in Becky's idea. Then she takes the piece of paper out of the typewriter, smashes it into a ball and tosses it up in the air and into Becky's lap. BECKY You want to hear about destiny? If my husband hadn't gone on a diet, which caused me to leave him, I would never have been on that flight to

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what. SHE'S CRYING. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Well, it's time to wrap up, folks -- A FIGURE appears at the passenger side window, which Annie doesn't notice. She's wiping the tears away with her hand. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) We hope you'll call again soon. The figure TAPS on the window -- WALTER (muffled, outside car) Annie? DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) ... and let us know how it's going. -- and taps again. WALTER Annie? She turns. He's pointing at the locked door. She searches for the button. Finally finds it so that Walter can open the door. ANNIE I'm sorry, Walter. I just heard the most amazing thing on the radio. They start toward the front door, Walter and Annie carrying presents, an overnight bag of Annie's. ANNIE People call up these shows and you can't believe the stuff they say. It's the end of privacy as we know it, this country is just one big global village with everyone out there going blah blah blah -- As they enter the house, we hear Silent Night and we see a Christmas tree, glittering with lights. CUT TO: A CHRISTMAS TREE GLITTERING WITH LIGHTS as we pull back to reveal: INT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY MORNING As Jonah opens his presents under the tree and we cut from gift to gift: A BROOKS ROBINSON BASEBALL GLOVE which Jonah loves and which he puts on his hand and keeps on while continuing to open: A TIE which mystifies him, but he hangs it around his neck. A PLAID SHIRT A MAP OF THE UNITED STATES -- the kind that's used in schoolrooms that pulls down from a roller. And now Sam brings out a long narrow present from behind the door and Jonah opens -- A NEW FISHING ROD EXT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY As Jonah poses with all his Christmas presents -- his tie hanging around his neck over his bathrobe and new plaid shirt, his baseball glove, fishing rod -- as Sam takes his picture. INT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY (OR POSSIBLY EXT. DECK HOUSEBOAT) Sam opens his present from Jonah, which is something he made in woodworking class. SAM The hopes are perfect -- beautiful, identical, smooth -- and they are for something really amazing I feel it in my bones -- JONAH It's a spice rack. SAM We desperately need a spice rack. Desperately. CUT TO: INT. KITCHEN OF HOUSEBOAT - DAY SAM And we desperately need spices. Where Sam is putting the spices they have -- pepper, salt, paprika and oregano -- into the spice rack, which has room for at least twenty more. Jonah is methodically making pancakes. JONAH Dad? About last night? SAM It's never happening again. Right? JONAH Right. There's a knock on the door. SAM Then it never happened. Sam goes to answer the door. TWO YOUNG WOMEN are standing there. Both are wearing quite a lot of Spandex. One of them is named LULU. It says so on her jacket. The other is JOBETH. SAM Hi. LULU Hi. Sam? SAM Yes? LULU (looking in and seeing Jonah) You must be Jonah. Jonah nods. LULU (to her friend) See. I told you. Sam and Jonah. I'm LULU. This is JoBeth. JoBeth nods, and continues to nod as Lulu talks. LULU (continues) We live two piers over, don't we? Number 12, right? We're having like a really neat open house today from like four to whenever if you care to stop by. SAM Thanks, but... we've got plans. LULU Well, here's the number. If you ever find yourself Sleepless, give us a call. We also... do babysitting. She winks. JoBeth nods. Sam nods. Lulu waves goodbye, and she and JoBeth sashay off down the dock. Jonah closes the door and turns to Sam. JONAH Not. SAM My feelings exactly. EXT. LAKE UNION MARINA - EARLY MORNING Jonah and Sam are fishing off a dingy. SAM How many people do you think heard that thing last night? JONAH It plays in 50 states. SAM What?! JONAH Nobody else is going to know it was us. SAM You're right. (after a beat) You better hope so. EXT. BALTIMORE SUN - MORNING INT. LIFESTYLE SECTION - DAY A large open newsroom-type space with REPORTERS at computers. Around the perimeter are glass-partitioned offices and meeting rooms. Inside one of the offices is BECKY, the Lifestyle editor of the Sun. She's at a table with Annie, now a reporter for the section, and two other colleagues -- KEITH and WYATT. Wyatt is playing Gameboy. KEITH This man sells the greatest soup you've ever eaten, there's a line around the block, and he is, I am not kidding, the meanest man in America. (beat) I feel strongly about this, Becky. This is not just about soup. BECKY Do it. What else? WYATT New Year's Eve. Please don't make me write it. Becky looks at Wyatt, notices the Gameboy. BECKY Wyatt, I do not mean to remind you of your mother, but if you don't put that game away, no TV for a week. WYATT (pushing it to the center of the table) Would someone look this up, don't tell me where. Becky is riffling through some papers on the table, among which are some tearsheets from the Associated Press wire. BECKY Listen to this. Phone service in the greater Chicago area was tied up for two hours Christmas Eve because some kid called a phone-in show to get a wife for his father. Two thousand women called in for the number. KEITH Jesus. ANNIE I heard it. This kid calls up and says my dad needs a wife and I'm talking to myself in the car saying, this is completely disgusting, you're taking advantage of a child, and then the father gets on and this shrinkette says, do you want to talk about it? And he says no as a matter of fact I don't, and I am saying, bravo! Right on! Don't talk to her, it's none of her business -- (she's completely into this story now) -- and then suddenly, for no reason at all, he's talking about how much he loved his wife, and how he just -- (she snaps her fingers) fell in love with her and I am crying. Me. A tear is actually rolling down my face. It was like what happens when I watch those phone company ads. I don't have to see the whole ad, I just have to see the part where the daughter gives her mother a refrigerator with a big red bow on it, have you seen that one? Everyone looks at her. Apparently she's finished. BECKY You should write something about this. ANNIE About what? BECKY Whatever it is. KEITH (waving the AP story) What it is is, there are a lot of desperate women out there looking for love. WYATT Especially over a certain age. Annie is looking at them. This isn't what she was talking about at all, although she isn't quite sure what she was talking about. KEITH It is easier to be killed by a terrorist after the age of 40 than it is to get married -- ANNIE That is not true. That statistic is not true. BECKY It's not true, but it feels true. ANNIE There's practically a whole book about how that statistic is not true -- WYATT Calm down. You brought it up -- ANNIE (sharply) I did not, Wyatt. A beat, everyone pauses. Things are a little out of hand. BECKY So where were we? WYATT New Year's Eve. I'll do it, okay? BECKY Okay. ANNIE If someone is a widower, why do they say he was widowed? Why don't they say he was widowered? Everyone looks at her strangely. ANNIE I was jus wondering. EXT. BALTIMORE STREET - DAY Annie walking purposefully, followed by Becky, hurrying to catch up. BECKY What was that about up there? ANNIE What was what? BECKY What's with you? ANNIE Nothing's with me. INT. BALTIMORE RESTAURANT - DAY Becky and Annie are having lunch. BECKY "Sleepless in Seattle"? ANNIE That's what she called him on the show. Because he can't sleep. BECKY And now 2,000 women want his number. The guy could be a crackhead, a psychopath, a flasher, a junkie, a transvestite, a chain-saw murderer, or someone really sick, like Rick. ANNIE Actually, he sounded nice. BECKY Oh? Oh, really? Now we're getting down to it. ANNIE Not. She reaches down for her purse. INT/EXT. REMODEL HOUSE - DAY A hand reaching down to pick something up -- the Seattle newspaper, and PULL BACK TO REVEAL: Sam carrying the paper down/up the stairs to an old house that's being renovated. Jonah, who is playing Cameboy, is walking along with him. WORKMEN are active everywhere. Dry wall going up, cabinets being installed, tile being set. One of Sam's partners, BOB LANGMAN, is walking with him, and JAY MATHEWS, the on-site supervisor, is waiting for them in an unfinished doorframe. Bob is hefty, older, always eating something dietetic. Jay is younger and always wears as little as possible, even in cold weather. BOB LANGMAN Now she wants a circular stairwell off the den. JAY (to Jonah, in b.g.) Punch me, punch in right here. (points to his stomach; Jonah punches) And she wants the Sub-Zero with the side-by-side doors -- BOB Which means -- SAM The cabinets have to be redone -- They all nod at each other. The woman has been a nightmare. BOB So we thought -- JAY Since you're on the make again -- Sam looks at Jonah -- SAM Great. This is great. The whole town knows. Just out of curiosity, how do you two know? BOB Grace heard it. SAM Grace the dispatcher. Great. BOB The point is, take the client out to dinner and ask her to marry you and then maybe we won't have to redo the kitchen cabinets. SAM Why me? What about Jay? JAY Hey, my plate is full. SAM Well, okay. What's the big deal? If she'll forget the new fireplace, I'll marry her. Just point me in the right direction. JONAH Dad, I don't know about this one -- SAM Oh, you're changing your mind -- JONAH No, I'm not, but -- SAM What's the matter with this one? Wouldn't you like to have Imelda Marcos as your mother? JONAH Dad -- Sam cuffs him good-naturedly. SAM We better take the measurements for the new cabinets. He walks away past some workmen, ladders, etc. and starts checking the cross-beams in the ceiling over in another area of the site. Bob follows after him. Jay tosses Jonah a hammer and they start knocking nails into the wall. BOB Sam, if you're not doing anything New Year's -- obviously you're not doing anything New Year's -- we're having some people over, all of them married, not one even remotely interested in playing around. Does that sound great or what? (whistfully) I can't think of the last time I was at a party when anything actually happened. SAM Thanks, but I'll pass. It's kind of a big night. I don't like to leave Jonah alone. CUT TO: SHOT OF HOUSEBOAT BEING TOWED BY A TUG DOWN THE RIVER (OR A SEAPLANE LANDING) - TWILIGHT EXT. HOUSEBOAT - TWILIGHT Jonah watching it. Sam visible in the distance in the kitchen. INT. KITCHEN - TWILIGHT As Sam is busy installing the spice rack. He marks the wall, hammers in the nails, etc. SAM (as he starts putting new spices into the rack, in alphabetical order) Does red pepper go under R or P? JONAH P. (beat) Dad? SAM (absently) What? JONAH I forgot to mention. Jed called -- SAM Just out of curiosity, do you have any friends whose names don't begin with a J? I feel like it was a failure of the imagination on our part naming you Jonah. (looking at the spices) What is marjoram? Does anyone know? JONAH Jed is having a slumber party New Year's Eve and he invited me. A beat. SAM Fine. Fine. JONAH So I can go. SAM Sure. (almost done with the spices) Looking good. JONAH Shouldn't you have used a toggle bolt? SAM I think I know how to have a spice rack. He puts in the last spice. They stand back to admire it. A beat. The rack falls off the wall. The rack itself doesn't break, but about six of the glass jars of spices break. There's paprika and thyme and currying powder, etc. all over the floor along with shards of glass. SAM God fucking dammit! Shit! Fuck. Piss. Jonah bursts into tears. SAM (still angry) I'm sorry. (softening) I'm sorry. He picks up Jonah and holds him. SAM I'm sorry. I'm just -- JONAH Stressed. SAM Right. I'm sorry, Jonah, I'm sorry. And he holds Jonah as Jonah calms down. Sam closes his eyes tight. INT. A TELEVISION SET OF NEW YEAR'S EVE ON TIMES SQUARE And pull back to reveal: INT. HOUSEBOAT - NIGHT Sam, alone, watching the ball drop. He's got a bag of Doritos and a beer. A VOICE Can I have half your beer? SAM Sure. It's Maggie. She takes his bottle of beer and pours half of it into a glass. MAGGIE What did I used to say? Here's looking at you? Here's mud in your eye? SAM Here's to us. You used to say here's to us. (he looks at her and his eyes well with tears) Oh babe. I miss you so much it hurts. He reaches out for her. She's gone. And we hear the television set now counting down to midnight in New York. CUT TO: INT. NEW YEAR'S EVE PARTY IN BALTIMORE - NIGHT The same television show counting down to midnight. Champagne corks popping, etc. And we see Walter and Annie. WALTER Happy New Year, darling. ANNIE Happy New Year. They start to dance. WALTER I was thinking, I have to go up to Boston for the AAP convention and then visit Winston-Hughes about switching over our computers. Why don't we meet in New York for Valentine's Day weekend? ANNIE Walter, I'd love to -- WALTER We'll stay at the Plaza -- ANNIE Go for a walk in Central Park -- WALTER Go to the Symphony -- A beat. ANNIE We will? (beat) The Symphony? (beat) Okay. (beat) I'll take you to the Russian Tea Room for pelmeni. WALTER What is it? ANNIE It's delicious, trust me. WALTER Does it have wheat in it? ANNIE I don't think so. They go on dancing. It's one of those parties where everyone looks so happy and so in love. Annie, however, looks thoughtful. ET. MARINA PARKING AREA - DAY Sam gets out of his car and starts down the dock toward his houseboat. He's carrying a bag of groceries. In the parking lot is a U.S. MAIL TRUCK. EXT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY Sam approaches his boat and a puzzled look comes over his face. A MAILMAN with a sack of mail is standing outside the front door of the houseboat. Jonah is signing a receipt for the mail. JONAH Look at this, Dad. They're all for you -- Sam picks up an envelop and looks at it. It's addressed to Sleepless in Seattle c/o Dr. Marcia Fieldstone, Radio Station KWRS in Chicago. He's stunned. As he signs the receipt: MAILMAN If you're having trouble sleeping, you might want to try drinking a glass of water from the other side. JONAH I thought that was for hiccups. MAILMAN Does it work for hiccups? JONAH For hiccups, a spoonful of sugar, you hold it in your mouth for a minute. MAILMAN Really? The mailman starts back toward the mail truck. Sam and Jonah start toward the door. INT. HOUSEBOAT - NIGHT Sam is in the kitchen making dinner. Jonah is sitting at the table, reading the letters from the stack they found by the door. SAM Just out of curiosity, how did they get our address? JONAH They called and asked for it. (reading) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle. You are the most attractive man I've ever laid ears on." Jonah rolls his eyes, tosses the letter into a pile of rejects, opens another. SAM How did they get our phone number? JONAH You have to give them your phone number or they won't let you go on the air. Sam nods as if this makes perfect sense. JONAH (continues, reading) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle: I am an SWF"-- (to Sam) What is that? SAM Thank God. Something you don't know. It's a single white female. JONAH This is no good. She's looking for someone French. Or Greek. (puzzled, he throws the letter into the reject pile, opens another) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle: I live in Tulsa." Where is that? -- SAM Oklahoma. Do you know where that is? JONAH Somewhere in the middle. SAM I'm not going to think about what they're not teaching you in school. I am not going to think about it. (beat) Generally speaking I think we should rule out people who don't live somewhere near here -- JONAH She's willing to fly anywhere. As Jonah hands Sam the picture. SAM She looks like my third grade teacher. I hated my third grade teacher. Hold it! Wait a minute! She is my third grade teacher! JONAH Dad, you're not taking this seriously. SAM This is not how you do it. (referring to the hamburger) You want this on an English muffin or a bun? JONAH English muffin. How do you do it? SAM You see someone you like, you get a feeling about them, you ask them if they want to have a drink or -- JONAH -- a slice of pizza -- SAM But not dinner necessarily on the first date because by the time you're halfway through dinner you might be sorry you asked them to dinner whereas if it's just a drink, if you like them you can always ask them for dinner but if you don't you can go home if you see what I mean. (beat) I wonder if it still works this way. JONAH It doesn't. They ask you. SAM I'm starting to notice that. INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie and Walter are making love. JONAH (V.O.) If you get a new wife, I guess you'll have sex with her, huh? SAM (V.O.) What do you think? JONAH (V.O.) Will she scratch up your back? SAM (V.O.) What? JONAH'S BEDROOM - NIGHT As Sam puts Jonah to sleep. Jonah is holding his teddy bear while this conversation concludes. JONAH In the movies women are always scratching up guy's back and screaming and stuff. When they're having sex. SAM Whose show was this on? JONAH Jed's got cables. SAM Go to sleep. He kisses him good-night. JONAH Kiss Howard. (he holds out the teddy bear) G'night, Howard. INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie and Walter have just finished making love. Walter falling asleep. Annie lying in bed, with her eyes open. She starts to get out of bed. Puts on a robe. INT. STAIRWAY - HOUSE As Annie comes downstairs in a bathrobe. She opens the door to the street. EXT. STREET - NIGHT As Annie starts to run down the street. CLOSEUP OF: ANNIE, RUNNING And now we widen out to see a misty highway she's running down. Past a sign saying: Seattle Approximately 3,000 miles. Past another sign: Your nerves are shot. And another: Your feet are cold. And another: Will you find love. And another: Before you're cold? And another: Burma Shave. And Annie continues to run, and now we see she's running across a map of the United States -- it's a little like the one we saw in the beginning of the movie -- it's like the famous map of the United States by Saul Steinberg, but instead of being about New York, this one is about Seattle. In the distance, at the very edge of the map, we see two indistinct figures -- a map and a young boy. They start to wave at her, very slowly. Annie's eyes widen. CUT TO: INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie in bed, eyes open. Walter fast asleep. She gets out of bed, puts on her robe (just as she did in the dream sequence). INT. STAIRWELL - NIGHT As Annie comes down the stairs. INT. KITCHEN - HOUSE She turns the light on. Opens the refrigerator. Closes it. Opens it again. Takes out some milk. Sits down at the kitchen table with a bowl, corn flakes, banana. She's about to assemble it when: She sees: THE RADIO She stands up, turns it on to the station Dr. Marcia Fieldstone is on. She sits back down with her corn flakes. ANNOUNCER (V.O.) Up next, "You and Your Emotions" with Dr. Marcia Fieldstone, clinical psychologist and the best friend you never had. (the teaser continues) WOMAN'S VOICE (V.O.) He says he doesn't love me any more. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why do you want to be with someone who doesn't love you? ANOTHER WOMAN (V.O.) Every time I come close to orgasm he stops and goes to make himself a sandwich -- DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why don't you make him a sandwich beforehand? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) When I met my wife, it was so clear. I jus knew. Annie starts at hearing Sam's voice. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) What was it that made you know? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) I don't think I could really describe it. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why not? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) And if I could describe it, it probably wouldn't be on a radio show. (he laughs to himself) But what the hell. It's not one specific thing. It's more of a feeling. (continuing) You touch her for the first time, and suddenly... you're home. It's almost like... magic. Annie closes her eyes. ANNOUNCER (V.O.) We'll be back after this commercial with Dr. Marcia Fieldstone. EXT. BALTIMORE - PEABODY LIBRARY - DAY We see Annie's car pull into a parking space outside the Peabody Library. Annie gets out of the car. INT. LIBRARY - DAY As Annie strides purposefully across the library and enters: INT. ANNIE'S BROTHER TOM'S OFFICE - DAY Annie bursts into Tom's office and walks over to his desk. We barely has time to look up. ANNIE I think I'm going crazy, Tom. I really do. Are you happily married? TOM (completely panicked by the question) What? ANNIE I mean, why did you get married? Was it all fireworks and trumpets and -- TOM (regaining composure) I got married because Betsy said we had to break up or get married. So we get married. ANNIE But when you met her, did you believe she was the only person for you? That in some mystical, cosmic way, it was fated? TOM Annie, when you meet someone and you're attracted to them, it just means that your subconscious is attracted to their subconscious, subconsciously. So what we think of as chemistry is just two neuroses knowing that they are a perfect match. ANNIE I don't even know him. But I'm having all these fantasies about a man I've never met, who lives in Seattle. TOM It rains nine months of the year in Seattle. ANNIE I know, I know. I do not want to move to Seattle. But what I really don't want to do is end up always wondering what might have happened and knowing I could have done something. What do you think? (Tom opens his mouth to say something, but before anything comes out, Annie fills the void) It's just cold feet, isn't it? Everyone panics before they get married, didn't you? TOM Yes, I did. ANNIE Thank you, Tom. I feel so much better just having blown this off. TOM Any time. INT. PEABODY LIBRARY - DAY As Annie walks through it and pushes the door to exit. EXT. A DOOR OPENING TO SEATTLE STREET - DAY Sam and Jay walk out of the Arctic Building onto the street. JAY Sandy has a girlfriend, Clenda ... She's a weightlifter, but it's not like her neck is bigger than her head or anything -- SAM I'm not asking you to set me up, Jay. That's not what I need your help for. I want to know what it's like over there. JAY And that's what I'm trying to tell you. What women are looking over, okay? Pecs and a cute butt. SAM You mean, like, "He has the cutest butt"? Where did I hear that recently? JAY Everywhere. You can't even turn on the news without hearing about how some babe thought some guy's butt was cute. Who the first babe to say this was I don't know, but it caught on. INT. SEATTLE RESTAURANT - DAY Sam and Jay at the counter. Out the window, we can see water. JAY When's the latest time you were out there? SAM (trying to remember) Seventy... eight. JAY Well. Things are different. First, you have to be friends. You have to like each other. Then you neck. This can go on for years. Then you have tests. Then you get to do it with a condom. (beat) The good news is, split the check. SAM I don't think it could let a woman pay for dinner. JAY Great. They'll have a parade in your honor. You'll be Man of the Year in Seattle Magazine. Tira misu. SAM What's tira misu? JAY You'll find out. SAM What is it? JAY You'll see. SAM Some woman is going to want me to do it to her and I'm not going to know what it is. JAY You'll like it. SAM (grimly) This is going to be tougher than I thought. EXT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY EVENING Sam coming home. INT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY EVENING As he enters. It's very quiet. Too quiet. SAM Jonah? No answers. SAM Jonah? He starts to look concerned. SAM Jonah? He goes down the hall to Jonah's room. The door is shut. He opens it. Jonah is sitting on his bed listening to a tape. Earphones on. Next to him is a young girl named JESSICA. SAM Jonah? Jonah takes off the earphones. JONAH Hi, Dad. Dad, this is Jessica. SAM It's nice to meet you, Jessica. JONAH Dad, this is amazing. If you play this backwards, it says "Paul is dead." SAM I know. JONAH How do you know? Sam shrugs, turns to go back down the hall. JONAH Dad, could you close the door? JESSICA H and G. (Sam looks back) Hi and goodbye. Sam closes the door to Jonah's room. Hold on Sam. SAM (to himself) Get a life. INT. HOUSEBOAT - CONTINUOUS As Sam comes downstairs, goes into his office. Closes the door. INT. SAM'S OFFICE AT HOME - CONTINUOUS He goes to the phone. Looks up a number in the phone book. Picks up the phone and dials a number. SAM Hi, Victoria?... It's Sam Baldwin, I don't know if you remember me. Oh? Well, great. I was wondering if you wanted to have a drink... Friday, say... Dinner?... Sure, dinner would be fine. Sure. Dinner. INT. AN UNFINISHED DINNER ON A PLATE IN ANNIE'S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT Annie is watching "An Affair to Remember" on television, tears pouring down her face. Cary Grant is saying: "Are you in love with him?" Deborah Kerr replies: "I'm not now." She's sitting at the dining room table. A dozen pieces of paper litter the table. Annie's been unsuccessfully typing a letter on an old Underwood typewriter. ANNIE Now those were the days when people knew how to be in love. She takes a blast from the wine glass to her right. Becky leans in, refilling the glass. Annie begins to type and sob and look at the TV. BECKY You're a basket case. ANNIE (as she types) They knew it. Time, distance, nothing could separate them. Because they knew. It was right. It was real. It was... BECKY ... movie. (beat) That's your problem. You don't want to be in love. You want to be in love in a movie. (beat) Read it to me. ANNIE (reading her letter) "Dear Sleepless and Son..." BECKY It sounds like the name of a mattress store -- ANNIE "I am not the sort of person who listens to call-in radio shows" -- Becky flops on the couch. BECKY And this woman is a writer! That's what everyone writes at the beginning of letters to strangers. ANNIE I know that. You think I don't know that? "I know that's a dumb way to begin, but it's the only way I can think of to convey what happened to me the other night when I heard the two of you on the radio. On the other hand, maybe I'm just losing my mind." BECKY You are. You're losing your mind. What about Walter? ANNIE I'm going to marry Walter. I just have to get this out of my system. BECKY Right. ANNIE I should say something in this about magic. BECKY What? ANNIE I don't know. I mean, what if I never meet him? What if this man is my destiny and I never meet him? BECKY Your destiny can be your doom. Look at me and Rick. ANNIE (typing some more) "I want to meet you..." Cary Grant says: "How about the top of the Empire State Building?" BECKY "On top of the Empire State Building at sunset on Valentine's Day." ANNIE Good. Perfect. I'll be in New York with Walter, I can squeeze it in. She types in Becky's idea. Then she takes the piece of paper out of the typewriter, smashes it into a ball and tosses it up in the air and into Becky's lap. BECKY You want to hear about destiny? If my husband hadn't gone on a diet, which caused me to leave him, I would never have been on that flight to

pursed

How many times the word 'pursed' appears in the text?

what. SHE'S CRYING. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Well, it's time to wrap up, folks -- A FIGURE appears at the passenger side window, which Annie doesn't notice. She's wiping the tears away with her hand. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) We hope you'll call again soon. The figure TAPS on the window -- WALTER (muffled, outside car) Annie? DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) ... and let us know how it's going. -- and taps again. WALTER Annie? She turns. He's pointing at the locked door. She searches for the button. Finally finds it so that Walter can open the door. ANNIE I'm sorry, Walter. I just heard the most amazing thing on the radio. They start toward the front door, Walter and Annie carrying presents, an overnight bag of Annie's. ANNIE People call up these shows and you can't believe the stuff they say. It's the end of privacy as we know it, this country is just one big global village with everyone out there going blah blah blah -- As they enter the house, we hear Silent Night and we see a Christmas tree, glittering with lights. CUT TO: A CHRISTMAS TREE GLITTERING WITH LIGHTS as we pull back to reveal: INT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY MORNING As Jonah opens his presents under the tree and we cut from gift to gift: A BROOKS ROBINSON BASEBALL GLOVE which Jonah loves and which he puts on his hand and keeps on while continuing to open: A TIE which mystifies him, but he hangs it around his neck. A PLAID SHIRT A MAP OF THE UNITED STATES -- the kind that's used in schoolrooms that pulls down from a roller. And now Sam brings out a long narrow present from behind the door and Jonah opens -- A NEW FISHING ROD EXT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY As Jonah poses with all his Christmas presents -- his tie hanging around his neck over his bathrobe and new plaid shirt, his baseball glove, fishing rod -- as Sam takes his picture. INT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY (OR POSSIBLY EXT. DECK HOUSEBOAT) Sam opens his present from Jonah, which is something he made in woodworking class. SAM The hopes are perfect -- beautiful, identical, smooth -- and they are for something really amazing I feel it in my bones -- JONAH It's a spice rack. SAM We desperately need a spice rack. Desperately. CUT TO: INT. KITCHEN OF HOUSEBOAT - DAY SAM And we desperately need spices. Where Sam is putting the spices they have -- pepper, salt, paprika and oregano -- into the spice rack, which has room for at least twenty more. Jonah is methodically making pancakes. JONAH Dad? About last night? SAM It's never happening again. Right? JONAH Right. There's a knock on the door. SAM Then it never happened. Sam goes to answer the door. TWO YOUNG WOMEN are standing there. Both are wearing quite a lot of Spandex. One of them is named LULU. It says so on her jacket. The other is JOBETH. SAM Hi. LULU Hi. Sam? SAM Yes? LULU (looking in and seeing Jonah) You must be Jonah. Jonah nods. LULU (to her friend) See. I told you. Sam and Jonah. I'm LULU. This is JoBeth. JoBeth nods, and continues to nod as Lulu talks. LULU (continues) We live two piers over, don't we? Number 12, right? We're having like a really neat open house today from like four to whenever if you care to stop by. SAM Thanks, but... we've got plans. LULU Well, here's the number. If you ever find yourself Sleepless, give us a call. We also... do babysitting. She winks. JoBeth nods. Sam nods. Lulu waves goodbye, and she and JoBeth sashay off down the dock. Jonah closes the door and turns to Sam. JONAH Not. SAM My feelings exactly. EXT. LAKE UNION MARINA - EARLY MORNING Jonah and Sam are fishing off a dingy. SAM How many people do you think heard that thing last night? JONAH It plays in 50 states. SAM What?! JONAH Nobody else is going to know it was us. SAM You're right. (after a beat) You better hope so. EXT. BALTIMORE SUN - MORNING INT. LIFESTYLE SECTION - DAY A large open newsroom-type space with REPORTERS at computers. Around the perimeter are glass-partitioned offices and meeting rooms. Inside one of the offices is BECKY, the Lifestyle editor of the Sun. She's at a table with Annie, now a reporter for the section, and two other colleagues -- KEITH and WYATT. Wyatt is playing Gameboy. KEITH This man sells the greatest soup you've ever eaten, there's a line around the block, and he is, I am not kidding, the meanest man in America. (beat) I feel strongly about this, Becky. This is not just about soup. BECKY Do it. What else? WYATT New Year's Eve. Please don't make me write it. Becky looks at Wyatt, notices the Gameboy. BECKY Wyatt, I do not mean to remind you of your mother, but if you don't put that game away, no TV for a week. WYATT (pushing it to the center of the table) Would someone look this up, don't tell me where. Becky is riffling through some papers on the table, among which are some tearsheets from the Associated Press wire. BECKY Listen to this. Phone service in the greater Chicago area was tied up for two hours Christmas Eve because some kid called a phone-in show to get a wife for his father. Two thousand women called in for the number. KEITH Jesus. ANNIE I heard it. This kid calls up and says my dad needs a wife and I'm talking to myself in the car saying, this is completely disgusting, you're taking advantage of a child, and then the father gets on and this shrinkette says, do you want to talk about it? And he says no as a matter of fact I don't, and I am saying, bravo! Right on! Don't talk to her, it's none of her business -- (she's completely into this story now) -- and then suddenly, for no reason at all, he's talking about how much he loved his wife, and how he just -- (she snaps her fingers) fell in love with her and I am crying. Me. A tear is actually rolling down my face. It was like what happens when I watch those phone company ads. I don't have to see the whole ad, I just have to see the part where the daughter gives her mother a refrigerator with a big red bow on it, have you seen that one? Everyone looks at her. Apparently she's finished. BECKY You should write something about this. ANNIE About what? BECKY Whatever it is. KEITH (waving the AP story) What it is is, there are a lot of desperate women out there looking for love. WYATT Especially over a certain age. Annie is looking at them. This isn't what she was talking about at all, although she isn't quite sure what she was talking about. KEITH It is easier to be killed by a terrorist after the age of 40 than it is to get married -- ANNIE That is not true. That statistic is not true. BECKY It's not true, but it feels true. ANNIE There's practically a whole book about how that statistic is not true -- WYATT Calm down. You brought it up -- ANNIE (sharply) I did not, Wyatt. A beat, everyone pauses. Things are a little out of hand. BECKY So where were we? WYATT New Year's Eve. I'll do it, okay? BECKY Okay. ANNIE If someone is a widower, why do they say he was widowed? Why don't they say he was widowered? Everyone looks at her strangely. ANNIE I was jus wondering. EXT. BALTIMORE STREET - DAY Annie walking purposefully, followed by Becky, hurrying to catch up. BECKY What was that about up there? ANNIE What was what? BECKY What's with you? ANNIE Nothing's with me. INT. BALTIMORE RESTAURANT - DAY Becky and Annie are having lunch. BECKY "Sleepless in Seattle"? ANNIE That's what she called him on the show. Because he can't sleep. BECKY And now 2,000 women want his number. The guy could be a crackhead, a psychopath, a flasher, a junkie, a transvestite, a chain-saw murderer, or someone really sick, like Rick. ANNIE Actually, he sounded nice. BECKY Oh? Oh, really? Now we're getting down to it. ANNIE Not. She reaches down for her purse. INT/EXT. REMODEL HOUSE - DAY A hand reaching down to pick something up -- the Seattle newspaper, and PULL BACK TO REVEAL: Sam carrying the paper down/up the stairs to an old house that's being renovated. Jonah, who is playing Cameboy, is walking along with him. WORKMEN are active everywhere. Dry wall going up, cabinets being installed, tile being set. One of Sam's partners, BOB LANGMAN, is walking with him, and JAY MATHEWS, the on-site supervisor, is waiting for them in an unfinished doorframe. Bob is hefty, older, always eating something dietetic. Jay is younger and always wears as little as possible, even in cold weather. BOB LANGMAN Now she wants a circular stairwell off the den. JAY (to Jonah, in b.g.) Punch me, punch in right here. (points to his stomach; Jonah punches) And she wants the Sub-Zero with the side-by-side doors -- BOB Which means -- SAM The cabinets have to be redone -- They all nod at each other. The woman has been a nightmare. BOB So we thought -- JAY Since you're on the make again -- Sam looks at Jonah -- SAM Great. This is great. The whole town knows. Just out of curiosity, how do you two know? BOB Grace heard it. SAM Grace the dispatcher. Great. BOB The point is, take the client out to dinner and ask her to marry you and then maybe we won't have to redo the kitchen cabinets. SAM Why me? What about Jay? JAY Hey, my plate is full. SAM Well, okay. What's the big deal? If she'll forget the new fireplace, I'll marry her. Just point me in the right direction. JONAH Dad, I don't know about this one -- SAM Oh, you're changing your mind -- JONAH No, I'm not, but -- SAM What's the matter with this one? Wouldn't you like to have Imelda Marcos as your mother? JONAH Dad -- Sam cuffs him good-naturedly. SAM We better take the measurements for the new cabinets. He walks away past some workmen, ladders, etc. and starts checking the cross-beams in the ceiling over in another area of the site. Bob follows after him. Jay tosses Jonah a hammer and they start knocking nails into the wall. BOB Sam, if you're not doing anything New Year's -- obviously you're not doing anything New Year's -- we're having some people over, all of them married, not one even remotely interested in playing around. Does that sound great or what? (whistfully) I can't think of the last time I was at a party when anything actually happened. SAM Thanks, but I'll pass. It's kind of a big night. I don't like to leave Jonah alone. CUT TO: SHOT OF HOUSEBOAT BEING TOWED BY A TUG DOWN THE RIVER (OR A SEAPLANE LANDING) - TWILIGHT EXT. HOUSEBOAT - TWILIGHT Jonah watching it. Sam visible in the distance in the kitchen. INT. KITCHEN - TWILIGHT As Sam is busy installing the spice rack. He marks the wall, hammers in the nails, etc. SAM (as he starts putting new spices into the rack, in alphabetical order) Does red pepper go under R or P? JONAH P. (beat) Dad? SAM (absently) What? JONAH I forgot to mention. Jed called -- SAM Just out of curiosity, do you have any friends whose names don't begin with a J? I feel like it was a failure of the imagination on our part naming you Jonah. (looking at the spices) What is marjoram? Does anyone know? JONAH Jed is having a slumber party New Year's Eve and he invited me. A beat. SAM Fine. Fine. JONAH So I can go. SAM Sure. (almost done with the spices) Looking good. JONAH Shouldn't you have used a toggle bolt? SAM I think I know how to have a spice rack. He puts in the last spice. They stand back to admire it. A beat. The rack falls off the wall. The rack itself doesn't break, but about six of the glass jars of spices break. There's paprika and thyme and currying powder, etc. all over the floor along with shards of glass. SAM God fucking dammit! Shit! Fuck. Piss. Jonah bursts into tears. SAM (still angry) I'm sorry. (softening) I'm sorry. He picks up Jonah and holds him. SAM I'm sorry. I'm just -- JONAH Stressed. SAM Right. I'm sorry, Jonah, I'm sorry. And he holds Jonah as Jonah calms down. Sam closes his eyes tight. INT. A TELEVISION SET OF NEW YEAR'S EVE ON TIMES SQUARE And pull back to reveal: INT. HOUSEBOAT - NIGHT Sam, alone, watching the ball drop. He's got a bag of Doritos and a beer. A VOICE Can I have half your beer? SAM Sure. It's Maggie. She takes his bottle of beer and pours half of it into a glass. MAGGIE What did I used to say? Here's looking at you? Here's mud in your eye? SAM Here's to us. You used to say here's to us. (he looks at her and his eyes well with tears) Oh babe. I miss you so much it hurts. He reaches out for her. She's gone. And we hear the television set now counting down to midnight in New York. CUT TO: INT. NEW YEAR'S EVE PARTY IN BALTIMORE - NIGHT The same television show counting down to midnight. Champagne corks popping, etc. And we see Walter and Annie. WALTER Happy New Year, darling. ANNIE Happy New Year. They start to dance. WALTER I was thinking, I have to go up to Boston for the AAP convention and then visit Winston-Hughes about switching over our computers. Why don't we meet in New York for Valentine's Day weekend? ANNIE Walter, I'd love to -- WALTER We'll stay at the Plaza -- ANNIE Go for a walk in Central Park -- WALTER Go to the Symphony -- A beat. ANNIE We will? (beat) The Symphony? (beat) Okay. (beat) I'll take you to the Russian Tea Room for pelmeni. WALTER What is it? ANNIE It's delicious, trust me. WALTER Does it have wheat in it? ANNIE I don't think so. They go on dancing. It's one of those parties where everyone looks so happy and so in love. Annie, however, looks thoughtful. ET. MARINA PARKING AREA - DAY Sam gets out of his car and starts down the dock toward his houseboat. He's carrying a bag of groceries. In the parking lot is a U.S. MAIL TRUCK. EXT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY Sam approaches his boat and a puzzled look comes over his face. A MAILMAN with a sack of mail is standing outside the front door of the houseboat. Jonah is signing a receipt for the mail. JONAH Look at this, Dad. They're all for you -- Sam picks up an envelop and looks at it. It's addressed to Sleepless in Seattle c/o Dr. Marcia Fieldstone, Radio Station KWRS in Chicago. He's stunned. As he signs the receipt: MAILMAN If you're having trouble sleeping, you might want to try drinking a glass of water from the other side. JONAH I thought that was for hiccups. MAILMAN Does it work for hiccups? JONAH For hiccups, a spoonful of sugar, you hold it in your mouth for a minute. MAILMAN Really? The mailman starts back toward the mail truck. Sam and Jonah start toward the door. INT. HOUSEBOAT - NIGHT Sam is in the kitchen making dinner. Jonah is sitting at the table, reading the letters from the stack they found by the door. SAM Just out of curiosity, how did they get our address? JONAH They called and asked for it. (reading) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle. You are the most attractive man I've ever laid ears on." Jonah rolls his eyes, tosses the letter into a pile of rejects, opens another. SAM How did they get our phone number? JONAH You have to give them your phone number or they won't let you go on the air. Sam nods as if this makes perfect sense. JONAH (continues, reading) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle: I am an SWF"-- (to Sam) What is that? SAM Thank God. Something you don't know. It's a single white female. JONAH This is no good. She's looking for someone French. Or Greek. (puzzled, he throws the letter into the reject pile, opens another) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle: I live in Tulsa." Where is that? -- SAM Oklahoma. Do you know where that is? JONAH Somewhere in the middle. SAM I'm not going to think about what they're not teaching you in school. I am not going to think about it. (beat) Generally speaking I think we should rule out people who don't live somewhere near here -- JONAH She's willing to fly anywhere. As Jonah hands Sam the picture. SAM She looks like my third grade teacher. I hated my third grade teacher. Hold it! Wait a minute! She is my third grade teacher! JONAH Dad, you're not taking this seriously. SAM This is not how you do it. (referring to the hamburger) You want this on an English muffin or a bun? JONAH English muffin. How do you do it? SAM You see someone you like, you get a feeling about them, you ask them if they want to have a drink or -- JONAH -- a slice of pizza -- SAM But not dinner necessarily on the first date because by the time you're halfway through dinner you might be sorry you asked them to dinner whereas if it's just a drink, if you like them you can always ask them for dinner but if you don't you can go home if you see what I mean. (beat) I wonder if it still works this way. JONAH It doesn't. They ask you. SAM I'm starting to notice that. INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie and Walter are making love. JONAH (V.O.) If you get a new wife, I guess you'll have sex with her, huh? SAM (V.O.) What do you think? JONAH (V.O.) Will she scratch up your back? SAM (V.O.) What? JONAH'S BEDROOM - NIGHT As Sam puts Jonah to sleep. Jonah is holding his teddy bear while this conversation concludes. JONAH In the movies women are always scratching up guy's back and screaming and stuff. When they're having sex. SAM Whose show was this on? JONAH Jed's got cables. SAM Go to sleep. He kisses him good-night. JONAH Kiss Howard. (he holds out the teddy bear) G'night, Howard. INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie and Walter have just finished making love. Walter falling asleep. Annie lying in bed, with her eyes open. She starts to get out of bed. Puts on a robe. INT. STAIRWAY - HOUSE As Annie comes downstairs in a bathrobe. She opens the door to the street. EXT. STREET - NIGHT As Annie starts to run down the street. CLOSEUP OF: ANNIE, RUNNING And now we widen out to see a misty highway she's running down. Past a sign saying: Seattle Approximately 3,000 miles. Past another sign: Your nerves are shot. And another: Your feet are cold. And another: Will you find love. And another: Before you're cold? And another: Burma Shave. And Annie continues to run, and now we see she's running across a map of the United States -- it's a little like the one we saw in the beginning of the movie -- it's like the famous map of the United States by Saul Steinberg, but instead of being about New York, this one is about Seattle. In the distance, at the very edge of the map, we see two indistinct figures -- a map and a young boy. They start to wave at her, very slowly. Annie's eyes widen. CUT TO: INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie in bed, eyes open. Walter fast asleep. She gets out of bed, puts on her robe (just as she did in the dream sequence). INT. STAIRWELL - NIGHT As Annie comes down the stairs. INT. KITCHEN - HOUSE She turns the light on. Opens the refrigerator. Closes it. Opens it again. Takes out some milk. Sits down at the kitchen table with a bowl, corn flakes, banana. She's about to assemble it when: She sees: THE RADIO She stands up, turns it on to the station Dr. Marcia Fieldstone is on. She sits back down with her corn flakes. ANNOUNCER (V.O.) Up next, "You and Your Emotions" with Dr. Marcia Fieldstone, clinical psychologist and the best friend you never had. (the teaser continues) WOMAN'S VOICE (V.O.) He says he doesn't love me any more. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why do you want to be with someone who doesn't love you? ANOTHER WOMAN (V.O.) Every time I come close to orgasm he stops and goes to make himself a sandwich -- DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why don't you make him a sandwich beforehand? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) When I met my wife, it was so clear. I jus knew. Annie starts at hearing Sam's voice. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) What was it that made you know? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) I don't think I could really describe it. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why not? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) And if I could describe it, it probably wouldn't be on a radio show. (he laughs to himself) But what the hell. It's not one specific thing. It's more of a feeling. (continuing) You touch her for the first time, and suddenly... you're home. It's almost like... magic. Annie closes her eyes. ANNOUNCER (V.O.) We'll be back after this commercial with Dr. Marcia Fieldstone. EXT. BALTIMORE - PEABODY LIBRARY - DAY We see Annie's car pull into a parking space outside the Peabody Library. Annie gets out of the car. INT. LIBRARY - DAY As Annie strides purposefully across the library and enters: INT. ANNIE'S BROTHER TOM'S OFFICE - DAY Annie bursts into Tom's office and walks over to his desk. We barely has time to look up. ANNIE I think I'm going crazy, Tom. I really do. Are you happily married? TOM (completely panicked by the question) What? ANNIE I mean, why did you get married? Was it all fireworks and trumpets and -- TOM (regaining composure) I got married because Betsy said we had to break up or get married. So we get married. ANNIE But when you met her, did you believe she was the only person for you? That in some mystical, cosmic way, it was fated? TOM Annie, when you meet someone and you're attracted to them, it just means that your subconscious is attracted to their subconscious, subconsciously. So what we think of as chemistry is just two neuroses knowing that they are a perfect match. ANNIE I don't even know him. But I'm having all these fantasies about a man I've never met, who lives in Seattle. TOM It rains nine months of the year in Seattle. ANNIE I know, I know. I do not want to move to Seattle. But what I really don't want to do is end up always wondering what might have happened and knowing I could have done something. What do you think? (Tom opens his mouth to say something, but before anything comes out, Annie fills the void) It's just cold feet, isn't it? Everyone panics before they get married, didn't you? TOM Yes, I did. ANNIE Thank you, Tom. I feel so much better just having blown this off. TOM Any time. INT. PEABODY LIBRARY - DAY As Annie walks through it and pushes the door to exit. EXT. A DOOR OPENING TO SEATTLE STREET - DAY Sam and Jay walk out of the Arctic Building onto the street. JAY Sandy has a girlfriend, Clenda ... She's a weightlifter, but it's not like her neck is bigger than her head or anything -- SAM I'm not asking you to set me up, Jay. That's not what I need your help for. I want to know what it's like over there. JAY And that's what I'm trying to tell you. What women are looking over, okay? Pecs and a cute butt. SAM You mean, like, "He has the cutest butt"? Where did I hear that recently? JAY Everywhere. You can't even turn on the news without hearing about how some babe thought some guy's butt was cute. Who the first babe to say this was I don't know, but it caught on. INT. SEATTLE RESTAURANT - DAY Sam and Jay at the counter. Out the window, we can see water. JAY When's the latest time you were out there? SAM (trying to remember) Seventy... eight. JAY Well. Things are different. First, you have to be friends. You have to like each other. Then you neck. This can go on for years. Then you have tests. Then you get to do it with a condom. (beat) The good news is, split the check. SAM I don't think it could let a woman pay for dinner. JAY Great. They'll have a parade in your honor. You'll be Man of the Year in Seattle Magazine. Tira misu. SAM What's tira misu? JAY You'll find out. SAM What is it? JAY You'll see. SAM Some woman is going to want me to do it to her and I'm not going to know what it is. JAY You'll like it. SAM (grimly) This is going to be tougher than I thought. EXT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY EVENING Sam coming home. INT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY EVENING As he enters. It's very quiet. Too quiet. SAM Jonah? No answers. SAM Jonah? He starts to look concerned. SAM Jonah? He goes down the hall to Jonah's room. The door is shut. He opens it. Jonah is sitting on his bed listening to a tape. Earphones on. Next to him is a young girl named JESSICA. SAM Jonah? Jonah takes off the earphones. JONAH Hi, Dad. Dad, this is Jessica. SAM It's nice to meet you, Jessica. JONAH Dad, this is amazing. If you play this backwards, it says "Paul is dead." SAM I know. JONAH How do you know? Sam shrugs, turns to go back down the hall. JONAH Dad, could you close the door? JESSICA H and G. (Sam looks back) Hi and goodbye. Sam closes the door to Jonah's room. Hold on Sam. SAM (to himself) Get a life. INT. HOUSEBOAT - CONTINUOUS As Sam comes downstairs, goes into his office. Closes the door. INT. SAM'S OFFICE AT HOME - CONTINUOUS He goes to the phone. Looks up a number in the phone book. Picks up the phone and dials a number. SAM Hi, Victoria?... It's Sam Baldwin, I don't know if you remember me. Oh? Well, great. I was wondering if you wanted to have a drink... Friday, say... Dinner?... Sure, dinner would be fine. Sure. Dinner. INT. AN UNFINISHED DINNER ON A PLATE IN ANNIE'S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT Annie is watching "An Affair to Remember" on television, tears pouring down her face. Cary Grant is saying: "Are you in love with him?" Deborah Kerr replies: "I'm not now." She's sitting at the dining room table. A dozen pieces of paper litter the table. Annie's been unsuccessfully typing a letter on an old Underwood typewriter. ANNIE Now those were the days when people knew how to be in love. She takes a blast from the wine glass to her right. Becky leans in, refilling the glass. Annie begins to type and sob and look at the TV. BECKY You're a basket case. ANNIE (as she types) They knew it. Time, distance, nothing could separate them. Because they knew. It was right. It was real. It was... BECKY ... movie. (beat) That's your problem. You don't want to be in love. You want to be in love in a movie. (beat) Read it to me. ANNIE (reading her letter) "Dear Sleepless and Son..." BECKY It sounds like the name of a mattress store -- ANNIE "I am not the sort of person who listens to call-in radio shows" -- Becky flops on the couch. BECKY And this woman is a writer! That's what everyone writes at the beginning of letters to strangers. ANNIE I know that. You think I don't know that? "I know that's a dumb way to begin, but it's the only way I can think of to convey what happened to me the other night when I heard the two of you on the radio. On the other hand, maybe I'm just losing my mind." BECKY You are. You're losing your mind. What about Walter? ANNIE I'm going to marry Walter. I just have to get this out of my system. BECKY Right. ANNIE I should say something in this about magic. BECKY What? ANNIE I don't know. I mean, what if I never meet him? What if this man is my destiny and I never meet him? BECKY Your destiny can be your doom. Look at me and Rick. ANNIE (typing some more) "I want to meet you..." Cary Grant says: "How about the top of the Empire State Building?" BECKY "On top of the Empire State Building at sunset on Valentine's Day." ANNIE Good. Perfect. I'll be in New York with Walter, I can squeeze it in. She types in Becky's idea. Then she takes the piece of paper out of the typewriter, smashes it into a ball and tosses it up in the air and into Becky's lap. BECKY You want to hear about destiny? If my husband hadn't gone on a diet, which caused me to leave him, I would never have been on that flight to

twilight

How many times the word 'twilight' appears in the text?

what. SHE'S CRYING. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Well, it's time to wrap up, folks -- A FIGURE appears at the passenger side window, which Annie doesn't notice. She's wiping the tears away with her hand. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) We hope you'll call again soon. The figure TAPS on the window -- WALTER (muffled, outside car) Annie? DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) ... and let us know how it's going. -- and taps again. WALTER Annie? She turns. He's pointing at the locked door. She searches for the button. Finally finds it so that Walter can open the door. ANNIE I'm sorry, Walter. I just heard the most amazing thing on the radio. They start toward the front door, Walter and Annie carrying presents, an overnight bag of Annie's. ANNIE People call up these shows and you can't believe the stuff they say. It's the end of privacy as we know it, this country is just one big global village with everyone out there going blah blah blah -- As they enter the house, we hear Silent Night and we see a Christmas tree, glittering with lights. CUT TO: A CHRISTMAS TREE GLITTERING WITH LIGHTS as we pull back to reveal: INT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY MORNING As Jonah opens his presents under the tree and we cut from gift to gift: A BROOKS ROBINSON BASEBALL GLOVE which Jonah loves and which he puts on his hand and keeps on while continuing to open: A TIE which mystifies him, but he hangs it around his neck. A PLAID SHIRT A MAP OF THE UNITED STATES -- the kind that's used in schoolrooms that pulls down from a roller. And now Sam brings out a long narrow present from behind the door and Jonah opens -- A NEW FISHING ROD EXT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY As Jonah poses with all his Christmas presents -- his tie hanging around his neck over his bathrobe and new plaid shirt, his baseball glove, fishing rod -- as Sam takes his picture. INT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY (OR POSSIBLY EXT. DECK HOUSEBOAT) Sam opens his present from Jonah, which is something he made in woodworking class. SAM The hopes are perfect -- beautiful, identical, smooth -- and they are for something really amazing I feel it in my bones -- JONAH It's a spice rack. SAM We desperately need a spice rack. Desperately. CUT TO: INT. KITCHEN OF HOUSEBOAT - DAY SAM And we desperately need spices. Where Sam is putting the spices they have -- pepper, salt, paprika and oregano -- into the spice rack, which has room for at least twenty more. Jonah is methodically making pancakes. JONAH Dad? About last night? SAM It's never happening again. Right? JONAH Right. There's a knock on the door. SAM Then it never happened. Sam goes to answer the door. TWO YOUNG WOMEN are standing there. Both are wearing quite a lot of Spandex. One of them is named LULU. It says so on her jacket. The other is JOBETH. SAM Hi. LULU Hi. Sam? SAM Yes? LULU (looking in and seeing Jonah) You must be Jonah. Jonah nods. LULU (to her friend) See. I told you. Sam and Jonah. I'm LULU. This is JoBeth. JoBeth nods, and continues to nod as Lulu talks. LULU (continues) We live two piers over, don't we? Number 12, right? We're having like a really neat open house today from like four to whenever if you care to stop by. SAM Thanks, but... we've got plans. LULU Well, here's the number. If you ever find yourself Sleepless, give us a call. We also... do babysitting. She winks. JoBeth nods. Sam nods. Lulu waves goodbye, and she and JoBeth sashay off down the dock. Jonah closes the door and turns to Sam. JONAH Not. SAM My feelings exactly. EXT. LAKE UNION MARINA - EARLY MORNING Jonah and Sam are fishing off a dingy. SAM How many people do you think heard that thing last night? JONAH It plays in 50 states. SAM What?! JONAH Nobody else is going to know it was us. SAM You're right. (after a beat) You better hope so. EXT. BALTIMORE SUN - MORNING INT. LIFESTYLE SECTION - DAY A large open newsroom-type space with REPORTERS at computers. Around the perimeter are glass-partitioned offices and meeting rooms. Inside one of the offices is BECKY, the Lifestyle editor of the Sun. She's at a table with Annie, now a reporter for the section, and two other colleagues -- KEITH and WYATT. Wyatt is playing Gameboy. KEITH This man sells the greatest soup you've ever eaten, there's a line around the block, and he is, I am not kidding, the meanest man in America. (beat) I feel strongly about this, Becky. This is not just about soup. BECKY Do it. What else? WYATT New Year's Eve. Please don't make me write it. Becky looks at Wyatt, notices the Gameboy. BECKY Wyatt, I do not mean to remind you of your mother, but if you don't put that game away, no TV for a week. WYATT (pushing it to the center of the table) Would someone look this up, don't tell me where. Becky is riffling through some papers on the table, among which are some tearsheets from the Associated Press wire. BECKY Listen to this. Phone service in the greater Chicago area was tied up for two hours Christmas Eve because some kid called a phone-in show to get a wife for his father. Two thousand women called in for the number. KEITH Jesus. ANNIE I heard it. This kid calls up and says my dad needs a wife and I'm talking to myself in the car saying, this is completely disgusting, you're taking advantage of a child, and then the father gets on and this shrinkette says, do you want to talk about it? And he says no as a matter of fact I don't, and I am saying, bravo! Right on! Don't talk to her, it's none of her business -- (she's completely into this story now) -- and then suddenly, for no reason at all, he's talking about how much he loved his wife, and how he just -- (she snaps her fingers) fell in love with her and I am crying. Me. A tear is actually rolling down my face. It was like what happens when I watch those phone company ads. I don't have to see the whole ad, I just have to see the part where the daughter gives her mother a refrigerator with a big red bow on it, have you seen that one? Everyone looks at her. Apparently she's finished. BECKY You should write something about this. ANNIE About what? BECKY Whatever it is. KEITH (waving the AP story) What it is is, there are a lot of desperate women out there looking for love. WYATT Especially over a certain age. Annie is looking at them. This isn't what she was talking about at all, although she isn't quite sure what she was talking about. KEITH It is easier to be killed by a terrorist after the age of 40 than it is to get married -- ANNIE That is not true. That statistic is not true. BECKY It's not true, but it feels true. ANNIE There's practically a whole book about how that statistic is not true -- WYATT Calm down. You brought it up -- ANNIE (sharply) I did not, Wyatt. A beat, everyone pauses. Things are a little out of hand. BECKY So where were we? WYATT New Year's Eve. I'll do it, okay? BECKY Okay. ANNIE If someone is a widower, why do they say he was widowed? Why don't they say he was widowered? Everyone looks at her strangely. ANNIE I was jus wondering. EXT. BALTIMORE STREET - DAY Annie walking purposefully, followed by Becky, hurrying to catch up. BECKY What was that about up there? ANNIE What was what? BECKY What's with you? ANNIE Nothing's with me. INT. BALTIMORE RESTAURANT - DAY Becky and Annie are having lunch. BECKY "Sleepless in Seattle"? ANNIE That's what she called him on the show. Because he can't sleep. BECKY And now 2,000 women want his number. The guy could be a crackhead, a psychopath, a flasher, a junkie, a transvestite, a chain-saw murderer, or someone really sick, like Rick. ANNIE Actually, he sounded nice. BECKY Oh? Oh, really? Now we're getting down to it. ANNIE Not. She reaches down for her purse. INT/EXT. REMODEL HOUSE - DAY A hand reaching down to pick something up -- the Seattle newspaper, and PULL BACK TO REVEAL: Sam carrying the paper down/up the stairs to an old house that's being renovated. Jonah, who is playing Cameboy, is walking along with him. WORKMEN are active everywhere. Dry wall going up, cabinets being installed, tile being set. One of Sam's partners, BOB LANGMAN, is walking with him, and JAY MATHEWS, the on-site supervisor, is waiting for them in an unfinished doorframe. Bob is hefty, older, always eating something dietetic. Jay is younger and always wears as little as possible, even in cold weather. BOB LANGMAN Now she wants a circular stairwell off the den. JAY (to Jonah, in b.g.) Punch me, punch in right here. (points to his stomach; Jonah punches) And she wants the Sub-Zero with the side-by-side doors -- BOB Which means -- SAM The cabinets have to be redone -- They all nod at each other. The woman has been a nightmare. BOB So we thought -- JAY Since you're on the make again -- Sam looks at Jonah -- SAM Great. This is great. The whole town knows. Just out of curiosity, how do you two know? BOB Grace heard it. SAM Grace the dispatcher. Great. BOB The point is, take the client out to dinner and ask her to marry you and then maybe we won't have to redo the kitchen cabinets. SAM Why me? What about Jay? JAY Hey, my plate is full. SAM Well, okay. What's the big deal? If she'll forget the new fireplace, I'll marry her. Just point me in the right direction. JONAH Dad, I don't know about this one -- SAM Oh, you're changing your mind -- JONAH No, I'm not, but -- SAM What's the matter with this one? Wouldn't you like to have Imelda Marcos as your mother? JONAH Dad -- Sam cuffs him good-naturedly. SAM We better take the measurements for the new cabinets. He walks away past some workmen, ladders, etc. and starts checking the cross-beams in the ceiling over in another area of the site. Bob follows after him. Jay tosses Jonah a hammer and they start knocking nails into the wall. BOB Sam, if you're not doing anything New Year's -- obviously you're not doing anything New Year's -- we're having some people over, all of them married, not one even remotely interested in playing around. Does that sound great or what? (whistfully) I can't think of the last time I was at a party when anything actually happened. SAM Thanks, but I'll pass. It's kind of a big night. I don't like to leave Jonah alone. CUT TO: SHOT OF HOUSEBOAT BEING TOWED BY A TUG DOWN THE RIVER (OR A SEAPLANE LANDING) - TWILIGHT EXT. HOUSEBOAT - TWILIGHT Jonah watching it. Sam visible in the distance in the kitchen. INT. KITCHEN - TWILIGHT As Sam is busy installing the spice rack. He marks the wall, hammers in the nails, etc. SAM (as he starts putting new spices into the rack, in alphabetical order) Does red pepper go under R or P? JONAH P. (beat) Dad? SAM (absently) What? JONAH I forgot to mention. Jed called -- SAM Just out of curiosity, do you have any friends whose names don't begin with a J? I feel like it was a failure of the imagination on our part naming you Jonah. (looking at the spices) What is marjoram? Does anyone know? JONAH Jed is having a slumber party New Year's Eve and he invited me. A beat. SAM Fine. Fine. JONAH So I can go. SAM Sure. (almost done with the spices) Looking good. JONAH Shouldn't you have used a toggle bolt? SAM I think I know how to have a spice rack. He puts in the last spice. They stand back to admire it. A beat. The rack falls off the wall. The rack itself doesn't break, but about six of the glass jars of spices break. There's paprika and thyme and currying powder, etc. all over the floor along with shards of glass. SAM God fucking dammit! Shit! Fuck. Piss. Jonah bursts into tears. SAM (still angry) I'm sorry. (softening) I'm sorry. He picks up Jonah and holds him. SAM I'm sorry. I'm just -- JONAH Stressed. SAM Right. I'm sorry, Jonah, I'm sorry. And he holds Jonah as Jonah calms down. Sam closes his eyes tight. INT. A TELEVISION SET OF NEW YEAR'S EVE ON TIMES SQUARE And pull back to reveal: INT. HOUSEBOAT - NIGHT Sam, alone, watching the ball drop. He's got a bag of Doritos and a beer. A VOICE Can I have half your beer? SAM Sure. It's Maggie. She takes his bottle of beer and pours half of it into a glass. MAGGIE What did I used to say? Here's looking at you? Here's mud in your eye? SAM Here's to us. You used to say here's to us. (he looks at her and his eyes well with tears) Oh babe. I miss you so much it hurts. He reaches out for her. She's gone. And we hear the television set now counting down to midnight in New York. CUT TO: INT. NEW YEAR'S EVE PARTY IN BALTIMORE - NIGHT The same television show counting down to midnight. Champagne corks popping, etc. And we see Walter and Annie. WALTER Happy New Year, darling. ANNIE Happy New Year. They start to dance. WALTER I was thinking, I have to go up to Boston for the AAP convention and then visit Winston-Hughes about switching over our computers. Why don't we meet in New York for Valentine's Day weekend? ANNIE Walter, I'd love to -- WALTER We'll stay at the Plaza -- ANNIE Go for a walk in Central Park -- WALTER Go to the Symphony -- A beat. ANNIE We will? (beat) The Symphony? (beat) Okay. (beat) I'll take you to the Russian Tea Room for pelmeni. WALTER What is it? ANNIE It's delicious, trust me. WALTER Does it have wheat in it? ANNIE I don't think so. They go on dancing. It's one of those parties where everyone looks so happy and so in love. Annie, however, looks thoughtful. ET. MARINA PARKING AREA - DAY Sam gets out of his car and starts down the dock toward his houseboat. He's carrying a bag of groceries. In the parking lot is a U.S. MAIL TRUCK. EXT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY Sam approaches his boat and a puzzled look comes over his face. A MAILMAN with a sack of mail is standing outside the front door of the houseboat. Jonah is signing a receipt for the mail. JONAH Look at this, Dad. They're all for you -- Sam picks up an envelop and looks at it. It's addressed to Sleepless in Seattle c/o Dr. Marcia Fieldstone, Radio Station KWRS in Chicago. He's stunned. As he signs the receipt: MAILMAN If you're having trouble sleeping, you might want to try drinking a glass of water from the other side. JONAH I thought that was for hiccups. MAILMAN Does it work for hiccups? JONAH For hiccups, a spoonful of sugar, you hold it in your mouth for a minute. MAILMAN Really? The mailman starts back toward the mail truck. Sam and Jonah start toward the door. INT. HOUSEBOAT - NIGHT Sam is in the kitchen making dinner. Jonah is sitting at the table, reading the letters from the stack they found by the door. SAM Just out of curiosity, how did they get our address? JONAH They called and asked for it. (reading) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle. You are the most attractive man I've ever laid ears on." Jonah rolls his eyes, tosses the letter into a pile of rejects, opens another. SAM How did they get our phone number? JONAH You have to give them your phone number or they won't let you go on the air. Sam nods as if this makes perfect sense. JONAH (continues, reading) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle: I am an SWF"-- (to Sam) What is that? SAM Thank God. Something you don't know. It's a single white female. JONAH This is no good. She's looking for someone French. Or Greek. (puzzled, he throws the letter into the reject pile, opens another) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle: I live in Tulsa." Where is that? -- SAM Oklahoma. Do you know where that is? JONAH Somewhere in the middle. SAM I'm not going to think about what they're not teaching you in school. I am not going to think about it. (beat) Generally speaking I think we should rule out people who don't live somewhere near here -- JONAH She's willing to fly anywhere. As Jonah hands Sam the picture. SAM She looks like my third grade teacher. I hated my third grade teacher. Hold it! Wait a minute! She is my third grade teacher! JONAH Dad, you're not taking this seriously. SAM This is not how you do it. (referring to the hamburger) You want this on an English muffin or a bun? JONAH English muffin. How do you do it? SAM You see someone you like, you get a feeling about them, you ask them if they want to have a drink or -- JONAH -- a slice of pizza -- SAM But not dinner necessarily on the first date because by the time you're halfway through dinner you might be sorry you asked them to dinner whereas if it's just a drink, if you like them you can always ask them for dinner but if you don't you can go home if you see what I mean. (beat) I wonder if it still works this way. JONAH It doesn't. They ask you. SAM I'm starting to notice that. INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie and Walter are making love. JONAH (V.O.) If you get a new wife, I guess you'll have sex with her, huh? SAM (V.O.) What do you think? JONAH (V.O.) Will she scratch up your back? SAM (V.O.) What? JONAH'S BEDROOM - NIGHT As Sam puts Jonah to sleep. Jonah is holding his teddy bear while this conversation concludes. JONAH In the movies women are always scratching up guy's back and screaming and stuff. When they're having sex. SAM Whose show was this on? JONAH Jed's got cables. SAM Go to sleep. He kisses him good-night. JONAH Kiss Howard. (he holds out the teddy bear) G'night, Howard. INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie and Walter have just finished making love. Walter falling asleep. Annie lying in bed, with her eyes open. She starts to get out of bed. Puts on a robe. INT. STAIRWAY - HOUSE As Annie comes downstairs in a bathrobe. She opens the door to the street. EXT. STREET - NIGHT As Annie starts to run down the street. CLOSEUP OF: ANNIE, RUNNING And now we widen out to see a misty highway she's running down. Past a sign saying: Seattle Approximately 3,000 miles. Past another sign: Your nerves are shot. And another: Your feet are cold. And another: Will you find love. And another: Before you're cold? And another: Burma Shave. And Annie continues to run, and now we see she's running across a map of the United States -- it's a little like the one we saw in the beginning of the movie -- it's like the famous map of the United States by Saul Steinberg, but instead of being about New York, this one is about Seattle. In the distance, at the very edge of the map, we see two indistinct figures -- a map and a young boy. They start to wave at her, very slowly. Annie's eyes widen. CUT TO: INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie in bed, eyes open. Walter fast asleep. She gets out of bed, puts on her robe (just as she did in the dream sequence). INT. STAIRWELL - NIGHT As Annie comes down the stairs. INT. KITCHEN - HOUSE She turns the light on. Opens the refrigerator. Closes it. Opens it again. Takes out some milk. Sits down at the kitchen table with a bowl, corn flakes, banana. She's about to assemble it when: She sees: THE RADIO She stands up, turns it on to the station Dr. Marcia Fieldstone is on. She sits back down with her corn flakes. ANNOUNCER (V.O.) Up next, "You and Your Emotions" with Dr. Marcia Fieldstone, clinical psychologist and the best friend you never had. (the teaser continues) WOMAN'S VOICE (V.O.) He says he doesn't love me any more. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why do you want to be with someone who doesn't love you? ANOTHER WOMAN (V.O.) Every time I come close to orgasm he stops and goes to make himself a sandwich -- DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why don't you make him a sandwich beforehand? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) When I met my wife, it was so clear. I jus knew. Annie starts at hearing Sam's voice. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) What was it that made you know? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) I don't think I could really describe it. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why not? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) And if I could describe it, it probably wouldn't be on a radio show. (he laughs to himself) But what the hell. It's not one specific thing. It's more of a feeling. (continuing) You touch her for the first time, and suddenly... you're home. It's almost like... magic. Annie closes her eyes. ANNOUNCER (V.O.) We'll be back after this commercial with Dr. Marcia Fieldstone. EXT. BALTIMORE - PEABODY LIBRARY - DAY We see Annie's car pull into a parking space outside the Peabody Library. Annie gets out of the car. INT. LIBRARY - DAY As Annie strides purposefully across the library and enters: INT. ANNIE'S BROTHER TOM'S OFFICE - DAY Annie bursts into Tom's office and walks over to his desk. We barely has time to look up. ANNIE I think I'm going crazy, Tom. I really do. Are you happily married? TOM (completely panicked by the question) What? ANNIE I mean, why did you get married? Was it all fireworks and trumpets and -- TOM (regaining composure) I got married because Betsy said we had to break up or get married. So we get married. ANNIE But when you met her, did you believe she was the only person for you? That in some mystical, cosmic way, it was fated? TOM Annie, when you meet someone and you're attracted to them, it just means that your subconscious is attracted to their subconscious, subconsciously. So what we think of as chemistry is just two neuroses knowing that they are a perfect match. ANNIE I don't even know him. But I'm having all these fantasies about a man I've never met, who lives in Seattle. TOM It rains nine months of the year in Seattle. ANNIE I know, I know. I do not want to move to Seattle. But what I really don't want to do is end up always wondering what might have happened and knowing I could have done something. What do you think? (Tom opens his mouth to say something, but before anything comes out, Annie fills the void) It's just cold feet, isn't it? Everyone panics before they get married, didn't you? TOM Yes, I did. ANNIE Thank you, Tom. I feel so much better just having blown this off. TOM Any time. INT. PEABODY LIBRARY - DAY As Annie walks through it and pushes the door to exit. EXT. A DOOR OPENING TO SEATTLE STREET - DAY Sam and Jay walk out of the Arctic Building onto the street. JAY Sandy has a girlfriend, Clenda ... She's a weightlifter, but it's not like her neck is bigger than her head or anything -- SAM I'm not asking you to set me up, Jay. That's not what I need your help for. I want to know what it's like over there. JAY And that's what I'm trying to tell you. What women are looking over, okay? Pecs and a cute butt. SAM You mean, like, "He has the cutest butt"? Where did I hear that recently? JAY Everywhere. You can't even turn on the news without hearing about how some babe thought some guy's butt was cute. Who the first babe to say this was I don't know, but it caught on. INT. SEATTLE RESTAURANT - DAY Sam and Jay at the counter. Out the window, we can see water. JAY When's the latest time you were out there? SAM (trying to remember) Seventy... eight. JAY Well. Things are different. First, you have to be friends. You have to like each other. Then you neck. This can go on for years. Then you have tests. Then you get to do it with a condom. (beat) The good news is, split the check. SAM I don't think it could let a woman pay for dinner. JAY Great. They'll have a parade in your honor. You'll be Man of the Year in Seattle Magazine. Tira misu. SAM What's tira misu? JAY You'll find out. SAM What is it? JAY You'll see. SAM Some woman is going to want me to do it to her and I'm not going to know what it is. JAY You'll like it. SAM (grimly) This is going to be tougher than I thought. EXT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY EVENING Sam coming home. INT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY EVENING As he enters. It's very quiet. Too quiet. SAM Jonah? No answers. SAM Jonah? He starts to look concerned. SAM Jonah? He goes down the hall to Jonah's room. The door is shut. He opens it. Jonah is sitting on his bed listening to a tape. Earphones on. Next to him is a young girl named JESSICA. SAM Jonah? Jonah takes off the earphones. JONAH Hi, Dad. Dad, this is Jessica. SAM It's nice to meet you, Jessica. JONAH Dad, this is amazing. If you play this backwards, it says "Paul is dead." SAM I know. JONAH How do you know? Sam shrugs, turns to go back down the hall. JONAH Dad, could you close the door? JESSICA H and G. (Sam looks back) Hi and goodbye. Sam closes the door to Jonah's room. Hold on Sam. SAM (to himself) Get a life. INT. HOUSEBOAT - CONTINUOUS As Sam comes downstairs, goes into his office. Closes the door. INT. SAM'S OFFICE AT HOME - CONTINUOUS He goes to the phone. Looks up a number in the phone book. Picks up the phone and dials a number. SAM Hi, Victoria?... It's Sam Baldwin, I don't know if you remember me. Oh? Well, great. I was wondering if you wanted to have a drink... Friday, say... Dinner?... Sure, dinner would be fine. Sure. Dinner. INT. AN UNFINISHED DINNER ON A PLATE IN ANNIE'S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT Annie is watching "An Affair to Remember" on television, tears pouring down her face. Cary Grant is saying: "Are you in love with him?" Deborah Kerr replies: "I'm not now." She's sitting at the dining room table. A dozen pieces of paper litter the table. Annie's been unsuccessfully typing a letter on an old Underwood typewriter. ANNIE Now those were the days when people knew how to be in love. She takes a blast from the wine glass to her right. Becky leans in, refilling the glass. Annie begins to type and sob and look at the TV. BECKY You're a basket case. ANNIE (as she types) They knew it. Time, distance, nothing could separate them. Because they knew. It was right. It was real. It was... BECKY ... movie. (beat) That's your problem. You don't want to be in love. You want to be in love in a movie. (beat) Read it to me. ANNIE (reading her letter) "Dear Sleepless and Son..." BECKY It sounds like the name of a mattress store -- ANNIE "I am not the sort of person who listens to call-in radio shows" -- Becky flops on the couch. BECKY And this woman is a writer! That's what everyone writes at the beginning of letters to strangers. ANNIE I know that. You think I don't know that? "I know that's a dumb way to begin, but it's the only way I can think of to convey what happened to me the other night when I heard the two of you on the radio. On the other hand, maybe I'm just losing my mind." BECKY You are. You're losing your mind. What about Walter? ANNIE I'm going to marry Walter. I just have to get this out of my system. BECKY Right. ANNIE I should say something in this about magic. BECKY What? ANNIE I don't know. I mean, what if I never meet him? What if this man is my destiny and I never meet him? BECKY Your destiny can be your doom. Look at me and Rick. ANNIE (typing some more) "I want to meet you..." Cary Grant says: "How about the top of the Empire State Building?" BECKY "On top of the Empire State Building at sunset on Valentine's Day." ANNIE Good. Perfect. I'll be in New York with Walter, I can squeeze it in. She types in Becky's idea. Then she takes the piece of paper out of the typewriter, smashes it into a ball and tosses it up in the air and into Becky's lap. BECKY You want to hear about destiny? If my husband hadn't gone on a diet, which caused me to leave him, I would never have been on that flight to

feel

How many times the word 'feel' appears in the text?

what. SHE'S CRYING. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Well, it's time to wrap up, folks -- A FIGURE appears at the passenger side window, which Annie doesn't notice. She's wiping the tears away with her hand. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) We hope you'll call again soon. The figure TAPS on the window -- WALTER (muffled, outside car) Annie? DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) ... and let us know how it's going. -- and taps again. WALTER Annie? She turns. He's pointing at the locked door. She searches for the button. Finally finds it so that Walter can open the door. ANNIE I'm sorry, Walter. I just heard the most amazing thing on the radio. They start toward the front door, Walter and Annie carrying presents, an overnight bag of Annie's. ANNIE People call up these shows and you can't believe the stuff they say. It's the end of privacy as we know it, this country is just one big global village with everyone out there going blah blah blah -- As they enter the house, we hear Silent Night and we see a Christmas tree, glittering with lights. CUT TO: A CHRISTMAS TREE GLITTERING WITH LIGHTS as we pull back to reveal: INT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY MORNING As Jonah opens his presents under the tree and we cut from gift to gift: A BROOKS ROBINSON BASEBALL GLOVE which Jonah loves and which he puts on his hand and keeps on while continuing to open: A TIE which mystifies him, but he hangs it around his neck. A PLAID SHIRT A MAP OF THE UNITED STATES -- the kind that's used in schoolrooms that pulls down from a roller. And now Sam brings out a long narrow present from behind the door and Jonah opens -- A NEW FISHING ROD EXT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY As Jonah poses with all his Christmas presents -- his tie hanging around his neck over his bathrobe and new plaid shirt, his baseball glove, fishing rod -- as Sam takes his picture. INT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY (OR POSSIBLY EXT. DECK HOUSEBOAT) Sam opens his present from Jonah, which is something he made in woodworking class. SAM The hopes are perfect -- beautiful, identical, smooth -- and they are for something really amazing I feel it in my bones -- JONAH It's a spice rack. SAM We desperately need a spice rack. Desperately. CUT TO: INT. KITCHEN OF HOUSEBOAT - DAY SAM And we desperately need spices. Where Sam is putting the spices they have -- pepper, salt, paprika and oregano -- into the spice rack, which has room for at least twenty more. Jonah is methodically making pancakes. JONAH Dad? About last night? SAM It's never happening again. Right? JONAH Right. There's a knock on the door. SAM Then it never happened. Sam goes to answer the door. TWO YOUNG WOMEN are standing there. Both are wearing quite a lot of Spandex. One of them is named LULU. It says so on her jacket. The other is JOBETH. SAM Hi. LULU Hi. Sam? SAM Yes? LULU (looking in and seeing Jonah) You must be Jonah. Jonah nods. LULU (to her friend) See. I told you. Sam and Jonah. I'm LULU. This is JoBeth. JoBeth nods, and continues to nod as Lulu talks. LULU (continues) We live two piers over, don't we? Number 12, right? We're having like a really neat open house today from like four to whenever if you care to stop by. SAM Thanks, but... we've got plans. LULU Well, here's the number. If you ever find yourself Sleepless, give us a call. We also... do babysitting. She winks. JoBeth nods. Sam nods. Lulu waves goodbye, and she and JoBeth sashay off down the dock. Jonah closes the door and turns to Sam. JONAH Not. SAM My feelings exactly. EXT. LAKE UNION MARINA - EARLY MORNING Jonah and Sam are fishing off a dingy. SAM How many people do you think heard that thing last night? JONAH It plays in 50 states. SAM What?! JONAH Nobody else is going to know it was us. SAM You're right. (after a beat) You better hope so. EXT. BALTIMORE SUN - MORNING INT. LIFESTYLE SECTION - DAY A large open newsroom-type space with REPORTERS at computers. Around the perimeter are glass-partitioned offices and meeting rooms. Inside one of the offices is BECKY, the Lifestyle editor of the Sun. She's at a table with Annie, now a reporter for the section, and two other colleagues -- KEITH and WYATT. Wyatt is playing Gameboy. KEITH This man sells the greatest soup you've ever eaten, there's a line around the block, and he is, I am not kidding, the meanest man in America. (beat) I feel strongly about this, Becky. This is not just about soup. BECKY Do it. What else? WYATT New Year's Eve. Please don't make me write it. Becky looks at Wyatt, notices the Gameboy. BECKY Wyatt, I do not mean to remind you of your mother, but if you don't put that game away, no TV for a week. WYATT (pushing it to the center of the table) Would someone look this up, don't tell me where. Becky is riffling through some papers on the table, among which are some tearsheets from the Associated Press wire. BECKY Listen to this. Phone service in the greater Chicago area was tied up for two hours Christmas Eve because some kid called a phone-in show to get a wife for his father. Two thousand women called in for the number. KEITH Jesus. ANNIE I heard it. This kid calls up and says my dad needs a wife and I'm talking to myself in the car saying, this is completely disgusting, you're taking advantage of a child, and then the father gets on and this shrinkette says, do you want to talk about it? And he says no as a matter of fact I don't, and I am saying, bravo! Right on! Don't talk to her, it's none of her business -- (she's completely into this story now) -- and then suddenly, for no reason at all, he's talking about how much he loved his wife, and how he just -- (she snaps her fingers) fell in love with her and I am crying. Me. A tear is actually rolling down my face. It was like what happens when I watch those phone company ads. I don't have to see the whole ad, I just have to see the part where the daughter gives her mother a refrigerator with a big red bow on it, have you seen that one? Everyone looks at her. Apparently she's finished. BECKY You should write something about this. ANNIE About what? BECKY Whatever it is. KEITH (waving the AP story) What it is is, there are a lot of desperate women out there looking for love. WYATT Especially over a certain age. Annie is looking at them. This isn't what she was talking about at all, although she isn't quite sure what she was talking about. KEITH It is easier to be killed by a terrorist after the age of 40 than it is to get married -- ANNIE That is not true. That statistic is not true. BECKY It's not true, but it feels true. ANNIE There's practically a whole book about how that statistic is not true -- WYATT Calm down. You brought it up -- ANNIE (sharply) I did not, Wyatt. A beat, everyone pauses. Things are a little out of hand. BECKY So where were we? WYATT New Year's Eve. I'll do it, okay? BECKY Okay. ANNIE If someone is a widower, why do they say he was widowed? Why don't they say he was widowered? Everyone looks at her strangely. ANNIE I was jus wondering. EXT. BALTIMORE STREET - DAY Annie walking purposefully, followed by Becky, hurrying to catch up. BECKY What was that about up there? ANNIE What was what? BECKY What's with you? ANNIE Nothing's with me. INT. BALTIMORE RESTAURANT - DAY Becky and Annie are having lunch. BECKY "Sleepless in Seattle"? ANNIE That's what she called him on the show. Because he can't sleep. BECKY And now 2,000 women want his number. The guy could be a crackhead, a psychopath, a flasher, a junkie, a transvestite, a chain-saw murderer, or someone really sick, like Rick. ANNIE Actually, he sounded nice. BECKY Oh? Oh, really? Now we're getting down to it. ANNIE Not. She reaches down for her purse. INT/EXT. REMODEL HOUSE - DAY A hand reaching down to pick something up -- the Seattle newspaper, and PULL BACK TO REVEAL: Sam carrying the paper down/up the stairs to an old house that's being renovated. Jonah, who is playing Cameboy, is walking along with him. WORKMEN are active everywhere. Dry wall going up, cabinets being installed, tile being set. One of Sam's partners, BOB LANGMAN, is walking with him, and JAY MATHEWS, the on-site supervisor, is waiting for them in an unfinished doorframe. Bob is hefty, older, always eating something dietetic. Jay is younger and always wears as little as possible, even in cold weather. BOB LANGMAN Now she wants a circular stairwell off the den. JAY (to Jonah, in b.g.) Punch me, punch in right here. (points to his stomach; Jonah punches) And she wants the Sub-Zero with the side-by-side doors -- BOB Which means -- SAM The cabinets have to be redone -- They all nod at each other. The woman has been a nightmare. BOB So we thought -- JAY Since you're on the make again -- Sam looks at Jonah -- SAM Great. This is great. The whole town knows. Just out of curiosity, how do you two know? BOB Grace heard it. SAM Grace the dispatcher. Great. BOB The point is, take the client out to dinner and ask her to marry you and then maybe we won't have to redo the kitchen cabinets. SAM Why me? What about Jay? JAY Hey, my plate is full. SAM Well, okay. What's the big deal? If she'll forget the new fireplace, I'll marry her. Just point me in the right direction. JONAH Dad, I don't know about this one -- SAM Oh, you're changing your mind -- JONAH No, I'm not, but -- SAM What's the matter with this one? Wouldn't you like to have Imelda Marcos as your mother? JONAH Dad -- Sam cuffs him good-naturedly. SAM We better take the measurements for the new cabinets. He walks away past some workmen, ladders, etc. and starts checking the cross-beams in the ceiling over in another area of the site. Bob follows after him. Jay tosses Jonah a hammer and they start knocking nails into the wall. BOB Sam, if you're not doing anything New Year's -- obviously you're not doing anything New Year's -- we're having some people over, all of them married, not one even remotely interested in playing around. Does that sound great or what? (whistfully) I can't think of the last time I was at a party when anything actually happened. SAM Thanks, but I'll pass. It's kind of a big night. I don't like to leave Jonah alone. CUT TO: SHOT OF HOUSEBOAT BEING TOWED BY A TUG DOWN THE RIVER (OR A SEAPLANE LANDING) - TWILIGHT EXT. HOUSEBOAT - TWILIGHT Jonah watching it. Sam visible in the distance in the kitchen. INT. KITCHEN - TWILIGHT As Sam is busy installing the spice rack. He marks the wall, hammers in the nails, etc. SAM (as he starts putting new spices into the rack, in alphabetical order) Does red pepper go under R or P? JONAH P. (beat) Dad? SAM (absently) What? JONAH I forgot to mention. Jed called -- SAM Just out of curiosity, do you have any friends whose names don't begin with a J? I feel like it was a failure of the imagination on our part naming you Jonah. (looking at the spices) What is marjoram? Does anyone know? JONAH Jed is having a slumber party New Year's Eve and he invited me. A beat. SAM Fine. Fine. JONAH So I can go. SAM Sure. (almost done with the spices) Looking good. JONAH Shouldn't you have used a toggle bolt? SAM I think I know how to have a spice rack. He puts in the last spice. They stand back to admire it. A beat. The rack falls off the wall. The rack itself doesn't break, but about six of the glass jars of spices break. There's paprika and thyme and currying powder, etc. all over the floor along with shards of glass. SAM God fucking dammit! Shit! Fuck. Piss. Jonah bursts into tears. SAM (still angry) I'm sorry. (softening) I'm sorry. He picks up Jonah and holds him. SAM I'm sorry. I'm just -- JONAH Stressed. SAM Right. I'm sorry, Jonah, I'm sorry. And he holds Jonah as Jonah calms down. Sam closes his eyes tight. INT. A TELEVISION SET OF NEW YEAR'S EVE ON TIMES SQUARE And pull back to reveal: INT. HOUSEBOAT - NIGHT Sam, alone, watching the ball drop. He's got a bag of Doritos and a beer. A VOICE Can I have half your beer? SAM Sure. It's Maggie. She takes his bottle of beer and pours half of it into a glass. MAGGIE What did I used to say? Here's looking at you? Here's mud in your eye? SAM Here's to us. You used to say here's to us. (he looks at her and his eyes well with tears) Oh babe. I miss you so much it hurts. He reaches out for her. She's gone. And we hear the television set now counting down to midnight in New York. CUT TO: INT. NEW YEAR'S EVE PARTY IN BALTIMORE - NIGHT The same television show counting down to midnight. Champagne corks popping, etc. And we see Walter and Annie. WALTER Happy New Year, darling. ANNIE Happy New Year. They start to dance. WALTER I was thinking, I have to go up to Boston for the AAP convention and then visit Winston-Hughes about switching over our computers. Why don't we meet in New York for Valentine's Day weekend? ANNIE Walter, I'd love to -- WALTER We'll stay at the Plaza -- ANNIE Go for a walk in Central Park -- WALTER Go to the Symphony -- A beat. ANNIE We will? (beat) The Symphony? (beat) Okay. (beat) I'll take you to the Russian Tea Room for pelmeni. WALTER What is it? ANNIE It's delicious, trust me. WALTER Does it have wheat in it? ANNIE I don't think so. They go on dancing. It's one of those parties where everyone looks so happy and so in love. Annie, however, looks thoughtful. ET. MARINA PARKING AREA - DAY Sam gets out of his car and starts down the dock toward his houseboat. He's carrying a bag of groceries. In the parking lot is a U.S. MAIL TRUCK. EXT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY Sam approaches his boat and a puzzled look comes over his face. A MAILMAN with a sack of mail is standing outside the front door of the houseboat. Jonah is signing a receipt for the mail. JONAH Look at this, Dad. They're all for you -- Sam picks up an envelop and looks at it. It's addressed to Sleepless in Seattle c/o Dr. Marcia Fieldstone, Radio Station KWRS in Chicago. He's stunned. As he signs the receipt: MAILMAN If you're having trouble sleeping, you might want to try drinking a glass of water from the other side. JONAH I thought that was for hiccups. MAILMAN Does it work for hiccups? JONAH For hiccups, a spoonful of sugar, you hold it in your mouth for a minute. MAILMAN Really? The mailman starts back toward the mail truck. Sam and Jonah start toward the door. INT. HOUSEBOAT - NIGHT Sam is in the kitchen making dinner. Jonah is sitting at the table, reading the letters from the stack they found by the door. SAM Just out of curiosity, how did they get our address? JONAH They called and asked for it. (reading) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle. You are the most attractive man I've ever laid ears on." Jonah rolls his eyes, tosses the letter into a pile of rejects, opens another. SAM How did they get our phone number? JONAH You have to give them your phone number or they won't let you go on the air. Sam nods as if this makes perfect sense. JONAH (continues, reading) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle: I am an SWF"-- (to Sam) What is that? SAM Thank God. Something you don't know. It's a single white female. JONAH This is no good. She's looking for someone French. Or Greek. (puzzled, he throws the letter into the reject pile, opens another) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle: I live in Tulsa." Where is that? -- SAM Oklahoma. Do you know where that is? JONAH Somewhere in the middle. SAM I'm not going to think about what they're not teaching you in school. I am not going to think about it. (beat) Generally speaking I think we should rule out people who don't live somewhere near here -- JONAH She's willing to fly anywhere. As Jonah hands Sam the picture. SAM She looks like my third grade teacher. I hated my third grade teacher. Hold it! Wait a minute! She is my third grade teacher! JONAH Dad, you're not taking this seriously. SAM This is not how you do it. (referring to the hamburger) You want this on an English muffin or a bun? JONAH English muffin. How do you do it? SAM You see someone you like, you get a feeling about them, you ask them if they want to have a drink or -- JONAH -- a slice of pizza -- SAM But not dinner necessarily on the first date because by the time you're halfway through dinner you might be sorry you asked them to dinner whereas if it's just a drink, if you like them you can always ask them for dinner but if you don't you can go home if you see what I mean. (beat) I wonder if it still works this way. JONAH It doesn't. They ask you. SAM I'm starting to notice that. INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie and Walter are making love. JONAH (V.O.) If you get a new wife, I guess you'll have sex with her, huh? SAM (V.O.) What do you think? JONAH (V.O.) Will she scratch up your back? SAM (V.O.) What? JONAH'S BEDROOM - NIGHT As Sam puts Jonah to sleep. Jonah is holding his teddy bear while this conversation concludes. JONAH In the movies women are always scratching up guy's back and screaming and stuff. When they're having sex. SAM Whose show was this on? JONAH Jed's got cables. SAM Go to sleep. He kisses him good-night. JONAH Kiss Howard. (he holds out the teddy bear) G'night, Howard. INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie and Walter have just finished making love. Walter falling asleep. Annie lying in bed, with her eyes open. She starts to get out of bed. Puts on a robe. INT. STAIRWAY - HOUSE As Annie comes downstairs in a bathrobe. She opens the door to the street. EXT. STREET - NIGHT As Annie starts to run down the street. CLOSEUP OF: ANNIE, RUNNING And now we widen out to see a misty highway she's running down. Past a sign saying: Seattle Approximately 3,000 miles. Past another sign: Your nerves are shot. And another: Your feet are cold. And another: Will you find love. And another: Before you're cold? And another: Burma Shave. And Annie continues to run, and now we see she's running across a map of the United States -- it's a little like the one we saw in the beginning of the movie -- it's like the famous map of the United States by Saul Steinberg, but instead of being about New York, this one is about Seattle. In the distance, at the very edge of the map, we see two indistinct figures -- a map and a young boy. They start to wave at her, very slowly. Annie's eyes widen. CUT TO: INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie in bed, eyes open. Walter fast asleep. She gets out of bed, puts on her robe (just as she did in the dream sequence). INT. STAIRWELL - NIGHT As Annie comes down the stairs. INT. KITCHEN - HOUSE She turns the light on. Opens the refrigerator. Closes it. Opens it again. Takes out some milk. Sits down at the kitchen table with a bowl, corn flakes, banana. She's about to assemble it when: She sees: THE RADIO She stands up, turns it on to the station Dr. Marcia Fieldstone is on. She sits back down with her corn flakes. ANNOUNCER (V.O.) Up next, "You and Your Emotions" with Dr. Marcia Fieldstone, clinical psychologist and the best friend you never had. (the teaser continues) WOMAN'S VOICE (V.O.) He says he doesn't love me any more. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why do you want to be with someone who doesn't love you? ANOTHER WOMAN (V.O.) Every time I come close to orgasm he stops and goes to make himself a sandwich -- DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why don't you make him a sandwich beforehand? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) When I met my wife, it was so clear. I jus knew. Annie starts at hearing Sam's voice. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) What was it that made you know? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) I don't think I could really describe it. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why not? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) And if I could describe it, it probably wouldn't be on a radio show. (he laughs to himself) But what the hell. It's not one specific thing. It's more of a feeling. (continuing) You touch her for the first time, and suddenly... you're home. It's almost like... magic. Annie closes her eyes. ANNOUNCER (V.O.) We'll be back after this commercial with Dr. Marcia Fieldstone. EXT. BALTIMORE - PEABODY LIBRARY - DAY We see Annie's car pull into a parking space outside the Peabody Library. Annie gets out of the car. INT. LIBRARY - DAY As Annie strides purposefully across the library and enters: INT. ANNIE'S BROTHER TOM'S OFFICE - DAY Annie bursts into Tom's office and walks over to his desk. We barely has time to look up. ANNIE I think I'm going crazy, Tom. I really do. Are you happily married? TOM (completely panicked by the question) What? ANNIE I mean, why did you get married? Was it all fireworks and trumpets and -- TOM (regaining composure) I got married because Betsy said we had to break up or get married. So we get married. ANNIE But when you met her, did you believe she was the only person for you? That in some mystical, cosmic way, it was fated? TOM Annie, when you meet someone and you're attracted to them, it just means that your subconscious is attracted to their subconscious, subconsciously. So what we think of as chemistry is just two neuroses knowing that they are a perfect match. ANNIE I don't even know him. But I'm having all these fantasies about a man I've never met, who lives in Seattle. TOM It rains nine months of the year in Seattle. ANNIE I know, I know. I do not want to move to Seattle. But what I really don't want to do is end up always wondering what might have happened and knowing I could have done something. What do you think? (Tom opens his mouth to say something, but before anything comes out, Annie fills the void) It's just cold feet, isn't it? Everyone panics before they get married, didn't you? TOM Yes, I did. ANNIE Thank you, Tom. I feel so much better just having blown this off. TOM Any time. INT. PEABODY LIBRARY - DAY As Annie walks through it and pushes the door to exit. EXT. A DOOR OPENING TO SEATTLE STREET - DAY Sam and Jay walk out of the Arctic Building onto the street. JAY Sandy has a girlfriend, Clenda ... She's a weightlifter, but it's not like her neck is bigger than her head or anything -- SAM I'm not asking you to set me up, Jay. That's not what I need your help for. I want to know what it's like over there. JAY And that's what I'm trying to tell you. What women are looking over, okay? Pecs and a cute butt. SAM You mean, like, "He has the cutest butt"? Where did I hear that recently? JAY Everywhere. You can't even turn on the news without hearing about how some babe thought some guy's butt was cute. Who the first babe to say this was I don't know, but it caught on. INT. SEATTLE RESTAURANT - DAY Sam and Jay at the counter. Out the window, we can see water. JAY When's the latest time you were out there? SAM (trying to remember) Seventy... eight. JAY Well. Things are different. First, you have to be friends. You have to like each other. Then you neck. This can go on for years. Then you have tests. Then you get to do it with a condom. (beat) The good news is, split the check. SAM I don't think it could let a woman pay for dinner. JAY Great. They'll have a parade in your honor. You'll be Man of the Year in Seattle Magazine. Tira misu. SAM What's tira misu? JAY You'll find out. SAM What is it? JAY You'll see. SAM Some woman is going to want me to do it to her and I'm not going to know what it is. JAY You'll like it. SAM (grimly) This is going to be tougher than I thought. EXT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY EVENING Sam coming home. INT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY EVENING As he enters. It's very quiet. Too quiet. SAM Jonah? No answers. SAM Jonah? He starts to look concerned. SAM Jonah? He goes down the hall to Jonah's room. The door is shut. He opens it. Jonah is sitting on his bed listening to a tape. Earphones on. Next to him is a young girl named JESSICA. SAM Jonah? Jonah takes off the earphones. JONAH Hi, Dad. Dad, this is Jessica. SAM It's nice to meet you, Jessica. JONAH Dad, this is amazing. If you play this backwards, it says "Paul is dead." SAM I know. JONAH How do you know? Sam shrugs, turns to go back down the hall. JONAH Dad, could you close the door? JESSICA H and G. (Sam looks back) Hi and goodbye. Sam closes the door to Jonah's room. Hold on Sam. SAM (to himself) Get a life. INT. HOUSEBOAT - CONTINUOUS As Sam comes downstairs, goes into his office. Closes the door. INT. SAM'S OFFICE AT HOME - CONTINUOUS He goes to the phone. Looks up a number in the phone book. Picks up the phone and dials a number. SAM Hi, Victoria?... It's Sam Baldwin, I don't know if you remember me. Oh? Well, great. I was wondering if you wanted to have a drink... Friday, say... Dinner?... Sure, dinner would be fine. Sure. Dinner. INT. AN UNFINISHED DINNER ON A PLATE IN ANNIE'S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT Annie is watching "An Affair to Remember" on television, tears pouring down her face. Cary Grant is saying: "Are you in love with him?" Deborah Kerr replies: "I'm not now." She's sitting at the dining room table. A dozen pieces of paper litter the table. Annie's been unsuccessfully typing a letter on an old Underwood typewriter. ANNIE Now those were the days when people knew how to be in love. She takes a blast from the wine glass to her right. Becky leans in, refilling the glass. Annie begins to type and sob and look at the TV. BECKY You're a basket case. ANNIE (as she types) They knew it. Time, distance, nothing could separate them. Because they knew. It was right. It was real. It was... BECKY ... movie. (beat) That's your problem. You don't want to be in love. You want to be in love in a movie. (beat) Read it to me. ANNIE (reading her letter) "Dear Sleepless and Son..." BECKY It sounds like the name of a mattress store -- ANNIE "I am not the sort of person who listens to call-in radio shows" -- Becky flops on the couch. BECKY And this woman is a writer! That's what everyone writes at the beginning of letters to strangers. ANNIE I know that. You think I don't know that? "I know that's a dumb way to begin, but it's the only way I can think of to convey what happened to me the other night when I heard the two of you on the radio. On the other hand, maybe I'm just losing my mind." BECKY You are. You're losing your mind. What about Walter? ANNIE I'm going to marry Walter. I just have to get this out of my system. BECKY Right. ANNIE I should say something in this about magic. BECKY What? ANNIE I don't know. I mean, what if I never meet him? What if this man is my destiny and I never meet him? BECKY Your destiny can be your doom. Look at me and Rick. ANNIE (typing some more) "I want to meet you..." Cary Grant says: "How about the top of the Empire State Building?" BECKY "On top of the Empire State Building at sunset on Valentine's Day." ANNIE Good. Perfect. I'll be in New York with Walter, I can squeeze it in. She types in Becky's idea. Then she takes the piece of paper out of the typewriter, smashes it into a ball and tosses it up in the air and into Becky's lap. BECKY You want to hear about destiny? If my husband hadn't gone on a diet, which caused me to leave him, I would never have been on that flight to

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How many times the word 'u' appears in the text?

what. SHE'S CRYING. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Well, it's time to wrap up, folks -- A FIGURE appears at the passenger side window, which Annie doesn't notice. She's wiping the tears away with her hand. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) We hope you'll call again soon. The figure TAPS on the window -- WALTER (muffled, outside car) Annie? DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) ... and let us know how it's going. -- and taps again. WALTER Annie? She turns. He's pointing at the locked door. She searches for the button. Finally finds it so that Walter can open the door. ANNIE I'm sorry, Walter. I just heard the most amazing thing on the radio. They start toward the front door, Walter and Annie carrying presents, an overnight bag of Annie's. ANNIE People call up these shows and you can't believe the stuff they say. It's the end of privacy as we know it, this country is just one big global village with everyone out there going blah blah blah -- As they enter the house, we hear Silent Night and we see a Christmas tree, glittering with lights. CUT TO: A CHRISTMAS TREE GLITTERING WITH LIGHTS as we pull back to reveal: INT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY MORNING As Jonah opens his presents under the tree and we cut from gift to gift: A BROOKS ROBINSON BASEBALL GLOVE which Jonah loves and which he puts on his hand and keeps on while continuing to open: A TIE which mystifies him, but he hangs it around his neck. A PLAID SHIRT A MAP OF THE UNITED STATES -- the kind that's used in schoolrooms that pulls down from a roller. And now Sam brings out a long narrow present from behind the door and Jonah opens -- A NEW FISHING ROD EXT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY As Jonah poses with all his Christmas presents -- his tie hanging around his neck over his bathrobe and new plaid shirt, his baseball glove, fishing rod -- as Sam takes his picture. INT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY (OR POSSIBLY EXT. DECK HOUSEBOAT) Sam opens his present from Jonah, which is something he made in woodworking class. SAM The hopes are perfect -- beautiful, identical, smooth -- and they are for something really amazing I feel it in my bones -- JONAH It's a spice rack. SAM We desperately need a spice rack. Desperately. CUT TO: INT. KITCHEN OF HOUSEBOAT - DAY SAM And we desperately need spices. Where Sam is putting the spices they have -- pepper, salt, paprika and oregano -- into the spice rack, which has room for at least twenty more. Jonah is methodically making pancakes. JONAH Dad? About last night? SAM It's never happening again. Right? JONAH Right. There's a knock on the door. SAM Then it never happened. Sam goes to answer the door. TWO YOUNG WOMEN are standing there. Both are wearing quite a lot of Spandex. One of them is named LULU. It says so on her jacket. The other is JOBETH. SAM Hi. LULU Hi. Sam? SAM Yes? LULU (looking in and seeing Jonah) You must be Jonah. Jonah nods. LULU (to her friend) See. I told you. Sam and Jonah. I'm LULU. This is JoBeth. JoBeth nods, and continues to nod as Lulu talks. LULU (continues) We live two piers over, don't we? Number 12, right? We're having like a really neat open house today from like four to whenever if you care to stop by. SAM Thanks, but... we've got plans. LULU Well, here's the number. If you ever find yourself Sleepless, give us a call. We also... do babysitting. She winks. JoBeth nods. Sam nods. Lulu waves goodbye, and she and JoBeth sashay off down the dock. Jonah closes the door and turns to Sam. JONAH Not. SAM My feelings exactly. EXT. LAKE UNION MARINA - EARLY MORNING Jonah and Sam are fishing off a dingy. SAM How many people do you think heard that thing last night? JONAH It plays in 50 states. SAM What?! JONAH Nobody else is going to know it was us. SAM You're right. (after a beat) You better hope so. EXT. BALTIMORE SUN - MORNING INT. LIFESTYLE SECTION - DAY A large open newsroom-type space with REPORTERS at computers. Around the perimeter are glass-partitioned offices and meeting rooms. Inside one of the offices is BECKY, the Lifestyle editor of the Sun. She's at a table with Annie, now a reporter for the section, and two other colleagues -- KEITH and WYATT. Wyatt is playing Gameboy. KEITH This man sells the greatest soup you've ever eaten, there's a line around the block, and he is, I am not kidding, the meanest man in America. (beat) I feel strongly about this, Becky. This is not just about soup. BECKY Do it. What else? WYATT New Year's Eve. Please don't make me write it. Becky looks at Wyatt, notices the Gameboy. BECKY Wyatt, I do not mean to remind you of your mother, but if you don't put that game away, no TV for a week. WYATT (pushing it to the center of the table) Would someone look this up, don't tell me where. Becky is riffling through some papers on the table, among which are some tearsheets from the Associated Press wire. BECKY Listen to this. Phone service in the greater Chicago area was tied up for two hours Christmas Eve because some kid called a phone-in show to get a wife for his father. Two thousand women called in for the number. KEITH Jesus. ANNIE I heard it. This kid calls up and says my dad needs a wife and I'm talking to myself in the car saying, this is completely disgusting, you're taking advantage of a child, and then the father gets on and this shrinkette says, do you want to talk about it? And he says no as a matter of fact I don't, and I am saying, bravo! Right on! Don't talk to her, it's none of her business -- (she's completely into this story now) -- and then suddenly, for no reason at all, he's talking about how much he loved his wife, and how he just -- (she snaps her fingers) fell in love with her and I am crying. Me. A tear is actually rolling down my face. It was like what happens when I watch those phone company ads. I don't have to see the whole ad, I just have to see the part where the daughter gives her mother a refrigerator with a big red bow on it, have you seen that one? Everyone looks at her. Apparently she's finished. BECKY You should write something about this. ANNIE About what? BECKY Whatever it is. KEITH (waving the AP story) What it is is, there are a lot of desperate women out there looking for love. WYATT Especially over a certain age. Annie is looking at them. This isn't what she was talking about at all, although she isn't quite sure what she was talking about. KEITH It is easier to be killed by a terrorist after the age of 40 than it is to get married -- ANNIE That is not true. That statistic is not true. BECKY It's not true, but it feels true. ANNIE There's practically a whole book about how that statistic is not true -- WYATT Calm down. You brought it up -- ANNIE (sharply) I did not, Wyatt. A beat, everyone pauses. Things are a little out of hand. BECKY So where were we? WYATT New Year's Eve. I'll do it, okay? BECKY Okay. ANNIE If someone is a widower, why do they say he was widowed? Why don't they say he was widowered? Everyone looks at her strangely. ANNIE I was jus wondering. EXT. BALTIMORE STREET - DAY Annie walking purposefully, followed by Becky, hurrying to catch up. BECKY What was that about up there? ANNIE What was what? BECKY What's with you? ANNIE Nothing's with me. INT. BALTIMORE RESTAURANT - DAY Becky and Annie are having lunch. BECKY "Sleepless in Seattle"? ANNIE That's what she called him on the show. Because he can't sleep. BECKY And now 2,000 women want his number. The guy could be a crackhead, a psychopath, a flasher, a junkie, a transvestite, a chain-saw murderer, or someone really sick, like Rick. ANNIE Actually, he sounded nice. BECKY Oh? Oh, really? Now we're getting down to it. ANNIE Not. She reaches down for her purse. INT/EXT. REMODEL HOUSE - DAY A hand reaching down to pick something up -- the Seattle newspaper, and PULL BACK TO REVEAL: Sam carrying the paper down/up the stairs to an old house that's being renovated. Jonah, who is playing Cameboy, is walking along with him. WORKMEN are active everywhere. Dry wall going up, cabinets being installed, tile being set. One of Sam's partners, BOB LANGMAN, is walking with him, and JAY MATHEWS, the on-site supervisor, is waiting for them in an unfinished doorframe. Bob is hefty, older, always eating something dietetic. Jay is younger and always wears as little as possible, even in cold weather. BOB LANGMAN Now she wants a circular stairwell off the den. JAY (to Jonah, in b.g.) Punch me, punch in right here. (points to his stomach; Jonah punches) And she wants the Sub-Zero with the side-by-side doors -- BOB Which means -- SAM The cabinets have to be redone -- They all nod at each other. The woman has been a nightmare. BOB So we thought -- JAY Since you're on the make again -- Sam looks at Jonah -- SAM Great. This is great. The whole town knows. Just out of curiosity, how do you two know? BOB Grace heard it. SAM Grace the dispatcher. Great. BOB The point is, take the client out to dinner and ask her to marry you and then maybe we won't have to redo the kitchen cabinets. SAM Why me? What about Jay? JAY Hey, my plate is full. SAM Well, okay. What's the big deal? If she'll forget the new fireplace, I'll marry her. Just point me in the right direction. JONAH Dad, I don't know about this one -- SAM Oh, you're changing your mind -- JONAH No, I'm not, but -- SAM What's the matter with this one? Wouldn't you like to have Imelda Marcos as your mother? JONAH Dad -- Sam cuffs him good-naturedly. SAM We better take the measurements for the new cabinets. He walks away past some workmen, ladders, etc. and starts checking the cross-beams in the ceiling over in another area of the site. Bob follows after him. Jay tosses Jonah a hammer and they start knocking nails into the wall. BOB Sam, if you're not doing anything New Year's -- obviously you're not doing anything New Year's -- we're having some people over, all of them married, not one even remotely interested in playing around. Does that sound great or what? (whistfully) I can't think of the last time I was at a party when anything actually happened. SAM Thanks, but I'll pass. It's kind of a big night. I don't like to leave Jonah alone. CUT TO: SHOT OF HOUSEBOAT BEING TOWED BY A TUG DOWN THE RIVER (OR A SEAPLANE LANDING) - TWILIGHT EXT. HOUSEBOAT - TWILIGHT Jonah watching it. Sam visible in the distance in the kitchen. INT. KITCHEN - TWILIGHT As Sam is busy installing the spice rack. He marks the wall, hammers in the nails, etc. SAM (as he starts putting new spices into the rack, in alphabetical order) Does red pepper go under R or P? JONAH P. (beat) Dad? SAM (absently) What? JONAH I forgot to mention. Jed called -- SAM Just out of curiosity, do you have any friends whose names don't begin with a J? I feel like it was a failure of the imagination on our part naming you Jonah. (looking at the spices) What is marjoram? Does anyone know? JONAH Jed is having a slumber party New Year's Eve and he invited me. A beat. SAM Fine. Fine. JONAH So I can go. SAM Sure. (almost done with the spices) Looking good. JONAH Shouldn't you have used a toggle bolt? SAM I think I know how to have a spice rack. He puts in the last spice. They stand back to admire it. A beat. The rack falls off the wall. The rack itself doesn't break, but about six of the glass jars of spices break. There's paprika and thyme and currying powder, etc. all over the floor along with shards of glass. SAM God fucking dammit! Shit! Fuck. Piss. Jonah bursts into tears. SAM (still angry) I'm sorry. (softening) I'm sorry. He picks up Jonah and holds him. SAM I'm sorry. I'm just -- JONAH Stressed. SAM Right. I'm sorry, Jonah, I'm sorry. And he holds Jonah as Jonah calms down. Sam closes his eyes tight. INT. A TELEVISION SET OF NEW YEAR'S EVE ON TIMES SQUARE And pull back to reveal: INT. HOUSEBOAT - NIGHT Sam, alone, watching the ball drop. He's got a bag of Doritos and a beer. A VOICE Can I have half your beer? SAM Sure. It's Maggie. She takes his bottle of beer and pours half of it into a glass. MAGGIE What did I used to say? Here's looking at you? Here's mud in your eye? SAM Here's to us. You used to say here's to us. (he looks at her and his eyes well with tears) Oh babe. I miss you so much it hurts. He reaches out for her. She's gone. And we hear the television set now counting down to midnight in New York. CUT TO: INT. NEW YEAR'S EVE PARTY IN BALTIMORE - NIGHT The same television show counting down to midnight. Champagne corks popping, etc. And we see Walter and Annie. WALTER Happy New Year, darling. ANNIE Happy New Year. They start to dance. WALTER I was thinking, I have to go up to Boston for the AAP convention and then visit Winston-Hughes about switching over our computers. Why don't we meet in New York for Valentine's Day weekend? ANNIE Walter, I'd love to -- WALTER We'll stay at the Plaza -- ANNIE Go for a walk in Central Park -- WALTER Go to the Symphony -- A beat. ANNIE We will? (beat) The Symphony? (beat) Okay. (beat) I'll take you to the Russian Tea Room for pelmeni. WALTER What is it? ANNIE It's delicious, trust me. WALTER Does it have wheat in it? ANNIE I don't think so. They go on dancing. It's one of those parties where everyone looks so happy and so in love. Annie, however, looks thoughtful. ET. MARINA PARKING AREA - DAY Sam gets out of his car and starts down the dock toward his houseboat. He's carrying a bag of groceries. In the parking lot is a U.S. MAIL TRUCK. EXT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY Sam approaches his boat and a puzzled look comes over his face. A MAILMAN with a sack of mail is standing outside the front door of the houseboat. Jonah is signing a receipt for the mail. JONAH Look at this, Dad. They're all for you -- Sam picks up an envelop and looks at it. It's addressed to Sleepless in Seattle c/o Dr. Marcia Fieldstone, Radio Station KWRS in Chicago. He's stunned. As he signs the receipt: MAILMAN If you're having trouble sleeping, you might want to try drinking a glass of water from the other side. JONAH I thought that was for hiccups. MAILMAN Does it work for hiccups? JONAH For hiccups, a spoonful of sugar, you hold it in your mouth for a minute. MAILMAN Really? The mailman starts back toward the mail truck. Sam and Jonah start toward the door. INT. HOUSEBOAT - NIGHT Sam is in the kitchen making dinner. Jonah is sitting at the table, reading the letters from the stack they found by the door. SAM Just out of curiosity, how did they get our address? JONAH They called and asked for it. (reading) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle. You are the most attractive man I've ever laid ears on." Jonah rolls his eyes, tosses the letter into a pile of rejects, opens another. SAM How did they get our phone number? JONAH You have to give them your phone number or they won't let you go on the air. Sam nods as if this makes perfect sense. JONAH (continues, reading) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle: I am an SWF"-- (to Sam) What is that? SAM Thank God. Something you don't know. It's a single white female. JONAH This is no good. She's looking for someone French. Or Greek. (puzzled, he throws the letter into the reject pile, opens another) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle: I live in Tulsa." Where is that? -- SAM Oklahoma. Do you know where that is? JONAH Somewhere in the middle. SAM I'm not going to think about what they're not teaching you in school. I am not going to think about it. (beat) Generally speaking I think we should rule out people who don't live somewhere near here -- JONAH She's willing to fly anywhere. As Jonah hands Sam the picture. SAM She looks like my third grade teacher. I hated my third grade teacher. Hold it! Wait a minute! She is my third grade teacher! JONAH Dad, you're not taking this seriously. SAM This is not how you do it. (referring to the hamburger) You want this on an English muffin or a bun? JONAH English muffin. How do you do it? SAM You see someone you like, you get a feeling about them, you ask them if they want to have a drink or -- JONAH -- a slice of pizza -- SAM But not dinner necessarily on the first date because by the time you're halfway through dinner you might be sorry you asked them to dinner whereas if it's just a drink, if you like them you can always ask them for dinner but if you don't you can go home if you see what I mean. (beat) I wonder if it still works this way. JONAH It doesn't. They ask you. SAM I'm starting to notice that. INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie and Walter are making love. JONAH (V.O.) If you get a new wife, I guess you'll have sex with her, huh? SAM (V.O.) What do you think? JONAH (V.O.) Will she scratch up your back? SAM (V.O.) What? JONAH'S BEDROOM - NIGHT As Sam puts Jonah to sleep. Jonah is holding his teddy bear while this conversation concludes. JONAH In the movies women are always scratching up guy's back and screaming and stuff. When they're having sex. SAM Whose show was this on? JONAH Jed's got cables. SAM Go to sleep. He kisses him good-night. JONAH Kiss Howard. (he holds out the teddy bear) G'night, Howard. INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie and Walter have just finished making love. Walter falling asleep. Annie lying in bed, with her eyes open. She starts to get out of bed. Puts on a robe. INT. STAIRWAY - HOUSE As Annie comes downstairs in a bathrobe. She opens the door to the street. EXT. STREET - NIGHT As Annie starts to run down the street. CLOSEUP OF: ANNIE, RUNNING And now we widen out to see a misty highway she's running down. Past a sign saying: Seattle Approximately 3,000 miles. Past another sign: Your nerves are shot. And another: Your feet are cold. And another: Will you find love. And another: Before you're cold? And another: Burma Shave. And Annie continues to run, and now we see she's running across a map of the United States -- it's a little like the one we saw in the beginning of the movie -- it's like the famous map of the United States by Saul Steinberg, but instead of being about New York, this one is about Seattle. In the distance, at the very edge of the map, we see two indistinct figures -- a map and a young boy. They start to wave at her, very slowly. Annie's eyes widen. CUT TO: INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie in bed, eyes open. Walter fast asleep. She gets out of bed, puts on her robe (just as she did in the dream sequence). INT. STAIRWELL - NIGHT As Annie comes down the stairs. INT. KITCHEN - HOUSE She turns the light on. Opens the refrigerator. Closes it. Opens it again. Takes out some milk. Sits down at the kitchen table with a bowl, corn flakes, banana. She's about to assemble it when: She sees: THE RADIO She stands up, turns it on to the station Dr. Marcia Fieldstone is on. She sits back down with her corn flakes. ANNOUNCER (V.O.) Up next, "You and Your Emotions" with Dr. Marcia Fieldstone, clinical psychologist and the best friend you never had. (the teaser continues) WOMAN'S VOICE (V.O.) He says he doesn't love me any more. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why do you want to be with someone who doesn't love you? ANOTHER WOMAN (V.O.) Every time I come close to orgasm he stops and goes to make himself a sandwich -- DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why don't you make him a sandwich beforehand? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) When I met my wife, it was so clear. I jus knew. Annie starts at hearing Sam's voice. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) What was it that made you know? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) I don't think I could really describe it. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why not? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) And if I could describe it, it probably wouldn't be on a radio show. (he laughs to himself) But what the hell. It's not one specific thing. It's more of a feeling. (continuing) You touch her for the first time, and suddenly... you're home. It's almost like... magic. Annie closes her eyes. ANNOUNCER (V.O.) We'll be back after this commercial with Dr. Marcia Fieldstone. EXT. BALTIMORE - PEABODY LIBRARY - DAY We see Annie's car pull into a parking space outside the Peabody Library. Annie gets out of the car. INT. LIBRARY - DAY As Annie strides purposefully across the library and enters: INT. ANNIE'S BROTHER TOM'S OFFICE - DAY Annie bursts into Tom's office and walks over to his desk. We barely has time to look up. ANNIE I think I'm going crazy, Tom. I really do. Are you happily married? TOM (completely panicked by the question) What? ANNIE I mean, why did you get married? Was it all fireworks and trumpets and -- TOM (regaining composure) I got married because Betsy said we had to break up or get married. So we get married. ANNIE But when you met her, did you believe she was the only person for you? That in some mystical, cosmic way, it was fated? TOM Annie, when you meet someone and you're attracted to them, it just means that your subconscious is attracted to their subconscious, subconsciously. So what we think of as chemistry is just two neuroses knowing that they are a perfect match. ANNIE I don't even know him. But I'm having all these fantasies about a man I've never met, who lives in Seattle. TOM It rains nine months of the year in Seattle. ANNIE I know, I know. I do not want to move to Seattle. But what I really don't want to do is end up always wondering what might have happened and knowing I could have done something. What do you think? (Tom opens his mouth to say something, but before anything comes out, Annie fills the void) It's just cold feet, isn't it? Everyone panics before they get married, didn't you? TOM Yes, I did. ANNIE Thank you, Tom. I feel so much better just having blown this off. TOM Any time. INT. PEABODY LIBRARY - DAY As Annie walks through it and pushes the door to exit. EXT. A DOOR OPENING TO SEATTLE STREET - DAY Sam and Jay walk out of the Arctic Building onto the street. JAY Sandy has a girlfriend, Clenda ... She's a weightlifter, but it's not like her neck is bigger than her head or anything -- SAM I'm not asking you to set me up, Jay. That's not what I need your help for. I want to know what it's like over there. JAY And that's what I'm trying to tell you. What women are looking over, okay? Pecs and a cute butt. SAM You mean, like, "He has the cutest butt"? Where did I hear that recently? JAY Everywhere. You can't even turn on the news without hearing about how some babe thought some guy's butt was cute. Who the first babe to say this was I don't know, but it caught on. INT. SEATTLE RESTAURANT - DAY Sam and Jay at the counter. Out the window, we can see water. JAY When's the latest time you were out there? SAM (trying to remember) Seventy... eight. JAY Well. Things are different. First, you have to be friends. You have to like each other. Then you neck. This can go on for years. Then you have tests. Then you get to do it with a condom. (beat) The good news is, split the check. SAM I don't think it could let a woman pay for dinner. JAY Great. They'll have a parade in your honor. You'll be Man of the Year in Seattle Magazine. Tira misu. SAM What's tira misu? JAY You'll find out. SAM What is it? JAY You'll see. SAM Some woman is going to want me to do it to her and I'm not going to know what it is. JAY You'll like it. SAM (grimly) This is going to be tougher than I thought. EXT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY EVENING Sam coming home. INT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY EVENING As he enters. It's very quiet. Too quiet. SAM Jonah? No answers. SAM Jonah? He starts to look concerned. SAM Jonah? He goes down the hall to Jonah's room. The door is shut. He opens it. Jonah is sitting on his bed listening to a tape. Earphones on. Next to him is a young girl named JESSICA. SAM Jonah? Jonah takes off the earphones. JONAH Hi, Dad. Dad, this is Jessica. SAM It's nice to meet you, Jessica. JONAH Dad, this is amazing. If you play this backwards, it says "Paul is dead." SAM I know. JONAH How do you know? Sam shrugs, turns to go back down the hall. JONAH Dad, could you close the door? JESSICA H and G. (Sam looks back) Hi and goodbye. Sam closes the door to Jonah's room. Hold on Sam. SAM (to himself) Get a life. INT. HOUSEBOAT - CONTINUOUS As Sam comes downstairs, goes into his office. Closes the door. INT. SAM'S OFFICE AT HOME - CONTINUOUS He goes to the phone. Looks up a number in the phone book. Picks up the phone and dials a number. SAM Hi, Victoria?... It's Sam Baldwin, I don't know if you remember me. Oh? Well, great. I was wondering if you wanted to have a drink... Friday, say... Dinner?... Sure, dinner would be fine. Sure. Dinner. INT. AN UNFINISHED DINNER ON A PLATE IN ANNIE'S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT Annie is watching "An Affair to Remember" on television, tears pouring down her face. Cary Grant is saying: "Are you in love with him?" Deborah Kerr replies: "I'm not now." She's sitting at the dining room table. A dozen pieces of paper litter the table. Annie's been unsuccessfully typing a letter on an old Underwood typewriter. ANNIE Now those were the days when people knew how to be in love. She takes a blast from the wine glass to her right. Becky leans in, refilling the glass. Annie begins to type and sob and look at the TV. BECKY You're a basket case. ANNIE (as she types) They knew it. Time, distance, nothing could separate them. Because they knew. It was right. It was real. It was... BECKY ... movie. (beat) That's your problem. You don't want to be in love. You want to be in love in a movie. (beat) Read it to me. ANNIE (reading her letter) "Dear Sleepless and Son..." BECKY It sounds like the name of a mattress store -- ANNIE "I am not the sort of person who listens to call-in radio shows" -- Becky flops on the couch. BECKY And this woman is a writer! That's what everyone writes at the beginning of letters to strangers. ANNIE I know that. You think I don't know that? "I know that's a dumb way to begin, but it's the only way I can think of to convey what happened to me the other night when I heard the two of you on the radio. On the other hand, maybe I'm just losing my mind." BECKY You are. You're losing your mind. What about Walter? ANNIE I'm going to marry Walter. I just have to get this out of my system. BECKY Right. ANNIE I should say something in this about magic. BECKY What? ANNIE I don't know. I mean, what if I never meet him? What if this man is my destiny and I never meet him? BECKY Your destiny can be your doom. Look at me and Rick. ANNIE (typing some more) "I want to meet you..." Cary Grant says: "How about the top of the Empire State Building?" BECKY "On top of the Empire State Building at sunset on Valentine's Day." ANNIE Good. Perfect. I'll be in New York with Walter, I can squeeze it in. She types in Becky's idea. Then she takes the piece of paper out of the typewriter, smashes it into a ball and tosses it up in the air and into Becky's lap. BECKY You want to hear about destiny? If my husband hadn't gone on a diet, which caused me to leave him, I would never have been on that flight to

tight

How many times the word 'tight' appears in the text?

what. SHE'S CRYING. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Well, it's time to wrap up, folks -- A FIGURE appears at the passenger side window, which Annie doesn't notice. She's wiping the tears away with her hand. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) We hope you'll call again soon. The figure TAPS on the window -- WALTER (muffled, outside car) Annie? DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) ... and let us know how it's going. -- and taps again. WALTER Annie? She turns. He's pointing at the locked door. She searches for the button. Finally finds it so that Walter can open the door. ANNIE I'm sorry, Walter. I just heard the most amazing thing on the radio. They start toward the front door, Walter and Annie carrying presents, an overnight bag of Annie's. ANNIE People call up these shows and you can't believe the stuff they say. It's the end of privacy as we know it, this country is just one big global village with everyone out there going blah blah blah -- As they enter the house, we hear Silent Night and we see a Christmas tree, glittering with lights. CUT TO: A CHRISTMAS TREE GLITTERING WITH LIGHTS as we pull back to reveal: INT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY MORNING As Jonah opens his presents under the tree and we cut from gift to gift: A BROOKS ROBINSON BASEBALL GLOVE which Jonah loves and which he puts on his hand and keeps on while continuing to open: A TIE which mystifies him, but he hangs it around his neck. A PLAID SHIRT A MAP OF THE UNITED STATES -- the kind that's used in schoolrooms that pulls down from a roller. And now Sam brings out a long narrow present from behind the door and Jonah opens -- A NEW FISHING ROD EXT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY As Jonah poses with all his Christmas presents -- his tie hanging around his neck over his bathrobe and new plaid shirt, his baseball glove, fishing rod -- as Sam takes his picture. INT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY (OR POSSIBLY EXT. DECK HOUSEBOAT) Sam opens his present from Jonah, which is something he made in woodworking class. SAM The hopes are perfect -- beautiful, identical, smooth -- and they are for something really amazing I feel it in my bones -- JONAH It's a spice rack. SAM We desperately need a spice rack. Desperately. CUT TO: INT. KITCHEN OF HOUSEBOAT - DAY SAM And we desperately need spices. Where Sam is putting the spices they have -- pepper, salt, paprika and oregano -- into the spice rack, which has room for at least twenty more. Jonah is methodically making pancakes. JONAH Dad? About last night? SAM It's never happening again. Right? JONAH Right. There's a knock on the door. SAM Then it never happened. Sam goes to answer the door. TWO YOUNG WOMEN are standing there. Both are wearing quite a lot of Spandex. One of them is named LULU. It says so on her jacket. The other is JOBETH. SAM Hi. LULU Hi. Sam? SAM Yes? LULU (looking in and seeing Jonah) You must be Jonah. Jonah nods. LULU (to her friend) See. I told you. Sam and Jonah. I'm LULU. This is JoBeth. JoBeth nods, and continues to nod as Lulu talks. LULU (continues) We live two piers over, don't we? Number 12, right? We're having like a really neat open house today from like four to whenever if you care to stop by. SAM Thanks, but... we've got plans. LULU Well, here's the number. If you ever find yourself Sleepless, give us a call. We also... do babysitting. She winks. JoBeth nods. Sam nods. Lulu waves goodbye, and she and JoBeth sashay off down the dock. Jonah closes the door and turns to Sam. JONAH Not. SAM My feelings exactly. EXT. LAKE UNION MARINA - EARLY MORNING Jonah and Sam are fishing off a dingy. SAM How many people do you think heard that thing last night? JONAH It plays in 50 states. SAM What?! JONAH Nobody else is going to know it was us. SAM You're right. (after a beat) You better hope so. EXT. BALTIMORE SUN - MORNING INT. LIFESTYLE SECTION - DAY A large open newsroom-type space with REPORTERS at computers. Around the perimeter are glass-partitioned offices and meeting rooms. Inside one of the offices is BECKY, the Lifestyle editor of the Sun. She's at a table with Annie, now a reporter for the section, and two other colleagues -- KEITH and WYATT. Wyatt is playing Gameboy. KEITH This man sells the greatest soup you've ever eaten, there's a line around the block, and he is, I am not kidding, the meanest man in America. (beat) I feel strongly about this, Becky. This is not just about soup. BECKY Do it. What else? WYATT New Year's Eve. Please don't make me write it. Becky looks at Wyatt, notices the Gameboy. BECKY Wyatt, I do not mean to remind you of your mother, but if you don't put that game away, no TV for a week. WYATT (pushing it to the center of the table) Would someone look this up, don't tell me where. Becky is riffling through some papers on the table, among which are some tearsheets from the Associated Press wire. BECKY Listen to this. Phone service in the greater Chicago area was tied up for two hours Christmas Eve because some kid called a phone-in show to get a wife for his father. Two thousand women called in for the number. KEITH Jesus. ANNIE I heard it. This kid calls up and says my dad needs a wife and I'm talking to myself in the car saying, this is completely disgusting, you're taking advantage of a child, and then the father gets on and this shrinkette says, do you want to talk about it? And he says no as a matter of fact I don't, and I am saying, bravo! Right on! Don't talk to her, it's none of her business -- (she's completely into this story now) -- and then suddenly, for no reason at all, he's talking about how much he loved his wife, and how he just -- (she snaps her fingers) fell in love with her and I am crying. Me. A tear is actually rolling down my face. It was like what happens when I watch those phone company ads. I don't have to see the whole ad, I just have to see the part where the daughter gives her mother a refrigerator with a big red bow on it, have you seen that one? Everyone looks at her. Apparently she's finished. BECKY You should write something about this. ANNIE About what? BECKY Whatever it is. KEITH (waving the AP story) What it is is, there are a lot of desperate women out there looking for love. WYATT Especially over a certain age. Annie is looking at them. This isn't what she was talking about at all, although she isn't quite sure what she was talking about. KEITH It is easier to be killed by a terrorist after the age of 40 than it is to get married -- ANNIE That is not true. That statistic is not true. BECKY It's not true, but it feels true. ANNIE There's practically a whole book about how that statistic is not true -- WYATT Calm down. You brought it up -- ANNIE (sharply) I did not, Wyatt. A beat, everyone pauses. Things are a little out of hand. BECKY So where were we? WYATT New Year's Eve. I'll do it, okay? BECKY Okay. ANNIE If someone is a widower, why do they say he was widowed? Why don't they say he was widowered? Everyone looks at her strangely. ANNIE I was jus wondering. EXT. BALTIMORE STREET - DAY Annie walking purposefully, followed by Becky, hurrying to catch up. BECKY What was that about up there? ANNIE What was what? BECKY What's with you? ANNIE Nothing's with me. INT. BALTIMORE RESTAURANT - DAY Becky and Annie are having lunch. BECKY "Sleepless in Seattle"? ANNIE That's what she called him on the show. Because he can't sleep. BECKY And now 2,000 women want his number. The guy could be a crackhead, a psychopath, a flasher, a junkie, a transvestite, a chain-saw murderer, or someone really sick, like Rick. ANNIE Actually, he sounded nice. BECKY Oh? Oh, really? Now we're getting down to it. ANNIE Not. She reaches down for her purse. INT/EXT. REMODEL HOUSE - DAY A hand reaching down to pick something up -- the Seattle newspaper, and PULL BACK TO REVEAL: Sam carrying the paper down/up the stairs to an old house that's being renovated. Jonah, who is playing Cameboy, is walking along with him. WORKMEN are active everywhere. Dry wall going up, cabinets being installed, tile being set. One of Sam's partners, BOB LANGMAN, is walking with him, and JAY MATHEWS, the on-site supervisor, is waiting for them in an unfinished doorframe. Bob is hefty, older, always eating something dietetic. Jay is younger and always wears as little as possible, even in cold weather. BOB LANGMAN Now she wants a circular stairwell off the den. JAY (to Jonah, in b.g.) Punch me, punch in right here. (points to his stomach; Jonah punches) And she wants the Sub-Zero with the side-by-side doors -- BOB Which means -- SAM The cabinets have to be redone -- They all nod at each other. The woman has been a nightmare. BOB So we thought -- JAY Since you're on the make again -- Sam looks at Jonah -- SAM Great. This is great. The whole town knows. Just out of curiosity, how do you two know? BOB Grace heard it. SAM Grace the dispatcher. Great. BOB The point is, take the client out to dinner and ask her to marry you and then maybe we won't have to redo the kitchen cabinets. SAM Why me? What about Jay? JAY Hey, my plate is full. SAM Well, okay. What's the big deal? If she'll forget the new fireplace, I'll marry her. Just point me in the right direction. JONAH Dad, I don't know about this one -- SAM Oh, you're changing your mind -- JONAH No, I'm not, but -- SAM What's the matter with this one? Wouldn't you like to have Imelda Marcos as your mother? JONAH Dad -- Sam cuffs him good-naturedly. SAM We better take the measurements for the new cabinets. He walks away past some workmen, ladders, etc. and starts checking the cross-beams in the ceiling over in another area of the site. Bob follows after him. Jay tosses Jonah a hammer and they start knocking nails into the wall. BOB Sam, if you're not doing anything New Year's -- obviously you're not doing anything New Year's -- we're having some people over, all of them married, not one even remotely interested in playing around. Does that sound great or what? (whistfully) I can't think of the last time I was at a party when anything actually happened. SAM Thanks, but I'll pass. It's kind of a big night. I don't like to leave Jonah alone. CUT TO: SHOT OF HOUSEBOAT BEING TOWED BY A TUG DOWN THE RIVER (OR A SEAPLANE LANDING) - TWILIGHT EXT. HOUSEBOAT - TWILIGHT Jonah watching it. Sam visible in the distance in the kitchen. INT. KITCHEN - TWILIGHT As Sam is busy installing the spice rack. He marks the wall, hammers in the nails, etc. SAM (as he starts putting new spices into the rack, in alphabetical order) Does red pepper go under R or P? JONAH P. (beat) Dad? SAM (absently) What? JONAH I forgot to mention. Jed called -- SAM Just out of curiosity, do you have any friends whose names don't begin with a J? I feel like it was a failure of the imagination on our part naming you Jonah. (looking at the spices) What is marjoram? Does anyone know? JONAH Jed is having a slumber party New Year's Eve and he invited me. A beat. SAM Fine. Fine. JONAH So I can go. SAM Sure. (almost done with the spices) Looking good. JONAH Shouldn't you have used a toggle bolt? SAM I think I know how to have a spice rack. He puts in the last spice. They stand back to admire it. A beat. The rack falls off the wall. The rack itself doesn't break, but about six of the glass jars of spices break. There's paprika and thyme and currying powder, etc. all over the floor along with shards of glass. SAM God fucking dammit! Shit! Fuck. Piss. Jonah bursts into tears. SAM (still angry) I'm sorry. (softening) I'm sorry. He picks up Jonah and holds him. SAM I'm sorry. I'm just -- JONAH Stressed. SAM Right. I'm sorry, Jonah, I'm sorry. And he holds Jonah as Jonah calms down. Sam closes his eyes tight. INT. A TELEVISION SET OF NEW YEAR'S EVE ON TIMES SQUARE And pull back to reveal: INT. HOUSEBOAT - NIGHT Sam, alone, watching the ball drop. He's got a bag of Doritos and a beer. A VOICE Can I have half your beer? SAM Sure. It's Maggie. She takes his bottle of beer and pours half of it into a glass. MAGGIE What did I used to say? Here's looking at you? Here's mud in your eye? SAM Here's to us. You used to say here's to us. (he looks at her and his eyes well with tears) Oh babe. I miss you so much it hurts. He reaches out for her. She's gone. And we hear the television set now counting down to midnight in New York. CUT TO: INT. NEW YEAR'S EVE PARTY IN BALTIMORE - NIGHT The same television show counting down to midnight. Champagne corks popping, etc. And we see Walter and Annie. WALTER Happy New Year, darling. ANNIE Happy New Year. They start to dance. WALTER I was thinking, I have to go up to Boston for the AAP convention and then visit Winston-Hughes about switching over our computers. Why don't we meet in New York for Valentine's Day weekend? ANNIE Walter, I'd love to -- WALTER We'll stay at the Plaza -- ANNIE Go for a walk in Central Park -- WALTER Go to the Symphony -- A beat. ANNIE We will? (beat) The Symphony? (beat) Okay. (beat) I'll take you to the Russian Tea Room for pelmeni. WALTER What is it? ANNIE It's delicious, trust me. WALTER Does it have wheat in it? ANNIE I don't think so. They go on dancing. It's one of those parties where everyone looks so happy and so in love. Annie, however, looks thoughtful. ET. MARINA PARKING AREA - DAY Sam gets out of his car and starts down the dock toward his houseboat. He's carrying a bag of groceries. In the parking lot is a U.S. MAIL TRUCK. EXT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY Sam approaches his boat and a puzzled look comes over his face. A MAILMAN with a sack of mail is standing outside the front door of the houseboat. Jonah is signing a receipt for the mail. JONAH Look at this, Dad. They're all for you -- Sam picks up an envelop and looks at it. It's addressed to Sleepless in Seattle c/o Dr. Marcia Fieldstone, Radio Station KWRS in Chicago. He's stunned. As he signs the receipt: MAILMAN If you're having trouble sleeping, you might want to try drinking a glass of water from the other side. JONAH I thought that was for hiccups. MAILMAN Does it work for hiccups? JONAH For hiccups, a spoonful of sugar, you hold it in your mouth for a minute. MAILMAN Really? The mailman starts back toward the mail truck. Sam and Jonah start toward the door. INT. HOUSEBOAT - NIGHT Sam is in the kitchen making dinner. Jonah is sitting at the table, reading the letters from the stack they found by the door. SAM Just out of curiosity, how did they get our address? JONAH They called and asked for it. (reading) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle. You are the most attractive man I've ever laid ears on." Jonah rolls his eyes, tosses the letter into a pile of rejects, opens another. SAM How did they get our phone number? JONAH You have to give them your phone number or they won't let you go on the air. Sam nods as if this makes perfect sense. JONAH (continues, reading) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle: I am an SWF"-- (to Sam) What is that? SAM Thank God. Something you don't know. It's a single white female. JONAH This is no good. She's looking for someone French. Or Greek. (puzzled, he throws the letter into the reject pile, opens another) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle: I live in Tulsa." Where is that? -- SAM Oklahoma. Do you know where that is? JONAH Somewhere in the middle. SAM I'm not going to think about what they're not teaching you in school. I am not going to think about it. (beat) Generally speaking I think we should rule out people who don't live somewhere near here -- JONAH She's willing to fly anywhere. As Jonah hands Sam the picture. SAM She looks like my third grade teacher. I hated my third grade teacher. Hold it! Wait a minute! She is my third grade teacher! JONAH Dad, you're not taking this seriously. SAM This is not how you do it. (referring to the hamburger) You want this on an English muffin or a bun? JONAH English muffin. How do you do it? SAM You see someone you like, you get a feeling about them, you ask them if they want to have a drink or -- JONAH -- a slice of pizza -- SAM But not dinner necessarily on the first date because by the time you're halfway through dinner you might be sorry you asked them to dinner whereas if it's just a drink, if you like them you can always ask them for dinner but if you don't you can go home if you see what I mean. (beat) I wonder if it still works this way. JONAH It doesn't. They ask you. SAM I'm starting to notice that. INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie and Walter are making love. JONAH (V.O.) If you get a new wife, I guess you'll have sex with her, huh? SAM (V.O.) What do you think? JONAH (V.O.) Will she scratch up your back? SAM (V.O.) What? JONAH'S BEDROOM - NIGHT As Sam puts Jonah to sleep. Jonah is holding his teddy bear while this conversation concludes. JONAH In the movies women are always scratching up guy's back and screaming and stuff. When they're having sex. SAM Whose show was this on? JONAH Jed's got cables. SAM Go to sleep. He kisses him good-night. JONAH Kiss Howard. (he holds out the teddy bear) G'night, Howard. INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie and Walter have just finished making love. Walter falling asleep. Annie lying in bed, with her eyes open. She starts to get out of bed. Puts on a robe. INT. STAIRWAY - HOUSE As Annie comes downstairs in a bathrobe. She opens the door to the street. EXT. STREET - NIGHT As Annie starts to run down the street. CLOSEUP OF: ANNIE, RUNNING And now we widen out to see a misty highway she's running down. Past a sign saying: Seattle Approximately 3,000 miles. Past another sign: Your nerves are shot. And another: Your feet are cold. And another: Will you find love. And another: Before you're cold? And another: Burma Shave. And Annie continues to run, and now we see she's running across a map of the United States -- it's a little like the one we saw in the beginning of the movie -- it's like the famous map of the United States by Saul Steinberg, but instead of being about New York, this one is about Seattle. In the distance, at the very edge of the map, we see two indistinct figures -- a map and a young boy. They start to wave at her, very slowly. Annie's eyes widen. CUT TO: INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie in bed, eyes open. Walter fast asleep. She gets out of bed, puts on her robe (just as she did in the dream sequence). INT. STAIRWELL - NIGHT As Annie comes down the stairs. INT. KITCHEN - HOUSE She turns the light on. Opens the refrigerator. Closes it. Opens it again. Takes out some milk. Sits down at the kitchen table with a bowl, corn flakes, banana. She's about to assemble it when: She sees: THE RADIO She stands up, turns it on to the station Dr. Marcia Fieldstone is on. She sits back down with her corn flakes. ANNOUNCER (V.O.) Up next, "You and Your Emotions" with Dr. Marcia Fieldstone, clinical psychologist and the best friend you never had. (the teaser continues) WOMAN'S VOICE (V.O.) He says he doesn't love me any more. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why do you want to be with someone who doesn't love you? ANOTHER WOMAN (V.O.) Every time I come close to orgasm he stops and goes to make himself a sandwich -- DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why don't you make him a sandwich beforehand? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) When I met my wife, it was so clear. I jus knew. Annie starts at hearing Sam's voice. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) What was it that made you know? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) I don't think I could really describe it. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why not? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) And if I could describe it, it probably wouldn't be on a radio show. (he laughs to himself) But what the hell. It's not one specific thing. It's more of a feeling. (continuing) You touch her for the first time, and suddenly... you're home. It's almost like... magic. Annie closes her eyes. ANNOUNCER (V.O.) We'll be back after this commercial with Dr. Marcia Fieldstone. EXT. BALTIMORE - PEABODY LIBRARY - DAY We see Annie's car pull into a parking space outside the Peabody Library. Annie gets out of the car. INT. LIBRARY - DAY As Annie strides purposefully across the library and enters: INT. ANNIE'S BROTHER TOM'S OFFICE - DAY Annie bursts into Tom's office and walks over to his desk. We barely has time to look up. ANNIE I think I'm going crazy, Tom. I really do. Are you happily married? TOM (completely panicked by the question) What? ANNIE I mean, why did you get married? Was it all fireworks and trumpets and -- TOM (regaining composure) I got married because Betsy said we had to break up or get married. So we get married. ANNIE But when you met her, did you believe she was the only person for you? That in some mystical, cosmic way, it was fated? TOM Annie, when you meet someone and you're attracted to them, it just means that your subconscious is attracted to their subconscious, subconsciously. So what we think of as chemistry is just two neuroses knowing that they are a perfect match. ANNIE I don't even know him. But I'm having all these fantasies about a man I've never met, who lives in Seattle. TOM It rains nine months of the year in Seattle. ANNIE I know, I know. I do not want to move to Seattle. But what I really don't want to do is end up always wondering what might have happened and knowing I could have done something. What do you think? (Tom opens his mouth to say something, but before anything comes out, Annie fills the void) It's just cold feet, isn't it? Everyone panics before they get married, didn't you? TOM Yes, I did. ANNIE Thank you, Tom. I feel so much better just having blown this off. TOM Any time. INT. PEABODY LIBRARY - DAY As Annie walks through it and pushes the door to exit. EXT. A DOOR OPENING TO SEATTLE STREET - DAY Sam and Jay walk out of the Arctic Building onto the street. JAY Sandy has a girlfriend, Clenda ... She's a weightlifter, but it's not like her neck is bigger than her head or anything -- SAM I'm not asking you to set me up, Jay. That's not what I need your help for. I want to know what it's like over there. JAY And that's what I'm trying to tell you. What women are looking over, okay? Pecs and a cute butt. SAM You mean, like, "He has the cutest butt"? Where did I hear that recently? JAY Everywhere. You can't even turn on the news without hearing about how some babe thought some guy's butt was cute. Who the first babe to say this was I don't know, but it caught on. INT. SEATTLE RESTAURANT - DAY Sam and Jay at the counter. Out the window, we can see water. JAY When's the latest time you were out there? SAM (trying to remember) Seventy... eight. JAY Well. Things are different. First, you have to be friends. You have to like each other. Then you neck. This can go on for years. Then you have tests. Then you get to do it with a condom. (beat) The good news is, split the check. SAM I don't think it could let a woman pay for dinner. JAY Great. They'll have a parade in your honor. You'll be Man of the Year in Seattle Magazine. Tira misu. SAM What's tira misu? JAY You'll find out. SAM What is it? JAY You'll see. SAM Some woman is going to want me to do it to her and I'm not going to know what it is. JAY You'll like it. SAM (grimly) This is going to be tougher than I thought. EXT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY EVENING Sam coming home. INT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY EVENING As he enters. It's very quiet. Too quiet. SAM Jonah? No answers. SAM Jonah? He starts to look concerned. SAM Jonah? He goes down the hall to Jonah's room. The door is shut. He opens it. Jonah is sitting on his bed listening to a tape. Earphones on. Next to him is a young girl named JESSICA. SAM Jonah? Jonah takes off the earphones. JONAH Hi, Dad. Dad, this is Jessica. SAM It's nice to meet you, Jessica. JONAH Dad, this is amazing. If you play this backwards, it says "Paul is dead." SAM I know. JONAH How do you know? Sam shrugs, turns to go back down the hall. JONAH Dad, could you close the door? JESSICA H and G. (Sam looks back) Hi and goodbye. Sam closes the door to Jonah's room. Hold on Sam. SAM (to himself) Get a life. INT. HOUSEBOAT - CONTINUOUS As Sam comes downstairs, goes into his office. Closes the door. INT. SAM'S OFFICE AT HOME - CONTINUOUS He goes to the phone. Looks up a number in the phone book. Picks up the phone and dials a number. SAM Hi, Victoria?... It's Sam Baldwin, I don't know if you remember me. Oh? Well, great. I was wondering if you wanted to have a drink... Friday, say... Dinner?... Sure, dinner would be fine. Sure. Dinner. INT. AN UNFINISHED DINNER ON A PLATE IN ANNIE'S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT Annie is watching "An Affair to Remember" on television, tears pouring down her face. Cary Grant is saying: "Are you in love with him?" Deborah Kerr replies: "I'm not now." She's sitting at the dining room table. A dozen pieces of paper litter the table. Annie's been unsuccessfully typing a letter on an old Underwood typewriter. ANNIE Now those were the days when people knew how to be in love. She takes a blast from the wine glass to her right. Becky leans in, refilling the glass. Annie begins to type and sob and look at the TV. BECKY You're a basket case. ANNIE (as she types) They knew it. Time, distance, nothing could separate them. Because they knew. It was right. It was real. It was... BECKY ... movie. (beat) That's your problem. You don't want to be in love. You want to be in love in a movie. (beat) Read it to me. ANNIE (reading her letter) "Dear Sleepless and Son..." BECKY It sounds like the name of a mattress store -- ANNIE "I am not the sort of person who listens to call-in radio shows" -- Becky flops on the couch. BECKY And this woman is a writer! That's what everyone writes at the beginning of letters to strangers. ANNIE I know that. You think I don't know that? "I know that's a dumb way to begin, but it's the only way I can think of to convey what happened to me the other night when I heard the two of you on the radio. On the other hand, maybe I'm just losing my mind." BECKY You are. You're losing your mind. What about Walter? ANNIE I'm going to marry Walter. I just have to get this out of my system. BECKY Right. ANNIE I should say something in this about magic. BECKY What? ANNIE I don't know. I mean, what if I never meet him? What if this man is my destiny and I never meet him? BECKY Your destiny can be your doom. Look at me and Rick. ANNIE (typing some more) "I want to meet you..." Cary Grant says: "How about the top of the Empire State Building?" BECKY "On top of the Empire State Building at sunset on Valentine's Day." ANNIE Good. Perfect. I'll be in New York with Walter, I can squeeze it in. She types in Becky's idea. Then she takes the piece of paper out of the typewriter, smashes it into a ball and tosses it up in the air and into Becky's lap. BECKY You want to hear about destiny? If my husband hadn't gone on a diet, which caused me to leave him, I would never have been on that flight to

crying

How many times the word 'crying' appears in the text?

what. SHE'S CRYING. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Well, it's time to wrap up, folks -- A FIGURE appears at the passenger side window, which Annie doesn't notice. She's wiping the tears away with her hand. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) We hope you'll call again soon. The figure TAPS on the window -- WALTER (muffled, outside car) Annie? DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) ... and let us know how it's going. -- and taps again. WALTER Annie? She turns. He's pointing at the locked door. She searches for the button. Finally finds it so that Walter can open the door. ANNIE I'm sorry, Walter. I just heard the most amazing thing on the radio. They start toward the front door, Walter and Annie carrying presents, an overnight bag of Annie's. ANNIE People call up these shows and you can't believe the stuff they say. It's the end of privacy as we know it, this country is just one big global village with everyone out there going blah blah blah -- As they enter the house, we hear Silent Night and we see a Christmas tree, glittering with lights. CUT TO: A CHRISTMAS TREE GLITTERING WITH LIGHTS as we pull back to reveal: INT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY MORNING As Jonah opens his presents under the tree and we cut from gift to gift: A BROOKS ROBINSON BASEBALL GLOVE which Jonah loves and which he puts on his hand and keeps on while continuing to open: A TIE which mystifies him, but he hangs it around his neck. A PLAID SHIRT A MAP OF THE UNITED STATES -- the kind that's used in schoolrooms that pulls down from a roller. And now Sam brings out a long narrow present from behind the door and Jonah opens -- A NEW FISHING ROD EXT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY As Jonah poses with all his Christmas presents -- his tie hanging around his neck over his bathrobe and new plaid shirt, his baseball glove, fishing rod -- as Sam takes his picture. INT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY (OR POSSIBLY EXT. DECK HOUSEBOAT) Sam opens his present from Jonah, which is something he made in woodworking class. SAM The hopes are perfect -- beautiful, identical, smooth -- and they are for something really amazing I feel it in my bones -- JONAH It's a spice rack. SAM We desperately need a spice rack. Desperately. CUT TO: INT. KITCHEN OF HOUSEBOAT - DAY SAM And we desperately need spices. Where Sam is putting the spices they have -- pepper, salt, paprika and oregano -- into the spice rack, which has room for at least twenty more. Jonah is methodically making pancakes. JONAH Dad? About last night? SAM It's never happening again. Right? JONAH Right. There's a knock on the door. SAM Then it never happened. Sam goes to answer the door. TWO YOUNG WOMEN are standing there. Both are wearing quite a lot of Spandex. One of them is named LULU. It says so on her jacket. The other is JOBETH. SAM Hi. LULU Hi. Sam? SAM Yes? LULU (looking in and seeing Jonah) You must be Jonah. Jonah nods. LULU (to her friend) See. I told you. Sam and Jonah. I'm LULU. This is JoBeth. JoBeth nods, and continues to nod as Lulu talks. LULU (continues) We live two piers over, don't we? Number 12, right? We're having like a really neat open house today from like four to whenever if you care to stop by. SAM Thanks, but... we've got plans. LULU Well, here's the number. If you ever find yourself Sleepless, give us a call. We also... do babysitting. She winks. JoBeth nods. Sam nods. Lulu waves goodbye, and she and JoBeth sashay off down the dock. Jonah closes the door and turns to Sam. JONAH Not. SAM My feelings exactly. EXT. LAKE UNION MARINA - EARLY MORNING Jonah and Sam are fishing off a dingy. SAM How many people do you think heard that thing last night? JONAH It plays in 50 states. SAM What?! JONAH Nobody else is going to know it was us. SAM You're right. (after a beat) You better hope so. EXT. BALTIMORE SUN - MORNING INT. LIFESTYLE SECTION - DAY A large open newsroom-type space with REPORTERS at computers. Around the perimeter are glass-partitioned offices and meeting rooms. Inside one of the offices is BECKY, the Lifestyle editor of the Sun. She's at a table with Annie, now a reporter for the section, and two other colleagues -- KEITH and WYATT. Wyatt is playing Gameboy. KEITH This man sells the greatest soup you've ever eaten, there's a line around the block, and he is, I am not kidding, the meanest man in America. (beat) I feel strongly about this, Becky. This is not just about soup. BECKY Do it. What else? WYATT New Year's Eve. Please don't make me write it. Becky looks at Wyatt, notices the Gameboy. BECKY Wyatt, I do not mean to remind you of your mother, but if you don't put that game away, no TV for a week. WYATT (pushing it to the center of the table) Would someone look this up, don't tell me where. Becky is riffling through some papers on the table, among which are some tearsheets from the Associated Press wire. BECKY Listen to this. Phone service in the greater Chicago area was tied up for two hours Christmas Eve because some kid called a phone-in show to get a wife for his father. Two thousand women called in for the number. KEITH Jesus. ANNIE I heard it. This kid calls up and says my dad needs a wife and I'm talking to myself in the car saying, this is completely disgusting, you're taking advantage of a child, and then the father gets on and this shrinkette says, do you want to talk about it? And he says no as a matter of fact I don't, and I am saying, bravo! Right on! Don't talk to her, it's none of her business -- (she's completely into this story now) -- and then suddenly, for no reason at all, he's talking about how much he loved his wife, and how he just -- (she snaps her fingers) fell in love with her and I am crying. Me. A tear is actually rolling down my face. It was like what happens when I watch those phone company ads. I don't have to see the whole ad, I just have to see the part where the daughter gives her mother a refrigerator with a big red bow on it, have you seen that one? Everyone looks at her. Apparently she's finished. BECKY You should write something about this. ANNIE About what? BECKY Whatever it is. KEITH (waving the AP story) What it is is, there are a lot of desperate women out there looking for love. WYATT Especially over a certain age. Annie is looking at them. This isn't what she was talking about at all, although she isn't quite sure what she was talking about. KEITH It is easier to be killed by a terrorist after the age of 40 than it is to get married -- ANNIE That is not true. That statistic is not true. BECKY It's not true, but it feels true. ANNIE There's practically a whole book about how that statistic is not true -- WYATT Calm down. You brought it up -- ANNIE (sharply) I did not, Wyatt. A beat, everyone pauses. Things are a little out of hand. BECKY So where were we? WYATT New Year's Eve. I'll do it, okay? BECKY Okay. ANNIE If someone is a widower, why do they say he was widowed? Why don't they say he was widowered? Everyone looks at her strangely. ANNIE I was jus wondering. EXT. BALTIMORE STREET - DAY Annie walking purposefully, followed by Becky, hurrying to catch up. BECKY What was that about up there? ANNIE What was what? BECKY What's with you? ANNIE Nothing's with me. INT. BALTIMORE RESTAURANT - DAY Becky and Annie are having lunch. BECKY "Sleepless in Seattle"? ANNIE That's what she called him on the show. Because he can't sleep. BECKY And now 2,000 women want his number. The guy could be a crackhead, a psychopath, a flasher, a junkie, a transvestite, a chain-saw murderer, or someone really sick, like Rick. ANNIE Actually, he sounded nice. BECKY Oh? Oh, really? Now we're getting down to it. ANNIE Not. She reaches down for her purse. INT/EXT. REMODEL HOUSE - DAY A hand reaching down to pick something up -- the Seattle newspaper, and PULL BACK TO REVEAL: Sam carrying the paper down/up the stairs to an old house that's being renovated. Jonah, who is playing Cameboy, is walking along with him. WORKMEN are active everywhere. Dry wall going up, cabinets being installed, tile being set. One of Sam's partners, BOB LANGMAN, is walking with him, and JAY MATHEWS, the on-site supervisor, is waiting for them in an unfinished doorframe. Bob is hefty, older, always eating something dietetic. Jay is younger and always wears as little as possible, even in cold weather. BOB LANGMAN Now she wants a circular stairwell off the den. JAY (to Jonah, in b.g.) Punch me, punch in right here. (points to his stomach; Jonah punches) And she wants the Sub-Zero with the side-by-side doors -- BOB Which means -- SAM The cabinets have to be redone -- They all nod at each other. The woman has been a nightmare. BOB So we thought -- JAY Since you're on the make again -- Sam looks at Jonah -- SAM Great. This is great. The whole town knows. Just out of curiosity, how do you two know? BOB Grace heard it. SAM Grace the dispatcher. Great. BOB The point is, take the client out to dinner and ask her to marry you and then maybe we won't have to redo the kitchen cabinets. SAM Why me? What about Jay? JAY Hey, my plate is full. SAM Well, okay. What's the big deal? If she'll forget the new fireplace, I'll marry her. Just point me in the right direction. JONAH Dad, I don't know about this one -- SAM Oh, you're changing your mind -- JONAH No, I'm not, but -- SAM What's the matter with this one? Wouldn't you like to have Imelda Marcos as your mother? JONAH Dad -- Sam cuffs him good-naturedly. SAM We better take the measurements for the new cabinets. He walks away past some workmen, ladders, etc. and starts checking the cross-beams in the ceiling over in another area of the site. Bob follows after him. Jay tosses Jonah a hammer and they start knocking nails into the wall. BOB Sam, if you're not doing anything New Year's -- obviously you're not doing anything New Year's -- we're having some people over, all of them married, not one even remotely interested in playing around. Does that sound great or what? (whistfully) I can't think of the last time I was at a party when anything actually happened. SAM Thanks, but I'll pass. It's kind of a big night. I don't like to leave Jonah alone. CUT TO: SHOT OF HOUSEBOAT BEING TOWED BY A TUG DOWN THE RIVER (OR A SEAPLANE LANDING) - TWILIGHT EXT. HOUSEBOAT - TWILIGHT Jonah watching it. Sam visible in the distance in the kitchen. INT. KITCHEN - TWILIGHT As Sam is busy installing the spice rack. He marks the wall, hammers in the nails, etc. SAM (as he starts putting new spices into the rack, in alphabetical order) Does red pepper go under R or P? JONAH P. (beat) Dad? SAM (absently) What? JONAH I forgot to mention. Jed called -- SAM Just out of curiosity, do you have any friends whose names don't begin with a J? I feel like it was a failure of the imagination on our part naming you Jonah. (looking at the spices) What is marjoram? Does anyone know? JONAH Jed is having a slumber party New Year's Eve and he invited me. A beat. SAM Fine. Fine. JONAH So I can go. SAM Sure. (almost done with the spices) Looking good. JONAH Shouldn't you have used a toggle bolt? SAM I think I know how to have a spice rack. He puts in the last spice. They stand back to admire it. A beat. The rack falls off the wall. The rack itself doesn't break, but about six of the glass jars of spices break. There's paprika and thyme and currying powder, etc. all over the floor along with shards of glass. SAM God fucking dammit! Shit! Fuck. Piss. Jonah bursts into tears. SAM (still angry) I'm sorry. (softening) I'm sorry. He picks up Jonah and holds him. SAM I'm sorry. I'm just -- JONAH Stressed. SAM Right. I'm sorry, Jonah, I'm sorry. And he holds Jonah as Jonah calms down. Sam closes his eyes tight. INT. A TELEVISION SET OF NEW YEAR'S EVE ON TIMES SQUARE And pull back to reveal: INT. HOUSEBOAT - NIGHT Sam, alone, watching the ball drop. He's got a bag of Doritos and a beer. A VOICE Can I have half your beer? SAM Sure. It's Maggie. She takes his bottle of beer and pours half of it into a glass. MAGGIE What did I used to say? Here's looking at you? Here's mud in your eye? SAM Here's to us. You used to say here's to us. (he looks at her and his eyes well with tears) Oh babe. I miss you so much it hurts. He reaches out for her. She's gone. And we hear the television set now counting down to midnight in New York. CUT TO: INT. NEW YEAR'S EVE PARTY IN BALTIMORE - NIGHT The same television show counting down to midnight. Champagne corks popping, etc. And we see Walter and Annie. WALTER Happy New Year, darling. ANNIE Happy New Year. They start to dance. WALTER I was thinking, I have to go up to Boston for the AAP convention and then visit Winston-Hughes about switching over our computers. Why don't we meet in New York for Valentine's Day weekend? ANNIE Walter, I'd love to -- WALTER We'll stay at the Plaza -- ANNIE Go for a walk in Central Park -- WALTER Go to the Symphony -- A beat. ANNIE We will? (beat) The Symphony? (beat) Okay. (beat) I'll take you to the Russian Tea Room for pelmeni. WALTER What is it? ANNIE It's delicious, trust me. WALTER Does it have wheat in it? ANNIE I don't think so. They go on dancing. It's one of those parties where everyone looks so happy and so in love. Annie, however, looks thoughtful. ET. MARINA PARKING AREA - DAY Sam gets out of his car and starts down the dock toward his houseboat. He's carrying a bag of groceries. In the parking lot is a U.S. MAIL TRUCK. EXT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY Sam approaches his boat and a puzzled look comes over his face. A MAILMAN with a sack of mail is standing outside the front door of the houseboat. Jonah is signing a receipt for the mail. JONAH Look at this, Dad. They're all for you -- Sam picks up an envelop and looks at it. It's addressed to Sleepless in Seattle c/o Dr. Marcia Fieldstone, Radio Station KWRS in Chicago. He's stunned. As he signs the receipt: MAILMAN If you're having trouble sleeping, you might want to try drinking a glass of water from the other side. JONAH I thought that was for hiccups. MAILMAN Does it work for hiccups? JONAH For hiccups, a spoonful of sugar, you hold it in your mouth for a minute. MAILMAN Really? The mailman starts back toward the mail truck. Sam and Jonah start toward the door. INT. HOUSEBOAT - NIGHT Sam is in the kitchen making dinner. Jonah is sitting at the table, reading the letters from the stack they found by the door. SAM Just out of curiosity, how did they get our address? JONAH They called and asked for it. (reading) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle. You are the most attractive man I've ever laid ears on." Jonah rolls his eyes, tosses the letter into a pile of rejects, opens another. SAM How did they get our phone number? JONAH You have to give them your phone number or they won't let you go on the air. Sam nods as if this makes perfect sense. JONAH (continues, reading) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle: I am an SWF"-- (to Sam) What is that? SAM Thank God. Something you don't know. It's a single white female. JONAH This is no good. She's looking for someone French. Or Greek. (puzzled, he throws the letter into the reject pile, opens another) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle: I live in Tulsa." Where is that? -- SAM Oklahoma. Do you know where that is? JONAH Somewhere in the middle. SAM I'm not going to think about what they're not teaching you in school. I am not going to think about it. (beat) Generally speaking I think we should rule out people who don't live somewhere near here -- JONAH She's willing to fly anywhere. As Jonah hands Sam the picture. SAM She looks like my third grade teacher. I hated my third grade teacher. Hold it! Wait a minute! She is my third grade teacher! JONAH Dad, you're not taking this seriously. SAM This is not how you do it. (referring to the hamburger) You want this on an English muffin or a bun? JONAH English muffin. How do you do it? SAM You see someone you like, you get a feeling about them, you ask them if they want to have a drink or -- JONAH -- a slice of pizza -- SAM But not dinner necessarily on the first date because by the time you're halfway through dinner you might be sorry you asked them to dinner whereas if it's just a drink, if you like them you can always ask them for dinner but if you don't you can go home if you see what I mean. (beat) I wonder if it still works this way. JONAH It doesn't. They ask you. SAM I'm starting to notice that. INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie and Walter are making love. JONAH (V.O.) If you get a new wife, I guess you'll have sex with her, huh? SAM (V.O.) What do you think? JONAH (V.O.) Will she scratch up your back? SAM (V.O.) What? JONAH'S BEDROOM - NIGHT As Sam puts Jonah to sleep. Jonah is holding his teddy bear while this conversation concludes. JONAH In the movies women are always scratching up guy's back and screaming and stuff. When they're having sex. SAM Whose show was this on? JONAH Jed's got cables. SAM Go to sleep. He kisses him good-night. JONAH Kiss Howard. (he holds out the teddy bear) G'night, Howard. INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie and Walter have just finished making love. Walter falling asleep. Annie lying in bed, with her eyes open. She starts to get out of bed. Puts on a robe. INT. STAIRWAY - HOUSE As Annie comes downstairs in a bathrobe. She opens the door to the street. EXT. STREET - NIGHT As Annie starts to run down the street. CLOSEUP OF: ANNIE, RUNNING And now we widen out to see a misty highway she's running down. Past a sign saying: Seattle Approximately 3,000 miles. Past another sign: Your nerves are shot. And another: Your feet are cold. And another: Will you find love. And another: Before you're cold? And another: Burma Shave. And Annie continues to run, and now we see she's running across a map of the United States -- it's a little like the one we saw in the beginning of the movie -- it's like the famous map of the United States by Saul Steinberg, but instead of being about New York, this one is about Seattle. In the distance, at the very edge of the map, we see two indistinct figures -- a map and a young boy. They start to wave at her, very slowly. Annie's eyes widen. CUT TO: INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie in bed, eyes open. Walter fast asleep. She gets out of bed, puts on her robe (just as she did in the dream sequence). INT. STAIRWELL - NIGHT As Annie comes down the stairs. INT. KITCHEN - HOUSE She turns the light on. Opens the refrigerator. Closes it. Opens it again. Takes out some milk. Sits down at the kitchen table with a bowl, corn flakes, banana. She's about to assemble it when: She sees: THE RADIO She stands up, turns it on to the station Dr. Marcia Fieldstone is on. She sits back down with her corn flakes. ANNOUNCER (V.O.) Up next, "You and Your Emotions" with Dr. Marcia Fieldstone, clinical psychologist and the best friend you never had. (the teaser continues) WOMAN'S VOICE (V.O.) He says he doesn't love me any more. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why do you want to be with someone who doesn't love you? ANOTHER WOMAN (V.O.) Every time I come close to orgasm he stops and goes to make himself a sandwich -- DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why don't you make him a sandwich beforehand? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) When I met my wife, it was so clear. I jus knew. Annie starts at hearing Sam's voice. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) What was it that made you know? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) I don't think I could really describe it. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why not? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) And if I could describe it, it probably wouldn't be on a radio show. (he laughs to himself) But what the hell. It's not one specific thing. It's more of a feeling. (continuing) You touch her for the first time, and suddenly... you're home. It's almost like... magic. Annie closes her eyes. ANNOUNCER (V.O.) We'll be back after this commercial with Dr. Marcia Fieldstone. EXT. BALTIMORE - PEABODY LIBRARY - DAY We see Annie's car pull into a parking space outside the Peabody Library. Annie gets out of the car. INT. LIBRARY - DAY As Annie strides purposefully across the library and enters: INT. ANNIE'S BROTHER TOM'S OFFICE - DAY Annie bursts into Tom's office and walks over to his desk. We barely has time to look up. ANNIE I think I'm going crazy, Tom. I really do. Are you happily married? TOM (completely panicked by the question) What? ANNIE I mean, why did you get married? Was it all fireworks and trumpets and -- TOM (regaining composure) I got married because Betsy said we had to break up or get married. So we get married. ANNIE But when you met her, did you believe she was the only person for you? That in some mystical, cosmic way, it was fated? TOM Annie, when you meet someone and you're attracted to them, it just means that your subconscious is attracted to their subconscious, subconsciously. So what we think of as chemistry is just two neuroses knowing that they are a perfect match. ANNIE I don't even know him. But I'm having all these fantasies about a man I've never met, who lives in Seattle. TOM It rains nine months of the year in Seattle. ANNIE I know, I know. I do not want to move to Seattle. But what I really don't want to do is end up always wondering what might have happened and knowing I could have done something. What do you think? (Tom opens his mouth to say something, but before anything comes out, Annie fills the void) It's just cold feet, isn't it? Everyone panics before they get married, didn't you? TOM Yes, I did. ANNIE Thank you, Tom. I feel so much better just having blown this off. TOM Any time. INT. PEABODY LIBRARY - DAY As Annie walks through it and pushes the door to exit. EXT. A DOOR OPENING TO SEATTLE STREET - DAY Sam and Jay walk out of the Arctic Building onto the street. JAY Sandy has a girlfriend, Clenda ... She's a weightlifter, but it's not like her neck is bigger than her head or anything -- SAM I'm not asking you to set me up, Jay. That's not what I need your help for. I want to know what it's like over there. JAY And that's what I'm trying to tell you. What women are looking over, okay? Pecs and a cute butt. SAM You mean, like, "He has the cutest butt"? Where did I hear that recently? JAY Everywhere. You can't even turn on the news without hearing about how some babe thought some guy's butt was cute. Who the first babe to say this was I don't know, but it caught on. INT. SEATTLE RESTAURANT - DAY Sam and Jay at the counter. Out the window, we can see water. JAY When's the latest time you were out there? SAM (trying to remember) Seventy... eight. JAY Well. Things are different. First, you have to be friends. You have to like each other. Then you neck. This can go on for years. Then you have tests. Then you get to do it with a condom. (beat) The good news is, split the check. SAM I don't think it could let a woman pay for dinner. JAY Great. They'll have a parade in your honor. You'll be Man of the Year in Seattle Magazine. Tira misu. SAM What's tira misu? JAY You'll find out. SAM What is it? JAY You'll see. SAM Some woman is going to want me to do it to her and I'm not going to know what it is. JAY You'll like it. SAM (grimly) This is going to be tougher than I thought. EXT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY EVENING Sam coming home. INT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY EVENING As he enters. It's very quiet. Too quiet. SAM Jonah? No answers. SAM Jonah? He starts to look concerned. SAM Jonah? He goes down the hall to Jonah's room. The door is shut. He opens it. Jonah is sitting on his bed listening to a tape. Earphones on. Next to him is a young girl named JESSICA. SAM Jonah? Jonah takes off the earphones. JONAH Hi, Dad. Dad, this is Jessica. SAM It's nice to meet you, Jessica. JONAH Dad, this is amazing. If you play this backwards, it says "Paul is dead." SAM I know. JONAH How do you know? Sam shrugs, turns to go back down the hall. JONAH Dad, could you close the door? JESSICA H and G. (Sam looks back) Hi and goodbye. Sam closes the door to Jonah's room. Hold on Sam. SAM (to himself) Get a life. INT. HOUSEBOAT - CONTINUOUS As Sam comes downstairs, goes into his office. Closes the door. INT. SAM'S OFFICE AT HOME - CONTINUOUS He goes to the phone. Looks up a number in the phone book. Picks up the phone and dials a number. SAM Hi, Victoria?... It's Sam Baldwin, I don't know if you remember me. Oh? Well, great. I was wondering if you wanted to have a drink... Friday, say... Dinner?... Sure, dinner would be fine. Sure. Dinner. INT. AN UNFINISHED DINNER ON A PLATE IN ANNIE'S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT Annie is watching "An Affair to Remember" on television, tears pouring down her face. Cary Grant is saying: "Are you in love with him?" Deborah Kerr replies: "I'm not now." She's sitting at the dining room table. A dozen pieces of paper litter the table. Annie's been unsuccessfully typing a letter on an old Underwood typewriter. ANNIE Now those were the days when people knew how to be in love. She takes a blast from the wine glass to her right. Becky leans in, refilling the glass. Annie begins to type and sob and look at the TV. BECKY You're a basket case. ANNIE (as she types) They knew it. Time, distance, nothing could separate them. Because they knew. It was right. It was real. It was... BECKY ... movie. (beat) That's your problem. You don't want to be in love. You want to be in love in a movie. (beat) Read it to me. ANNIE (reading her letter) "Dear Sleepless and Son..." BECKY It sounds like the name of a mattress store -- ANNIE "I am not the sort of person who listens to call-in radio shows" -- Becky flops on the couch. BECKY And this woman is a writer! That's what everyone writes at the beginning of letters to strangers. ANNIE I know that. You think I don't know that? "I know that's a dumb way to begin, but it's the only way I can think of to convey what happened to me the other night when I heard the two of you on the radio. On the other hand, maybe I'm just losing my mind." BECKY You are. You're losing your mind. What about Walter? ANNIE I'm going to marry Walter. I just have to get this out of my system. BECKY Right. ANNIE I should say something in this about magic. BECKY What? ANNIE I don't know. I mean, what if I never meet him? What if this man is my destiny and I never meet him? BECKY Your destiny can be your doom. Look at me and Rick. ANNIE (typing some more) "I want to meet you..." Cary Grant says: "How about the top of the Empire State Building?" BECKY "On top of the Empire State Building at sunset on Valentine's Day." ANNIE Good. Perfect. I'll be in New York with Walter, I can squeeze it in. She types in Becky's idea. Then she takes the piece of paper out of the typewriter, smashes it into a ball and tosses it up in the air and into Becky's lap. BECKY You want to hear about destiny? If my husband hadn't gone on a diet, which caused me to leave him, I would never have been on that flight to

eddy

How many times the word 'eddy' appears in the text?

what. SHE'S CRYING. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Well, it's time to wrap up, folks -- A FIGURE appears at the passenger side window, which Annie doesn't notice. She's wiping the tears away with her hand. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) We hope you'll call again soon. The figure TAPS on the window -- WALTER (muffled, outside car) Annie? DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) ... and let us know how it's going. -- and taps again. WALTER Annie? She turns. He's pointing at the locked door. She searches for the button. Finally finds it so that Walter can open the door. ANNIE I'm sorry, Walter. I just heard the most amazing thing on the radio. They start toward the front door, Walter and Annie carrying presents, an overnight bag of Annie's. ANNIE People call up these shows and you can't believe the stuff they say. It's the end of privacy as we know it, this country is just one big global village with everyone out there going blah blah blah -- As they enter the house, we hear Silent Night and we see a Christmas tree, glittering with lights. CUT TO: A CHRISTMAS TREE GLITTERING WITH LIGHTS as we pull back to reveal: INT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY MORNING As Jonah opens his presents under the tree and we cut from gift to gift: A BROOKS ROBINSON BASEBALL GLOVE which Jonah loves and which he puts on his hand and keeps on while continuing to open: A TIE which mystifies him, but he hangs it around his neck. A PLAID SHIRT A MAP OF THE UNITED STATES -- the kind that's used in schoolrooms that pulls down from a roller. And now Sam brings out a long narrow present from behind the door and Jonah opens -- A NEW FISHING ROD EXT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY As Jonah poses with all his Christmas presents -- his tie hanging around his neck over his bathrobe and new plaid shirt, his baseball glove, fishing rod -- as Sam takes his picture. INT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY (OR POSSIBLY EXT. DECK HOUSEBOAT) Sam opens his present from Jonah, which is something he made in woodworking class. SAM The hopes are perfect -- beautiful, identical, smooth -- and they are for something really amazing I feel it in my bones -- JONAH It's a spice rack. SAM We desperately need a spice rack. Desperately. CUT TO: INT. KITCHEN OF HOUSEBOAT - DAY SAM And we desperately need spices. Where Sam is putting the spices they have -- pepper, salt, paprika and oregano -- into the spice rack, which has room for at least twenty more. Jonah is methodically making pancakes. JONAH Dad? About last night? SAM It's never happening again. Right? JONAH Right. There's a knock on the door. SAM Then it never happened. Sam goes to answer the door. TWO YOUNG WOMEN are standing there. Both are wearing quite a lot of Spandex. One of them is named LULU. It says so on her jacket. The other is JOBETH. SAM Hi. LULU Hi. Sam? SAM Yes? LULU (looking in and seeing Jonah) You must be Jonah. Jonah nods. LULU (to her friend) See. I told you. Sam and Jonah. I'm LULU. This is JoBeth. JoBeth nods, and continues to nod as Lulu talks. LULU (continues) We live two piers over, don't we? Number 12, right? We're having like a really neat open house today from like four to whenever if you care to stop by. SAM Thanks, but... we've got plans. LULU Well, here's the number. If you ever find yourself Sleepless, give us a call. We also... do babysitting. She winks. JoBeth nods. Sam nods. Lulu waves goodbye, and she and JoBeth sashay off down the dock. Jonah closes the door and turns to Sam. JONAH Not. SAM My feelings exactly. EXT. LAKE UNION MARINA - EARLY MORNING Jonah and Sam are fishing off a dingy. SAM How many people do you think heard that thing last night? JONAH It plays in 50 states. SAM What?! JONAH Nobody else is going to know it was us. SAM You're right. (after a beat) You better hope so. EXT. BALTIMORE SUN - MORNING INT. LIFESTYLE SECTION - DAY A large open newsroom-type space with REPORTERS at computers. Around the perimeter are glass-partitioned offices and meeting rooms. Inside one of the offices is BECKY, the Lifestyle editor of the Sun. She's at a table with Annie, now a reporter for the section, and two other colleagues -- KEITH and WYATT. Wyatt is playing Gameboy. KEITH This man sells the greatest soup you've ever eaten, there's a line around the block, and he is, I am not kidding, the meanest man in America. (beat) I feel strongly about this, Becky. This is not just about soup. BECKY Do it. What else? WYATT New Year's Eve. Please don't make me write it. Becky looks at Wyatt, notices the Gameboy. BECKY Wyatt, I do not mean to remind you of your mother, but if you don't put that game away, no TV for a week. WYATT (pushing it to the center of the table) Would someone look this up, don't tell me where. Becky is riffling through some papers on the table, among which are some tearsheets from the Associated Press wire. BECKY Listen to this. Phone service in the greater Chicago area was tied up for two hours Christmas Eve because some kid called a phone-in show to get a wife for his father. Two thousand women called in for the number. KEITH Jesus. ANNIE I heard it. This kid calls up and says my dad needs a wife and I'm talking to myself in the car saying, this is completely disgusting, you're taking advantage of a child, and then the father gets on and this shrinkette says, do you want to talk about it? And he says no as a matter of fact I don't, and I am saying, bravo! Right on! Don't talk to her, it's none of her business -- (she's completely into this story now) -- and then suddenly, for no reason at all, he's talking about how much he loved his wife, and how he just -- (she snaps her fingers) fell in love with her and I am crying. Me. A tear is actually rolling down my face. It was like what happens when I watch those phone company ads. I don't have to see the whole ad, I just have to see the part where the daughter gives her mother a refrigerator with a big red bow on it, have you seen that one? Everyone looks at her. Apparently she's finished. BECKY You should write something about this. ANNIE About what? BECKY Whatever it is. KEITH (waving the AP story) What it is is, there are a lot of desperate women out there looking for love. WYATT Especially over a certain age. Annie is looking at them. This isn't what she was talking about at all, although she isn't quite sure what she was talking about. KEITH It is easier to be killed by a terrorist after the age of 40 than it is to get married -- ANNIE That is not true. That statistic is not true. BECKY It's not true, but it feels true. ANNIE There's practically a whole book about how that statistic is not true -- WYATT Calm down. You brought it up -- ANNIE (sharply) I did not, Wyatt. A beat, everyone pauses. Things are a little out of hand. BECKY So where were we? WYATT New Year's Eve. I'll do it, okay? BECKY Okay. ANNIE If someone is a widower, why do they say he was widowed? Why don't they say he was widowered? Everyone looks at her strangely. ANNIE I was jus wondering. EXT. BALTIMORE STREET - DAY Annie walking purposefully, followed by Becky, hurrying to catch up. BECKY What was that about up there? ANNIE What was what? BECKY What's with you? ANNIE Nothing's with me. INT. BALTIMORE RESTAURANT - DAY Becky and Annie are having lunch. BECKY "Sleepless in Seattle"? ANNIE That's what she called him on the show. Because he can't sleep. BECKY And now 2,000 women want his number. The guy could be a crackhead, a psychopath, a flasher, a junkie, a transvestite, a chain-saw murderer, or someone really sick, like Rick. ANNIE Actually, he sounded nice. BECKY Oh? Oh, really? Now we're getting down to it. ANNIE Not. She reaches down for her purse. INT/EXT. REMODEL HOUSE - DAY A hand reaching down to pick something up -- the Seattle newspaper, and PULL BACK TO REVEAL: Sam carrying the paper down/up the stairs to an old house that's being renovated. Jonah, who is playing Cameboy, is walking along with him. WORKMEN are active everywhere. Dry wall going up, cabinets being installed, tile being set. One of Sam's partners, BOB LANGMAN, is walking with him, and JAY MATHEWS, the on-site supervisor, is waiting for them in an unfinished doorframe. Bob is hefty, older, always eating something dietetic. Jay is younger and always wears as little as possible, even in cold weather. BOB LANGMAN Now she wants a circular stairwell off the den. JAY (to Jonah, in b.g.) Punch me, punch in right here. (points to his stomach; Jonah punches) And she wants the Sub-Zero with the side-by-side doors -- BOB Which means -- SAM The cabinets have to be redone -- They all nod at each other. The woman has been a nightmare. BOB So we thought -- JAY Since you're on the make again -- Sam looks at Jonah -- SAM Great. This is great. The whole town knows. Just out of curiosity, how do you two know? BOB Grace heard it. SAM Grace the dispatcher. Great. BOB The point is, take the client out to dinner and ask her to marry you and then maybe we won't have to redo the kitchen cabinets. SAM Why me? What about Jay? JAY Hey, my plate is full. SAM Well, okay. What's the big deal? If she'll forget the new fireplace, I'll marry her. Just point me in the right direction. JONAH Dad, I don't know about this one -- SAM Oh, you're changing your mind -- JONAH No, I'm not, but -- SAM What's the matter with this one? Wouldn't you like to have Imelda Marcos as your mother? JONAH Dad -- Sam cuffs him good-naturedly. SAM We better take the measurements for the new cabinets. He walks away past some workmen, ladders, etc. and starts checking the cross-beams in the ceiling over in another area of the site. Bob follows after him. Jay tosses Jonah a hammer and they start knocking nails into the wall. BOB Sam, if you're not doing anything New Year's -- obviously you're not doing anything New Year's -- we're having some people over, all of them married, not one even remotely interested in playing around. Does that sound great or what? (whistfully) I can't think of the last time I was at a party when anything actually happened. SAM Thanks, but I'll pass. It's kind of a big night. I don't like to leave Jonah alone. CUT TO: SHOT OF HOUSEBOAT BEING TOWED BY A TUG DOWN THE RIVER (OR A SEAPLANE LANDING) - TWILIGHT EXT. HOUSEBOAT - TWILIGHT Jonah watching it. Sam visible in the distance in the kitchen. INT. KITCHEN - TWILIGHT As Sam is busy installing the spice rack. He marks the wall, hammers in the nails, etc. SAM (as he starts putting new spices into the rack, in alphabetical order) Does red pepper go under R or P? JONAH P. (beat) Dad? SAM (absently) What? JONAH I forgot to mention. Jed called -- SAM Just out of curiosity, do you have any friends whose names don't begin with a J? I feel like it was a failure of the imagination on our part naming you Jonah. (looking at the spices) What is marjoram? Does anyone know? JONAH Jed is having a slumber party New Year's Eve and he invited me. A beat. SAM Fine. Fine. JONAH So I can go. SAM Sure. (almost done with the spices) Looking good. JONAH Shouldn't you have used a toggle bolt? SAM I think I know how to have a spice rack. He puts in the last spice. They stand back to admire it. A beat. The rack falls off the wall. The rack itself doesn't break, but about six of the glass jars of spices break. There's paprika and thyme and currying powder, etc. all over the floor along with shards of glass. SAM God fucking dammit! Shit! Fuck. Piss. Jonah bursts into tears. SAM (still angry) I'm sorry. (softening) I'm sorry. He picks up Jonah and holds him. SAM I'm sorry. I'm just -- JONAH Stressed. SAM Right. I'm sorry, Jonah, I'm sorry. And he holds Jonah as Jonah calms down. Sam closes his eyes tight. INT. A TELEVISION SET OF NEW YEAR'S EVE ON TIMES SQUARE And pull back to reveal: INT. HOUSEBOAT - NIGHT Sam, alone, watching the ball drop. He's got a bag of Doritos and a beer. A VOICE Can I have half your beer? SAM Sure. It's Maggie. She takes his bottle of beer and pours half of it into a glass. MAGGIE What did I used to say? Here's looking at you? Here's mud in your eye? SAM Here's to us. You used to say here's to us. (he looks at her and his eyes well with tears) Oh babe. I miss you so much it hurts. He reaches out for her. She's gone. And we hear the television set now counting down to midnight in New York. CUT TO: INT. NEW YEAR'S EVE PARTY IN BALTIMORE - NIGHT The same television show counting down to midnight. Champagne corks popping, etc. And we see Walter and Annie. WALTER Happy New Year, darling. ANNIE Happy New Year. They start to dance. WALTER I was thinking, I have to go up to Boston for the AAP convention and then visit Winston-Hughes about switching over our computers. Why don't we meet in New York for Valentine's Day weekend? ANNIE Walter, I'd love to -- WALTER We'll stay at the Plaza -- ANNIE Go for a walk in Central Park -- WALTER Go to the Symphony -- A beat. ANNIE We will? (beat) The Symphony? (beat) Okay. (beat) I'll take you to the Russian Tea Room for pelmeni. WALTER What is it? ANNIE It's delicious, trust me. WALTER Does it have wheat in it? ANNIE I don't think so. They go on dancing. It's one of those parties where everyone looks so happy and so in love. Annie, however, looks thoughtful. ET. MARINA PARKING AREA - DAY Sam gets out of his car and starts down the dock toward his houseboat. He's carrying a bag of groceries. In the parking lot is a U.S. MAIL TRUCK. EXT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY Sam approaches his boat and a puzzled look comes over his face. A MAILMAN with a sack of mail is standing outside the front door of the houseboat. Jonah is signing a receipt for the mail. JONAH Look at this, Dad. They're all for you -- Sam picks up an envelop and looks at it. It's addressed to Sleepless in Seattle c/o Dr. Marcia Fieldstone, Radio Station KWRS in Chicago. He's stunned. As he signs the receipt: MAILMAN If you're having trouble sleeping, you might want to try drinking a glass of water from the other side. JONAH I thought that was for hiccups. MAILMAN Does it work for hiccups? JONAH For hiccups, a spoonful of sugar, you hold it in your mouth for a minute. MAILMAN Really? The mailman starts back toward the mail truck. Sam and Jonah start toward the door. INT. HOUSEBOAT - NIGHT Sam is in the kitchen making dinner. Jonah is sitting at the table, reading the letters from the stack they found by the door. SAM Just out of curiosity, how did they get our address? JONAH They called and asked for it. (reading) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle. You are the most attractive man I've ever laid ears on." Jonah rolls his eyes, tosses the letter into a pile of rejects, opens another. SAM How did they get our phone number? JONAH You have to give them your phone number or they won't let you go on the air. Sam nods as if this makes perfect sense. JONAH (continues, reading) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle: I am an SWF"-- (to Sam) What is that? SAM Thank God. Something you don't know. It's a single white female. JONAH This is no good. She's looking for someone French. Or Greek. (puzzled, he throws the letter into the reject pile, opens another) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle: I live in Tulsa." Where is that? -- SAM Oklahoma. Do you know where that is? JONAH Somewhere in the middle. SAM I'm not going to think about what they're not teaching you in school. I am not going to think about it. (beat) Generally speaking I think we should rule out people who don't live somewhere near here -- JONAH She's willing to fly anywhere. As Jonah hands Sam the picture. SAM She looks like my third grade teacher. I hated my third grade teacher. Hold it! Wait a minute! She is my third grade teacher! JONAH Dad, you're not taking this seriously. SAM This is not how you do it. (referring to the hamburger) You want this on an English muffin or a bun? JONAH English muffin. How do you do it? SAM You see someone you like, you get a feeling about them, you ask them if they want to have a drink or -- JONAH -- a slice of pizza -- SAM But not dinner necessarily on the first date because by the time you're halfway through dinner you might be sorry you asked them to dinner whereas if it's just a drink, if you like them you can always ask them for dinner but if you don't you can go home if you see what I mean. (beat) I wonder if it still works this way. JONAH It doesn't. They ask you. SAM I'm starting to notice that. INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie and Walter are making love. JONAH (V.O.) If you get a new wife, I guess you'll have sex with her, huh? SAM (V.O.) What do you think? JONAH (V.O.) Will she scratch up your back? SAM (V.O.) What? JONAH'S BEDROOM - NIGHT As Sam puts Jonah to sleep. Jonah is holding his teddy bear while this conversation concludes. JONAH In the movies women are always scratching up guy's back and screaming and stuff. When they're having sex. SAM Whose show was this on? JONAH Jed's got cables. SAM Go to sleep. He kisses him good-night. JONAH Kiss Howard. (he holds out the teddy bear) G'night, Howard. INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie and Walter have just finished making love. Walter falling asleep. Annie lying in bed, with her eyes open. She starts to get out of bed. Puts on a robe. INT. STAIRWAY - HOUSE As Annie comes downstairs in a bathrobe. She opens the door to the street. EXT. STREET - NIGHT As Annie starts to run down the street. CLOSEUP OF: ANNIE, RUNNING And now we widen out to see a misty highway she's running down. Past a sign saying: Seattle Approximately 3,000 miles. Past another sign: Your nerves are shot. And another: Your feet are cold. And another: Will you find love. And another: Before you're cold? And another: Burma Shave. And Annie continues to run, and now we see she's running across a map of the United States -- it's a little like the one we saw in the beginning of the movie -- it's like the famous map of the United States by Saul Steinberg, but instead of being about New York, this one is about Seattle. In the distance, at the very edge of the map, we see two indistinct figures -- a map and a young boy. They start to wave at her, very slowly. Annie's eyes widen. CUT TO: INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie in bed, eyes open. Walter fast asleep. She gets out of bed, puts on her robe (just as she did in the dream sequence). INT. STAIRWELL - NIGHT As Annie comes down the stairs. INT. KITCHEN - HOUSE She turns the light on. Opens the refrigerator. Closes it. Opens it again. Takes out some milk. Sits down at the kitchen table with a bowl, corn flakes, banana. She's about to assemble it when: She sees: THE RADIO She stands up, turns it on to the station Dr. Marcia Fieldstone is on. She sits back down with her corn flakes. ANNOUNCER (V.O.) Up next, "You and Your Emotions" with Dr. Marcia Fieldstone, clinical psychologist and the best friend you never had. (the teaser continues) WOMAN'S VOICE (V.O.) He says he doesn't love me any more. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why do you want to be with someone who doesn't love you? ANOTHER WOMAN (V.O.) Every time I come close to orgasm he stops and goes to make himself a sandwich -- DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why don't you make him a sandwich beforehand? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) When I met my wife, it was so clear. I jus knew. Annie starts at hearing Sam's voice. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) What was it that made you know? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) I don't think I could really describe it. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why not? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) And if I could describe it, it probably wouldn't be on a radio show. (he laughs to himself) But what the hell. It's not one specific thing. It's more of a feeling. (continuing) You touch her for the first time, and suddenly... you're home. It's almost like... magic. Annie closes her eyes. ANNOUNCER (V.O.) We'll be back after this commercial with Dr. Marcia Fieldstone. EXT. BALTIMORE - PEABODY LIBRARY - DAY We see Annie's car pull into a parking space outside the Peabody Library. Annie gets out of the car. INT. LIBRARY - DAY As Annie strides purposefully across the library and enters: INT. ANNIE'S BROTHER TOM'S OFFICE - DAY Annie bursts into Tom's office and walks over to his desk. We barely has time to look up. ANNIE I think I'm going crazy, Tom. I really do. Are you happily married? TOM (completely panicked by the question) What? ANNIE I mean, why did you get married? Was it all fireworks and trumpets and -- TOM (regaining composure) I got married because Betsy said we had to break up or get married. So we get married. ANNIE But when you met her, did you believe she was the only person for you? That in some mystical, cosmic way, it was fated? TOM Annie, when you meet someone and you're attracted to them, it just means that your subconscious is attracted to their subconscious, subconsciously. So what we think of as chemistry is just two neuroses knowing that they are a perfect match. ANNIE I don't even know him. But I'm having all these fantasies about a man I've never met, who lives in Seattle. TOM It rains nine months of the year in Seattle. ANNIE I know, I know. I do not want to move to Seattle. But what I really don't want to do is end up always wondering what might have happened and knowing I could have done something. What do you think? (Tom opens his mouth to say something, but before anything comes out, Annie fills the void) It's just cold feet, isn't it? Everyone panics before they get married, didn't you? TOM Yes, I did. ANNIE Thank you, Tom. I feel so much better just having blown this off. TOM Any time. INT. PEABODY LIBRARY - DAY As Annie walks through it and pushes the door to exit. EXT. A DOOR OPENING TO SEATTLE STREET - DAY Sam and Jay walk out of the Arctic Building onto the street. JAY Sandy has a girlfriend, Clenda ... She's a weightlifter, but it's not like her neck is bigger than her head or anything -- SAM I'm not asking you to set me up, Jay. That's not what I need your help for. I want to know what it's like over there. JAY And that's what I'm trying to tell you. What women are looking over, okay? Pecs and a cute butt. SAM You mean, like, "He has the cutest butt"? Where did I hear that recently? JAY Everywhere. You can't even turn on the news without hearing about how some babe thought some guy's butt was cute. Who the first babe to say this was I don't know, but it caught on. INT. SEATTLE RESTAURANT - DAY Sam and Jay at the counter. Out the window, we can see water. JAY When's the latest time you were out there? SAM (trying to remember) Seventy... eight. JAY Well. Things are different. First, you have to be friends. You have to like each other. Then you neck. This can go on for years. Then you have tests. Then you get to do it with a condom. (beat) The good news is, split the check. SAM I don't think it could let a woman pay for dinner. JAY Great. They'll have a parade in your honor. You'll be Man of the Year in Seattle Magazine. Tira misu. SAM What's tira misu? JAY You'll find out. SAM What is it? JAY You'll see. SAM Some woman is going to want me to do it to her and I'm not going to know what it is. JAY You'll like it. SAM (grimly) This is going to be tougher than I thought. EXT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY EVENING Sam coming home. INT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY EVENING As he enters. It's very quiet. Too quiet. SAM Jonah? No answers. SAM Jonah? He starts to look concerned. SAM Jonah? He goes down the hall to Jonah's room. The door is shut. He opens it. Jonah is sitting on his bed listening to a tape. Earphones on. Next to him is a young girl named JESSICA. SAM Jonah? Jonah takes off the earphones. JONAH Hi, Dad. Dad, this is Jessica. SAM It's nice to meet you, Jessica. JONAH Dad, this is amazing. If you play this backwards, it says "Paul is dead." SAM I know. JONAH How do you know? Sam shrugs, turns to go back down the hall. JONAH Dad, could you close the door? JESSICA H and G. (Sam looks back) Hi and goodbye. Sam closes the door to Jonah's room. Hold on Sam. SAM (to himself) Get a life. INT. HOUSEBOAT - CONTINUOUS As Sam comes downstairs, goes into his office. Closes the door. INT. SAM'S OFFICE AT HOME - CONTINUOUS He goes to the phone. Looks up a number in the phone book. Picks up the phone and dials a number. SAM Hi, Victoria?... It's Sam Baldwin, I don't know if you remember me. Oh? Well, great. I was wondering if you wanted to have a drink... Friday, say... Dinner?... Sure, dinner would be fine. Sure. Dinner. INT. AN UNFINISHED DINNER ON A PLATE IN ANNIE'S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT Annie is watching "An Affair to Remember" on television, tears pouring down her face. Cary Grant is saying: "Are you in love with him?" Deborah Kerr replies: "I'm not now." She's sitting at the dining room table. A dozen pieces of paper litter the table. Annie's been unsuccessfully typing a letter on an old Underwood typewriter. ANNIE Now those were the days when people knew how to be in love. She takes a blast from the wine glass to her right. Becky leans in, refilling the glass. Annie begins to type and sob and look at the TV. BECKY You're a basket case. ANNIE (as she types) They knew it. Time, distance, nothing could separate them. Because they knew. It was right. It was real. It was... BECKY ... movie. (beat) That's your problem. You don't want to be in love. You want to be in love in a movie. (beat) Read it to me. ANNIE (reading her letter) "Dear Sleepless and Son..." BECKY It sounds like the name of a mattress store -- ANNIE "I am not the sort of person who listens to call-in radio shows" -- Becky flops on the couch. BECKY And this woman is a writer! That's what everyone writes at the beginning of letters to strangers. ANNIE I know that. You think I don't know that? "I know that's a dumb way to begin, but it's the only way I can think of to convey what happened to me the other night when I heard the two of you on the radio. On the other hand, maybe I'm just losing my mind." BECKY You are. You're losing your mind. What about Walter? ANNIE I'm going to marry Walter. I just have to get this out of my system. BECKY Right. ANNIE I should say something in this about magic. BECKY What? ANNIE I don't know. I mean, what if I never meet him? What if this man is my destiny and I never meet him? BECKY Your destiny can be your doom. Look at me and Rick. ANNIE (typing some more) "I want to meet you..." Cary Grant says: "How about the top of the Empire State Building?" BECKY "On top of the Empire State Building at sunset on Valentine's Day." ANNIE Good. Perfect. I'll be in New York with Walter, I can squeeze it in. She types in Becky's idea. Then she takes the piece of paper out of the typewriter, smashes it into a ball and tosses it up in the air and into Becky's lap. BECKY You want to hear about destiny? If my husband hadn't gone on a diet, which caused me to leave him, I would never have been on that flight to

chick

How many times the word 'chick' appears in the text?

what. SHE'S CRYING. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Well, it's time to wrap up, folks -- A FIGURE appears at the passenger side window, which Annie doesn't notice. She's wiping the tears away with her hand. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) We hope you'll call again soon. The figure TAPS on the window -- WALTER (muffled, outside car) Annie? DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) ... and let us know how it's going. -- and taps again. WALTER Annie? She turns. He's pointing at the locked door. She searches for the button. Finally finds it so that Walter can open the door. ANNIE I'm sorry, Walter. I just heard the most amazing thing on the radio. They start toward the front door, Walter and Annie carrying presents, an overnight bag of Annie's. ANNIE People call up these shows and you can't believe the stuff they say. It's the end of privacy as we know it, this country is just one big global village with everyone out there going blah blah blah -- As they enter the house, we hear Silent Night and we see a Christmas tree, glittering with lights. CUT TO: A CHRISTMAS TREE GLITTERING WITH LIGHTS as we pull back to reveal: INT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY MORNING As Jonah opens his presents under the tree and we cut from gift to gift: A BROOKS ROBINSON BASEBALL GLOVE which Jonah loves and which he puts on his hand and keeps on while continuing to open: A TIE which mystifies him, but he hangs it around his neck. A PLAID SHIRT A MAP OF THE UNITED STATES -- the kind that's used in schoolrooms that pulls down from a roller. And now Sam brings out a long narrow present from behind the door and Jonah opens -- A NEW FISHING ROD EXT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY As Jonah poses with all his Christmas presents -- his tie hanging around his neck over his bathrobe and new plaid shirt, his baseball glove, fishing rod -- as Sam takes his picture. INT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY (OR POSSIBLY EXT. DECK HOUSEBOAT) Sam opens his present from Jonah, which is something he made in woodworking class. SAM The hopes are perfect -- beautiful, identical, smooth -- and they are for something really amazing I feel it in my bones -- JONAH It's a spice rack. SAM We desperately need a spice rack. Desperately. CUT TO: INT. KITCHEN OF HOUSEBOAT - DAY SAM And we desperately need spices. Where Sam is putting the spices they have -- pepper, salt, paprika and oregano -- into the spice rack, which has room for at least twenty more. Jonah is methodically making pancakes. JONAH Dad? About last night? SAM It's never happening again. Right? JONAH Right. There's a knock on the door. SAM Then it never happened. Sam goes to answer the door. TWO YOUNG WOMEN are standing there. Both are wearing quite a lot of Spandex. One of them is named LULU. It says so on her jacket. The other is JOBETH. SAM Hi. LULU Hi. Sam? SAM Yes? LULU (looking in and seeing Jonah) You must be Jonah. Jonah nods. LULU (to her friend) See. I told you. Sam and Jonah. I'm LULU. This is JoBeth. JoBeth nods, and continues to nod as Lulu talks. LULU (continues) We live two piers over, don't we? Number 12, right? We're having like a really neat open house today from like four to whenever if you care to stop by. SAM Thanks, but... we've got plans. LULU Well, here's the number. If you ever find yourself Sleepless, give us a call. We also... do babysitting. She winks. JoBeth nods. Sam nods. Lulu waves goodbye, and she and JoBeth sashay off down the dock. Jonah closes the door and turns to Sam. JONAH Not. SAM My feelings exactly. EXT. LAKE UNION MARINA - EARLY MORNING Jonah and Sam are fishing off a dingy. SAM How many people do you think heard that thing last night? JONAH It plays in 50 states. SAM What?! JONAH Nobody else is going to know it was us. SAM You're right. (after a beat) You better hope so. EXT. BALTIMORE SUN - MORNING INT. LIFESTYLE SECTION - DAY A large open newsroom-type space with REPORTERS at computers. Around the perimeter are glass-partitioned offices and meeting rooms. Inside one of the offices is BECKY, the Lifestyle editor of the Sun. She's at a table with Annie, now a reporter for the section, and two other colleagues -- KEITH and WYATT. Wyatt is playing Gameboy. KEITH This man sells the greatest soup you've ever eaten, there's a line around the block, and he is, I am not kidding, the meanest man in America. (beat) I feel strongly about this, Becky. This is not just about soup. BECKY Do it. What else? WYATT New Year's Eve. Please don't make me write it. Becky looks at Wyatt, notices the Gameboy. BECKY Wyatt, I do not mean to remind you of your mother, but if you don't put that game away, no TV for a week. WYATT (pushing it to the center of the table) Would someone look this up, don't tell me where. Becky is riffling through some papers on the table, among which are some tearsheets from the Associated Press wire. BECKY Listen to this. Phone service in the greater Chicago area was tied up for two hours Christmas Eve because some kid called a phone-in show to get a wife for his father. Two thousand women called in for the number. KEITH Jesus. ANNIE I heard it. This kid calls up and says my dad needs a wife and I'm talking to myself in the car saying, this is completely disgusting, you're taking advantage of a child, and then the father gets on and this shrinkette says, do you want to talk about it? And he says no as a matter of fact I don't, and I am saying, bravo! Right on! Don't talk to her, it's none of her business -- (she's completely into this story now) -- and then suddenly, for no reason at all, he's talking about how much he loved his wife, and how he just -- (she snaps her fingers) fell in love with her and I am crying. Me. A tear is actually rolling down my face. It was like what happens when I watch those phone company ads. I don't have to see the whole ad, I just have to see the part where the daughter gives her mother a refrigerator with a big red bow on it, have you seen that one? Everyone looks at her. Apparently she's finished. BECKY You should write something about this. ANNIE About what? BECKY Whatever it is. KEITH (waving the AP story) What it is is, there are a lot of desperate women out there looking for love. WYATT Especially over a certain age. Annie is looking at them. This isn't what she was talking about at all, although she isn't quite sure what she was talking about. KEITH It is easier to be killed by a terrorist after the age of 40 than it is to get married -- ANNIE That is not true. That statistic is not true. BECKY It's not true, but it feels true. ANNIE There's practically a whole book about how that statistic is not true -- WYATT Calm down. You brought it up -- ANNIE (sharply) I did not, Wyatt. A beat, everyone pauses. Things are a little out of hand. BECKY So where were we? WYATT New Year's Eve. I'll do it, okay? BECKY Okay. ANNIE If someone is a widower, why do they say he was widowed? Why don't they say he was widowered? Everyone looks at her strangely. ANNIE I was jus wondering. EXT. BALTIMORE STREET - DAY Annie walking purposefully, followed by Becky, hurrying to catch up. BECKY What was that about up there? ANNIE What was what? BECKY What's with you? ANNIE Nothing's with me. INT. BALTIMORE RESTAURANT - DAY Becky and Annie are having lunch. BECKY "Sleepless in Seattle"? ANNIE That's what she called him on the show. Because he can't sleep. BECKY And now 2,000 women want his number. The guy could be a crackhead, a psychopath, a flasher, a junkie, a transvestite, a chain-saw murderer, or someone really sick, like Rick. ANNIE Actually, he sounded nice. BECKY Oh? Oh, really? Now we're getting down to it. ANNIE Not. She reaches down for her purse. INT/EXT. REMODEL HOUSE - DAY A hand reaching down to pick something up -- the Seattle newspaper, and PULL BACK TO REVEAL: Sam carrying the paper down/up the stairs to an old house that's being renovated. Jonah, who is playing Cameboy, is walking along with him. WORKMEN are active everywhere. Dry wall going up, cabinets being installed, tile being set. One of Sam's partners, BOB LANGMAN, is walking with him, and JAY MATHEWS, the on-site supervisor, is waiting for them in an unfinished doorframe. Bob is hefty, older, always eating something dietetic. Jay is younger and always wears as little as possible, even in cold weather. BOB LANGMAN Now she wants a circular stairwell off the den. JAY (to Jonah, in b.g.) Punch me, punch in right here. (points to his stomach; Jonah punches) And she wants the Sub-Zero with the side-by-side doors -- BOB Which means -- SAM The cabinets have to be redone -- They all nod at each other. The woman has been a nightmare. BOB So we thought -- JAY Since you're on the make again -- Sam looks at Jonah -- SAM Great. This is great. The whole town knows. Just out of curiosity, how do you two know? BOB Grace heard it. SAM Grace the dispatcher. Great. BOB The point is, take the client out to dinner and ask her to marry you and then maybe we won't have to redo the kitchen cabinets. SAM Why me? What about Jay? JAY Hey, my plate is full. SAM Well, okay. What's the big deal? If she'll forget the new fireplace, I'll marry her. Just point me in the right direction. JONAH Dad, I don't know about this one -- SAM Oh, you're changing your mind -- JONAH No, I'm not, but -- SAM What's the matter with this one? Wouldn't you like to have Imelda Marcos as your mother? JONAH Dad -- Sam cuffs him good-naturedly. SAM We better take the measurements for the new cabinets. He walks away past some workmen, ladders, etc. and starts checking the cross-beams in the ceiling over in another area of the site. Bob follows after him. Jay tosses Jonah a hammer and they start knocking nails into the wall. BOB Sam, if you're not doing anything New Year's -- obviously you're not doing anything New Year's -- we're having some people over, all of them married, not one even remotely interested in playing around. Does that sound great or what? (whistfully) I can't think of the last time I was at a party when anything actually happened. SAM Thanks, but I'll pass. It's kind of a big night. I don't like to leave Jonah alone. CUT TO: SHOT OF HOUSEBOAT BEING TOWED BY A TUG DOWN THE RIVER (OR A SEAPLANE LANDING) - TWILIGHT EXT. HOUSEBOAT - TWILIGHT Jonah watching it. Sam visible in the distance in the kitchen. INT. KITCHEN - TWILIGHT As Sam is busy installing the spice rack. He marks the wall, hammers in the nails, etc. SAM (as he starts putting new spices into the rack, in alphabetical order) Does red pepper go under R or P? JONAH P. (beat) Dad? SAM (absently) What? JONAH I forgot to mention. Jed called -- SAM Just out of curiosity, do you have any friends whose names don't begin with a J? I feel like it was a failure of the imagination on our part naming you Jonah. (looking at the spices) What is marjoram? Does anyone know? JONAH Jed is having a slumber party New Year's Eve and he invited me. A beat. SAM Fine. Fine. JONAH So I can go. SAM Sure. (almost done with the spices) Looking good. JONAH Shouldn't you have used a toggle bolt? SAM I think I know how to have a spice rack. He puts in the last spice. They stand back to admire it. A beat. The rack falls off the wall. The rack itself doesn't break, but about six of the glass jars of spices break. There's paprika and thyme and currying powder, etc. all over the floor along with shards of glass. SAM God fucking dammit! Shit! Fuck. Piss. Jonah bursts into tears. SAM (still angry) I'm sorry. (softening) I'm sorry. He picks up Jonah and holds him. SAM I'm sorry. I'm just -- JONAH Stressed. SAM Right. I'm sorry, Jonah, I'm sorry. And he holds Jonah as Jonah calms down. Sam closes his eyes tight. INT. A TELEVISION SET OF NEW YEAR'S EVE ON TIMES SQUARE And pull back to reveal: INT. HOUSEBOAT - NIGHT Sam, alone, watching the ball drop. He's got a bag of Doritos and a beer. A VOICE Can I have half your beer? SAM Sure. It's Maggie. She takes his bottle of beer and pours half of it into a glass. MAGGIE What did I used to say? Here's looking at you? Here's mud in your eye? SAM Here's to us. You used to say here's to us. (he looks at her and his eyes well with tears) Oh babe. I miss you so much it hurts. He reaches out for her. She's gone. And we hear the television set now counting down to midnight in New York. CUT TO: INT. NEW YEAR'S EVE PARTY IN BALTIMORE - NIGHT The same television show counting down to midnight. Champagne corks popping, etc. And we see Walter and Annie. WALTER Happy New Year, darling. ANNIE Happy New Year. They start to dance. WALTER I was thinking, I have to go up to Boston for the AAP convention and then visit Winston-Hughes about switching over our computers. Why don't we meet in New York for Valentine's Day weekend? ANNIE Walter, I'd love to -- WALTER We'll stay at the Plaza -- ANNIE Go for a walk in Central Park -- WALTER Go to the Symphony -- A beat. ANNIE We will? (beat) The Symphony? (beat) Okay. (beat) I'll take you to the Russian Tea Room for pelmeni. WALTER What is it? ANNIE It's delicious, trust me. WALTER Does it have wheat in it? ANNIE I don't think so. They go on dancing. It's one of those parties where everyone looks so happy and so in love. Annie, however, looks thoughtful. ET. MARINA PARKING AREA - DAY Sam gets out of his car and starts down the dock toward his houseboat. He's carrying a bag of groceries. In the parking lot is a U.S. MAIL TRUCK. EXT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY Sam approaches his boat and a puzzled look comes over his face. A MAILMAN with a sack of mail is standing outside the front door of the houseboat. Jonah is signing a receipt for the mail. JONAH Look at this, Dad. They're all for you -- Sam picks up an envelop and looks at it. It's addressed to Sleepless in Seattle c/o Dr. Marcia Fieldstone, Radio Station KWRS in Chicago. He's stunned. As he signs the receipt: MAILMAN If you're having trouble sleeping, you might want to try drinking a glass of water from the other side. JONAH I thought that was for hiccups. MAILMAN Does it work for hiccups? JONAH For hiccups, a spoonful of sugar, you hold it in your mouth for a minute. MAILMAN Really? The mailman starts back toward the mail truck. Sam and Jonah start toward the door. INT. HOUSEBOAT - NIGHT Sam is in the kitchen making dinner. Jonah is sitting at the table, reading the letters from the stack they found by the door. SAM Just out of curiosity, how did they get our address? JONAH They called and asked for it. (reading) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle. You are the most attractive man I've ever laid ears on." Jonah rolls his eyes, tosses the letter into a pile of rejects, opens another. SAM How did they get our phone number? JONAH You have to give them your phone number or they won't let you go on the air. Sam nods as if this makes perfect sense. JONAH (continues, reading) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle: I am an SWF"-- (to Sam) What is that? SAM Thank God. Something you don't know. It's a single white female. JONAH This is no good. She's looking for someone French. Or Greek. (puzzled, he throws the letter into the reject pile, opens another) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle: I live in Tulsa." Where is that? -- SAM Oklahoma. Do you know where that is? JONAH Somewhere in the middle. SAM I'm not going to think about what they're not teaching you in school. I am not going to think about it. (beat) Generally speaking I think we should rule out people who don't live somewhere near here -- JONAH She's willing to fly anywhere. As Jonah hands Sam the picture. SAM She looks like my third grade teacher. I hated my third grade teacher. Hold it! Wait a minute! She is my third grade teacher! JONAH Dad, you're not taking this seriously. SAM This is not how you do it. (referring to the hamburger) You want this on an English muffin or a bun? JONAH English muffin. How do you do it? SAM You see someone you like, you get a feeling about them, you ask them if they want to have a drink or -- JONAH -- a slice of pizza -- SAM But not dinner necessarily on the first date because by the time you're halfway through dinner you might be sorry you asked them to dinner whereas if it's just a drink, if you like them you can always ask them for dinner but if you don't you can go home if you see what I mean. (beat) I wonder if it still works this way. JONAH It doesn't. They ask you. SAM I'm starting to notice that. INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie and Walter are making love. JONAH (V.O.) If you get a new wife, I guess you'll have sex with her, huh? SAM (V.O.) What do you think? JONAH (V.O.) Will she scratch up your back? SAM (V.O.) What? JONAH'S BEDROOM - NIGHT As Sam puts Jonah to sleep. Jonah is holding his teddy bear while this conversation concludes. JONAH In the movies women are always scratching up guy's back and screaming and stuff. When they're having sex. SAM Whose show was this on? JONAH Jed's got cables. SAM Go to sleep. He kisses him good-night. JONAH Kiss Howard. (he holds out the teddy bear) G'night, Howard. INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie and Walter have just finished making love. Walter falling asleep. Annie lying in bed, with her eyes open. She starts to get out of bed. Puts on a robe. INT. STAIRWAY - HOUSE As Annie comes downstairs in a bathrobe. She opens the door to the street. EXT. STREET - NIGHT As Annie starts to run down the street. CLOSEUP OF: ANNIE, RUNNING And now we widen out to see a misty highway she's running down. Past a sign saying: Seattle Approximately 3,000 miles. Past another sign: Your nerves are shot. And another: Your feet are cold. And another: Will you find love. And another: Before you're cold? And another: Burma Shave. And Annie continues to run, and now we see she's running across a map of the United States -- it's a little like the one we saw in the beginning of the movie -- it's like the famous map of the United States by Saul Steinberg, but instead of being about New York, this one is about Seattle. In the distance, at the very edge of the map, we see two indistinct figures -- a map and a young boy. They start to wave at her, very slowly. Annie's eyes widen. CUT TO: INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie in bed, eyes open. Walter fast asleep. She gets out of bed, puts on her robe (just as she did in the dream sequence). INT. STAIRWELL - NIGHT As Annie comes down the stairs. INT. KITCHEN - HOUSE She turns the light on. Opens the refrigerator. Closes it. Opens it again. Takes out some milk. Sits down at the kitchen table with a bowl, corn flakes, banana. She's about to assemble it when: She sees: THE RADIO She stands up, turns it on to the station Dr. Marcia Fieldstone is on. She sits back down with her corn flakes. ANNOUNCER (V.O.) Up next, "You and Your Emotions" with Dr. Marcia Fieldstone, clinical psychologist and the best friend you never had. (the teaser continues) WOMAN'S VOICE (V.O.) He says he doesn't love me any more. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why do you want to be with someone who doesn't love you? ANOTHER WOMAN (V.O.) Every time I come close to orgasm he stops and goes to make himself a sandwich -- DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why don't you make him a sandwich beforehand? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) When I met my wife, it was so clear. I jus knew. Annie starts at hearing Sam's voice. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) What was it that made you know? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) I don't think I could really describe it. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why not? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) And if I could describe it, it probably wouldn't be on a radio show. (he laughs to himself) But what the hell. It's not one specific thing. It's more of a feeling. (continuing) You touch her for the first time, and suddenly... you're home. It's almost like... magic. Annie closes her eyes. ANNOUNCER (V.O.) We'll be back after this commercial with Dr. Marcia Fieldstone. EXT. BALTIMORE - PEABODY LIBRARY - DAY We see Annie's car pull into a parking space outside the Peabody Library. Annie gets out of the car. INT. LIBRARY - DAY As Annie strides purposefully across the library and enters: INT. ANNIE'S BROTHER TOM'S OFFICE - DAY Annie bursts into Tom's office and walks over to his desk. We barely has time to look up. ANNIE I think I'm going crazy, Tom. I really do. Are you happily married? TOM (completely panicked by the question) What? ANNIE I mean, why did you get married? Was it all fireworks and trumpets and -- TOM (regaining composure) I got married because Betsy said we had to break up or get married. So we get married. ANNIE But when you met her, did you believe she was the only person for you? That in some mystical, cosmic way, it was fated? TOM Annie, when you meet someone and you're attracted to them, it just means that your subconscious is attracted to their subconscious, subconsciously. So what we think of as chemistry is just two neuroses knowing that they are a perfect match. ANNIE I don't even know him. But I'm having all these fantasies about a man I've never met, who lives in Seattle. TOM It rains nine months of the year in Seattle. ANNIE I know, I know. I do not want to move to Seattle. But what I really don't want to do is end up always wondering what might have happened and knowing I could have done something. What do you think? (Tom opens his mouth to say something, but before anything comes out, Annie fills the void) It's just cold feet, isn't it? Everyone panics before they get married, didn't you? TOM Yes, I did. ANNIE Thank you, Tom. I feel so much better just having blown this off. TOM Any time. INT. PEABODY LIBRARY - DAY As Annie walks through it and pushes the door to exit. EXT. A DOOR OPENING TO SEATTLE STREET - DAY Sam and Jay walk out of the Arctic Building onto the street. JAY Sandy has a girlfriend, Clenda ... She's a weightlifter, but it's not like her neck is bigger than her head or anything -- SAM I'm not asking you to set me up, Jay. That's not what I need your help for. I want to know what it's like over there. JAY And that's what I'm trying to tell you. What women are looking over, okay? Pecs and a cute butt. SAM You mean, like, "He has the cutest butt"? Where did I hear that recently? JAY Everywhere. You can't even turn on the news without hearing about how some babe thought some guy's butt was cute. Who the first babe to say this was I don't know, but it caught on. INT. SEATTLE RESTAURANT - DAY Sam and Jay at the counter. Out the window, we can see water. JAY When's the latest time you were out there? SAM (trying to remember) Seventy... eight. JAY Well. Things are different. First, you have to be friends. You have to like each other. Then you neck. This can go on for years. Then you have tests. Then you get to do it with a condom. (beat) The good news is, split the check. SAM I don't think it could let a woman pay for dinner. JAY Great. They'll have a parade in your honor. You'll be Man of the Year in Seattle Magazine. Tira misu. SAM What's tira misu? JAY You'll find out. SAM What is it? JAY You'll see. SAM Some woman is going to want me to do it to her and I'm not going to know what it is. JAY You'll like it. SAM (grimly) This is going to be tougher than I thought. EXT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY EVENING Sam coming home. INT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY EVENING As he enters. It's very quiet. Too quiet. SAM Jonah? No answers. SAM Jonah? He starts to look concerned. SAM Jonah? He goes down the hall to Jonah's room. The door is shut. He opens it. Jonah is sitting on his bed listening to a tape. Earphones on. Next to him is a young girl named JESSICA. SAM Jonah? Jonah takes off the earphones. JONAH Hi, Dad. Dad, this is Jessica. SAM It's nice to meet you, Jessica. JONAH Dad, this is amazing. If you play this backwards, it says "Paul is dead." SAM I know. JONAH How do you know? Sam shrugs, turns to go back down the hall. JONAH Dad, could you close the door? JESSICA H and G. (Sam looks back) Hi and goodbye. Sam closes the door to Jonah's room. Hold on Sam. SAM (to himself) Get a life. INT. HOUSEBOAT - CONTINUOUS As Sam comes downstairs, goes into his office. Closes the door. INT. SAM'S OFFICE AT HOME - CONTINUOUS He goes to the phone. Looks up a number in the phone book. Picks up the phone and dials a number. SAM Hi, Victoria?... It's Sam Baldwin, I don't know if you remember me. Oh? Well, great. I was wondering if you wanted to have a drink... Friday, say... Dinner?... Sure, dinner would be fine. Sure. Dinner. INT. AN UNFINISHED DINNER ON A PLATE IN ANNIE'S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT Annie is watching "An Affair to Remember" on television, tears pouring down her face. Cary Grant is saying: "Are you in love with him?" Deborah Kerr replies: "I'm not now." She's sitting at the dining room table. A dozen pieces of paper litter the table. Annie's been unsuccessfully typing a letter on an old Underwood typewriter. ANNIE Now those were the days when people knew how to be in love. She takes a blast from the wine glass to her right. Becky leans in, refilling the glass. Annie begins to type and sob and look at the TV. BECKY You're a basket case. ANNIE (as she types) They knew it. Time, distance, nothing could separate them. Because they knew. It was right. It was real. It was... BECKY ... movie. (beat) That's your problem. You don't want to be in love. You want to be in love in a movie. (beat) Read it to me. ANNIE (reading her letter) "Dear Sleepless and Son..." BECKY It sounds like the name of a mattress store -- ANNIE "I am not the sort of person who listens to call-in radio shows" -- Becky flops on the couch. BECKY And this woman is a writer! That's what everyone writes at the beginning of letters to strangers. ANNIE I know that. You think I don't know that? "I know that's a dumb way to begin, but it's the only way I can think of to convey what happened to me the other night when I heard the two of you on the radio. On the other hand, maybe I'm just losing my mind." BECKY You are. You're losing your mind. What about Walter? ANNIE I'm going to marry Walter. I just have to get this out of my system. BECKY Right. ANNIE I should say something in this about magic. BECKY What? ANNIE I don't know. I mean, what if I never meet him? What if this man is my destiny and I never meet him? BECKY Your destiny can be your doom. Look at me and Rick. ANNIE (typing some more) "I want to meet you..." Cary Grant says: "How about the top of the Empire State Building?" BECKY "On top of the Empire State Building at sunset on Valentine's Day." ANNIE Good. Perfect. I'll be in New York with Walter, I can squeeze it in. She types in Becky's idea. Then she takes the piece of paper out of the typewriter, smashes it into a ball and tosses it up in the air and into Becky's lap. BECKY You want to hear about destiny? If my husband hadn't gone on a diet, which caused me to leave him, I would never have been on that flight to

laziness

How many times the word 'laziness' appears in the text?

what. SHE'S CRYING. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Well, it's time to wrap up, folks -- A FIGURE appears at the passenger side window, which Annie doesn't notice. She's wiping the tears away with her hand. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) We hope you'll call again soon. The figure TAPS on the window -- WALTER (muffled, outside car) Annie? DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) ... and let us know how it's going. -- and taps again. WALTER Annie? She turns. He's pointing at the locked door. She searches for the button. Finally finds it so that Walter can open the door. ANNIE I'm sorry, Walter. I just heard the most amazing thing on the radio. They start toward the front door, Walter and Annie carrying presents, an overnight bag of Annie's. ANNIE People call up these shows and you can't believe the stuff they say. It's the end of privacy as we know it, this country is just one big global village with everyone out there going blah blah blah -- As they enter the house, we hear Silent Night and we see a Christmas tree, glittering with lights. CUT TO: A CHRISTMAS TREE GLITTERING WITH LIGHTS as we pull back to reveal: INT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY MORNING As Jonah opens his presents under the tree and we cut from gift to gift: A BROOKS ROBINSON BASEBALL GLOVE which Jonah loves and which he puts on his hand and keeps on while continuing to open: A TIE which mystifies him, but he hangs it around his neck. A PLAID SHIRT A MAP OF THE UNITED STATES -- the kind that's used in schoolrooms that pulls down from a roller. And now Sam brings out a long narrow present from behind the door and Jonah opens -- A NEW FISHING ROD EXT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY As Jonah poses with all his Christmas presents -- his tie hanging around his neck over his bathrobe and new plaid shirt, his baseball glove, fishing rod -- as Sam takes his picture. INT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY (OR POSSIBLY EXT. DECK HOUSEBOAT) Sam opens his present from Jonah, which is something he made in woodworking class. SAM The hopes are perfect -- beautiful, identical, smooth -- and they are for something really amazing I feel it in my bones -- JONAH It's a spice rack. SAM We desperately need a spice rack. Desperately. CUT TO: INT. KITCHEN OF HOUSEBOAT - DAY SAM And we desperately need spices. Where Sam is putting the spices they have -- pepper, salt, paprika and oregano -- into the spice rack, which has room for at least twenty more. Jonah is methodically making pancakes. JONAH Dad? About last night? SAM It's never happening again. Right? JONAH Right. There's a knock on the door. SAM Then it never happened. Sam goes to answer the door. TWO YOUNG WOMEN are standing there. Both are wearing quite a lot of Spandex. One of them is named LULU. It says so on her jacket. The other is JOBETH. SAM Hi. LULU Hi. Sam? SAM Yes? LULU (looking in and seeing Jonah) You must be Jonah. Jonah nods. LULU (to her friend) See. I told you. Sam and Jonah. I'm LULU. This is JoBeth. JoBeth nods, and continues to nod as Lulu talks. LULU (continues) We live two piers over, don't we? Number 12, right? We're having like a really neat open house today from like four to whenever if you care to stop by. SAM Thanks, but... we've got plans. LULU Well, here's the number. If you ever find yourself Sleepless, give us a call. We also... do babysitting. She winks. JoBeth nods. Sam nods. Lulu waves goodbye, and she and JoBeth sashay off down the dock. Jonah closes the door and turns to Sam. JONAH Not. SAM My feelings exactly. EXT. LAKE UNION MARINA - EARLY MORNING Jonah and Sam are fishing off a dingy. SAM How many people do you think heard that thing last night? JONAH It plays in 50 states. SAM What?! JONAH Nobody else is going to know it was us. SAM You're right. (after a beat) You better hope so. EXT. BALTIMORE SUN - MORNING INT. LIFESTYLE SECTION - DAY A large open newsroom-type space with REPORTERS at computers. Around the perimeter are glass-partitioned offices and meeting rooms. Inside one of the offices is BECKY, the Lifestyle editor of the Sun. She's at a table with Annie, now a reporter for the section, and two other colleagues -- KEITH and WYATT. Wyatt is playing Gameboy. KEITH This man sells the greatest soup you've ever eaten, there's a line around the block, and he is, I am not kidding, the meanest man in America. (beat) I feel strongly about this, Becky. This is not just about soup. BECKY Do it. What else? WYATT New Year's Eve. Please don't make me write it. Becky looks at Wyatt, notices the Gameboy. BECKY Wyatt, I do not mean to remind you of your mother, but if you don't put that game away, no TV for a week. WYATT (pushing it to the center of the table) Would someone look this up, don't tell me where. Becky is riffling through some papers on the table, among which are some tearsheets from the Associated Press wire. BECKY Listen to this. Phone service in the greater Chicago area was tied up for two hours Christmas Eve because some kid called a phone-in show to get a wife for his father. Two thousand women called in for the number. KEITH Jesus. ANNIE I heard it. This kid calls up and says my dad needs a wife and I'm talking to myself in the car saying, this is completely disgusting, you're taking advantage of a child, and then the father gets on and this shrinkette says, do you want to talk about it? And he says no as a matter of fact I don't, and I am saying, bravo! Right on! Don't talk to her, it's none of her business -- (she's completely into this story now) -- and then suddenly, for no reason at all, he's talking about how much he loved his wife, and how he just -- (she snaps her fingers) fell in love with her and I am crying. Me. A tear is actually rolling down my face. It was like what happens when I watch those phone company ads. I don't have to see the whole ad, I just have to see the part where the daughter gives her mother a refrigerator with a big red bow on it, have you seen that one? Everyone looks at her. Apparently she's finished. BECKY You should write something about this. ANNIE About what? BECKY Whatever it is. KEITH (waving the AP story) What it is is, there are a lot of desperate women out there looking for love. WYATT Especially over a certain age. Annie is looking at them. This isn't what she was talking about at all, although she isn't quite sure what she was talking about. KEITH It is easier to be killed by a terrorist after the age of 40 than it is to get married -- ANNIE That is not true. That statistic is not true. BECKY It's not true, but it feels true. ANNIE There's practically a whole book about how that statistic is not true -- WYATT Calm down. You brought it up -- ANNIE (sharply) I did not, Wyatt. A beat, everyone pauses. Things are a little out of hand. BECKY So where were we? WYATT New Year's Eve. I'll do it, okay? BECKY Okay. ANNIE If someone is a widower, why do they say he was widowed? Why don't they say he was widowered? Everyone looks at her strangely. ANNIE I was jus wondering. EXT. BALTIMORE STREET - DAY Annie walking purposefully, followed by Becky, hurrying to catch up. BECKY What was that about up there? ANNIE What was what? BECKY What's with you? ANNIE Nothing's with me. INT. BALTIMORE RESTAURANT - DAY Becky and Annie are having lunch. BECKY "Sleepless in Seattle"? ANNIE That's what she called him on the show. Because he can't sleep. BECKY And now 2,000 women want his number. The guy could be a crackhead, a psychopath, a flasher, a junkie, a transvestite, a chain-saw murderer, or someone really sick, like Rick. ANNIE Actually, he sounded nice. BECKY Oh? Oh, really? Now we're getting down to it. ANNIE Not. She reaches down for her purse. INT/EXT. REMODEL HOUSE - DAY A hand reaching down to pick something up -- the Seattle newspaper, and PULL BACK TO REVEAL: Sam carrying the paper down/up the stairs to an old house that's being renovated. Jonah, who is playing Cameboy, is walking along with him. WORKMEN are active everywhere. Dry wall going up, cabinets being installed, tile being set. One of Sam's partners, BOB LANGMAN, is walking with him, and JAY MATHEWS, the on-site supervisor, is waiting for them in an unfinished doorframe. Bob is hefty, older, always eating something dietetic. Jay is younger and always wears as little as possible, even in cold weather. BOB LANGMAN Now she wants a circular stairwell off the den. JAY (to Jonah, in b.g.) Punch me, punch in right here. (points to his stomach; Jonah punches) And she wants the Sub-Zero with the side-by-side doors -- BOB Which means -- SAM The cabinets have to be redone -- They all nod at each other. The woman has been a nightmare. BOB So we thought -- JAY Since you're on the make again -- Sam looks at Jonah -- SAM Great. This is great. The whole town knows. Just out of curiosity, how do you two know? BOB Grace heard it. SAM Grace the dispatcher. Great. BOB The point is, take the client out to dinner and ask her to marry you and then maybe we won't have to redo the kitchen cabinets. SAM Why me? What about Jay? JAY Hey, my plate is full. SAM Well, okay. What's the big deal? If she'll forget the new fireplace, I'll marry her. Just point me in the right direction. JONAH Dad, I don't know about this one -- SAM Oh, you're changing your mind -- JONAH No, I'm not, but -- SAM What's the matter with this one? Wouldn't you like to have Imelda Marcos as your mother? JONAH Dad -- Sam cuffs him good-naturedly. SAM We better take the measurements for the new cabinets. He walks away past some workmen, ladders, etc. and starts checking the cross-beams in the ceiling over in another area of the site. Bob follows after him. Jay tosses Jonah a hammer and they start knocking nails into the wall. BOB Sam, if you're not doing anything New Year's -- obviously you're not doing anything New Year's -- we're having some people over, all of them married, not one even remotely interested in playing around. Does that sound great or what? (whistfully) I can't think of the last time I was at a party when anything actually happened. SAM Thanks, but I'll pass. It's kind of a big night. I don't like to leave Jonah alone. CUT TO: SHOT OF HOUSEBOAT BEING TOWED BY A TUG DOWN THE RIVER (OR A SEAPLANE LANDING) - TWILIGHT EXT. HOUSEBOAT - TWILIGHT Jonah watching it. Sam visible in the distance in the kitchen. INT. KITCHEN - TWILIGHT As Sam is busy installing the spice rack. He marks the wall, hammers in the nails, etc. SAM (as he starts putting new spices into the rack, in alphabetical order) Does red pepper go under R or P? JONAH P. (beat) Dad? SAM (absently) What? JONAH I forgot to mention. Jed called -- SAM Just out of curiosity, do you have any friends whose names don't begin with a J? I feel like it was a failure of the imagination on our part naming you Jonah. (looking at the spices) What is marjoram? Does anyone know? JONAH Jed is having a slumber party New Year's Eve and he invited me. A beat. SAM Fine. Fine. JONAH So I can go. SAM Sure. (almost done with the spices) Looking good. JONAH Shouldn't you have used a toggle bolt? SAM I think I know how to have a spice rack. He puts in the last spice. They stand back to admire it. A beat. The rack falls off the wall. The rack itself doesn't break, but about six of the glass jars of spices break. There's paprika and thyme and currying powder, etc. all over the floor along with shards of glass. SAM God fucking dammit! Shit! Fuck. Piss. Jonah bursts into tears. SAM (still angry) I'm sorry. (softening) I'm sorry. He picks up Jonah and holds him. SAM I'm sorry. I'm just -- JONAH Stressed. SAM Right. I'm sorry, Jonah, I'm sorry. And he holds Jonah as Jonah calms down. Sam closes his eyes tight. INT. A TELEVISION SET OF NEW YEAR'S EVE ON TIMES SQUARE And pull back to reveal: INT. HOUSEBOAT - NIGHT Sam, alone, watching the ball drop. He's got a bag of Doritos and a beer. A VOICE Can I have half your beer? SAM Sure. It's Maggie. She takes his bottle of beer and pours half of it into a glass. MAGGIE What did I used to say? Here's looking at you? Here's mud in your eye? SAM Here's to us. You used to say here's to us. (he looks at her and his eyes well with tears) Oh babe. I miss you so much it hurts. He reaches out for her. She's gone. And we hear the television set now counting down to midnight in New York. CUT TO: INT. NEW YEAR'S EVE PARTY IN BALTIMORE - NIGHT The same television show counting down to midnight. Champagne corks popping, etc. And we see Walter and Annie. WALTER Happy New Year, darling. ANNIE Happy New Year. They start to dance. WALTER I was thinking, I have to go up to Boston for the AAP convention and then visit Winston-Hughes about switching over our computers. Why don't we meet in New York for Valentine's Day weekend? ANNIE Walter, I'd love to -- WALTER We'll stay at the Plaza -- ANNIE Go for a walk in Central Park -- WALTER Go to the Symphony -- A beat. ANNIE We will? (beat) The Symphony? (beat) Okay. (beat) I'll take you to the Russian Tea Room for pelmeni. WALTER What is it? ANNIE It's delicious, trust me. WALTER Does it have wheat in it? ANNIE I don't think so. They go on dancing. It's one of those parties where everyone looks so happy and so in love. Annie, however, looks thoughtful. ET. MARINA PARKING AREA - DAY Sam gets out of his car and starts down the dock toward his houseboat. He's carrying a bag of groceries. In the parking lot is a U.S. MAIL TRUCK. EXT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY Sam approaches his boat and a puzzled look comes over his face. A MAILMAN with a sack of mail is standing outside the front door of the houseboat. Jonah is signing a receipt for the mail. JONAH Look at this, Dad. They're all for you -- Sam picks up an envelop and looks at it. It's addressed to Sleepless in Seattle c/o Dr. Marcia Fieldstone, Radio Station KWRS in Chicago. He's stunned. As he signs the receipt: MAILMAN If you're having trouble sleeping, you might want to try drinking a glass of water from the other side. JONAH I thought that was for hiccups. MAILMAN Does it work for hiccups? JONAH For hiccups, a spoonful of sugar, you hold it in your mouth for a minute. MAILMAN Really? The mailman starts back toward the mail truck. Sam and Jonah start toward the door. INT. HOUSEBOAT - NIGHT Sam is in the kitchen making dinner. Jonah is sitting at the table, reading the letters from the stack they found by the door. SAM Just out of curiosity, how did they get our address? JONAH They called and asked for it. (reading) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle. You are the most attractive man I've ever laid ears on." Jonah rolls his eyes, tosses the letter into a pile of rejects, opens another. SAM How did they get our phone number? JONAH You have to give them your phone number or they won't let you go on the air. Sam nods as if this makes perfect sense. JONAH (continues, reading) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle: I am an SWF"-- (to Sam) What is that? SAM Thank God. Something you don't know. It's a single white female. JONAH This is no good. She's looking for someone French. Or Greek. (puzzled, he throws the letter into the reject pile, opens another) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle: I live in Tulsa." Where is that? -- SAM Oklahoma. Do you know where that is? JONAH Somewhere in the middle. SAM I'm not going to think about what they're not teaching you in school. I am not going to think about it. (beat) Generally speaking I think we should rule out people who don't live somewhere near here -- JONAH She's willing to fly anywhere. As Jonah hands Sam the picture. SAM She looks like my third grade teacher. I hated my third grade teacher. Hold it! Wait a minute! She is my third grade teacher! JONAH Dad, you're not taking this seriously. SAM This is not how you do it. (referring to the hamburger) You want this on an English muffin or a bun? JONAH English muffin. How do you do it? SAM You see someone you like, you get a feeling about them, you ask them if they want to have a drink or -- JONAH -- a slice of pizza -- SAM But not dinner necessarily on the first date because by the time you're halfway through dinner you might be sorry you asked them to dinner whereas if it's just a drink, if you like them you can always ask them for dinner but if you don't you can go home if you see what I mean. (beat) I wonder if it still works this way. JONAH It doesn't. They ask you. SAM I'm starting to notice that. INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie and Walter are making love. JONAH (V.O.) If you get a new wife, I guess you'll have sex with her, huh? SAM (V.O.) What do you think? JONAH (V.O.) Will she scratch up your back? SAM (V.O.) What? JONAH'S BEDROOM - NIGHT As Sam puts Jonah to sleep. Jonah is holding his teddy bear while this conversation concludes. JONAH In the movies women are always scratching up guy's back and screaming and stuff. When they're having sex. SAM Whose show was this on? JONAH Jed's got cables. SAM Go to sleep. He kisses him good-night. JONAH Kiss Howard. (he holds out the teddy bear) G'night, Howard. INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie and Walter have just finished making love. Walter falling asleep. Annie lying in bed, with her eyes open. She starts to get out of bed. Puts on a robe. INT. STAIRWAY - HOUSE As Annie comes downstairs in a bathrobe. She opens the door to the street. EXT. STREET - NIGHT As Annie starts to run down the street. CLOSEUP OF: ANNIE, RUNNING And now we widen out to see a misty highway she's running down. Past a sign saying: Seattle Approximately 3,000 miles. Past another sign: Your nerves are shot. And another: Your feet are cold. And another: Will you find love. And another: Before you're cold? And another: Burma Shave. And Annie continues to run, and now we see she's running across a map of the United States -- it's a little like the one we saw in the beginning of the movie -- it's like the famous map of the United States by Saul Steinberg, but instead of being about New York, this one is about Seattle. In the distance, at the very edge of the map, we see two indistinct figures -- a map and a young boy. They start to wave at her, very slowly. Annie's eyes widen. CUT TO: INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie in bed, eyes open. Walter fast asleep. She gets out of bed, puts on her robe (just as she did in the dream sequence). INT. STAIRWELL - NIGHT As Annie comes down the stairs. INT. KITCHEN - HOUSE She turns the light on. Opens the refrigerator. Closes it. Opens it again. Takes out some milk. Sits down at the kitchen table with a bowl, corn flakes, banana. She's about to assemble it when: She sees: THE RADIO She stands up, turns it on to the station Dr. Marcia Fieldstone is on. She sits back down with her corn flakes. ANNOUNCER (V.O.) Up next, "You and Your Emotions" with Dr. Marcia Fieldstone, clinical psychologist and the best friend you never had. (the teaser continues) WOMAN'S VOICE (V.O.) He says he doesn't love me any more. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why do you want to be with someone who doesn't love you? ANOTHER WOMAN (V.O.) Every time I come close to orgasm he stops and goes to make himself a sandwich -- DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why don't you make him a sandwich beforehand? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) When I met my wife, it was so clear. I jus knew. Annie starts at hearing Sam's voice. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) What was it that made you know? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) I don't think I could really describe it. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why not? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) And if I could describe it, it probably wouldn't be on a radio show. (he laughs to himself) But what the hell. It's not one specific thing. It's more of a feeling. (continuing) You touch her for the first time, and suddenly... you're home. It's almost like... magic. Annie closes her eyes. ANNOUNCER (V.O.) We'll be back after this commercial with Dr. Marcia Fieldstone. EXT. BALTIMORE - PEABODY LIBRARY - DAY We see Annie's car pull into a parking space outside the Peabody Library. Annie gets out of the car. INT. LIBRARY - DAY As Annie strides purposefully across the library and enters: INT. ANNIE'S BROTHER TOM'S OFFICE - DAY Annie bursts into Tom's office and walks over to his desk. We barely has time to look up. ANNIE I think I'm going crazy, Tom. I really do. Are you happily married? TOM (completely panicked by the question) What? ANNIE I mean, why did you get married? Was it all fireworks and trumpets and -- TOM (regaining composure) I got married because Betsy said we had to break up or get married. So we get married. ANNIE But when you met her, did you believe she was the only person for you? That in some mystical, cosmic way, it was fated? TOM Annie, when you meet someone and you're attracted to them, it just means that your subconscious is attracted to their subconscious, subconsciously. So what we think of as chemistry is just two neuroses knowing that they are a perfect match. ANNIE I don't even know him. But I'm having all these fantasies about a man I've never met, who lives in Seattle. TOM It rains nine months of the year in Seattle. ANNIE I know, I know. I do not want to move to Seattle. But what I really don't want to do is end up always wondering what might have happened and knowing I could have done something. What do you think? (Tom opens his mouth to say something, but before anything comes out, Annie fills the void) It's just cold feet, isn't it? Everyone panics before they get married, didn't you? TOM Yes, I did. ANNIE Thank you, Tom. I feel so much better just having blown this off. TOM Any time. INT. PEABODY LIBRARY - DAY As Annie walks through it and pushes the door to exit. EXT. A DOOR OPENING TO SEATTLE STREET - DAY Sam and Jay walk out of the Arctic Building onto the street. JAY Sandy has a girlfriend, Clenda ... She's a weightlifter, but it's not like her neck is bigger than her head or anything -- SAM I'm not asking you to set me up, Jay. That's not what I need your help for. I want to know what it's like over there. JAY And that's what I'm trying to tell you. What women are looking over, okay? Pecs and a cute butt. SAM You mean, like, "He has the cutest butt"? Where did I hear that recently? JAY Everywhere. You can't even turn on the news without hearing about how some babe thought some guy's butt was cute. Who the first babe to say this was I don't know, but it caught on. INT. SEATTLE RESTAURANT - DAY Sam and Jay at the counter. Out the window, we can see water. JAY When's the latest time you were out there? SAM (trying to remember) Seventy... eight. JAY Well. Things are different. First, you have to be friends. You have to like each other. Then you neck. This can go on for years. Then you have tests. Then you get to do it with a condom. (beat) The good news is, split the check. SAM I don't think it could let a woman pay for dinner. JAY Great. They'll have a parade in your honor. You'll be Man of the Year in Seattle Magazine. Tira misu. SAM What's tira misu? JAY You'll find out. SAM What is it? JAY You'll see. SAM Some woman is going to want me to do it to her and I'm not going to know what it is. JAY You'll like it. SAM (grimly) This is going to be tougher than I thought. EXT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY EVENING Sam coming home. INT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY EVENING As he enters. It's very quiet. Too quiet. SAM Jonah? No answers. SAM Jonah? He starts to look concerned. SAM Jonah? He goes down the hall to Jonah's room. The door is shut. He opens it. Jonah is sitting on his bed listening to a tape. Earphones on. Next to him is a young girl named JESSICA. SAM Jonah? Jonah takes off the earphones. JONAH Hi, Dad. Dad, this is Jessica. SAM It's nice to meet you, Jessica. JONAH Dad, this is amazing. If you play this backwards, it says "Paul is dead." SAM I know. JONAH How do you know? Sam shrugs, turns to go back down the hall. JONAH Dad, could you close the door? JESSICA H and G. (Sam looks back) Hi and goodbye. Sam closes the door to Jonah's room. Hold on Sam. SAM (to himself) Get a life. INT. HOUSEBOAT - CONTINUOUS As Sam comes downstairs, goes into his office. Closes the door. INT. SAM'S OFFICE AT HOME - CONTINUOUS He goes to the phone. Looks up a number in the phone book. Picks up the phone and dials a number. SAM Hi, Victoria?... It's Sam Baldwin, I don't know if you remember me. Oh? Well, great. I was wondering if you wanted to have a drink... Friday, say... Dinner?... Sure, dinner would be fine. Sure. Dinner. INT. AN UNFINISHED DINNER ON A PLATE IN ANNIE'S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT Annie is watching "An Affair to Remember" on television, tears pouring down her face. Cary Grant is saying: "Are you in love with him?" Deborah Kerr replies: "I'm not now." She's sitting at the dining room table. A dozen pieces of paper litter the table. Annie's been unsuccessfully typing a letter on an old Underwood typewriter. ANNIE Now those were the days when people knew how to be in love. She takes a blast from the wine glass to her right. Becky leans in, refilling the glass. Annie begins to type and sob and look at the TV. BECKY You're a basket case. ANNIE (as she types) They knew it. Time, distance, nothing could separate them. Because they knew. It was right. It was real. It was... BECKY ... movie. (beat) That's your problem. You don't want to be in love. You want to be in love in a movie. (beat) Read it to me. ANNIE (reading her letter) "Dear Sleepless and Son..." BECKY It sounds like the name of a mattress store -- ANNIE "I am not the sort of person who listens to call-in radio shows" -- Becky flops on the couch. BECKY And this woman is a writer! That's what everyone writes at the beginning of letters to strangers. ANNIE I know that. You think I don't know that? "I know that's a dumb way to begin, but it's the only way I can think of to convey what happened to me the other night when I heard the two of you on the radio. On the other hand, maybe I'm just losing my mind." BECKY You are. You're losing your mind. What about Walter? ANNIE I'm going to marry Walter. I just have to get this out of my system. BECKY Right. ANNIE I should say something in this about magic. BECKY What? ANNIE I don't know. I mean, what if I never meet him? What if this man is my destiny and I never meet him? BECKY Your destiny can be your doom. Look at me and Rick. ANNIE (typing some more) "I want to meet you..." Cary Grant says: "How about the top of the Empire State Building?" BECKY "On top of the Empire State Building at sunset on Valentine's Day." ANNIE Good. Perfect. I'll be in New York with Walter, I can squeeze it in. She types in Becky's idea. Then she takes the piece of paper out of the typewriter, smashes it into a ball and tosses it up in the air and into Becky's lap. BECKY You want to hear about destiny? If my husband hadn't gone on a diet, which caused me to leave him, I would never have been on that flight to

n't

How many times the word 'n't' appears in the text?

what. SHE'S CRYING. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Well, it's time to wrap up, folks -- A FIGURE appears at the passenger side window, which Annie doesn't notice. She's wiping the tears away with her hand. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) We hope you'll call again soon. The figure TAPS on the window -- WALTER (muffled, outside car) Annie? DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) ... and let us know how it's going. -- and taps again. WALTER Annie? She turns. He's pointing at the locked door. She searches for the button. Finally finds it so that Walter can open the door. ANNIE I'm sorry, Walter. I just heard the most amazing thing on the radio. They start toward the front door, Walter and Annie carrying presents, an overnight bag of Annie's. ANNIE People call up these shows and you can't believe the stuff they say. It's the end of privacy as we know it, this country is just one big global village with everyone out there going blah blah blah -- As they enter the house, we hear Silent Night and we see a Christmas tree, glittering with lights. CUT TO: A CHRISTMAS TREE GLITTERING WITH LIGHTS as we pull back to reveal: INT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY MORNING As Jonah opens his presents under the tree and we cut from gift to gift: A BROOKS ROBINSON BASEBALL GLOVE which Jonah loves and which he puts on his hand and keeps on while continuing to open: A TIE which mystifies him, but he hangs it around his neck. A PLAID SHIRT A MAP OF THE UNITED STATES -- the kind that's used in schoolrooms that pulls down from a roller. And now Sam brings out a long narrow present from behind the door and Jonah opens -- A NEW FISHING ROD EXT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY As Jonah poses with all his Christmas presents -- his tie hanging around his neck over his bathrobe and new plaid shirt, his baseball glove, fishing rod -- as Sam takes his picture. INT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY (OR POSSIBLY EXT. DECK HOUSEBOAT) Sam opens his present from Jonah, which is something he made in woodworking class. SAM The hopes are perfect -- beautiful, identical, smooth -- and they are for something really amazing I feel it in my bones -- JONAH It's a spice rack. SAM We desperately need a spice rack. Desperately. CUT TO: INT. KITCHEN OF HOUSEBOAT - DAY SAM And we desperately need spices. Where Sam is putting the spices they have -- pepper, salt, paprika and oregano -- into the spice rack, which has room for at least twenty more. Jonah is methodically making pancakes. JONAH Dad? About last night? SAM It's never happening again. Right? JONAH Right. There's a knock on the door. SAM Then it never happened. Sam goes to answer the door. TWO YOUNG WOMEN are standing there. Both are wearing quite a lot of Spandex. One of them is named LULU. It says so on her jacket. The other is JOBETH. SAM Hi. LULU Hi. Sam? SAM Yes? LULU (looking in and seeing Jonah) You must be Jonah. Jonah nods. LULU (to her friend) See. I told you. Sam and Jonah. I'm LULU. This is JoBeth. JoBeth nods, and continues to nod as Lulu talks. LULU (continues) We live two piers over, don't we? Number 12, right? We're having like a really neat open house today from like four to whenever if you care to stop by. SAM Thanks, but... we've got plans. LULU Well, here's the number. If you ever find yourself Sleepless, give us a call. We also... do babysitting. She winks. JoBeth nods. Sam nods. Lulu waves goodbye, and she and JoBeth sashay off down the dock. Jonah closes the door and turns to Sam. JONAH Not. SAM My feelings exactly. EXT. LAKE UNION MARINA - EARLY MORNING Jonah and Sam are fishing off a dingy. SAM How many people do you think heard that thing last night? JONAH It plays in 50 states. SAM What?! JONAH Nobody else is going to know it was us. SAM You're right. (after a beat) You better hope so. EXT. BALTIMORE SUN - MORNING INT. LIFESTYLE SECTION - DAY A large open newsroom-type space with REPORTERS at computers. Around the perimeter are glass-partitioned offices and meeting rooms. Inside one of the offices is BECKY, the Lifestyle editor of the Sun. She's at a table with Annie, now a reporter for the section, and two other colleagues -- KEITH and WYATT. Wyatt is playing Gameboy. KEITH This man sells the greatest soup you've ever eaten, there's a line around the block, and he is, I am not kidding, the meanest man in America. (beat) I feel strongly about this, Becky. This is not just about soup. BECKY Do it. What else? WYATT New Year's Eve. Please don't make me write it. Becky looks at Wyatt, notices the Gameboy. BECKY Wyatt, I do not mean to remind you of your mother, but if you don't put that game away, no TV for a week. WYATT (pushing it to the center of the table) Would someone look this up, don't tell me where. Becky is riffling through some papers on the table, among which are some tearsheets from the Associated Press wire. BECKY Listen to this. Phone service in the greater Chicago area was tied up for two hours Christmas Eve because some kid called a phone-in show to get a wife for his father. Two thousand women called in for the number. KEITH Jesus. ANNIE I heard it. This kid calls up and says my dad needs a wife and I'm talking to myself in the car saying, this is completely disgusting, you're taking advantage of a child, and then the father gets on and this shrinkette says, do you want to talk about it? And he says no as a matter of fact I don't, and I am saying, bravo! Right on! Don't talk to her, it's none of her business -- (she's completely into this story now) -- and then suddenly, for no reason at all, he's talking about how much he loved his wife, and how he just -- (she snaps her fingers) fell in love with her and I am crying. Me. A tear is actually rolling down my face. It was like what happens when I watch those phone company ads. I don't have to see the whole ad, I just have to see the part where the daughter gives her mother a refrigerator with a big red bow on it, have you seen that one? Everyone looks at her. Apparently she's finished. BECKY You should write something about this. ANNIE About what? BECKY Whatever it is. KEITH (waving the AP story) What it is is, there are a lot of desperate women out there looking for love. WYATT Especially over a certain age. Annie is looking at them. This isn't what she was talking about at all, although she isn't quite sure what she was talking about. KEITH It is easier to be killed by a terrorist after the age of 40 than it is to get married -- ANNIE That is not true. That statistic is not true. BECKY It's not true, but it feels true. ANNIE There's practically a whole book about how that statistic is not true -- WYATT Calm down. You brought it up -- ANNIE (sharply) I did not, Wyatt. A beat, everyone pauses. Things are a little out of hand. BECKY So where were we? WYATT New Year's Eve. I'll do it, okay? BECKY Okay. ANNIE If someone is a widower, why do they say he was widowed? Why don't they say he was widowered? Everyone looks at her strangely. ANNIE I was jus wondering. EXT. BALTIMORE STREET - DAY Annie walking purposefully, followed by Becky, hurrying to catch up. BECKY What was that about up there? ANNIE What was what? BECKY What's with you? ANNIE Nothing's with me. INT. BALTIMORE RESTAURANT - DAY Becky and Annie are having lunch. BECKY "Sleepless in Seattle"? ANNIE That's what she called him on the show. Because he can't sleep. BECKY And now 2,000 women want his number. The guy could be a crackhead, a psychopath, a flasher, a junkie, a transvestite, a chain-saw murderer, or someone really sick, like Rick. ANNIE Actually, he sounded nice. BECKY Oh? Oh, really? Now we're getting down to it. ANNIE Not. She reaches down for her purse. INT/EXT. REMODEL HOUSE - DAY A hand reaching down to pick something up -- the Seattle newspaper, and PULL BACK TO REVEAL: Sam carrying the paper down/up the stairs to an old house that's being renovated. Jonah, who is playing Cameboy, is walking along with him. WORKMEN are active everywhere. Dry wall going up, cabinets being installed, tile being set. One of Sam's partners, BOB LANGMAN, is walking with him, and JAY MATHEWS, the on-site supervisor, is waiting for them in an unfinished doorframe. Bob is hefty, older, always eating something dietetic. Jay is younger and always wears as little as possible, even in cold weather. BOB LANGMAN Now she wants a circular stairwell off the den. JAY (to Jonah, in b.g.) Punch me, punch in right here. (points to his stomach; Jonah punches) And she wants the Sub-Zero with the side-by-side doors -- BOB Which means -- SAM The cabinets have to be redone -- They all nod at each other. The woman has been a nightmare. BOB So we thought -- JAY Since you're on the make again -- Sam looks at Jonah -- SAM Great. This is great. The whole town knows. Just out of curiosity, how do you two know? BOB Grace heard it. SAM Grace the dispatcher. Great. BOB The point is, take the client out to dinner and ask her to marry you and then maybe we won't have to redo the kitchen cabinets. SAM Why me? What about Jay? JAY Hey, my plate is full. SAM Well, okay. What's the big deal? If she'll forget the new fireplace, I'll marry her. Just point me in the right direction. JONAH Dad, I don't know about this one -- SAM Oh, you're changing your mind -- JONAH No, I'm not, but -- SAM What's the matter with this one? Wouldn't you like to have Imelda Marcos as your mother? JONAH Dad -- Sam cuffs him good-naturedly. SAM We better take the measurements for the new cabinets. He walks away past some workmen, ladders, etc. and starts checking the cross-beams in the ceiling over in another area of the site. Bob follows after him. Jay tosses Jonah a hammer and they start knocking nails into the wall. BOB Sam, if you're not doing anything New Year's -- obviously you're not doing anything New Year's -- we're having some people over, all of them married, not one even remotely interested in playing around. Does that sound great or what? (whistfully) I can't think of the last time I was at a party when anything actually happened. SAM Thanks, but I'll pass. It's kind of a big night. I don't like to leave Jonah alone. CUT TO: SHOT OF HOUSEBOAT BEING TOWED BY A TUG DOWN THE RIVER (OR A SEAPLANE LANDING) - TWILIGHT EXT. HOUSEBOAT - TWILIGHT Jonah watching it. Sam visible in the distance in the kitchen. INT. KITCHEN - TWILIGHT As Sam is busy installing the spice rack. He marks the wall, hammers in the nails, etc. SAM (as he starts putting new spices into the rack, in alphabetical order) Does red pepper go under R or P? JONAH P. (beat) Dad? SAM (absently) What? JONAH I forgot to mention. Jed called -- SAM Just out of curiosity, do you have any friends whose names don't begin with a J? I feel like it was a failure of the imagination on our part naming you Jonah. (looking at the spices) What is marjoram? Does anyone know? JONAH Jed is having a slumber party New Year's Eve and he invited me. A beat. SAM Fine. Fine. JONAH So I can go. SAM Sure. (almost done with the spices) Looking good. JONAH Shouldn't you have used a toggle bolt? SAM I think I know how to have a spice rack. He puts in the last spice. They stand back to admire it. A beat. The rack falls off the wall. The rack itself doesn't break, but about six of the glass jars of spices break. There's paprika and thyme and currying powder, etc. all over the floor along with shards of glass. SAM God fucking dammit! Shit! Fuck. Piss. Jonah bursts into tears. SAM (still angry) I'm sorry. (softening) I'm sorry. He picks up Jonah and holds him. SAM I'm sorry. I'm just -- JONAH Stressed. SAM Right. I'm sorry, Jonah, I'm sorry. And he holds Jonah as Jonah calms down. Sam closes his eyes tight. INT. A TELEVISION SET OF NEW YEAR'S EVE ON TIMES SQUARE And pull back to reveal: INT. HOUSEBOAT - NIGHT Sam, alone, watching the ball drop. He's got a bag of Doritos and a beer. A VOICE Can I have half your beer? SAM Sure. It's Maggie. She takes his bottle of beer and pours half of it into a glass. MAGGIE What did I used to say? Here's looking at you? Here's mud in your eye? SAM Here's to us. You used to say here's to us. (he looks at her and his eyes well with tears) Oh babe. I miss you so much it hurts. He reaches out for her. She's gone. And we hear the television set now counting down to midnight in New York. CUT TO: INT. NEW YEAR'S EVE PARTY IN BALTIMORE - NIGHT The same television show counting down to midnight. Champagne corks popping, etc. And we see Walter and Annie. WALTER Happy New Year, darling. ANNIE Happy New Year. They start to dance. WALTER I was thinking, I have to go up to Boston for the AAP convention and then visit Winston-Hughes about switching over our computers. Why don't we meet in New York for Valentine's Day weekend? ANNIE Walter, I'd love to -- WALTER We'll stay at the Plaza -- ANNIE Go for a walk in Central Park -- WALTER Go to the Symphony -- A beat. ANNIE We will? (beat) The Symphony? (beat) Okay. (beat) I'll take you to the Russian Tea Room for pelmeni. WALTER What is it? ANNIE It's delicious, trust me. WALTER Does it have wheat in it? ANNIE I don't think so. They go on dancing. It's one of those parties where everyone looks so happy and so in love. Annie, however, looks thoughtful. ET. MARINA PARKING AREA - DAY Sam gets out of his car and starts down the dock toward his houseboat. He's carrying a bag of groceries. In the parking lot is a U.S. MAIL TRUCK. EXT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY Sam approaches his boat and a puzzled look comes over his face. A MAILMAN with a sack of mail is standing outside the front door of the houseboat. Jonah is signing a receipt for the mail. JONAH Look at this, Dad. They're all for you -- Sam picks up an envelop and looks at it. It's addressed to Sleepless in Seattle c/o Dr. Marcia Fieldstone, Radio Station KWRS in Chicago. He's stunned. As he signs the receipt: MAILMAN If you're having trouble sleeping, you might want to try drinking a glass of water from the other side. JONAH I thought that was for hiccups. MAILMAN Does it work for hiccups? JONAH For hiccups, a spoonful of sugar, you hold it in your mouth for a minute. MAILMAN Really? The mailman starts back toward the mail truck. Sam and Jonah start toward the door. INT. HOUSEBOAT - NIGHT Sam is in the kitchen making dinner. Jonah is sitting at the table, reading the letters from the stack they found by the door. SAM Just out of curiosity, how did they get our address? JONAH They called and asked for it. (reading) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle. You are the most attractive man I've ever laid ears on." Jonah rolls his eyes, tosses the letter into a pile of rejects, opens another. SAM How did they get our phone number? JONAH You have to give them your phone number or they won't let you go on the air. Sam nods as if this makes perfect sense. JONAH (continues, reading) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle: I am an SWF"-- (to Sam) What is that? SAM Thank God. Something you don't know. It's a single white female. JONAH This is no good. She's looking for someone French. Or Greek. (puzzled, he throws the letter into the reject pile, opens another) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle: I live in Tulsa." Where is that? -- SAM Oklahoma. Do you know where that is? JONAH Somewhere in the middle. SAM I'm not going to think about what they're not teaching you in school. I am not going to think about it. (beat) Generally speaking I think we should rule out people who don't live somewhere near here -- JONAH She's willing to fly anywhere. As Jonah hands Sam the picture. SAM She looks like my third grade teacher. I hated my third grade teacher. Hold it! Wait a minute! She is my third grade teacher! JONAH Dad, you're not taking this seriously. SAM This is not how you do it. (referring to the hamburger) You want this on an English muffin or a bun? JONAH English muffin. How do you do it? SAM You see someone you like, you get a feeling about them, you ask them if they want to have a drink or -- JONAH -- a slice of pizza -- SAM But not dinner necessarily on the first date because by the time you're halfway through dinner you might be sorry you asked them to dinner whereas if it's just a drink, if you like them you can always ask them for dinner but if you don't you can go home if you see what I mean. (beat) I wonder if it still works this way. JONAH It doesn't. They ask you. SAM I'm starting to notice that. INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie and Walter are making love. JONAH (V.O.) If you get a new wife, I guess you'll have sex with her, huh? SAM (V.O.) What do you think? JONAH (V.O.) Will she scratch up your back? SAM (V.O.) What? JONAH'S BEDROOM - NIGHT As Sam puts Jonah to sleep. Jonah is holding his teddy bear while this conversation concludes. JONAH In the movies women are always scratching up guy's back and screaming and stuff. When they're having sex. SAM Whose show was this on? JONAH Jed's got cables. SAM Go to sleep. He kisses him good-night. JONAH Kiss Howard. (he holds out the teddy bear) G'night, Howard. INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie and Walter have just finished making love. Walter falling asleep. Annie lying in bed, with her eyes open. She starts to get out of bed. Puts on a robe. INT. STAIRWAY - HOUSE As Annie comes downstairs in a bathrobe. She opens the door to the street. EXT. STREET - NIGHT As Annie starts to run down the street. CLOSEUP OF: ANNIE, RUNNING And now we widen out to see a misty highway she's running down. Past a sign saying: Seattle Approximately 3,000 miles. Past another sign: Your nerves are shot. And another: Your feet are cold. And another: Will you find love. And another: Before you're cold? And another: Burma Shave. And Annie continues to run, and now we see she's running across a map of the United States -- it's a little like the one we saw in the beginning of the movie -- it's like the famous map of the United States by Saul Steinberg, but instead of being about New York, this one is about Seattle. In the distance, at the very edge of the map, we see two indistinct figures -- a map and a young boy. They start to wave at her, very slowly. Annie's eyes widen. CUT TO: INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie in bed, eyes open. Walter fast asleep. She gets out of bed, puts on her robe (just as she did in the dream sequence). INT. STAIRWELL - NIGHT As Annie comes down the stairs. INT. KITCHEN - HOUSE She turns the light on. Opens the refrigerator. Closes it. Opens it again. Takes out some milk. Sits down at the kitchen table with a bowl, corn flakes, banana. She's about to assemble it when: She sees: THE RADIO She stands up, turns it on to the station Dr. Marcia Fieldstone is on. She sits back down with her corn flakes. ANNOUNCER (V.O.) Up next, "You and Your Emotions" with Dr. Marcia Fieldstone, clinical psychologist and the best friend you never had. (the teaser continues) WOMAN'S VOICE (V.O.) He says he doesn't love me any more. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why do you want to be with someone who doesn't love you? ANOTHER WOMAN (V.O.) Every time I come close to orgasm he stops and goes to make himself a sandwich -- DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why don't you make him a sandwich beforehand? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) When I met my wife, it was so clear. I jus knew. Annie starts at hearing Sam's voice. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) What was it that made you know? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) I don't think I could really describe it. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why not? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) And if I could describe it, it probably wouldn't be on a radio show. (he laughs to himself) But what the hell. It's not one specific thing. It's more of a feeling. (continuing) You touch her for the first time, and suddenly... you're home. It's almost like... magic. Annie closes her eyes. ANNOUNCER (V.O.) We'll be back after this commercial with Dr. Marcia Fieldstone. EXT. BALTIMORE - PEABODY LIBRARY - DAY We see Annie's car pull into a parking space outside the Peabody Library. Annie gets out of the car. INT. LIBRARY - DAY As Annie strides purposefully across the library and enters: INT. ANNIE'S BROTHER TOM'S OFFICE - DAY Annie bursts into Tom's office and walks over to his desk. We barely has time to look up. ANNIE I think I'm going crazy, Tom. I really do. Are you happily married? TOM (completely panicked by the question) What? ANNIE I mean, why did you get married? Was it all fireworks and trumpets and -- TOM (regaining composure) I got married because Betsy said we had to break up or get married. So we get married. ANNIE But when you met her, did you believe she was the only person for you? That in some mystical, cosmic way, it was fated? TOM Annie, when you meet someone and you're attracted to them, it just means that your subconscious is attracted to their subconscious, subconsciously. So what we think of as chemistry is just two neuroses knowing that they are a perfect match. ANNIE I don't even know him. But I'm having all these fantasies about a man I've never met, who lives in Seattle. TOM It rains nine months of the year in Seattle. ANNIE I know, I know. I do not want to move to Seattle. But what I really don't want to do is end up always wondering what might have happened and knowing I could have done something. What do you think? (Tom opens his mouth to say something, but before anything comes out, Annie fills the void) It's just cold feet, isn't it? Everyone panics before they get married, didn't you? TOM Yes, I did. ANNIE Thank you, Tom. I feel so much better just having blown this off. TOM Any time. INT. PEABODY LIBRARY - DAY As Annie walks through it and pushes the door to exit. EXT. A DOOR OPENING TO SEATTLE STREET - DAY Sam and Jay walk out of the Arctic Building onto the street. JAY Sandy has a girlfriend, Clenda ... She's a weightlifter, but it's not like her neck is bigger than her head or anything -- SAM I'm not asking you to set me up, Jay. That's not what I need your help for. I want to know what it's like over there. JAY And that's what I'm trying to tell you. What women are looking over, okay? Pecs and a cute butt. SAM You mean, like, "He has the cutest butt"? Where did I hear that recently? JAY Everywhere. You can't even turn on the news without hearing about how some babe thought some guy's butt was cute. Who the first babe to say this was I don't know, but it caught on. INT. SEATTLE RESTAURANT - DAY Sam and Jay at the counter. Out the window, we can see water. JAY When's the latest time you were out there? SAM (trying to remember) Seventy... eight. JAY Well. Things are different. First, you have to be friends. You have to like each other. Then you neck. This can go on for years. Then you have tests. Then you get to do it with a condom. (beat) The good news is, split the check. SAM I don't think it could let a woman pay for dinner. JAY Great. They'll have a parade in your honor. You'll be Man of the Year in Seattle Magazine. Tira misu. SAM What's tira misu? JAY You'll find out. SAM What is it? JAY You'll see. SAM Some woman is going to want me to do it to her and I'm not going to know what it is. JAY You'll like it. SAM (grimly) This is going to be tougher than I thought. EXT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY EVENING Sam coming home. INT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY EVENING As he enters. It's very quiet. Too quiet. SAM Jonah? No answers. SAM Jonah? He starts to look concerned. SAM Jonah? He goes down the hall to Jonah's room. The door is shut. He opens it. Jonah is sitting on his bed listening to a tape. Earphones on. Next to him is a young girl named JESSICA. SAM Jonah? Jonah takes off the earphones. JONAH Hi, Dad. Dad, this is Jessica. SAM It's nice to meet you, Jessica. JONAH Dad, this is amazing. If you play this backwards, it says "Paul is dead." SAM I know. JONAH How do you know? Sam shrugs, turns to go back down the hall. JONAH Dad, could you close the door? JESSICA H and G. (Sam looks back) Hi and goodbye. Sam closes the door to Jonah's room. Hold on Sam. SAM (to himself) Get a life. INT. HOUSEBOAT - CONTINUOUS As Sam comes downstairs, goes into his office. Closes the door. INT. SAM'S OFFICE AT HOME - CONTINUOUS He goes to the phone. Looks up a number in the phone book. Picks up the phone and dials a number. SAM Hi, Victoria?... It's Sam Baldwin, I don't know if you remember me. Oh? Well, great. I was wondering if you wanted to have a drink... Friday, say... Dinner?... Sure, dinner would be fine. Sure. Dinner. INT. AN UNFINISHED DINNER ON A PLATE IN ANNIE'S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT Annie is watching "An Affair to Remember" on television, tears pouring down her face. Cary Grant is saying: "Are you in love with him?" Deborah Kerr replies: "I'm not now." She's sitting at the dining room table. A dozen pieces of paper litter the table. Annie's been unsuccessfully typing a letter on an old Underwood typewriter. ANNIE Now those were the days when people knew how to be in love. She takes a blast from the wine glass to her right. Becky leans in, refilling the glass. Annie begins to type and sob and look at the TV. BECKY You're a basket case. ANNIE (as she types) They knew it. Time, distance, nothing could separate them. Because they knew. It was right. It was real. It was... BECKY ... movie. (beat) That's your problem. You don't want to be in love. You want to be in love in a movie. (beat) Read it to me. ANNIE (reading her letter) "Dear Sleepless and Son..." BECKY It sounds like the name of a mattress store -- ANNIE "I am not the sort of person who listens to call-in radio shows" -- Becky flops on the couch. BECKY And this woman is a writer! That's what everyone writes at the beginning of letters to strangers. ANNIE I know that. You think I don't know that? "I know that's a dumb way to begin, but it's the only way I can think of to convey what happened to me the other night when I heard the two of you on the radio. On the other hand, maybe I'm just losing my mind." BECKY You are. You're losing your mind. What about Walter? ANNIE I'm going to marry Walter. I just have to get this out of my system. BECKY Right. ANNIE I should say something in this about magic. BECKY What? ANNIE I don't know. I mean, what if I never meet him? What if this man is my destiny and I never meet him? BECKY Your destiny can be your doom. Look at me and Rick. ANNIE (typing some more) "I want to meet you..." Cary Grant says: "How about the top of the Empire State Building?" BECKY "On top of the Empire State Building at sunset on Valentine's Day." ANNIE Good. Perfect. I'll be in New York with Walter, I can squeeze it in. She types in Becky's idea. Then she takes the piece of paper out of the typewriter, smashes it into a ball and tosses it up in the air and into Becky's lap. BECKY You want to hear about destiny? If my husband hadn't gone on a diet, which caused me to leave him, I would never have been on that flight to

maggie

How many times the word 'maggie' appears in the text?

what. SHE'S CRYING. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Well, it's time to wrap up, folks -- A FIGURE appears at the passenger side window, which Annie doesn't notice. She's wiping the tears away with her hand. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) We hope you'll call again soon. The figure TAPS on the window -- WALTER (muffled, outside car) Annie? DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) ... and let us know how it's going. -- and taps again. WALTER Annie? She turns. He's pointing at the locked door. She searches for the button. Finally finds it so that Walter can open the door. ANNIE I'm sorry, Walter. I just heard the most amazing thing on the radio. They start toward the front door, Walter and Annie carrying presents, an overnight bag of Annie's. ANNIE People call up these shows and you can't believe the stuff they say. It's the end of privacy as we know it, this country is just one big global village with everyone out there going blah blah blah -- As they enter the house, we hear Silent Night and we see a Christmas tree, glittering with lights. CUT TO: A CHRISTMAS TREE GLITTERING WITH LIGHTS as we pull back to reveal: INT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY MORNING As Jonah opens his presents under the tree and we cut from gift to gift: A BROOKS ROBINSON BASEBALL GLOVE which Jonah loves and which he puts on his hand and keeps on while continuing to open: A TIE which mystifies him, but he hangs it around his neck. A PLAID SHIRT A MAP OF THE UNITED STATES -- the kind that's used in schoolrooms that pulls down from a roller. And now Sam brings out a long narrow present from behind the door and Jonah opens -- A NEW FISHING ROD EXT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY As Jonah poses with all his Christmas presents -- his tie hanging around his neck over his bathrobe and new plaid shirt, his baseball glove, fishing rod -- as Sam takes his picture. INT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY (OR POSSIBLY EXT. DECK HOUSEBOAT) Sam opens his present from Jonah, which is something he made in woodworking class. SAM The hopes are perfect -- beautiful, identical, smooth -- and they are for something really amazing I feel it in my bones -- JONAH It's a spice rack. SAM We desperately need a spice rack. Desperately. CUT TO: INT. KITCHEN OF HOUSEBOAT - DAY SAM And we desperately need spices. Where Sam is putting the spices they have -- pepper, salt, paprika and oregano -- into the spice rack, which has room for at least twenty more. Jonah is methodically making pancakes. JONAH Dad? About last night? SAM It's never happening again. Right? JONAH Right. There's a knock on the door. SAM Then it never happened. Sam goes to answer the door. TWO YOUNG WOMEN are standing there. Both are wearing quite a lot of Spandex. One of them is named LULU. It says so on her jacket. The other is JOBETH. SAM Hi. LULU Hi. Sam? SAM Yes? LULU (looking in and seeing Jonah) You must be Jonah. Jonah nods. LULU (to her friend) See. I told you. Sam and Jonah. I'm LULU. This is JoBeth. JoBeth nods, and continues to nod as Lulu talks. LULU (continues) We live two piers over, don't we? Number 12, right? We're having like a really neat open house today from like four to whenever if you care to stop by. SAM Thanks, but... we've got plans. LULU Well, here's the number. If you ever find yourself Sleepless, give us a call. We also... do babysitting. She winks. JoBeth nods. Sam nods. Lulu waves goodbye, and she and JoBeth sashay off down the dock. Jonah closes the door and turns to Sam. JONAH Not. SAM My feelings exactly. EXT. LAKE UNION MARINA - EARLY MORNING Jonah and Sam are fishing off a dingy. SAM How many people do you think heard that thing last night? JONAH It plays in 50 states. SAM What?! JONAH Nobody else is going to know it was us. SAM You're right. (after a beat) You better hope so. EXT. BALTIMORE SUN - MORNING INT. LIFESTYLE SECTION - DAY A large open newsroom-type space with REPORTERS at computers. Around the perimeter are glass-partitioned offices and meeting rooms. Inside one of the offices is BECKY, the Lifestyle editor of the Sun. She's at a table with Annie, now a reporter for the section, and two other colleagues -- KEITH and WYATT. Wyatt is playing Gameboy. KEITH This man sells the greatest soup you've ever eaten, there's a line around the block, and he is, I am not kidding, the meanest man in America. (beat) I feel strongly about this, Becky. This is not just about soup. BECKY Do it. What else? WYATT New Year's Eve. Please don't make me write it. Becky looks at Wyatt, notices the Gameboy. BECKY Wyatt, I do not mean to remind you of your mother, but if you don't put that game away, no TV for a week. WYATT (pushing it to the center of the table) Would someone look this up, don't tell me where. Becky is riffling through some papers on the table, among which are some tearsheets from the Associated Press wire. BECKY Listen to this. Phone service in the greater Chicago area was tied up for two hours Christmas Eve because some kid called a phone-in show to get a wife for his father. Two thousand women called in for the number. KEITH Jesus. ANNIE I heard it. This kid calls up and says my dad needs a wife and I'm talking to myself in the car saying, this is completely disgusting, you're taking advantage of a child, and then the father gets on and this shrinkette says, do you want to talk about it? And he says no as a matter of fact I don't, and I am saying, bravo! Right on! Don't talk to her, it's none of her business -- (she's completely into this story now) -- and then suddenly, for no reason at all, he's talking about how much he loved his wife, and how he just -- (she snaps her fingers) fell in love with her and I am crying. Me. A tear is actually rolling down my face. It was like what happens when I watch those phone company ads. I don't have to see the whole ad, I just have to see the part where the daughter gives her mother a refrigerator with a big red bow on it, have you seen that one? Everyone looks at her. Apparently she's finished. BECKY You should write something about this. ANNIE About what? BECKY Whatever it is. KEITH (waving the AP story) What it is is, there are a lot of desperate women out there looking for love. WYATT Especially over a certain age. Annie is looking at them. This isn't what she was talking about at all, although she isn't quite sure what she was talking about. KEITH It is easier to be killed by a terrorist after the age of 40 than it is to get married -- ANNIE That is not true. That statistic is not true. BECKY It's not true, but it feels true. ANNIE There's practically a whole book about how that statistic is not true -- WYATT Calm down. You brought it up -- ANNIE (sharply) I did not, Wyatt. A beat, everyone pauses. Things are a little out of hand. BECKY So where were we? WYATT New Year's Eve. I'll do it, okay? BECKY Okay. ANNIE If someone is a widower, why do they say he was widowed? Why don't they say he was widowered? Everyone looks at her strangely. ANNIE I was jus wondering. EXT. BALTIMORE STREET - DAY Annie walking purposefully, followed by Becky, hurrying to catch up. BECKY What was that about up there? ANNIE What was what? BECKY What's with you? ANNIE Nothing's with me. INT. BALTIMORE RESTAURANT - DAY Becky and Annie are having lunch. BECKY "Sleepless in Seattle"? ANNIE That's what she called him on the show. Because he can't sleep. BECKY And now 2,000 women want his number. The guy could be a crackhead, a psychopath, a flasher, a junkie, a transvestite, a chain-saw murderer, or someone really sick, like Rick. ANNIE Actually, he sounded nice. BECKY Oh? Oh, really? Now we're getting down to it. ANNIE Not. She reaches down for her purse. INT/EXT. REMODEL HOUSE - DAY A hand reaching down to pick something up -- the Seattle newspaper, and PULL BACK TO REVEAL: Sam carrying the paper down/up the stairs to an old house that's being renovated. Jonah, who is playing Cameboy, is walking along with him. WORKMEN are active everywhere. Dry wall going up, cabinets being installed, tile being set. One of Sam's partners, BOB LANGMAN, is walking with him, and JAY MATHEWS, the on-site supervisor, is waiting for them in an unfinished doorframe. Bob is hefty, older, always eating something dietetic. Jay is younger and always wears as little as possible, even in cold weather. BOB LANGMAN Now she wants a circular stairwell off the den. JAY (to Jonah, in b.g.) Punch me, punch in right here. (points to his stomach; Jonah punches) And she wants the Sub-Zero with the side-by-side doors -- BOB Which means -- SAM The cabinets have to be redone -- They all nod at each other. The woman has been a nightmare. BOB So we thought -- JAY Since you're on the make again -- Sam looks at Jonah -- SAM Great. This is great. The whole town knows. Just out of curiosity, how do you two know? BOB Grace heard it. SAM Grace the dispatcher. Great. BOB The point is, take the client out to dinner and ask her to marry you and then maybe we won't have to redo the kitchen cabinets. SAM Why me? What about Jay? JAY Hey, my plate is full. SAM Well, okay. What's the big deal? If she'll forget the new fireplace, I'll marry her. Just point me in the right direction. JONAH Dad, I don't know about this one -- SAM Oh, you're changing your mind -- JONAH No, I'm not, but -- SAM What's the matter with this one? Wouldn't you like to have Imelda Marcos as your mother? JONAH Dad -- Sam cuffs him good-naturedly. SAM We better take the measurements for the new cabinets. He walks away past some workmen, ladders, etc. and starts checking the cross-beams in the ceiling over in another area of the site. Bob follows after him. Jay tosses Jonah a hammer and they start knocking nails into the wall. BOB Sam, if you're not doing anything New Year's -- obviously you're not doing anything New Year's -- we're having some people over, all of them married, not one even remotely interested in playing around. Does that sound great or what? (whistfully) I can't think of the last time I was at a party when anything actually happened. SAM Thanks, but I'll pass. It's kind of a big night. I don't like to leave Jonah alone. CUT TO: SHOT OF HOUSEBOAT BEING TOWED BY A TUG DOWN THE RIVER (OR A SEAPLANE LANDING) - TWILIGHT EXT. HOUSEBOAT - TWILIGHT Jonah watching it. Sam visible in the distance in the kitchen. INT. KITCHEN - TWILIGHT As Sam is busy installing the spice rack. He marks the wall, hammers in the nails, etc. SAM (as he starts putting new spices into the rack, in alphabetical order) Does red pepper go under R or P? JONAH P. (beat) Dad? SAM (absently) What? JONAH I forgot to mention. Jed called -- SAM Just out of curiosity, do you have any friends whose names don't begin with a J? I feel like it was a failure of the imagination on our part naming you Jonah. (looking at the spices) What is marjoram? Does anyone know? JONAH Jed is having a slumber party New Year's Eve and he invited me. A beat. SAM Fine. Fine. JONAH So I can go. SAM Sure. (almost done with the spices) Looking good. JONAH Shouldn't you have used a toggle bolt? SAM I think I know how to have a spice rack. He puts in the last spice. They stand back to admire it. A beat. The rack falls off the wall. The rack itself doesn't break, but about six of the glass jars of spices break. There's paprika and thyme and currying powder, etc. all over the floor along with shards of glass. SAM God fucking dammit! Shit! Fuck. Piss. Jonah bursts into tears. SAM (still angry) I'm sorry. (softening) I'm sorry. He picks up Jonah and holds him. SAM I'm sorry. I'm just -- JONAH Stressed. SAM Right. I'm sorry, Jonah, I'm sorry. And he holds Jonah as Jonah calms down. Sam closes his eyes tight. INT. A TELEVISION SET OF NEW YEAR'S EVE ON TIMES SQUARE And pull back to reveal: INT. HOUSEBOAT - NIGHT Sam, alone, watching the ball drop. He's got a bag of Doritos and a beer. A VOICE Can I have half your beer? SAM Sure. It's Maggie. She takes his bottle of beer and pours half of it into a glass. MAGGIE What did I used to say? Here's looking at you? Here's mud in your eye? SAM Here's to us. You used to say here's to us. (he looks at her and his eyes well with tears) Oh babe. I miss you so much it hurts. He reaches out for her. She's gone. And we hear the television set now counting down to midnight in New York. CUT TO: INT. NEW YEAR'S EVE PARTY IN BALTIMORE - NIGHT The same television show counting down to midnight. Champagne corks popping, etc. And we see Walter and Annie. WALTER Happy New Year, darling. ANNIE Happy New Year. They start to dance. WALTER I was thinking, I have to go up to Boston for the AAP convention and then visit Winston-Hughes about switching over our computers. Why don't we meet in New York for Valentine's Day weekend? ANNIE Walter, I'd love to -- WALTER We'll stay at the Plaza -- ANNIE Go for a walk in Central Park -- WALTER Go to the Symphony -- A beat. ANNIE We will? (beat) The Symphony? (beat) Okay. (beat) I'll take you to the Russian Tea Room for pelmeni. WALTER What is it? ANNIE It's delicious, trust me. WALTER Does it have wheat in it? ANNIE I don't think so. They go on dancing. It's one of those parties where everyone looks so happy and so in love. Annie, however, looks thoughtful. ET. MARINA PARKING AREA - DAY Sam gets out of his car and starts down the dock toward his houseboat. He's carrying a bag of groceries. In the parking lot is a U.S. MAIL TRUCK. EXT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY Sam approaches his boat and a puzzled look comes over his face. A MAILMAN with a sack of mail is standing outside the front door of the houseboat. Jonah is signing a receipt for the mail. JONAH Look at this, Dad. They're all for you -- Sam picks up an envelop and looks at it. It's addressed to Sleepless in Seattle c/o Dr. Marcia Fieldstone, Radio Station KWRS in Chicago. He's stunned. As he signs the receipt: MAILMAN If you're having trouble sleeping, you might want to try drinking a glass of water from the other side. JONAH I thought that was for hiccups. MAILMAN Does it work for hiccups? JONAH For hiccups, a spoonful of sugar, you hold it in your mouth for a minute. MAILMAN Really? The mailman starts back toward the mail truck. Sam and Jonah start toward the door. INT. HOUSEBOAT - NIGHT Sam is in the kitchen making dinner. Jonah is sitting at the table, reading the letters from the stack they found by the door. SAM Just out of curiosity, how did they get our address? JONAH They called and asked for it. (reading) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle. You are the most attractive man I've ever laid ears on." Jonah rolls his eyes, tosses the letter into a pile of rejects, opens another. SAM How did they get our phone number? JONAH You have to give them your phone number or they won't let you go on the air. Sam nods as if this makes perfect sense. JONAH (continues, reading) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle: I am an SWF"-- (to Sam) What is that? SAM Thank God. Something you don't know. It's a single white female. JONAH This is no good. She's looking for someone French. Or Greek. (puzzled, he throws the letter into the reject pile, opens another) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle: I live in Tulsa." Where is that? -- SAM Oklahoma. Do you know where that is? JONAH Somewhere in the middle. SAM I'm not going to think about what they're not teaching you in school. I am not going to think about it. (beat) Generally speaking I think we should rule out people who don't live somewhere near here -- JONAH She's willing to fly anywhere. As Jonah hands Sam the picture. SAM She looks like my third grade teacher. I hated my third grade teacher. Hold it! Wait a minute! She is my third grade teacher! JONAH Dad, you're not taking this seriously. SAM This is not how you do it. (referring to the hamburger) You want this on an English muffin or a bun? JONAH English muffin. How do you do it? SAM You see someone you like, you get a feeling about them, you ask them if they want to have a drink or -- JONAH -- a slice of pizza -- SAM But not dinner necessarily on the first date because by the time you're halfway through dinner you might be sorry you asked them to dinner whereas if it's just a drink, if you like them you can always ask them for dinner but if you don't you can go home if you see what I mean. (beat) I wonder if it still works this way. JONAH It doesn't. They ask you. SAM I'm starting to notice that. INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie and Walter are making love. JONAH (V.O.) If you get a new wife, I guess you'll have sex with her, huh? SAM (V.O.) What do you think? JONAH (V.O.) Will she scratch up your back? SAM (V.O.) What? JONAH'S BEDROOM - NIGHT As Sam puts Jonah to sleep. Jonah is holding his teddy bear while this conversation concludes. JONAH In the movies women are always scratching up guy's back and screaming and stuff. When they're having sex. SAM Whose show was this on? JONAH Jed's got cables. SAM Go to sleep. He kisses him good-night. JONAH Kiss Howard. (he holds out the teddy bear) G'night, Howard. INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie and Walter have just finished making love. Walter falling asleep. Annie lying in bed, with her eyes open. She starts to get out of bed. Puts on a robe. INT. STAIRWAY - HOUSE As Annie comes downstairs in a bathrobe. She opens the door to the street. EXT. STREET - NIGHT As Annie starts to run down the street. CLOSEUP OF: ANNIE, RUNNING And now we widen out to see a misty highway she's running down. Past a sign saying: Seattle Approximately 3,000 miles. Past another sign: Your nerves are shot. And another: Your feet are cold. And another: Will you find love. And another: Before you're cold? And another: Burma Shave. And Annie continues to run, and now we see she's running across a map of the United States -- it's a little like the one we saw in the beginning of the movie -- it's like the famous map of the United States by Saul Steinberg, but instead of being about New York, this one is about Seattle. In the distance, at the very edge of the map, we see two indistinct figures -- a map and a young boy. They start to wave at her, very slowly. Annie's eyes widen. CUT TO: INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie in bed, eyes open. Walter fast asleep. She gets out of bed, puts on her robe (just as she did in the dream sequence). INT. STAIRWELL - NIGHT As Annie comes down the stairs. INT. KITCHEN - HOUSE She turns the light on. Opens the refrigerator. Closes it. Opens it again. Takes out some milk. Sits down at the kitchen table with a bowl, corn flakes, banana. She's about to assemble it when: She sees: THE RADIO She stands up, turns it on to the station Dr. Marcia Fieldstone is on. She sits back down with her corn flakes. ANNOUNCER (V.O.) Up next, "You and Your Emotions" with Dr. Marcia Fieldstone, clinical psychologist and the best friend you never had. (the teaser continues) WOMAN'S VOICE (V.O.) He says he doesn't love me any more. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why do you want to be with someone who doesn't love you? ANOTHER WOMAN (V.O.) Every time I come close to orgasm he stops and goes to make himself a sandwich -- DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why don't you make him a sandwich beforehand? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) When I met my wife, it was so clear. I jus knew. Annie starts at hearing Sam's voice. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) What was it that made you know? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) I don't think I could really describe it. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why not? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) And if I could describe it, it probably wouldn't be on a radio show. (he laughs to himself) But what the hell. It's not one specific thing. It's more of a feeling. (continuing) You touch her for the first time, and suddenly... you're home. It's almost like... magic. Annie closes her eyes. ANNOUNCER (V.O.) We'll be back after this commercial with Dr. Marcia Fieldstone. EXT. BALTIMORE - PEABODY LIBRARY - DAY We see Annie's car pull into a parking space outside the Peabody Library. Annie gets out of the car. INT. LIBRARY - DAY As Annie strides purposefully across the library and enters: INT. ANNIE'S BROTHER TOM'S OFFICE - DAY Annie bursts into Tom's office and walks over to his desk. We barely has time to look up. ANNIE I think I'm going crazy, Tom. I really do. Are you happily married? TOM (completely panicked by the question) What? ANNIE I mean, why did you get married? Was it all fireworks and trumpets and -- TOM (regaining composure) I got married because Betsy said we had to break up or get married. So we get married. ANNIE But when you met her, did you believe she was the only person for you? That in some mystical, cosmic way, it was fated? TOM Annie, when you meet someone and you're attracted to them, it just means that your subconscious is attracted to their subconscious, subconsciously. So what we think of as chemistry is just two neuroses knowing that they are a perfect match. ANNIE I don't even know him. But I'm having all these fantasies about a man I've never met, who lives in Seattle. TOM It rains nine months of the year in Seattle. ANNIE I know, I know. I do not want to move to Seattle. But what I really don't want to do is end up always wondering what might have happened and knowing I could have done something. What do you think? (Tom opens his mouth to say something, but before anything comes out, Annie fills the void) It's just cold feet, isn't it? Everyone panics before they get married, didn't you? TOM Yes, I did. ANNIE Thank you, Tom. I feel so much better just having blown this off. TOM Any time. INT. PEABODY LIBRARY - DAY As Annie walks through it and pushes the door to exit. EXT. A DOOR OPENING TO SEATTLE STREET - DAY Sam and Jay walk out of the Arctic Building onto the street. JAY Sandy has a girlfriend, Clenda ... She's a weightlifter, but it's not like her neck is bigger than her head or anything -- SAM I'm not asking you to set me up, Jay. That's not what I need your help for. I want to know what it's like over there. JAY And that's what I'm trying to tell you. What women are looking over, okay? Pecs and a cute butt. SAM You mean, like, "He has the cutest butt"? Where did I hear that recently? JAY Everywhere. You can't even turn on the news without hearing about how some babe thought some guy's butt was cute. Who the first babe to say this was I don't know, but it caught on. INT. SEATTLE RESTAURANT - DAY Sam and Jay at the counter. Out the window, we can see water. JAY When's the latest time you were out there? SAM (trying to remember) Seventy... eight. JAY Well. Things are different. First, you have to be friends. You have to like each other. Then you neck. This can go on for years. Then you have tests. Then you get to do it with a condom. (beat) The good news is, split the check. SAM I don't think it could let a woman pay for dinner. JAY Great. They'll have a parade in your honor. You'll be Man of the Year in Seattle Magazine. Tira misu. SAM What's tira misu? JAY You'll find out. SAM What is it? JAY You'll see. SAM Some woman is going to want me to do it to her and I'm not going to know what it is. JAY You'll like it. SAM (grimly) This is going to be tougher than I thought. EXT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY EVENING Sam coming home. INT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY EVENING As he enters. It's very quiet. Too quiet. SAM Jonah? No answers. SAM Jonah? He starts to look concerned. SAM Jonah? He goes down the hall to Jonah's room. The door is shut. He opens it. Jonah is sitting on his bed listening to a tape. Earphones on. Next to him is a young girl named JESSICA. SAM Jonah? Jonah takes off the earphones. JONAH Hi, Dad. Dad, this is Jessica. SAM It's nice to meet you, Jessica. JONAH Dad, this is amazing. If you play this backwards, it says "Paul is dead." SAM I know. JONAH How do you know? Sam shrugs, turns to go back down the hall. JONAH Dad, could you close the door? JESSICA H and G. (Sam looks back) Hi and goodbye. Sam closes the door to Jonah's room. Hold on Sam. SAM (to himself) Get a life. INT. HOUSEBOAT - CONTINUOUS As Sam comes downstairs, goes into his office. Closes the door. INT. SAM'S OFFICE AT HOME - CONTINUOUS He goes to the phone. Looks up a number in the phone book. Picks up the phone and dials a number. SAM Hi, Victoria?... It's Sam Baldwin, I don't know if you remember me. Oh? Well, great. I was wondering if you wanted to have a drink... Friday, say... Dinner?... Sure, dinner would be fine. Sure. Dinner. INT. AN UNFINISHED DINNER ON A PLATE IN ANNIE'S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT Annie is watching "An Affair to Remember" on television, tears pouring down her face. Cary Grant is saying: "Are you in love with him?" Deborah Kerr replies: "I'm not now." She's sitting at the dining room table. A dozen pieces of paper litter the table. Annie's been unsuccessfully typing a letter on an old Underwood typewriter. ANNIE Now those were the days when people knew how to be in love. She takes a blast from the wine glass to her right. Becky leans in, refilling the glass. Annie begins to type and sob and look at the TV. BECKY You're a basket case. ANNIE (as she types) They knew it. Time, distance, nothing could separate them. Because they knew. It was right. It was real. It was... BECKY ... movie. (beat) That's your problem. You don't want to be in love. You want to be in love in a movie. (beat) Read it to me. ANNIE (reading her letter) "Dear Sleepless and Son..." BECKY It sounds like the name of a mattress store -- ANNIE "I am not the sort of person who listens to call-in radio shows" -- Becky flops on the couch. BECKY And this woman is a writer! That's what everyone writes at the beginning of letters to strangers. ANNIE I know that. You think I don't know that? "I know that's a dumb way to begin, but it's the only way I can think of to convey what happened to me the other night when I heard the two of you on the radio. On the other hand, maybe I'm just losing my mind." BECKY You are. You're losing your mind. What about Walter? ANNIE I'm going to marry Walter. I just have to get this out of my system. BECKY Right. ANNIE I should say something in this about magic. BECKY What? ANNIE I don't know. I mean, what if I never meet him? What if this man is my destiny and I never meet him? BECKY Your destiny can be your doom. Look at me and Rick. ANNIE (typing some more) "I want to meet you..." Cary Grant says: "How about the top of the Empire State Building?" BECKY "On top of the Empire State Building at sunset on Valentine's Day." ANNIE Good. Perfect. I'll be in New York with Walter, I can squeeze it in. She types in Becky's idea. Then she takes the piece of paper out of the typewriter, smashes it into a ball and tosses it up in the air and into Becky's lap. BECKY You want to hear about destiny? If my husband hadn't gone on a diet, which caused me to leave him, I would never have been on that flight to

sailing

How many times the word 'sailing' appears in the text?

what. SHE'S CRYING. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Well, it's time to wrap up, folks -- A FIGURE appears at the passenger side window, which Annie doesn't notice. She's wiping the tears away with her hand. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) We hope you'll call again soon. The figure TAPS on the window -- WALTER (muffled, outside car) Annie? DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) ... and let us know how it's going. -- and taps again. WALTER Annie? She turns. He's pointing at the locked door. She searches for the button. Finally finds it so that Walter can open the door. ANNIE I'm sorry, Walter. I just heard the most amazing thing on the radio. They start toward the front door, Walter and Annie carrying presents, an overnight bag of Annie's. ANNIE People call up these shows and you can't believe the stuff they say. It's the end of privacy as we know it, this country is just one big global village with everyone out there going blah blah blah -- As they enter the house, we hear Silent Night and we see a Christmas tree, glittering with lights. CUT TO: A CHRISTMAS TREE GLITTERING WITH LIGHTS as we pull back to reveal: INT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY MORNING As Jonah opens his presents under the tree and we cut from gift to gift: A BROOKS ROBINSON BASEBALL GLOVE which Jonah loves and which he puts on his hand and keeps on while continuing to open: A TIE which mystifies him, but he hangs it around his neck. A PLAID SHIRT A MAP OF THE UNITED STATES -- the kind that's used in schoolrooms that pulls down from a roller. And now Sam brings out a long narrow present from behind the door and Jonah opens -- A NEW FISHING ROD EXT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY As Jonah poses with all his Christmas presents -- his tie hanging around his neck over his bathrobe and new plaid shirt, his baseball glove, fishing rod -- as Sam takes his picture. INT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY (OR POSSIBLY EXT. DECK HOUSEBOAT) Sam opens his present from Jonah, which is something he made in woodworking class. SAM The hopes are perfect -- beautiful, identical, smooth -- and they are for something really amazing I feel it in my bones -- JONAH It's a spice rack. SAM We desperately need a spice rack. Desperately. CUT TO: INT. KITCHEN OF HOUSEBOAT - DAY SAM And we desperately need spices. Where Sam is putting the spices they have -- pepper, salt, paprika and oregano -- into the spice rack, which has room for at least twenty more. Jonah is methodically making pancakes. JONAH Dad? About last night? SAM It's never happening again. Right? JONAH Right. There's a knock on the door. SAM Then it never happened. Sam goes to answer the door. TWO YOUNG WOMEN are standing there. Both are wearing quite a lot of Spandex. One of them is named LULU. It says so on her jacket. The other is JOBETH. SAM Hi. LULU Hi. Sam? SAM Yes? LULU (looking in and seeing Jonah) You must be Jonah. Jonah nods. LULU (to her friend) See. I told you. Sam and Jonah. I'm LULU. This is JoBeth. JoBeth nods, and continues to nod as Lulu talks. LULU (continues) We live two piers over, don't we? Number 12, right? We're having like a really neat open house today from like four to whenever if you care to stop by. SAM Thanks, but... we've got plans. LULU Well, here's the number. If you ever find yourself Sleepless, give us a call. We also... do babysitting. She winks. JoBeth nods. Sam nods. Lulu waves goodbye, and she and JoBeth sashay off down the dock. Jonah closes the door and turns to Sam. JONAH Not. SAM My feelings exactly. EXT. LAKE UNION MARINA - EARLY MORNING Jonah and Sam are fishing off a dingy. SAM How many people do you think heard that thing last night? JONAH It plays in 50 states. SAM What?! JONAH Nobody else is going to know it was us. SAM You're right. (after a beat) You better hope so. EXT. BALTIMORE SUN - MORNING INT. LIFESTYLE SECTION - DAY A large open newsroom-type space with REPORTERS at computers. Around the perimeter are glass-partitioned offices and meeting rooms. Inside one of the offices is BECKY, the Lifestyle editor of the Sun. She's at a table with Annie, now a reporter for the section, and two other colleagues -- KEITH and WYATT. Wyatt is playing Gameboy. KEITH This man sells the greatest soup you've ever eaten, there's a line around the block, and he is, I am not kidding, the meanest man in America. (beat) I feel strongly about this, Becky. This is not just about soup. BECKY Do it. What else? WYATT New Year's Eve. Please don't make me write it. Becky looks at Wyatt, notices the Gameboy. BECKY Wyatt, I do not mean to remind you of your mother, but if you don't put that game away, no TV for a week. WYATT (pushing it to the center of the table) Would someone look this up, don't tell me where. Becky is riffling through some papers on the table, among which are some tearsheets from the Associated Press wire. BECKY Listen to this. Phone service in the greater Chicago area was tied up for two hours Christmas Eve because some kid called a phone-in show to get a wife for his father. Two thousand women called in for the number. KEITH Jesus. ANNIE I heard it. This kid calls up and says my dad needs a wife and I'm talking to myself in the car saying, this is completely disgusting, you're taking advantage of a child, and then the father gets on and this shrinkette says, do you want to talk about it? And he says no as a matter of fact I don't, and I am saying, bravo! Right on! Don't talk to her, it's none of her business -- (she's completely into this story now) -- and then suddenly, for no reason at all, he's talking about how much he loved his wife, and how he just -- (she snaps her fingers) fell in love with her and I am crying. Me. A tear is actually rolling down my face. It was like what happens when I watch those phone company ads. I don't have to see the whole ad, I just have to see the part where the daughter gives her mother a refrigerator with a big red bow on it, have you seen that one? Everyone looks at her. Apparently she's finished. BECKY You should write something about this. ANNIE About what? BECKY Whatever it is. KEITH (waving the AP story) What it is is, there are a lot of desperate women out there looking for love. WYATT Especially over a certain age. Annie is looking at them. This isn't what she was talking about at all, although she isn't quite sure what she was talking about. KEITH It is easier to be killed by a terrorist after the age of 40 than it is to get married -- ANNIE That is not true. That statistic is not true. BECKY It's not true, but it feels true. ANNIE There's practically a whole book about how that statistic is not true -- WYATT Calm down. You brought it up -- ANNIE (sharply) I did not, Wyatt. A beat, everyone pauses. Things are a little out of hand. BECKY So where were we? WYATT New Year's Eve. I'll do it, okay? BECKY Okay. ANNIE If someone is a widower, why do they say he was widowed? Why don't they say he was widowered? Everyone looks at her strangely. ANNIE I was jus wondering. EXT. BALTIMORE STREET - DAY Annie walking purposefully, followed by Becky, hurrying to catch up. BECKY What was that about up there? ANNIE What was what? BECKY What's with you? ANNIE Nothing's with me. INT. BALTIMORE RESTAURANT - DAY Becky and Annie are having lunch. BECKY "Sleepless in Seattle"? ANNIE That's what she called him on the show. Because he can't sleep. BECKY And now 2,000 women want his number. The guy could be a crackhead, a psychopath, a flasher, a junkie, a transvestite, a chain-saw murderer, or someone really sick, like Rick. ANNIE Actually, he sounded nice. BECKY Oh? Oh, really? Now we're getting down to it. ANNIE Not. She reaches down for her purse. INT/EXT. REMODEL HOUSE - DAY A hand reaching down to pick something up -- the Seattle newspaper, and PULL BACK TO REVEAL: Sam carrying the paper down/up the stairs to an old house that's being renovated. Jonah, who is playing Cameboy, is walking along with him. WORKMEN are active everywhere. Dry wall going up, cabinets being installed, tile being set. One of Sam's partners, BOB LANGMAN, is walking with him, and JAY MATHEWS, the on-site supervisor, is waiting for them in an unfinished doorframe. Bob is hefty, older, always eating something dietetic. Jay is younger and always wears as little as possible, even in cold weather. BOB LANGMAN Now she wants a circular stairwell off the den. JAY (to Jonah, in b.g.) Punch me, punch in right here. (points to his stomach; Jonah punches) And she wants the Sub-Zero with the side-by-side doors -- BOB Which means -- SAM The cabinets have to be redone -- They all nod at each other. The woman has been a nightmare. BOB So we thought -- JAY Since you're on the make again -- Sam looks at Jonah -- SAM Great. This is great. The whole town knows. Just out of curiosity, how do you two know? BOB Grace heard it. SAM Grace the dispatcher. Great. BOB The point is, take the client out to dinner and ask her to marry you and then maybe we won't have to redo the kitchen cabinets. SAM Why me? What about Jay? JAY Hey, my plate is full. SAM Well, okay. What's the big deal? If she'll forget the new fireplace, I'll marry her. Just point me in the right direction. JONAH Dad, I don't know about this one -- SAM Oh, you're changing your mind -- JONAH No, I'm not, but -- SAM What's the matter with this one? Wouldn't you like to have Imelda Marcos as your mother? JONAH Dad -- Sam cuffs him good-naturedly. SAM We better take the measurements for the new cabinets. He walks away past some workmen, ladders, etc. and starts checking the cross-beams in the ceiling over in another area of the site. Bob follows after him. Jay tosses Jonah a hammer and they start knocking nails into the wall. BOB Sam, if you're not doing anything New Year's -- obviously you're not doing anything New Year's -- we're having some people over, all of them married, not one even remotely interested in playing around. Does that sound great or what? (whistfully) I can't think of the last time I was at a party when anything actually happened. SAM Thanks, but I'll pass. It's kind of a big night. I don't like to leave Jonah alone. CUT TO: SHOT OF HOUSEBOAT BEING TOWED BY A TUG DOWN THE RIVER (OR A SEAPLANE LANDING) - TWILIGHT EXT. HOUSEBOAT - TWILIGHT Jonah watching it. Sam visible in the distance in the kitchen. INT. KITCHEN - TWILIGHT As Sam is busy installing the spice rack. He marks the wall, hammers in the nails, etc. SAM (as he starts putting new spices into the rack, in alphabetical order) Does red pepper go under R or P? JONAH P. (beat) Dad? SAM (absently) What? JONAH I forgot to mention. Jed called -- SAM Just out of curiosity, do you have any friends whose names don't begin with a J? I feel like it was a failure of the imagination on our part naming you Jonah. (looking at the spices) What is marjoram? Does anyone know? JONAH Jed is having a slumber party New Year's Eve and he invited me. A beat. SAM Fine. Fine. JONAH So I can go. SAM Sure. (almost done with the spices) Looking good. JONAH Shouldn't you have used a toggle bolt? SAM I think I know how to have a spice rack. He puts in the last spice. They stand back to admire it. A beat. The rack falls off the wall. The rack itself doesn't break, but about six of the glass jars of spices break. There's paprika and thyme and currying powder, etc. all over the floor along with shards of glass. SAM God fucking dammit! Shit! Fuck. Piss. Jonah bursts into tears. SAM (still angry) I'm sorry. (softening) I'm sorry. He picks up Jonah and holds him. SAM I'm sorry. I'm just -- JONAH Stressed. SAM Right. I'm sorry, Jonah, I'm sorry. And he holds Jonah as Jonah calms down. Sam closes his eyes tight. INT. A TELEVISION SET OF NEW YEAR'S EVE ON TIMES SQUARE And pull back to reveal: INT. HOUSEBOAT - NIGHT Sam, alone, watching the ball drop. He's got a bag of Doritos and a beer. A VOICE Can I have half your beer? SAM Sure. It's Maggie. She takes his bottle of beer and pours half of it into a glass. MAGGIE What did I used to say? Here's looking at you? Here's mud in your eye? SAM Here's to us. You used to say here's to us. (he looks at her and his eyes well with tears) Oh babe. I miss you so much it hurts. He reaches out for her. She's gone. And we hear the television set now counting down to midnight in New York. CUT TO: INT. NEW YEAR'S EVE PARTY IN BALTIMORE - NIGHT The same television show counting down to midnight. Champagne corks popping, etc. And we see Walter and Annie. WALTER Happy New Year, darling. ANNIE Happy New Year. They start to dance. WALTER I was thinking, I have to go up to Boston for the AAP convention and then visit Winston-Hughes about switching over our computers. Why don't we meet in New York for Valentine's Day weekend? ANNIE Walter, I'd love to -- WALTER We'll stay at the Plaza -- ANNIE Go for a walk in Central Park -- WALTER Go to the Symphony -- A beat. ANNIE We will? (beat) The Symphony? (beat) Okay. (beat) I'll take you to the Russian Tea Room for pelmeni. WALTER What is it? ANNIE It's delicious, trust me. WALTER Does it have wheat in it? ANNIE I don't think so. They go on dancing. It's one of those parties where everyone looks so happy and so in love. Annie, however, looks thoughtful. ET. MARINA PARKING AREA - DAY Sam gets out of his car and starts down the dock toward his houseboat. He's carrying a bag of groceries. In the parking lot is a U.S. MAIL TRUCK. EXT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY Sam approaches his boat and a puzzled look comes over his face. A MAILMAN with a sack of mail is standing outside the front door of the houseboat. Jonah is signing a receipt for the mail. JONAH Look at this, Dad. They're all for you -- Sam picks up an envelop and looks at it. It's addressed to Sleepless in Seattle c/o Dr. Marcia Fieldstone, Radio Station KWRS in Chicago. He's stunned. As he signs the receipt: MAILMAN If you're having trouble sleeping, you might want to try drinking a glass of water from the other side. JONAH I thought that was for hiccups. MAILMAN Does it work for hiccups? JONAH For hiccups, a spoonful of sugar, you hold it in your mouth for a minute. MAILMAN Really? The mailman starts back toward the mail truck. Sam and Jonah start toward the door. INT. HOUSEBOAT - NIGHT Sam is in the kitchen making dinner. Jonah is sitting at the table, reading the letters from the stack they found by the door. SAM Just out of curiosity, how did they get our address? JONAH They called and asked for it. (reading) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle. You are the most attractive man I've ever laid ears on." Jonah rolls his eyes, tosses the letter into a pile of rejects, opens another. SAM How did they get our phone number? JONAH You have to give them your phone number or they won't let you go on the air. Sam nods as if this makes perfect sense. JONAH (continues, reading) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle: I am an SWF"-- (to Sam) What is that? SAM Thank God. Something you don't know. It's a single white female. JONAH This is no good. She's looking for someone French. Or Greek. (puzzled, he throws the letter into the reject pile, opens another) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle: I live in Tulsa." Where is that? -- SAM Oklahoma. Do you know where that is? JONAH Somewhere in the middle. SAM I'm not going to think about what they're not teaching you in school. I am not going to think about it. (beat) Generally speaking I think we should rule out people who don't live somewhere near here -- JONAH She's willing to fly anywhere. As Jonah hands Sam the picture. SAM She looks like my third grade teacher. I hated my third grade teacher. Hold it! Wait a minute! She is my third grade teacher! JONAH Dad, you're not taking this seriously. SAM This is not how you do it. (referring to the hamburger) You want this on an English muffin or a bun? JONAH English muffin. How do you do it? SAM You see someone you like, you get a feeling about them, you ask them if they want to have a drink or -- JONAH -- a slice of pizza -- SAM But not dinner necessarily on the first date because by the time you're halfway through dinner you might be sorry you asked them to dinner whereas if it's just a drink, if you like them you can always ask them for dinner but if you don't you can go home if you see what I mean. (beat) I wonder if it still works this way. JONAH It doesn't. They ask you. SAM I'm starting to notice that. INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie and Walter are making love. JONAH (V.O.) If you get a new wife, I guess you'll have sex with her, huh? SAM (V.O.) What do you think? JONAH (V.O.) Will she scratch up your back? SAM (V.O.) What? JONAH'S BEDROOM - NIGHT As Sam puts Jonah to sleep. Jonah is holding his teddy bear while this conversation concludes. JONAH In the movies women are always scratching up guy's back and screaming and stuff. When they're having sex. SAM Whose show was this on? JONAH Jed's got cables. SAM Go to sleep. He kisses him good-night. JONAH Kiss Howard. (he holds out the teddy bear) G'night, Howard. INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie and Walter have just finished making love. Walter falling asleep. Annie lying in bed, with her eyes open. She starts to get out of bed. Puts on a robe. INT. STAIRWAY - HOUSE As Annie comes downstairs in a bathrobe. She opens the door to the street. EXT. STREET - NIGHT As Annie starts to run down the street. CLOSEUP OF: ANNIE, RUNNING And now we widen out to see a misty highway she's running down. Past a sign saying: Seattle Approximately 3,000 miles. Past another sign: Your nerves are shot. And another: Your feet are cold. And another: Will you find love. And another: Before you're cold? And another: Burma Shave. And Annie continues to run, and now we see she's running across a map of the United States -- it's a little like the one we saw in the beginning of the movie -- it's like the famous map of the United States by Saul Steinberg, but instead of being about New York, this one is about Seattle. In the distance, at the very edge of the map, we see two indistinct figures -- a map and a young boy. They start to wave at her, very slowly. Annie's eyes widen. CUT TO: INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie in bed, eyes open. Walter fast asleep. She gets out of bed, puts on her robe (just as she did in the dream sequence). INT. STAIRWELL - NIGHT As Annie comes down the stairs. INT. KITCHEN - HOUSE She turns the light on. Opens the refrigerator. Closes it. Opens it again. Takes out some milk. Sits down at the kitchen table with a bowl, corn flakes, banana. She's about to assemble it when: She sees: THE RADIO She stands up, turns it on to the station Dr. Marcia Fieldstone is on. She sits back down with her corn flakes. ANNOUNCER (V.O.) Up next, "You and Your Emotions" with Dr. Marcia Fieldstone, clinical psychologist and the best friend you never had. (the teaser continues) WOMAN'S VOICE (V.O.) He says he doesn't love me any more. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why do you want to be with someone who doesn't love you? ANOTHER WOMAN (V.O.) Every time I come close to orgasm he stops and goes to make himself a sandwich -- DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why don't you make him a sandwich beforehand? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) When I met my wife, it was so clear. I jus knew. Annie starts at hearing Sam's voice. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) What was it that made you know? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) I don't think I could really describe it. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why not? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) And if I could describe it, it probably wouldn't be on a radio show. (he laughs to himself) But what the hell. It's not one specific thing. It's more of a feeling. (continuing) You touch her for the first time, and suddenly... you're home. It's almost like... magic. Annie closes her eyes. ANNOUNCER (V.O.) We'll be back after this commercial with Dr. Marcia Fieldstone. EXT. BALTIMORE - PEABODY LIBRARY - DAY We see Annie's car pull into a parking space outside the Peabody Library. Annie gets out of the car. INT. LIBRARY - DAY As Annie strides purposefully across the library and enters: INT. ANNIE'S BROTHER TOM'S OFFICE - DAY Annie bursts into Tom's office and walks over to his desk. We barely has time to look up. ANNIE I think I'm going crazy, Tom. I really do. Are you happily married? TOM (completely panicked by the question) What? ANNIE I mean, why did you get married? Was it all fireworks and trumpets and -- TOM (regaining composure) I got married because Betsy said we had to break up or get married. So we get married. ANNIE But when you met her, did you believe she was the only person for you? That in some mystical, cosmic way, it was fated? TOM Annie, when you meet someone and you're attracted to them, it just means that your subconscious is attracted to their subconscious, subconsciously. So what we think of as chemistry is just two neuroses knowing that they are a perfect match. ANNIE I don't even know him. But I'm having all these fantasies about a man I've never met, who lives in Seattle. TOM It rains nine months of the year in Seattle. ANNIE I know, I know. I do not want to move to Seattle. But what I really don't want to do is end up always wondering what might have happened and knowing I could have done something. What do you think? (Tom opens his mouth to say something, but before anything comes out, Annie fills the void) It's just cold feet, isn't it? Everyone panics before they get married, didn't you? TOM Yes, I did. ANNIE Thank you, Tom. I feel so much better just having blown this off. TOM Any time. INT. PEABODY LIBRARY - DAY As Annie walks through it and pushes the door to exit. EXT. A DOOR OPENING TO SEATTLE STREET - DAY Sam and Jay walk out of the Arctic Building onto the street. JAY Sandy has a girlfriend, Clenda ... She's a weightlifter, but it's not like her neck is bigger than her head or anything -- SAM I'm not asking you to set me up, Jay. That's not what I need your help for. I want to know what it's like over there. JAY And that's what I'm trying to tell you. What women are looking over, okay? Pecs and a cute butt. SAM You mean, like, "He has the cutest butt"? Where did I hear that recently? JAY Everywhere. You can't even turn on the news without hearing about how some babe thought some guy's butt was cute. Who the first babe to say this was I don't know, but it caught on. INT. SEATTLE RESTAURANT - DAY Sam and Jay at the counter. Out the window, we can see water. JAY When's the latest time you were out there? SAM (trying to remember) Seventy... eight. JAY Well. Things are different. First, you have to be friends. You have to like each other. Then you neck. This can go on for years. Then you have tests. Then you get to do it with a condom. (beat) The good news is, split the check. SAM I don't think it could let a woman pay for dinner. JAY Great. They'll have a parade in your honor. You'll be Man of the Year in Seattle Magazine. Tira misu. SAM What's tira misu? JAY You'll find out. SAM What is it? JAY You'll see. SAM Some woman is going to want me to do it to her and I'm not going to know what it is. JAY You'll like it. SAM (grimly) This is going to be tougher than I thought. EXT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY EVENING Sam coming home. INT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY EVENING As he enters. It's very quiet. Too quiet. SAM Jonah? No answers. SAM Jonah? He starts to look concerned. SAM Jonah? He goes down the hall to Jonah's room. The door is shut. He opens it. Jonah is sitting on his bed listening to a tape. Earphones on. Next to him is a young girl named JESSICA. SAM Jonah? Jonah takes off the earphones. JONAH Hi, Dad. Dad, this is Jessica. SAM It's nice to meet you, Jessica. JONAH Dad, this is amazing. If you play this backwards, it says "Paul is dead." SAM I know. JONAH How do you know? Sam shrugs, turns to go back down the hall. JONAH Dad, could you close the door? JESSICA H and G. (Sam looks back) Hi and goodbye. Sam closes the door to Jonah's room. Hold on Sam. SAM (to himself) Get a life. INT. HOUSEBOAT - CONTINUOUS As Sam comes downstairs, goes into his office. Closes the door. INT. SAM'S OFFICE AT HOME - CONTINUOUS He goes to the phone. Looks up a number in the phone book. Picks up the phone and dials a number. SAM Hi, Victoria?... It's Sam Baldwin, I don't know if you remember me. Oh? Well, great. I was wondering if you wanted to have a drink... Friday, say... Dinner?... Sure, dinner would be fine. Sure. Dinner. INT. AN UNFINISHED DINNER ON A PLATE IN ANNIE'S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT Annie is watching "An Affair to Remember" on television, tears pouring down her face. Cary Grant is saying: "Are you in love with him?" Deborah Kerr replies: "I'm not now." She's sitting at the dining room table. A dozen pieces of paper litter the table. Annie's been unsuccessfully typing a letter on an old Underwood typewriter. ANNIE Now those were the days when people knew how to be in love. She takes a blast from the wine glass to her right. Becky leans in, refilling the glass. Annie begins to type and sob and look at the TV. BECKY You're a basket case. ANNIE (as she types) They knew it. Time, distance, nothing could separate them. Because they knew. It was right. It was real. It was... BECKY ... movie. (beat) That's your problem. You don't want to be in love. You want to be in love in a movie. (beat) Read it to me. ANNIE (reading her letter) "Dear Sleepless and Son..." BECKY It sounds like the name of a mattress store -- ANNIE "I am not the sort of person who listens to call-in radio shows" -- Becky flops on the couch. BECKY And this woman is a writer! That's what everyone writes at the beginning of letters to strangers. ANNIE I know that. You think I don't know that? "I know that's a dumb way to begin, but it's the only way I can think of to convey what happened to me the other night when I heard the two of you on the radio. On the other hand, maybe I'm just losing my mind." BECKY You are. You're losing your mind. What about Walter? ANNIE I'm going to marry Walter. I just have to get this out of my system. BECKY Right. ANNIE I should say something in this about magic. BECKY What? ANNIE I don't know. I mean, what if I never meet him? What if this man is my destiny and I never meet him? BECKY Your destiny can be your doom. Look at me and Rick. ANNIE (typing some more) "I want to meet you..." Cary Grant says: "How about the top of the Empire State Building?" BECKY "On top of the Empire State Building at sunset on Valentine's Day." ANNIE Good. Perfect. I'll be in New York with Walter, I can squeeze it in. She types in Becky's idea. Then she takes the piece of paper out of the typewriter, smashes it into a ball and tosses it up in the air and into Becky's lap. BECKY You want to hear about destiny? If my husband hadn't gone on a diet, which caused me to leave him, I would never have been on that flight to

father

How many times the word 'father' appears in the text?

what. SHE'S CRYING. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Well, it's time to wrap up, folks -- A FIGURE appears at the passenger side window, which Annie doesn't notice. She's wiping the tears away with her hand. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) We hope you'll call again soon. The figure TAPS on the window -- WALTER (muffled, outside car) Annie? DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) ... and let us know how it's going. -- and taps again. WALTER Annie? She turns. He's pointing at the locked door. She searches for the button. Finally finds it so that Walter can open the door. ANNIE I'm sorry, Walter. I just heard the most amazing thing on the radio. They start toward the front door, Walter and Annie carrying presents, an overnight bag of Annie's. ANNIE People call up these shows and you can't believe the stuff they say. It's the end of privacy as we know it, this country is just one big global village with everyone out there going blah blah blah -- As they enter the house, we hear Silent Night and we see a Christmas tree, glittering with lights. CUT TO: A CHRISTMAS TREE GLITTERING WITH LIGHTS as we pull back to reveal: INT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY MORNING As Jonah opens his presents under the tree and we cut from gift to gift: A BROOKS ROBINSON BASEBALL GLOVE which Jonah loves and which he puts on his hand and keeps on while continuing to open: A TIE which mystifies him, but he hangs it around his neck. A PLAID SHIRT A MAP OF THE UNITED STATES -- the kind that's used in schoolrooms that pulls down from a roller. And now Sam brings out a long narrow present from behind the door and Jonah opens -- A NEW FISHING ROD EXT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY As Jonah poses with all his Christmas presents -- his tie hanging around his neck over his bathrobe and new plaid shirt, his baseball glove, fishing rod -- as Sam takes his picture. INT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY (OR POSSIBLY EXT. DECK HOUSEBOAT) Sam opens his present from Jonah, which is something he made in woodworking class. SAM The hopes are perfect -- beautiful, identical, smooth -- and they are for something really amazing I feel it in my bones -- JONAH It's a spice rack. SAM We desperately need a spice rack. Desperately. CUT TO: INT. KITCHEN OF HOUSEBOAT - DAY SAM And we desperately need spices. Where Sam is putting the spices they have -- pepper, salt, paprika and oregano -- into the spice rack, which has room for at least twenty more. Jonah is methodically making pancakes. JONAH Dad? About last night? SAM It's never happening again. Right? JONAH Right. There's a knock on the door. SAM Then it never happened. Sam goes to answer the door. TWO YOUNG WOMEN are standing there. Both are wearing quite a lot of Spandex. One of them is named LULU. It says so on her jacket. The other is JOBETH. SAM Hi. LULU Hi. Sam? SAM Yes? LULU (looking in and seeing Jonah) You must be Jonah. Jonah nods. LULU (to her friend) See. I told you. Sam and Jonah. I'm LULU. This is JoBeth. JoBeth nods, and continues to nod as Lulu talks. LULU (continues) We live two piers over, don't we? Number 12, right? We're having like a really neat open house today from like four to whenever if you care to stop by. SAM Thanks, but... we've got plans. LULU Well, here's the number. If you ever find yourself Sleepless, give us a call. We also... do babysitting. She winks. JoBeth nods. Sam nods. Lulu waves goodbye, and she and JoBeth sashay off down the dock. Jonah closes the door and turns to Sam. JONAH Not. SAM My feelings exactly. EXT. LAKE UNION MARINA - EARLY MORNING Jonah and Sam are fishing off a dingy. SAM How many people do you think heard that thing last night? JONAH It plays in 50 states. SAM What?! JONAH Nobody else is going to know it was us. SAM You're right. (after a beat) You better hope so. EXT. BALTIMORE SUN - MORNING INT. LIFESTYLE SECTION - DAY A large open newsroom-type space with REPORTERS at computers. Around the perimeter are glass-partitioned offices and meeting rooms. Inside one of the offices is BECKY, the Lifestyle editor of the Sun. She's at a table with Annie, now a reporter for the section, and two other colleagues -- KEITH and WYATT. Wyatt is playing Gameboy. KEITH This man sells the greatest soup you've ever eaten, there's a line around the block, and he is, I am not kidding, the meanest man in America. (beat) I feel strongly about this, Becky. This is not just about soup. BECKY Do it. What else? WYATT New Year's Eve. Please don't make me write it. Becky looks at Wyatt, notices the Gameboy. BECKY Wyatt, I do not mean to remind you of your mother, but if you don't put that game away, no TV for a week. WYATT (pushing it to the center of the table) Would someone look this up, don't tell me where. Becky is riffling through some papers on the table, among which are some tearsheets from the Associated Press wire. BECKY Listen to this. Phone service in the greater Chicago area was tied up for two hours Christmas Eve because some kid called a phone-in show to get a wife for his father. Two thousand women called in for the number. KEITH Jesus. ANNIE I heard it. This kid calls up and says my dad needs a wife and I'm talking to myself in the car saying, this is completely disgusting, you're taking advantage of a child, and then the father gets on and this shrinkette says, do you want to talk about it? And he says no as a matter of fact I don't, and I am saying, bravo! Right on! Don't talk to her, it's none of her business -- (she's completely into this story now) -- and then suddenly, for no reason at all, he's talking about how much he loved his wife, and how he just -- (she snaps her fingers) fell in love with her and I am crying. Me. A tear is actually rolling down my face. It was like what happens when I watch those phone company ads. I don't have to see the whole ad, I just have to see the part where the daughter gives her mother a refrigerator with a big red bow on it, have you seen that one? Everyone looks at her. Apparently she's finished. BECKY You should write something about this. ANNIE About what? BECKY Whatever it is. KEITH (waving the AP story) What it is is, there are a lot of desperate women out there looking for love. WYATT Especially over a certain age. Annie is looking at them. This isn't what she was talking about at all, although she isn't quite sure what she was talking about. KEITH It is easier to be killed by a terrorist after the age of 40 than it is to get married -- ANNIE That is not true. That statistic is not true. BECKY It's not true, but it feels true. ANNIE There's practically a whole book about how that statistic is not true -- WYATT Calm down. You brought it up -- ANNIE (sharply) I did not, Wyatt. A beat, everyone pauses. Things are a little out of hand. BECKY So where were we? WYATT New Year's Eve. I'll do it, okay? BECKY Okay. ANNIE If someone is a widower, why do they say he was widowed? Why don't they say he was widowered? Everyone looks at her strangely. ANNIE I was jus wondering. EXT. BALTIMORE STREET - DAY Annie walking purposefully, followed by Becky, hurrying to catch up. BECKY What was that about up there? ANNIE What was what? BECKY What's with you? ANNIE Nothing's with me. INT. BALTIMORE RESTAURANT - DAY Becky and Annie are having lunch. BECKY "Sleepless in Seattle"? ANNIE That's what she called him on the show. Because he can't sleep. BECKY And now 2,000 women want his number. The guy could be a crackhead, a psychopath, a flasher, a junkie, a transvestite, a chain-saw murderer, or someone really sick, like Rick. ANNIE Actually, he sounded nice. BECKY Oh? Oh, really? Now we're getting down to it. ANNIE Not. She reaches down for her purse. INT/EXT. REMODEL HOUSE - DAY A hand reaching down to pick something up -- the Seattle newspaper, and PULL BACK TO REVEAL: Sam carrying the paper down/up the stairs to an old house that's being renovated. Jonah, who is playing Cameboy, is walking along with him. WORKMEN are active everywhere. Dry wall going up, cabinets being installed, tile being set. One of Sam's partners, BOB LANGMAN, is walking with him, and JAY MATHEWS, the on-site supervisor, is waiting for them in an unfinished doorframe. Bob is hefty, older, always eating something dietetic. Jay is younger and always wears as little as possible, even in cold weather. BOB LANGMAN Now she wants a circular stairwell off the den. JAY (to Jonah, in b.g.) Punch me, punch in right here. (points to his stomach; Jonah punches) And she wants the Sub-Zero with the side-by-side doors -- BOB Which means -- SAM The cabinets have to be redone -- They all nod at each other. The woman has been a nightmare. BOB So we thought -- JAY Since you're on the make again -- Sam looks at Jonah -- SAM Great. This is great. The whole town knows. Just out of curiosity, how do you two know? BOB Grace heard it. SAM Grace the dispatcher. Great. BOB The point is, take the client out to dinner and ask her to marry you and then maybe we won't have to redo the kitchen cabinets. SAM Why me? What about Jay? JAY Hey, my plate is full. SAM Well, okay. What's the big deal? If she'll forget the new fireplace, I'll marry her. Just point me in the right direction. JONAH Dad, I don't know about this one -- SAM Oh, you're changing your mind -- JONAH No, I'm not, but -- SAM What's the matter with this one? Wouldn't you like to have Imelda Marcos as your mother? JONAH Dad -- Sam cuffs him good-naturedly. SAM We better take the measurements for the new cabinets. He walks away past some workmen, ladders, etc. and starts checking the cross-beams in the ceiling over in another area of the site. Bob follows after him. Jay tosses Jonah a hammer and they start knocking nails into the wall. BOB Sam, if you're not doing anything New Year's -- obviously you're not doing anything New Year's -- we're having some people over, all of them married, not one even remotely interested in playing around. Does that sound great or what? (whistfully) I can't think of the last time I was at a party when anything actually happened. SAM Thanks, but I'll pass. It's kind of a big night. I don't like to leave Jonah alone. CUT TO: SHOT OF HOUSEBOAT BEING TOWED BY A TUG DOWN THE RIVER (OR A SEAPLANE LANDING) - TWILIGHT EXT. HOUSEBOAT - TWILIGHT Jonah watching it. Sam visible in the distance in the kitchen. INT. KITCHEN - TWILIGHT As Sam is busy installing the spice rack. He marks the wall, hammers in the nails, etc. SAM (as he starts putting new spices into the rack, in alphabetical order) Does red pepper go under R or P? JONAH P. (beat) Dad? SAM (absently) What? JONAH I forgot to mention. Jed called -- SAM Just out of curiosity, do you have any friends whose names don't begin with a J? I feel like it was a failure of the imagination on our part naming you Jonah. (looking at the spices) What is marjoram? Does anyone know? JONAH Jed is having a slumber party New Year's Eve and he invited me. A beat. SAM Fine. Fine. JONAH So I can go. SAM Sure. (almost done with the spices) Looking good. JONAH Shouldn't you have used a toggle bolt? SAM I think I know how to have a spice rack. He puts in the last spice. They stand back to admire it. A beat. The rack falls off the wall. The rack itself doesn't break, but about six of the glass jars of spices break. There's paprika and thyme and currying powder, etc. all over the floor along with shards of glass. SAM God fucking dammit! Shit! Fuck. Piss. Jonah bursts into tears. SAM (still angry) I'm sorry. (softening) I'm sorry. He picks up Jonah and holds him. SAM I'm sorry. I'm just -- JONAH Stressed. SAM Right. I'm sorry, Jonah, I'm sorry. And he holds Jonah as Jonah calms down. Sam closes his eyes tight. INT. A TELEVISION SET OF NEW YEAR'S EVE ON TIMES SQUARE And pull back to reveal: INT. HOUSEBOAT - NIGHT Sam, alone, watching the ball drop. He's got a bag of Doritos and a beer. A VOICE Can I have half your beer? SAM Sure. It's Maggie. She takes his bottle of beer and pours half of it into a glass. MAGGIE What did I used to say? Here's looking at you? Here's mud in your eye? SAM Here's to us. You used to say here's to us. (he looks at her and his eyes well with tears) Oh babe. I miss you so much it hurts. He reaches out for her. She's gone. And we hear the television set now counting down to midnight in New York. CUT TO: INT. NEW YEAR'S EVE PARTY IN BALTIMORE - NIGHT The same television show counting down to midnight. Champagne corks popping, etc. And we see Walter and Annie. WALTER Happy New Year, darling. ANNIE Happy New Year. They start to dance. WALTER I was thinking, I have to go up to Boston for the AAP convention and then visit Winston-Hughes about switching over our computers. Why don't we meet in New York for Valentine's Day weekend? ANNIE Walter, I'd love to -- WALTER We'll stay at the Plaza -- ANNIE Go for a walk in Central Park -- WALTER Go to the Symphony -- A beat. ANNIE We will? (beat) The Symphony? (beat) Okay. (beat) I'll take you to the Russian Tea Room for pelmeni. WALTER What is it? ANNIE It's delicious, trust me. WALTER Does it have wheat in it? ANNIE I don't think so. They go on dancing. It's one of those parties where everyone looks so happy and so in love. Annie, however, looks thoughtful. ET. MARINA PARKING AREA - DAY Sam gets out of his car and starts down the dock toward his houseboat. He's carrying a bag of groceries. In the parking lot is a U.S. MAIL TRUCK. EXT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY Sam approaches his boat and a puzzled look comes over his face. A MAILMAN with a sack of mail is standing outside the front door of the houseboat. Jonah is signing a receipt for the mail. JONAH Look at this, Dad. They're all for you -- Sam picks up an envelop and looks at it. It's addressed to Sleepless in Seattle c/o Dr. Marcia Fieldstone, Radio Station KWRS in Chicago. He's stunned. As he signs the receipt: MAILMAN If you're having trouble sleeping, you might want to try drinking a glass of water from the other side. JONAH I thought that was for hiccups. MAILMAN Does it work for hiccups? JONAH For hiccups, a spoonful of sugar, you hold it in your mouth for a minute. MAILMAN Really? The mailman starts back toward the mail truck. Sam and Jonah start toward the door. INT. HOUSEBOAT - NIGHT Sam is in the kitchen making dinner. Jonah is sitting at the table, reading the letters from the stack they found by the door. SAM Just out of curiosity, how did they get our address? JONAH They called and asked for it. (reading) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle. You are the most attractive man I've ever laid ears on." Jonah rolls his eyes, tosses the letter into a pile of rejects, opens another. SAM How did they get our phone number? JONAH You have to give them your phone number or they won't let you go on the air. Sam nods as if this makes perfect sense. JONAH (continues, reading) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle: I am an SWF"-- (to Sam) What is that? SAM Thank God. Something you don't know. It's a single white female. JONAH This is no good. She's looking for someone French. Or Greek. (puzzled, he throws the letter into the reject pile, opens another) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle: I live in Tulsa." Where is that? -- SAM Oklahoma. Do you know where that is? JONAH Somewhere in the middle. SAM I'm not going to think about what they're not teaching you in school. I am not going to think about it. (beat) Generally speaking I think we should rule out people who don't live somewhere near here -- JONAH She's willing to fly anywhere. As Jonah hands Sam the picture. SAM She looks like my third grade teacher. I hated my third grade teacher. Hold it! Wait a minute! She is my third grade teacher! JONAH Dad, you're not taking this seriously. SAM This is not how you do it. (referring to the hamburger) You want this on an English muffin or a bun? JONAH English muffin. How do you do it? SAM You see someone you like, you get a feeling about them, you ask them if they want to have a drink or -- JONAH -- a slice of pizza -- SAM But not dinner necessarily on the first date because by the time you're halfway through dinner you might be sorry you asked them to dinner whereas if it's just a drink, if you like them you can always ask them for dinner but if you don't you can go home if you see what I mean. (beat) I wonder if it still works this way. JONAH It doesn't. They ask you. SAM I'm starting to notice that. INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie and Walter are making love. JONAH (V.O.) If you get a new wife, I guess you'll have sex with her, huh? SAM (V.O.) What do you think? JONAH (V.O.) Will she scratch up your back? SAM (V.O.) What? JONAH'S BEDROOM - NIGHT As Sam puts Jonah to sleep. Jonah is holding his teddy bear while this conversation concludes. JONAH In the movies women are always scratching up guy's back and screaming and stuff. When they're having sex. SAM Whose show was this on? JONAH Jed's got cables. SAM Go to sleep. He kisses him good-night. JONAH Kiss Howard. (he holds out the teddy bear) G'night, Howard. INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie and Walter have just finished making love. Walter falling asleep. Annie lying in bed, with her eyes open. She starts to get out of bed. Puts on a robe. INT. STAIRWAY - HOUSE As Annie comes downstairs in a bathrobe. She opens the door to the street. EXT. STREET - NIGHT As Annie starts to run down the street. CLOSEUP OF: ANNIE, RUNNING And now we widen out to see a misty highway she's running down. Past a sign saying: Seattle Approximately 3,000 miles. Past another sign: Your nerves are shot. And another: Your feet are cold. And another: Will you find love. And another: Before you're cold? And another: Burma Shave. And Annie continues to run, and now we see she's running across a map of the United States -- it's a little like the one we saw in the beginning of the movie -- it's like the famous map of the United States by Saul Steinberg, but instead of being about New York, this one is about Seattle. In the distance, at the very edge of the map, we see two indistinct figures -- a map and a young boy. They start to wave at her, very slowly. Annie's eyes widen. CUT TO: INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie in bed, eyes open. Walter fast asleep. She gets out of bed, puts on her robe (just as she did in the dream sequence). INT. STAIRWELL - NIGHT As Annie comes down the stairs. INT. KITCHEN - HOUSE She turns the light on. Opens the refrigerator. Closes it. Opens it again. Takes out some milk. Sits down at the kitchen table with a bowl, corn flakes, banana. She's about to assemble it when: She sees: THE RADIO She stands up, turns it on to the station Dr. Marcia Fieldstone is on. She sits back down with her corn flakes. ANNOUNCER (V.O.) Up next, "You and Your Emotions" with Dr. Marcia Fieldstone, clinical psychologist and the best friend you never had. (the teaser continues) WOMAN'S VOICE (V.O.) He says he doesn't love me any more. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why do you want to be with someone who doesn't love you? ANOTHER WOMAN (V.O.) Every time I come close to orgasm he stops and goes to make himself a sandwich -- DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why don't you make him a sandwich beforehand? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) When I met my wife, it was so clear. I jus knew. Annie starts at hearing Sam's voice. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) What was it that made you know? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) I don't think I could really describe it. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why not? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) And if I could describe it, it probably wouldn't be on a radio show. (he laughs to himself) But what the hell. It's not one specific thing. It's more of a feeling. (continuing) You touch her for the first time, and suddenly... you're home. It's almost like... magic. Annie closes her eyes. ANNOUNCER (V.O.) We'll be back after this commercial with Dr. Marcia Fieldstone. EXT. BALTIMORE - PEABODY LIBRARY - DAY We see Annie's car pull into a parking space outside the Peabody Library. Annie gets out of the car. INT. LIBRARY - DAY As Annie strides purposefully across the library and enters: INT. ANNIE'S BROTHER TOM'S OFFICE - DAY Annie bursts into Tom's office and walks over to his desk. We barely has time to look up. ANNIE I think I'm going crazy, Tom. I really do. Are you happily married? TOM (completely panicked by the question) What? ANNIE I mean, why did you get married? Was it all fireworks and trumpets and -- TOM (regaining composure) I got married because Betsy said we had to break up or get married. So we get married. ANNIE But when you met her, did you believe she was the only person for you? That in some mystical, cosmic way, it was fated? TOM Annie, when you meet someone and you're attracted to them, it just means that your subconscious is attracted to their subconscious, subconsciously. So what we think of as chemistry is just two neuroses knowing that they are a perfect match. ANNIE I don't even know him. But I'm having all these fantasies about a man I've never met, who lives in Seattle. TOM It rains nine months of the year in Seattle. ANNIE I know, I know. I do not want to move to Seattle. But what I really don't want to do is end up always wondering what might have happened and knowing I could have done something. What do you think? (Tom opens his mouth to say something, but before anything comes out, Annie fills the void) It's just cold feet, isn't it? Everyone panics before they get married, didn't you? TOM Yes, I did. ANNIE Thank you, Tom. I feel so much better just having blown this off. TOM Any time. INT. PEABODY LIBRARY - DAY As Annie walks through it and pushes the door to exit. EXT. A DOOR OPENING TO SEATTLE STREET - DAY Sam and Jay walk out of the Arctic Building onto the street. JAY Sandy has a girlfriend, Clenda ... She's a weightlifter, but it's not like her neck is bigger than her head or anything -- SAM I'm not asking you to set me up, Jay. That's not what I need your help for. I want to know what it's like over there. JAY And that's what I'm trying to tell you. What women are looking over, okay? Pecs and a cute butt. SAM You mean, like, "He has the cutest butt"? Where did I hear that recently? JAY Everywhere. You can't even turn on the news without hearing about how some babe thought some guy's butt was cute. Who the first babe to say this was I don't know, but it caught on. INT. SEATTLE RESTAURANT - DAY Sam and Jay at the counter. Out the window, we can see water. JAY When's the latest time you were out there? SAM (trying to remember) Seventy... eight. JAY Well. Things are different. First, you have to be friends. You have to like each other. Then you neck. This can go on for years. Then you have tests. Then you get to do it with a condom. (beat) The good news is, split the check. SAM I don't think it could let a woman pay for dinner. JAY Great. They'll have a parade in your honor. You'll be Man of the Year in Seattle Magazine. Tira misu. SAM What's tira misu? JAY You'll find out. SAM What is it? JAY You'll see. SAM Some woman is going to want me to do it to her and I'm not going to know what it is. JAY You'll like it. SAM (grimly) This is going to be tougher than I thought. EXT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY EVENING Sam coming home. INT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY EVENING As he enters. It's very quiet. Too quiet. SAM Jonah? No answers. SAM Jonah? He starts to look concerned. SAM Jonah? He goes down the hall to Jonah's room. The door is shut. He opens it. Jonah is sitting on his bed listening to a tape. Earphones on. Next to him is a young girl named JESSICA. SAM Jonah? Jonah takes off the earphones. JONAH Hi, Dad. Dad, this is Jessica. SAM It's nice to meet you, Jessica. JONAH Dad, this is amazing. If you play this backwards, it says "Paul is dead." SAM I know. JONAH How do you know? Sam shrugs, turns to go back down the hall. JONAH Dad, could you close the door? JESSICA H and G. (Sam looks back) Hi and goodbye. Sam closes the door to Jonah's room. Hold on Sam. SAM (to himself) Get a life. INT. HOUSEBOAT - CONTINUOUS As Sam comes downstairs, goes into his office. Closes the door. INT. SAM'S OFFICE AT HOME - CONTINUOUS He goes to the phone. Looks up a number in the phone book. Picks up the phone and dials a number. SAM Hi, Victoria?... It's Sam Baldwin, I don't know if you remember me. Oh? Well, great. I was wondering if you wanted to have a drink... Friday, say... Dinner?... Sure, dinner would be fine. Sure. Dinner. INT. AN UNFINISHED DINNER ON A PLATE IN ANNIE'S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT Annie is watching "An Affair to Remember" on television, tears pouring down her face. Cary Grant is saying: "Are you in love with him?" Deborah Kerr replies: "I'm not now." She's sitting at the dining room table. A dozen pieces of paper litter the table. Annie's been unsuccessfully typing a letter on an old Underwood typewriter. ANNIE Now those were the days when people knew how to be in love. She takes a blast from the wine glass to her right. Becky leans in, refilling the glass. Annie begins to type and sob and look at the TV. BECKY You're a basket case. ANNIE (as she types) They knew it. Time, distance, nothing could separate them. Because they knew. It was right. It was real. It was... BECKY ... movie. (beat) That's your problem. You don't want to be in love. You want to be in love in a movie. (beat) Read it to me. ANNIE (reading her letter) "Dear Sleepless and Son..." BECKY It sounds like the name of a mattress store -- ANNIE "I am not the sort of person who listens to call-in radio shows" -- Becky flops on the couch. BECKY And this woman is a writer! That's what everyone writes at the beginning of letters to strangers. ANNIE I know that. You think I don't know that? "I know that's a dumb way to begin, but it's the only way I can think of to convey what happened to me the other night when I heard the two of you on the radio. On the other hand, maybe I'm just losing my mind." BECKY You are. You're losing your mind. What about Walter? ANNIE I'm going to marry Walter. I just have to get this out of my system. BECKY Right. ANNIE I should say something in this about magic. BECKY What? ANNIE I don't know. I mean, what if I never meet him? What if this man is my destiny and I never meet him? BECKY Your destiny can be your doom. Look at me and Rick. ANNIE (typing some more) "I want to meet you..." Cary Grant says: "How about the top of the Empire State Building?" BECKY "On top of the Empire State Building at sunset on Valentine's Day." ANNIE Good. Perfect. I'll be in New York with Walter, I can squeeze it in. She types in Becky's idea. Then she takes the piece of paper out of the typewriter, smashes it into a ball and tosses it up in the air and into Becky's lap. BECKY You want to hear about destiny? If my husband hadn't gone on a diet, which caused me to leave him, I would never have been on that flight to

playing

How many times the word 'playing' appears in the text?

what. SHE'S CRYING. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Well, it's time to wrap up, folks -- A FIGURE appears at the passenger side window, which Annie doesn't notice. She's wiping the tears away with her hand. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) We hope you'll call again soon. The figure TAPS on the window -- WALTER (muffled, outside car) Annie? DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) ... and let us know how it's going. -- and taps again. WALTER Annie? She turns. He's pointing at the locked door. She searches for the button. Finally finds it so that Walter can open the door. ANNIE I'm sorry, Walter. I just heard the most amazing thing on the radio. They start toward the front door, Walter and Annie carrying presents, an overnight bag of Annie's. ANNIE People call up these shows and you can't believe the stuff they say. It's the end of privacy as we know it, this country is just one big global village with everyone out there going blah blah blah -- As they enter the house, we hear Silent Night and we see a Christmas tree, glittering with lights. CUT TO: A CHRISTMAS TREE GLITTERING WITH LIGHTS as we pull back to reveal: INT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY MORNING As Jonah opens his presents under the tree and we cut from gift to gift: A BROOKS ROBINSON BASEBALL GLOVE which Jonah loves and which he puts on his hand and keeps on while continuing to open: A TIE which mystifies him, but he hangs it around his neck. A PLAID SHIRT A MAP OF THE UNITED STATES -- the kind that's used in schoolrooms that pulls down from a roller. And now Sam brings out a long narrow present from behind the door and Jonah opens -- A NEW FISHING ROD EXT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY As Jonah poses with all his Christmas presents -- his tie hanging around his neck over his bathrobe and new plaid shirt, his baseball glove, fishing rod -- as Sam takes his picture. INT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY (OR POSSIBLY EXT. DECK HOUSEBOAT) Sam opens his present from Jonah, which is something he made in woodworking class. SAM The hopes are perfect -- beautiful, identical, smooth -- and they are for something really amazing I feel it in my bones -- JONAH It's a spice rack. SAM We desperately need a spice rack. Desperately. CUT TO: INT. KITCHEN OF HOUSEBOAT - DAY SAM And we desperately need spices. Where Sam is putting the spices they have -- pepper, salt, paprika and oregano -- into the spice rack, which has room for at least twenty more. Jonah is methodically making pancakes. JONAH Dad? About last night? SAM It's never happening again. Right? JONAH Right. There's a knock on the door. SAM Then it never happened. Sam goes to answer the door. TWO YOUNG WOMEN are standing there. Both are wearing quite a lot of Spandex. One of them is named LULU. It says so on her jacket. The other is JOBETH. SAM Hi. LULU Hi. Sam? SAM Yes? LULU (looking in and seeing Jonah) You must be Jonah. Jonah nods. LULU (to her friend) See. I told you. Sam and Jonah. I'm LULU. This is JoBeth. JoBeth nods, and continues to nod as Lulu talks. LULU (continues) We live two piers over, don't we? Number 12, right? We're having like a really neat open house today from like four to whenever if you care to stop by. SAM Thanks, but... we've got plans. LULU Well, here's the number. If you ever find yourself Sleepless, give us a call. We also... do babysitting. She winks. JoBeth nods. Sam nods. Lulu waves goodbye, and she and JoBeth sashay off down the dock. Jonah closes the door and turns to Sam. JONAH Not. SAM My feelings exactly. EXT. LAKE UNION MARINA - EARLY MORNING Jonah and Sam are fishing off a dingy. SAM How many people do you think heard that thing last night? JONAH It plays in 50 states. SAM What?! JONAH Nobody else is going to know it was us. SAM You're right. (after a beat) You better hope so. EXT. BALTIMORE SUN - MORNING INT. LIFESTYLE SECTION - DAY A large open newsroom-type space with REPORTERS at computers. Around the perimeter are glass-partitioned offices and meeting rooms. Inside one of the offices is BECKY, the Lifestyle editor of the Sun. She's at a table with Annie, now a reporter for the section, and two other colleagues -- KEITH and WYATT. Wyatt is playing Gameboy. KEITH This man sells the greatest soup you've ever eaten, there's a line around the block, and he is, I am not kidding, the meanest man in America. (beat) I feel strongly about this, Becky. This is not just about soup. BECKY Do it. What else? WYATT New Year's Eve. Please don't make me write it. Becky looks at Wyatt, notices the Gameboy. BECKY Wyatt, I do not mean to remind you of your mother, but if you don't put that game away, no TV for a week. WYATT (pushing it to the center of the table) Would someone look this up, don't tell me where. Becky is riffling through some papers on the table, among which are some tearsheets from the Associated Press wire. BECKY Listen to this. Phone service in the greater Chicago area was tied up for two hours Christmas Eve because some kid called a phone-in show to get a wife for his father. Two thousand women called in for the number. KEITH Jesus. ANNIE I heard it. This kid calls up and says my dad needs a wife and I'm talking to myself in the car saying, this is completely disgusting, you're taking advantage of a child, and then the father gets on and this shrinkette says, do you want to talk about it? And he says no as a matter of fact I don't, and I am saying, bravo! Right on! Don't talk to her, it's none of her business -- (she's completely into this story now) -- and then suddenly, for no reason at all, he's talking about how much he loved his wife, and how he just -- (she snaps her fingers) fell in love with her and I am crying. Me. A tear is actually rolling down my face. It was like what happens when I watch those phone company ads. I don't have to see the whole ad, I just have to see the part where the daughter gives her mother a refrigerator with a big red bow on it, have you seen that one? Everyone looks at her. Apparently she's finished. BECKY You should write something about this. ANNIE About what? BECKY Whatever it is. KEITH (waving the AP story) What it is is, there are a lot of desperate women out there looking for love. WYATT Especially over a certain age. Annie is looking at them. This isn't what she was talking about at all, although she isn't quite sure what she was talking about. KEITH It is easier to be killed by a terrorist after the age of 40 than it is to get married -- ANNIE That is not true. That statistic is not true. BECKY It's not true, but it feels true. ANNIE There's practically a whole book about how that statistic is not true -- WYATT Calm down. You brought it up -- ANNIE (sharply) I did not, Wyatt. A beat, everyone pauses. Things are a little out of hand. BECKY So where were we? WYATT New Year's Eve. I'll do it, okay? BECKY Okay. ANNIE If someone is a widower, why do they say he was widowed? Why don't they say he was widowered? Everyone looks at her strangely. ANNIE I was jus wondering. EXT. BALTIMORE STREET - DAY Annie walking purposefully, followed by Becky, hurrying to catch up. BECKY What was that about up there? ANNIE What was what? BECKY What's with you? ANNIE Nothing's with me. INT. BALTIMORE RESTAURANT - DAY Becky and Annie are having lunch. BECKY "Sleepless in Seattle"? ANNIE That's what she called him on the show. Because he can't sleep. BECKY And now 2,000 women want his number. The guy could be a crackhead, a psychopath, a flasher, a junkie, a transvestite, a chain-saw murderer, or someone really sick, like Rick. ANNIE Actually, he sounded nice. BECKY Oh? Oh, really? Now we're getting down to it. ANNIE Not. She reaches down for her purse. INT/EXT. REMODEL HOUSE - DAY A hand reaching down to pick something up -- the Seattle newspaper, and PULL BACK TO REVEAL: Sam carrying the paper down/up the stairs to an old house that's being renovated. Jonah, who is playing Cameboy, is walking along with him. WORKMEN are active everywhere. Dry wall going up, cabinets being installed, tile being set. One of Sam's partners, BOB LANGMAN, is walking with him, and JAY MATHEWS, the on-site supervisor, is waiting for them in an unfinished doorframe. Bob is hefty, older, always eating something dietetic. Jay is younger and always wears as little as possible, even in cold weather. BOB LANGMAN Now she wants a circular stairwell off the den. JAY (to Jonah, in b.g.) Punch me, punch in right here. (points to his stomach; Jonah punches) And she wants the Sub-Zero with the side-by-side doors -- BOB Which means -- SAM The cabinets have to be redone -- They all nod at each other. The woman has been a nightmare. BOB So we thought -- JAY Since you're on the make again -- Sam looks at Jonah -- SAM Great. This is great. The whole town knows. Just out of curiosity, how do you two know? BOB Grace heard it. SAM Grace the dispatcher. Great. BOB The point is, take the client out to dinner and ask her to marry you and then maybe we won't have to redo the kitchen cabinets. SAM Why me? What about Jay? JAY Hey, my plate is full. SAM Well, okay. What's the big deal? If she'll forget the new fireplace, I'll marry her. Just point me in the right direction. JONAH Dad, I don't know about this one -- SAM Oh, you're changing your mind -- JONAH No, I'm not, but -- SAM What's the matter with this one? Wouldn't you like to have Imelda Marcos as your mother? JONAH Dad -- Sam cuffs him good-naturedly. SAM We better take the measurements for the new cabinets. He walks away past some workmen, ladders, etc. and starts checking the cross-beams in the ceiling over in another area of the site. Bob follows after him. Jay tosses Jonah a hammer and they start knocking nails into the wall. BOB Sam, if you're not doing anything New Year's -- obviously you're not doing anything New Year's -- we're having some people over, all of them married, not one even remotely interested in playing around. Does that sound great or what? (whistfully) I can't think of the last time I was at a party when anything actually happened. SAM Thanks, but I'll pass. It's kind of a big night. I don't like to leave Jonah alone. CUT TO: SHOT OF HOUSEBOAT BEING TOWED BY A TUG DOWN THE RIVER (OR A SEAPLANE LANDING) - TWILIGHT EXT. HOUSEBOAT - TWILIGHT Jonah watching it. Sam visible in the distance in the kitchen. INT. KITCHEN - TWILIGHT As Sam is busy installing the spice rack. He marks the wall, hammers in the nails, etc. SAM (as he starts putting new spices into the rack, in alphabetical order) Does red pepper go under R or P? JONAH P. (beat) Dad? SAM (absently) What? JONAH I forgot to mention. Jed called -- SAM Just out of curiosity, do you have any friends whose names don't begin with a J? I feel like it was a failure of the imagination on our part naming you Jonah. (looking at the spices) What is marjoram? Does anyone know? JONAH Jed is having a slumber party New Year's Eve and he invited me. A beat. SAM Fine. Fine. JONAH So I can go. SAM Sure. (almost done with the spices) Looking good. JONAH Shouldn't you have used a toggle bolt? SAM I think I know how to have a spice rack. He puts in the last spice. They stand back to admire it. A beat. The rack falls off the wall. The rack itself doesn't break, but about six of the glass jars of spices break. There's paprika and thyme and currying powder, etc. all over the floor along with shards of glass. SAM God fucking dammit! Shit! Fuck. Piss. Jonah bursts into tears. SAM (still angry) I'm sorry. (softening) I'm sorry. He picks up Jonah and holds him. SAM I'm sorry. I'm just -- JONAH Stressed. SAM Right. I'm sorry, Jonah, I'm sorry. And he holds Jonah as Jonah calms down. Sam closes his eyes tight. INT. A TELEVISION SET OF NEW YEAR'S EVE ON TIMES SQUARE And pull back to reveal: INT. HOUSEBOAT - NIGHT Sam, alone, watching the ball drop. He's got a bag of Doritos and a beer. A VOICE Can I have half your beer? SAM Sure. It's Maggie. She takes his bottle of beer and pours half of it into a glass. MAGGIE What did I used to say? Here's looking at you? Here's mud in your eye? SAM Here's to us. You used to say here's to us. (he looks at her and his eyes well with tears) Oh babe. I miss you so much it hurts. He reaches out for her. She's gone. And we hear the television set now counting down to midnight in New York. CUT TO: INT. NEW YEAR'S EVE PARTY IN BALTIMORE - NIGHT The same television show counting down to midnight. Champagne corks popping, etc. And we see Walter and Annie. WALTER Happy New Year, darling. ANNIE Happy New Year. They start to dance. WALTER I was thinking, I have to go up to Boston for the AAP convention and then visit Winston-Hughes about switching over our computers. Why don't we meet in New York for Valentine's Day weekend? ANNIE Walter, I'd love to -- WALTER We'll stay at the Plaza -- ANNIE Go for a walk in Central Park -- WALTER Go to the Symphony -- A beat. ANNIE We will? (beat) The Symphony? (beat) Okay. (beat) I'll take you to the Russian Tea Room for pelmeni. WALTER What is it? ANNIE It's delicious, trust me. WALTER Does it have wheat in it? ANNIE I don't think so. They go on dancing. It's one of those parties where everyone looks so happy and so in love. Annie, however, looks thoughtful. ET. MARINA PARKING AREA - DAY Sam gets out of his car and starts down the dock toward his houseboat. He's carrying a bag of groceries. In the parking lot is a U.S. MAIL TRUCK. EXT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY Sam approaches his boat and a puzzled look comes over his face. A MAILMAN with a sack of mail is standing outside the front door of the houseboat. Jonah is signing a receipt for the mail. JONAH Look at this, Dad. They're all for you -- Sam picks up an envelop and looks at it. It's addressed to Sleepless in Seattle c/o Dr. Marcia Fieldstone, Radio Station KWRS in Chicago. He's stunned. As he signs the receipt: MAILMAN If you're having trouble sleeping, you might want to try drinking a glass of water from the other side. JONAH I thought that was for hiccups. MAILMAN Does it work for hiccups? JONAH For hiccups, a spoonful of sugar, you hold it in your mouth for a minute. MAILMAN Really? The mailman starts back toward the mail truck. Sam and Jonah start toward the door. INT. HOUSEBOAT - NIGHT Sam is in the kitchen making dinner. Jonah is sitting at the table, reading the letters from the stack they found by the door. SAM Just out of curiosity, how did they get our address? JONAH They called and asked for it. (reading) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle. You are the most attractive man I've ever laid ears on." Jonah rolls his eyes, tosses the letter into a pile of rejects, opens another. SAM How did they get our phone number? JONAH You have to give them your phone number or they won't let you go on the air. Sam nods as if this makes perfect sense. JONAH (continues, reading) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle: I am an SWF"-- (to Sam) What is that? SAM Thank God. Something you don't know. It's a single white female. JONAH This is no good. She's looking for someone French. Or Greek. (puzzled, he throws the letter into the reject pile, opens another) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle: I live in Tulsa." Where is that? -- SAM Oklahoma. Do you know where that is? JONAH Somewhere in the middle. SAM I'm not going to think about what they're not teaching you in school. I am not going to think about it. (beat) Generally speaking I think we should rule out people who don't live somewhere near here -- JONAH She's willing to fly anywhere. As Jonah hands Sam the picture. SAM She looks like my third grade teacher. I hated my third grade teacher. Hold it! Wait a minute! She is my third grade teacher! JONAH Dad, you're not taking this seriously. SAM This is not how you do it. (referring to the hamburger) You want this on an English muffin or a bun? JONAH English muffin. How do you do it? SAM You see someone you like, you get a feeling about them, you ask them if they want to have a drink or -- JONAH -- a slice of pizza -- SAM But not dinner necessarily on the first date because by the time you're halfway through dinner you might be sorry you asked them to dinner whereas if it's just a drink, if you like them you can always ask them for dinner but if you don't you can go home if you see what I mean. (beat) I wonder if it still works this way. JONAH It doesn't. They ask you. SAM I'm starting to notice that. INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie and Walter are making love. JONAH (V.O.) If you get a new wife, I guess you'll have sex with her, huh? SAM (V.O.) What do you think? JONAH (V.O.) Will she scratch up your back? SAM (V.O.) What? JONAH'S BEDROOM - NIGHT As Sam puts Jonah to sleep. Jonah is holding his teddy bear while this conversation concludes. JONAH In the movies women are always scratching up guy's back and screaming and stuff. When they're having sex. SAM Whose show was this on? JONAH Jed's got cables. SAM Go to sleep. He kisses him good-night. JONAH Kiss Howard. (he holds out the teddy bear) G'night, Howard. INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie and Walter have just finished making love. Walter falling asleep. Annie lying in bed, with her eyes open. She starts to get out of bed. Puts on a robe. INT. STAIRWAY - HOUSE As Annie comes downstairs in a bathrobe. She opens the door to the street. EXT. STREET - NIGHT As Annie starts to run down the street. CLOSEUP OF: ANNIE, RUNNING And now we widen out to see a misty highway she's running down. Past a sign saying: Seattle Approximately 3,000 miles. Past another sign: Your nerves are shot. And another: Your feet are cold. And another: Will you find love. And another: Before you're cold? And another: Burma Shave. And Annie continues to run, and now we see she's running across a map of the United States -- it's a little like the one we saw in the beginning of the movie -- it's like the famous map of the United States by Saul Steinberg, but instead of being about New York, this one is about Seattle. In the distance, at the very edge of the map, we see two indistinct figures -- a map and a young boy. They start to wave at her, very slowly. Annie's eyes widen. CUT TO: INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie in bed, eyes open. Walter fast asleep. She gets out of bed, puts on her robe (just as she did in the dream sequence). INT. STAIRWELL - NIGHT As Annie comes down the stairs. INT. KITCHEN - HOUSE She turns the light on. Opens the refrigerator. Closes it. Opens it again. Takes out some milk. Sits down at the kitchen table with a bowl, corn flakes, banana. She's about to assemble it when: She sees: THE RADIO She stands up, turns it on to the station Dr. Marcia Fieldstone is on. She sits back down with her corn flakes. ANNOUNCER (V.O.) Up next, "You and Your Emotions" with Dr. Marcia Fieldstone, clinical psychologist and the best friend you never had. (the teaser continues) WOMAN'S VOICE (V.O.) He says he doesn't love me any more. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why do you want to be with someone who doesn't love you? ANOTHER WOMAN (V.O.) Every time I come close to orgasm he stops and goes to make himself a sandwich -- DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why don't you make him a sandwich beforehand? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) When I met my wife, it was so clear. I jus knew. Annie starts at hearing Sam's voice. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) What was it that made you know? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) I don't think I could really describe it. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why not? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) And if I could describe it, it probably wouldn't be on a radio show. (he laughs to himself) But what the hell. It's not one specific thing. It's more of a feeling. (continuing) You touch her for the first time, and suddenly... you're home. It's almost like... magic. Annie closes her eyes. ANNOUNCER (V.O.) We'll be back after this commercial with Dr. Marcia Fieldstone. EXT. BALTIMORE - PEABODY LIBRARY - DAY We see Annie's car pull into a parking space outside the Peabody Library. Annie gets out of the car. INT. LIBRARY - DAY As Annie strides purposefully across the library and enters: INT. ANNIE'S BROTHER TOM'S OFFICE - DAY Annie bursts into Tom's office and walks over to his desk. We barely has time to look up. ANNIE I think I'm going crazy, Tom. I really do. Are you happily married? TOM (completely panicked by the question) What? ANNIE I mean, why did you get married? Was it all fireworks and trumpets and -- TOM (regaining composure) I got married because Betsy said we had to break up or get married. So we get married. ANNIE But when you met her, did you believe she was the only person for you? That in some mystical, cosmic way, it was fated? TOM Annie, when you meet someone and you're attracted to them, it just means that your subconscious is attracted to their subconscious, subconsciously. So what we think of as chemistry is just two neuroses knowing that they are a perfect match. ANNIE I don't even know him. But I'm having all these fantasies about a man I've never met, who lives in Seattle. TOM It rains nine months of the year in Seattle. ANNIE I know, I know. I do not want to move to Seattle. But what I really don't want to do is end up always wondering what might have happened and knowing I could have done something. What do you think? (Tom opens his mouth to say something, but before anything comes out, Annie fills the void) It's just cold feet, isn't it? Everyone panics before they get married, didn't you? TOM Yes, I did. ANNIE Thank you, Tom. I feel so much better just having blown this off. TOM Any time. INT. PEABODY LIBRARY - DAY As Annie walks through it and pushes the door to exit. EXT. A DOOR OPENING TO SEATTLE STREET - DAY Sam and Jay walk out of the Arctic Building onto the street. JAY Sandy has a girlfriend, Clenda ... She's a weightlifter, but it's not like her neck is bigger than her head or anything -- SAM I'm not asking you to set me up, Jay. That's not what I need your help for. I want to know what it's like over there. JAY And that's what I'm trying to tell you. What women are looking over, okay? Pecs and a cute butt. SAM You mean, like, "He has the cutest butt"? Where did I hear that recently? JAY Everywhere. You can't even turn on the news without hearing about how some babe thought some guy's butt was cute. Who the first babe to say this was I don't know, but it caught on. INT. SEATTLE RESTAURANT - DAY Sam and Jay at the counter. Out the window, we can see water. JAY When's the latest time you were out there? SAM (trying to remember) Seventy... eight. JAY Well. Things are different. First, you have to be friends. You have to like each other. Then you neck. This can go on for years. Then you have tests. Then you get to do it with a condom. (beat) The good news is, split the check. SAM I don't think it could let a woman pay for dinner. JAY Great. They'll have a parade in your honor. You'll be Man of the Year in Seattle Magazine. Tira misu. SAM What's tira misu? JAY You'll find out. SAM What is it? JAY You'll see. SAM Some woman is going to want me to do it to her and I'm not going to know what it is. JAY You'll like it. SAM (grimly) This is going to be tougher than I thought. EXT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY EVENING Sam coming home. INT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY EVENING As he enters. It's very quiet. Too quiet. SAM Jonah? No answers. SAM Jonah? He starts to look concerned. SAM Jonah? He goes down the hall to Jonah's room. The door is shut. He opens it. Jonah is sitting on his bed listening to a tape. Earphones on. Next to him is a young girl named JESSICA. SAM Jonah? Jonah takes off the earphones. JONAH Hi, Dad. Dad, this is Jessica. SAM It's nice to meet you, Jessica. JONAH Dad, this is amazing. If you play this backwards, it says "Paul is dead." SAM I know. JONAH How do you know? Sam shrugs, turns to go back down the hall. JONAH Dad, could you close the door? JESSICA H and G. (Sam looks back) Hi and goodbye. Sam closes the door to Jonah's room. Hold on Sam. SAM (to himself) Get a life. INT. HOUSEBOAT - CONTINUOUS As Sam comes downstairs, goes into his office. Closes the door. INT. SAM'S OFFICE AT HOME - CONTINUOUS He goes to the phone. Looks up a number in the phone book. Picks up the phone and dials a number. SAM Hi, Victoria?... It's Sam Baldwin, I don't know if you remember me. Oh? Well, great. I was wondering if you wanted to have a drink... Friday, say... Dinner?... Sure, dinner would be fine. Sure. Dinner. INT. AN UNFINISHED DINNER ON A PLATE IN ANNIE'S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT Annie is watching "An Affair to Remember" on television, tears pouring down her face. Cary Grant is saying: "Are you in love with him?" Deborah Kerr replies: "I'm not now." She's sitting at the dining room table. A dozen pieces of paper litter the table. Annie's been unsuccessfully typing a letter on an old Underwood typewriter. ANNIE Now those were the days when people knew how to be in love. She takes a blast from the wine glass to her right. Becky leans in, refilling the glass. Annie begins to type and sob and look at the TV. BECKY You're a basket case. ANNIE (as she types) They knew it. Time, distance, nothing could separate them. Because they knew. It was right. It was real. It was... BECKY ... movie. (beat) That's your problem. You don't want to be in love. You want to be in love in a movie. (beat) Read it to me. ANNIE (reading her letter) "Dear Sleepless and Son..." BECKY It sounds like the name of a mattress store -- ANNIE "I am not the sort of person who listens to call-in radio shows" -- Becky flops on the couch. BECKY And this woman is a writer! That's what everyone writes at the beginning of letters to strangers. ANNIE I know that. You think I don't know that? "I know that's a dumb way to begin, but it's the only way I can think of to convey what happened to me the other night when I heard the two of you on the radio. On the other hand, maybe I'm just losing my mind." BECKY You are. You're losing your mind. What about Walter? ANNIE I'm going to marry Walter. I just have to get this out of my system. BECKY Right. ANNIE I should say something in this about magic. BECKY What? ANNIE I don't know. I mean, what if I never meet him? What if this man is my destiny and I never meet him? BECKY Your destiny can be your doom. Look at me and Rick. ANNIE (typing some more) "I want to meet you..." Cary Grant says: "How about the top of the Empire State Building?" BECKY "On top of the Empire State Building at sunset on Valentine's Day." ANNIE Good. Perfect. I'll be in New York with Walter, I can squeeze it in. She types in Becky's idea. Then she takes the piece of paper out of the typewriter, smashes it into a ball and tosses it up in the air and into Becky's lap. BECKY You want to hear about destiny? If my husband hadn't gone on a diet, which caused me to leave him, I would never have been on that flight to

indicated

How many times the word 'indicated' appears in the text?

what. SHE'S CRYING. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Well, it's time to wrap up, folks -- A FIGURE appears at the passenger side window, which Annie doesn't notice. She's wiping the tears away with her hand. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) We hope you'll call again soon. The figure TAPS on the window -- WALTER (muffled, outside car) Annie? DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) ... and let us know how it's going. -- and taps again. WALTER Annie? She turns. He's pointing at the locked door. She searches for the button. Finally finds it so that Walter can open the door. ANNIE I'm sorry, Walter. I just heard the most amazing thing on the radio. They start toward the front door, Walter and Annie carrying presents, an overnight bag of Annie's. ANNIE People call up these shows and you can't believe the stuff they say. It's the end of privacy as we know it, this country is just one big global village with everyone out there going blah blah blah -- As they enter the house, we hear Silent Night and we see a Christmas tree, glittering with lights. CUT TO: A CHRISTMAS TREE GLITTERING WITH LIGHTS as we pull back to reveal: INT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY MORNING As Jonah opens his presents under the tree and we cut from gift to gift: A BROOKS ROBINSON BASEBALL GLOVE which Jonah loves and which he puts on his hand and keeps on while continuing to open: A TIE which mystifies him, but he hangs it around his neck. A PLAID SHIRT A MAP OF THE UNITED STATES -- the kind that's used in schoolrooms that pulls down from a roller. And now Sam brings out a long narrow present from behind the door and Jonah opens -- A NEW FISHING ROD EXT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY As Jonah poses with all his Christmas presents -- his tie hanging around his neck over his bathrobe and new plaid shirt, his baseball glove, fishing rod -- as Sam takes his picture. INT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY (OR POSSIBLY EXT. DECK HOUSEBOAT) Sam opens his present from Jonah, which is something he made in woodworking class. SAM The hopes are perfect -- beautiful, identical, smooth -- and they are for something really amazing I feel it in my bones -- JONAH It's a spice rack. SAM We desperately need a spice rack. Desperately. CUT TO: INT. KITCHEN OF HOUSEBOAT - DAY SAM And we desperately need spices. Where Sam is putting the spices they have -- pepper, salt, paprika and oregano -- into the spice rack, which has room for at least twenty more. Jonah is methodically making pancakes. JONAH Dad? About last night? SAM It's never happening again. Right? JONAH Right. There's a knock on the door. SAM Then it never happened. Sam goes to answer the door. TWO YOUNG WOMEN are standing there. Both are wearing quite a lot of Spandex. One of them is named LULU. It says so on her jacket. The other is JOBETH. SAM Hi. LULU Hi. Sam? SAM Yes? LULU (looking in and seeing Jonah) You must be Jonah. Jonah nods. LULU (to her friend) See. I told you. Sam and Jonah. I'm LULU. This is JoBeth. JoBeth nods, and continues to nod as Lulu talks. LULU (continues) We live two piers over, don't we? Number 12, right? We're having like a really neat open house today from like four to whenever if you care to stop by. SAM Thanks, but... we've got plans. LULU Well, here's the number. If you ever find yourself Sleepless, give us a call. We also... do babysitting. She winks. JoBeth nods. Sam nods. Lulu waves goodbye, and she and JoBeth sashay off down the dock. Jonah closes the door and turns to Sam. JONAH Not. SAM My feelings exactly. EXT. LAKE UNION MARINA - EARLY MORNING Jonah and Sam are fishing off a dingy. SAM How many people do you think heard that thing last night? JONAH It plays in 50 states. SAM What?! JONAH Nobody else is going to know it was us. SAM You're right. (after a beat) You better hope so. EXT. BALTIMORE SUN - MORNING INT. LIFESTYLE SECTION - DAY A large open newsroom-type space with REPORTERS at computers. Around the perimeter are glass-partitioned offices and meeting rooms. Inside one of the offices is BECKY, the Lifestyle editor of the Sun. She's at a table with Annie, now a reporter for the section, and two other colleagues -- KEITH and WYATT. Wyatt is playing Gameboy. KEITH This man sells the greatest soup you've ever eaten, there's a line around the block, and he is, I am not kidding, the meanest man in America. (beat) I feel strongly about this, Becky. This is not just about soup. BECKY Do it. What else? WYATT New Year's Eve. Please don't make me write it. Becky looks at Wyatt, notices the Gameboy. BECKY Wyatt, I do not mean to remind you of your mother, but if you don't put that game away, no TV for a week. WYATT (pushing it to the center of the table) Would someone look this up, don't tell me where. Becky is riffling through some papers on the table, among which are some tearsheets from the Associated Press wire. BECKY Listen to this. Phone service in the greater Chicago area was tied up for two hours Christmas Eve because some kid called a phone-in show to get a wife for his father. Two thousand women called in for the number. KEITH Jesus. ANNIE I heard it. This kid calls up and says my dad needs a wife and I'm talking to myself in the car saying, this is completely disgusting, you're taking advantage of a child, and then the father gets on and this shrinkette says, do you want to talk about it? And he says no as a matter of fact I don't, and I am saying, bravo! Right on! Don't talk to her, it's none of her business -- (she's completely into this story now) -- and then suddenly, for no reason at all, he's talking about how much he loved his wife, and how he just -- (she snaps her fingers) fell in love with her and I am crying. Me. A tear is actually rolling down my face. It was like what happens when I watch those phone company ads. I don't have to see the whole ad, I just have to see the part where the daughter gives her mother a refrigerator with a big red bow on it, have you seen that one? Everyone looks at her. Apparently she's finished. BECKY You should write something about this. ANNIE About what? BECKY Whatever it is. KEITH (waving the AP story) What it is is, there are a lot of desperate women out there looking for love. WYATT Especially over a certain age. Annie is looking at them. This isn't what she was talking about at all, although she isn't quite sure what she was talking about. KEITH It is easier to be killed by a terrorist after the age of 40 than it is to get married -- ANNIE That is not true. That statistic is not true. BECKY It's not true, but it feels true. ANNIE There's practically a whole book about how that statistic is not true -- WYATT Calm down. You brought it up -- ANNIE (sharply) I did not, Wyatt. A beat, everyone pauses. Things are a little out of hand. BECKY So where were we? WYATT New Year's Eve. I'll do it, okay? BECKY Okay. ANNIE If someone is a widower, why do they say he was widowed? Why don't they say he was widowered? Everyone looks at her strangely. ANNIE I was jus wondering. EXT. BALTIMORE STREET - DAY Annie walking purposefully, followed by Becky, hurrying to catch up. BECKY What was that about up there? ANNIE What was what? BECKY What's with you? ANNIE Nothing's with me. INT. BALTIMORE RESTAURANT - DAY Becky and Annie are having lunch. BECKY "Sleepless in Seattle"? ANNIE That's what she called him on the show. Because he can't sleep. BECKY And now 2,000 women want his number. The guy could be a crackhead, a psychopath, a flasher, a junkie, a transvestite, a chain-saw murderer, or someone really sick, like Rick. ANNIE Actually, he sounded nice. BECKY Oh? Oh, really? Now we're getting down to it. ANNIE Not. She reaches down for her purse. INT/EXT. REMODEL HOUSE - DAY A hand reaching down to pick something up -- the Seattle newspaper, and PULL BACK TO REVEAL: Sam carrying the paper down/up the stairs to an old house that's being renovated. Jonah, who is playing Cameboy, is walking along with him. WORKMEN are active everywhere. Dry wall going up, cabinets being installed, tile being set. One of Sam's partners, BOB LANGMAN, is walking with him, and JAY MATHEWS, the on-site supervisor, is waiting for them in an unfinished doorframe. Bob is hefty, older, always eating something dietetic. Jay is younger and always wears as little as possible, even in cold weather. BOB LANGMAN Now she wants a circular stairwell off the den. JAY (to Jonah, in b.g.) Punch me, punch in right here. (points to his stomach; Jonah punches) And she wants the Sub-Zero with the side-by-side doors -- BOB Which means -- SAM The cabinets have to be redone -- They all nod at each other. The woman has been a nightmare. BOB So we thought -- JAY Since you're on the make again -- Sam looks at Jonah -- SAM Great. This is great. The whole town knows. Just out of curiosity, how do you two know? BOB Grace heard it. SAM Grace the dispatcher. Great. BOB The point is, take the client out to dinner and ask her to marry you and then maybe we won't have to redo the kitchen cabinets. SAM Why me? What about Jay? JAY Hey, my plate is full. SAM Well, okay. What's the big deal? If she'll forget the new fireplace, I'll marry her. Just point me in the right direction. JONAH Dad, I don't know about this one -- SAM Oh, you're changing your mind -- JONAH No, I'm not, but -- SAM What's the matter with this one? Wouldn't you like to have Imelda Marcos as your mother? JONAH Dad -- Sam cuffs him good-naturedly. SAM We better take the measurements for the new cabinets. He walks away past some workmen, ladders, etc. and starts checking the cross-beams in the ceiling over in another area of the site. Bob follows after him. Jay tosses Jonah a hammer and they start knocking nails into the wall. BOB Sam, if you're not doing anything New Year's -- obviously you're not doing anything New Year's -- we're having some people over, all of them married, not one even remotely interested in playing around. Does that sound great or what? (whistfully) I can't think of the last time I was at a party when anything actually happened. SAM Thanks, but I'll pass. It's kind of a big night. I don't like to leave Jonah alone. CUT TO: SHOT OF HOUSEBOAT BEING TOWED BY A TUG DOWN THE RIVER (OR A SEAPLANE LANDING) - TWILIGHT EXT. HOUSEBOAT - TWILIGHT Jonah watching it. Sam visible in the distance in the kitchen. INT. KITCHEN - TWILIGHT As Sam is busy installing the spice rack. He marks the wall, hammers in the nails, etc. SAM (as he starts putting new spices into the rack, in alphabetical order) Does red pepper go under R or P? JONAH P. (beat) Dad? SAM (absently) What? JONAH I forgot to mention. Jed called -- SAM Just out of curiosity, do you have any friends whose names don't begin with a J? I feel like it was a failure of the imagination on our part naming you Jonah. (looking at the spices) What is marjoram? Does anyone know? JONAH Jed is having a slumber party New Year's Eve and he invited me. A beat. SAM Fine. Fine. JONAH So I can go. SAM Sure. (almost done with the spices) Looking good. JONAH Shouldn't you have used a toggle bolt? SAM I think I know how to have a spice rack. He puts in the last spice. They stand back to admire it. A beat. The rack falls off the wall. The rack itself doesn't break, but about six of the glass jars of spices break. There's paprika and thyme and currying powder, etc. all over the floor along with shards of glass. SAM God fucking dammit! Shit! Fuck. Piss. Jonah bursts into tears. SAM (still angry) I'm sorry. (softening) I'm sorry. He picks up Jonah and holds him. SAM I'm sorry. I'm just -- JONAH Stressed. SAM Right. I'm sorry, Jonah, I'm sorry. And he holds Jonah as Jonah calms down. Sam closes his eyes tight. INT. A TELEVISION SET OF NEW YEAR'S EVE ON TIMES SQUARE And pull back to reveal: INT. HOUSEBOAT - NIGHT Sam, alone, watching the ball drop. He's got a bag of Doritos and a beer. A VOICE Can I have half your beer? SAM Sure. It's Maggie. She takes his bottle of beer and pours half of it into a glass. MAGGIE What did I used to say? Here's looking at you? Here's mud in your eye? SAM Here's to us. You used to say here's to us. (he looks at her and his eyes well with tears) Oh babe. I miss you so much it hurts. He reaches out for her. She's gone. And we hear the television set now counting down to midnight in New York. CUT TO: INT. NEW YEAR'S EVE PARTY IN BALTIMORE - NIGHT The same television show counting down to midnight. Champagne corks popping, etc. And we see Walter and Annie. WALTER Happy New Year, darling. ANNIE Happy New Year. They start to dance. WALTER I was thinking, I have to go up to Boston for the AAP convention and then visit Winston-Hughes about switching over our computers. Why don't we meet in New York for Valentine's Day weekend? ANNIE Walter, I'd love to -- WALTER We'll stay at the Plaza -- ANNIE Go for a walk in Central Park -- WALTER Go to the Symphony -- A beat. ANNIE We will? (beat) The Symphony? (beat) Okay. (beat) I'll take you to the Russian Tea Room for pelmeni. WALTER What is it? ANNIE It's delicious, trust me. WALTER Does it have wheat in it? ANNIE I don't think so. They go on dancing. It's one of those parties where everyone looks so happy and so in love. Annie, however, looks thoughtful. ET. MARINA PARKING AREA - DAY Sam gets out of his car and starts down the dock toward his houseboat. He's carrying a bag of groceries. In the parking lot is a U.S. MAIL TRUCK. EXT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY Sam approaches his boat and a puzzled look comes over his face. A MAILMAN with a sack of mail is standing outside the front door of the houseboat. Jonah is signing a receipt for the mail. JONAH Look at this, Dad. They're all for you -- Sam picks up an envelop and looks at it. It's addressed to Sleepless in Seattle c/o Dr. Marcia Fieldstone, Radio Station KWRS in Chicago. He's stunned. As he signs the receipt: MAILMAN If you're having trouble sleeping, you might want to try drinking a glass of water from the other side. JONAH I thought that was for hiccups. MAILMAN Does it work for hiccups? JONAH For hiccups, a spoonful of sugar, you hold it in your mouth for a minute. MAILMAN Really? The mailman starts back toward the mail truck. Sam and Jonah start toward the door. INT. HOUSEBOAT - NIGHT Sam is in the kitchen making dinner. Jonah is sitting at the table, reading the letters from the stack they found by the door. SAM Just out of curiosity, how did they get our address? JONAH They called and asked for it. (reading) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle. You are the most attractive man I've ever laid ears on." Jonah rolls his eyes, tosses the letter into a pile of rejects, opens another. SAM How did they get our phone number? JONAH You have to give them your phone number or they won't let you go on the air. Sam nods as if this makes perfect sense. JONAH (continues, reading) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle: I am an SWF"-- (to Sam) What is that? SAM Thank God. Something you don't know. It's a single white female. JONAH This is no good. She's looking for someone French. Or Greek. (puzzled, he throws the letter into the reject pile, opens another) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle: I live in Tulsa." Where is that? -- SAM Oklahoma. Do you know where that is? JONAH Somewhere in the middle. SAM I'm not going to think about what they're not teaching you in school. I am not going to think about it. (beat) Generally speaking I think we should rule out people who don't live somewhere near here -- JONAH She's willing to fly anywhere. As Jonah hands Sam the picture. SAM She looks like my third grade teacher. I hated my third grade teacher. Hold it! Wait a minute! She is my third grade teacher! JONAH Dad, you're not taking this seriously. SAM This is not how you do it. (referring to the hamburger) You want this on an English muffin or a bun? JONAH English muffin. How do you do it? SAM You see someone you like, you get a feeling about them, you ask them if they want to have a drink or -- JONAH -- a slice of pizza -- SAM But not dinner necessarily on the first date because by the time you're halfway through dinner you might be sorry you asked them to dinner whereas if it's just a drink, if you like them you can always ask them for dinner but if you don't you can go home if you see what I mean. (beat) I wonder if it still works this way. JONAH It doesn't. They ask you. SAM I'm starting to notice that. INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie and Walter are making love. JONAH (V.O.) If you get a new wife, I guess you'll have sex with her, huh? SAM (V.O.) What do you think? JONAH (V.O.) Will she scratch up your back? SAM (V.O.) What? JONAH'S BEDROOM - NIGHT As Sam puts Jonah to sleep. Jonah is holding his teddy bear while this conversation concludes. JONAH In the movies women are always scratching up guy's back and screaming and stuff. When they're having sex. SAM Whose show was this on? JONAH Jed's got cables. SAM Go to sleep. He kisses him good-night. JONAH Kiss Howard. (he holds out the teddy bear) G'night, Howard. INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie and Walter have just finished making love. Walter falling asleep. Annie lying in bed, with her eyes open. She starts to get out of bed. Puts on a robe. INT. STAIRWAY - HOUSE As Annie comes downstairs in a bathrobe. She opens the door to the street. EXT. STREET - NIGHT As Annie starts to run down the street. CLOSEUP OF: ANNIE, RUNNING And now we widen out to see a misty highway she's running down. Past a sign saying: Seattle Approximately 3,000 miles. Past another sign: Your nerves are shot. And another: Your feet are cold. And another: Will you find love. And another: Before you're cold? And another: Burma Shave. And Annie continues to run, and now we see she's running across a map of the United States -- it's a little like the one we saw in the beginning of the movie -- it's like the famous map of the United States by Saul Steinberg, but instead of being about New York, this one is about Seattle. In the distance, at the very edge of the map, we see two indistinct figures -- a map and a young boy. They start to wave at her, very slowly. Annie's eyes widen. CUT TO: INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie in bed, eyes open. Walter fast asleep. She gets out of bed, puts on her robe (just as she did in the dream sequence). INT. STAIRWELL - NIGHT As Annie comes down the stairs. INT. KITCHEN - HOUSE She turns the light on. Opens the refrigerator. Closes it. Opens it again. Takes out some milk. Sits down at the kitchen table with a bowl, corn flakes, banana. She's about to assemble it when: She sees: THE RADIO She stands up, turns it on to the station Dr. Marcia Fieldstone is on. She sits back down with her corn flakes. ANNOUNCER (V.O.) Up next, "You and Your Emotions" with Dr. Marcia Fieldstone, clinical psychologist and the best friend you never had. (the teaser continues) WOMAN'S VOICE (V.O.) He says he doesn't love me any more. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why do you want to be with someone who doesn't love you? ANOTHER WOMAN (V.O.) Every time I come close to orgasm he stops and goes to make himself a sandwich -- DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why don't you make him a sandwich beforehand? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) When I met my wife, it was so clear. I jus knew. Annie starts at hearing Sam's voice. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) What was it that made you know? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) I don't think I could really describe it. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why not? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) And if I could describe it, it probably wouldn't be on a radio show. (he laughs to himself) But what the hell. It's not one specific thing. It's more of a feeling. (continuing) You touch her for the first time, and suddenly... you're home. It's almost like... magic. Annie closes her eyes. ANNOUNCER (V.O.) We'll be back after this commercial with Dr. Marcia Fieldstone. EXT. BALTIMORE - PEABODY LIBRARY - DAY We see Annie's car pull into a parking space outside the Peabody Library. Annie gets out of the car. INT. LIBRARY - DAY As Annie strides purposefully across the library and enters: INT. ANNIE'S BROTHER TOM'S OFFICE - DAY Annie bursts into Tom's office and walks over to his desk. We barely has time to look up. ANNIE I think I'm going crazy, Tom. I really do. Are you happily married? TOM (completely panicked by the question) What? ANNIE I mean, why did you get married? Was it all fireworks and trumpets and -- TOM (regaining composure) I got married because Betsy said we had to break up or get married. So we get married. ANNIE But when you met her, did you believe she was the only person for you? That in some mystical, cosmic way, it was fated? TOM Annie, when you meet someone and you're attracted to them, it just means that your subconscious is attracted to their subconscious, subconsciously. So what we think of as chemistry is just two neuroses knowing that they are a perfect match. ANNIE I don't even know him. But I'm having all these fantasies about a man I've never met, who lives in Seattle. TOM It rains nine months of the year in Seattle. ANNIE I know, I know. I do not want to move to Seattle. But what I really don't want to do is end up always wondering what might have happened and knowing I could have done something. What do you think? (Tom opens his mouth to say something, but before anything comes out, Annie fills the void) It's just cold feet, isn't it? Everyone panics before they get married, didn't you? TOM Yes, I did. ANNIE Thank you, Tom. I feel so much better just having blown this off. TOM Any time. INT. PEABODY LIBRARY - DAY As Annie walks through it and pushes the door to exit. EXT. A DOOR OPENING TO SEATTLE STREET - DAY Sam and Jay walk out of the Arctic Building onto the street. JAY Sandy has a girlfriend, Clenda ... She's a weightlifter, but it's not like her neck is bigger than her head or anything -- SAM I'm not asking you to set me up, Jay. That's not what I need your help for. I want to know what it's like over there. JAY And that's what I'm trying to tell you. What women are looking over, okay? Pecs and a cute butt. SAM You mean, like, "He has the cutest butt"? Where did I hear that recently? JAY Everywhere. You can't even turn on the news without hearing about how some babe thought some guy's butt was cute. Who the first babe to say this was I don't know, but it caught on. INT. SEATTLE RESTAURANT - DAY Sam and Jay at the counter. Out the window, we can see water. JAY When's the latest time you were out there? SAM (trying to remember) Seventy... eight. JAY Well. Things are different. First, you have to be friends. You have to like each other. Then you neck. This can go on for years. Then you have tests. Then you get to do it with a condom. (beat) The good news is, split the check. SAM I don't think it could let a woman pay for dinner. JAY Great. They'll have a parade in your honor. You'll be Man of the Year in Seattle Magazine. Tira misu. SAM What's tira misu? JAY You'll find out. SAM What is it? JAY You'll see. SAM Some woman is going to want me to do it to her and I'm not going to know what it is. JAY You'll like it. SAM (grimly) This is going to be tougher than I thought. EXT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY EVENING Sam coming home. INT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY EVENING As he enters. It's very quiet. Too quiet. SAM Jonah? No answers. SAM Jonah? He starts to look concerned. SAM Jonah? He goes down the hall to Jonah's room. The door is shut. He opens it. Jonah is sitting on his bed listening to a tape. Earphones on. Next to him is a young girl named JESSICA. SAM Jonah? Jonah takes off the earphones. JONAH Hi, Dad. Dad, this is Jessica. SAM It's nice to meet you, Jessica. JONAH Dad, this is amazing. If you play this backwards, it says "Paul is dead." SAM I know. JONAH How do you know? Sam shrugs, turns to go back down the hall. JONAH Dad, could you close the door? JESSICA H and G. (Sam looks back) Hi and goodbye. Sam closes the door to Jonah's room. Hold on Sam. SAM (to himself) Get a life. INT. HOUSEBOAT - CONTINUOUS As Sam comes downstairs, goes into his office. Closes the door. INT. SAM'S OFFICE AT HOME - CONTINUOUS He goes to the phone. Looks up a number in the phone book. Picks up the phone and dials a number. SAM Hi, Victoria?... It's Sam Baldwin, I don't know if you remember me. Oh? Well, great. I was wondering if you wanted to have a drink... Friday, say... Dinner?... Sure, dinner would be fine. Sure. Dinner. INT. AN UNFINISHED DINNER ON A PLATE IN ANNIE'S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT Annie is watching "An Affair to Remember" on television, tears pouring down her face. Cary Grant is saying: "Are you in love with him?" Deborah Kerr replies: "I'm not now." She's sitting at the dining room table. A dozen pieces of paper litter the table. Annie's been unsuccessfully typing a letter on an old Underwood typewriter. ANNIE Now those were the days when people knew how to be in love. She takes a blast from the wine glass to her right. Becky leans in, refilling the glass. Annie begins to type and sob and look at the TV. BECKY You're a basket case. ANNIE (as she types) They knew it. Time, distance, nothing could separate them. Because they knew. It was right. It was real. It was... BECKY ... movie. (beat) That's your problem. You don't want to be in love. You want to be in love in a movie. (beat) Read it to me. ANNIE (reading her letter) "Dear Sleepless and Son..." BECKY It sounds like the name of a mattress store -- ANNIE "I am not the sort of person who listens to call-in radio shows" -- Becky flops on the couch. BECKY And this woman is a writer! That's what everyone writes at the beginning of letters to strangers. ANNIE I know that. You think I don't know that? "I know that's a dumb way to begin, but it's the only way I can think of to convey what happened to me the other night when I heard the two of you on the radio. On the other hand, maybe I'm just losing my mind." BECKY You are. You're losing your mind. What about Walter? ANNIE I'm going to marry Walter. I just have to get this out of my system. BECKY Right. ANNIE I should say something in this about magic. BECKY What? ANNIE I don't know. I mean, what if I never meet him? What if this man is my destiny and I never meet him? BECKY Your destiny can be your doom. Look at me and Rick. ANNIE (typing some more) "I want to meet you..." Cary Grant says: "How about the top of the Empire State Building?" BECKY "On top of the Empire State Building at sunset on Valentine's Day." ANNIE Good. Perfect. I'll be in New York with Walter, I can squeeze it in. She types in Becky's idea. Then she takes the piece of paper out of the typewriter, smashes it into a ball and tosses it up in the air and into Becky's lap. BECKY You want to hear about destiny? If my husband hadn't gone on a diet, which caused me to leave him, I would never have been on that flight to

happy

How many times the word 'happy' appears in the text?

what. SHE'S CRYING. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Well, it's time to wrap up, folks -- A FIGURE appears at the passenger side window, which Annie doesn't notice. She's wiping the tears away with her hand. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) We hope you'll call again soon. The figure TAPS on the window -- WALTER (muffled, outside car) Annie? DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) ... and let us know how it's going. -- and taps again. WALTER Annie? She turns. He's pointing at the locked door. She searches for the button. Finally finds it so that Walter can open the door. ANNIE I'm sorry, Walter. I just heard the most amazing thing on the radio. They start toward the front door, Walter and Annie carrying presents, an overnight bag of Annie's. ANNIE People call up these shows and you can't believe the stuff they say. It's the end of privacy as we know it, this country is just one big global village with everyone out there going blah blah blah -- As they enter the house, we hear Silent Night and we see a Christmas tree, glittering with lights. CUT TO: A CHRISTMAS TREE GLITTERING WITH LIGHTS as we pull back to reveal: INT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY MORNING As Jonah opens his presents under the tree and we cut from gift to gift: A BROOKS ROBINSON BASEBALL GLOVE which Jonah loves and which he puts on his hand and keeps on while continuing to open: A TIE which mystifies him, but he hangs it around his neck. A PLAID SHIRT A MAP OF THE UNITED STATES -- the kind that's used in schoolrooms that pulls down from a roller. And now Sam brings out a long narrow present from behind the door and Jonah opens -- A NEW FISHING ROD EXT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY As Jonah poses with all his Christmas presents -- his tie hanging around his neck over his bathrobe and new plaid shirt, his baseball glove, fishing rod -- as Sam takes his picture. INT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY (OR POSSIBLY EXT. DECK HOUSEBOAT) Sam opens his present from Jonah, which is something he made in woodworking class. SAM The hopes are perfect -- beautiful, identical, smooth -- and they are for something really amazing I feel it in my bones -- JONAH It's a spice rack. SAM We desperately need a spice rack. Desperately. CUT TO: INT. KITCHEN OF HOUSEBOAT - DAY SAM And we desperately need spices. Where Sam is putting the spices they have -- pepper, salt, paprika and oregano -- into the spice rack, which has room for at least twenty more. Jonah is methodically making pancakes. JONAH Dad? About last night? SAM It's never happening again. Right? JONAH Right. There's a knock on the door. SAM Then it never happened. Sam goes to answer the door. TWO YOUNG WOMEN are standing there. Both are wearing quite a lot of Spandex. One of them is named LULU. It says so on her jacket. The other is JOBETH. SAM Hi. LULU Hi. Sam? SAM Yes? LULU (looking in and seeing Jonah) You must be Jonah. Jonah nods. LULU (to her friend) See. I told you. Sam and Jonah. I'm LULU. This is JoBeth. JoBeth nods, and continues to nod as Lulu talks. LULU (continues) We live two piers over, don't we? Number 12, right? We're having like a really neat open house today from like four to whenever if you care to stop by. SAM Thanks, but... we've got plans. LULU Well, here's the number. If you ever find yourself Sleepless, give us a call. We also... do babysitting. She winks. JoBeth nods. Sam nods. Lulu waves goodbye, and she and JoBeth sashay off down the dock. Jonah closes the door and turns to Sam. JONAH Not. SAM My feelings exactly. EXT. LAKE UNION MARINA - EARLY MORNING Jonah and Sam are fishing off a dingy. SAM How many people do you think heard that thing last night? JONAH It plays in 50 states. SAM What?! JONAH Nobody else is going to know it was us. SAM You're right. (after a beat) You better hope so. EXT. BALTIMORE SUN - MORNING INT. LIFESTYLE SECTION - DAY A large open newsroom-type space with REPORTERS at computers. Around the perimeter are glass-partitioned offices and meeting rooms. Inside one of the offices is BECKY, the Lifestyle editor of the Sun. She's at a table with Annie, now a reporter for the section, and two other colleagues -- KEITH and WYATT. Wyatt is playing Gameboy. KEITH This man sells the greatest soup you've ever eaten, there's a line around the block, and he is, I am not kidding, the meanest man in America. (beat) I feel strongly about this, Becky. This is not just about soup. BECKY Do it. What else? WYATT New Year's Eve. Please don't make me write it. Becky looks at Wyatt, notices the Gameboy. BECKY Wyatt, I do not mean to remind you of your mother, but if you don't put that game away, no TV for a week. WYATT (pushing it to the center of the table) Would someone look this up, don't tell me where. Becky is riffling through some papers on the table, among which are some tearsheets from the Associated Press wire. BECKY Listen to this. Phone service in the greater Chicago area was tied up for two hours Christmas Eve because some kid called a phone-in show to get a wife for his father. Two thousand women called in for the number. KEITH Jesus. ANNIE I heard it. This kid calls up and says my dad needs a wife and I'm talking to myself in the car saying, this is completely disgusting, you're taking advantage of a child, and then the father gets on and this shrinkette says, do you want to talk about it? And he says no as a matter of fact I don't, and I am saying, bravo! Right on! Don't talk to her, it's none of her business -- (she's completely into this story now) -- and then suddenly, for no reason at all, he's talking about how much he loved his wife, and how he just -- (she snaps her fingers) fell in love with her and I am crying. Me. A tear is actually rolling down my face. It was like what happens when I watch those phone company ads. I don't have to see the whole ad, I just have to see the part where the daughter gives her mother a refrigerator with a big red bow on it, have you seen that one? Everyone looks at her. Apparently she's finished. BECKY You should write something about this. ANNIE About what? BECKY Whatever it is. KEITH (waving the AP story) What it is is, there are a lot of desperate women out there looking for love. WYATT Especially over a certain age. Annie is looking at them. This isn't what she was talking about at all, although she isn't quite sure what she was talking about. KEITH It is easier to be killed by a terrorist after the age of 40 than it is to get married -- ANNIE That is not true. That statistic is not true. BECKY It's not true, but it feels true. ANNIE There's practically a whole book about how that statistic is not true -- WYATT Calm down. You brought it up -- ANNIE (sharply) I did not, Wyatt. A beat, everyone pauses. Things are a little out of hand. BECKY So where were we? WYATT New Year's Eve. I'll do it, okay? BECKY Okay. ANNIE If someone is a widower, why do they say he was widowed? Why don't they say he was widowered? Everyone looks at her strangely. ANNIE I was jus wondering. EXT. BALTIMORE STREET - DAY Annie walking purposefully, followed by Becky, hurrying to catch up. BECKY What was that about up there? ANNIE What was what? BECKY What's with you? ANNIE Nothing's with me. INT. BALTIMORE RESTAURANT - DAY Becky and Annie are having lunch. BECKY "Sleepless in Seattle"? ANNIE That's what she called him on the show. Because he can't sleep. BECKY And now 2,000 women want his number. The guy could be a crackhead, a psychopath, a flasher, a junkie, a transvestite, a chain-saw murderer, or someone really sick, like Rick. ANNIE Actually, he sounded nice. BECKY Oh? Oh, really? Now we're getting down to it. ANNIE Not. She reaches down for her purse. INT/EXT. REMODEL HOUSE - DAY A hand reaching down to pick something up -- the Seattle newspaper, and PULL BACK TO REVEAL: Sam carrying the paper down/up the stairs to an old house that's being renovated. Jonah, who is playing Cameboy, is walking along with him. WORKMEN are active everywhere. Dry wall going up, cabinets being installed, tile being set. One of Sam's partners, BOB LANGMAN, is walking with him, and JAY MATHEWS, the on-site supervisor, is waiting for them in an unfinished doorframe. Bob is hefty, older, always eating something dietetic. Jay is younger and always wears as little as possible, even in cold weather. BOB LANGMAN Now she wants a circular stairwell off the den. JAY (to Jonah, in b.g.) Punch me, punch in right here. (points to his stomach; Jonah punches) And she wants the Sub-Zero with the side-by-side doors -- BOB Which means -- SAM The cabinets have to be redone -- They all nod at each other. The woman has been a nightmare. BOB So we thought -- JAY Since you're on the make again -- Sam looks at Jonah -- SAM Great. This is great. The whole town knows. Just out of curiosity, how do you two know? BOB Grace heard it. SAM Grace the dispatcher. Great. BOB The point is, take the client out to dinner and ask her to marry you and then maybe we won't have to redo the kitchen cabinets. SAM Why me? What about Jay? JAY Hey, my plate is full. SAM Well, okay. What's the big deal? If she'll forget the new fireplace, I'll marry her. Just point me in the right direction. JONAH Dad, I don't know about this one -- SAM Oh, you're changing your mind -- JONAH No, I'm not, but -- SAM What's the matter with this one? Wouldn't you like to have Imelda Marcos as your mother? JONAH Dad -- Sam cuffs him good-naturedly. SAM We better take the measurements for the new cabinets. He walks away past some workmen, ladders, etc. and starts checking the cross-beams in the ceiling over in another area of the site. Bob follows after him. Jay tosses Jonah a hammer and they start knocking nails into the wall. BOB Sam, if you're not doing anything New Year's -- obviously you're not doing anything New Year's -- we're having some people over, all of them married, not one even remotely interested in playing around. Does that sound great or what? (whistfully) I can't think of the last time I was at a party when anything actually happened. SAM Thanks, but I'll pass. It's kind of a big night. I don't like to leave Jonah alone. CUT TO: SHOT OF HOUSEBOAT BEING TOWED BY A TUG DOWN THE RIVER (OR A SEAPLANE LANDING) - TWILIGHT EXT. HOUSEBOAT - TWILIGHT Jonah watching it. Sam visible in the distance in the kitchen. INT. KITCHEN - TWILIGHT As Sam is busy installing the spice rack. He marks the wall, hammers in the nails, etc. SAM (as he starts putting new spices into the rack, in alphabetical order) Does red pepper go under R or P? JONAH P. (beat) Dad? SAM (absently) What? JONAH I forgot to mention. Jed called -- SAM Just out of curiosity, do you have any friends whose names don't begin with a J? I feel like it was a failure of the imagination on our part naming you Jonah. (looking at the spices) What is marjoram? Does anyone know? JONAH Jed is having a slumber party New Year's Eve and he invited me. A beat. SAM Fine. Fine. JONAH So I can go. SAM Sure. (almost done with the spices) Looking good. JONAH Shouldn't you have used a toggle bolt? SAM I think I know how to have a spice rack. He puts in the last spice. They stand back to admire it. A beat. The rack falls off the wall. The rack itself doesn't break, but about six of the glass jars of spices break. There's paprika and thyme and currying powder, etc. all over the floor along with shards of glass. SAM God fucking dammit! Shit! Fuck. Piss. Jonah bursts into tears. SAM (still angry) I'm sorry. (softening) I'm sorry. He picks up Jonah and holds him. SAM I'm sorry. I'm just -- JONAH Stressed. SAM Right. I'm sorry, Jonah, I'm sorry. And he holds Jonah as Jonah calms down. Sam closes his eyes tight. INT. A TELEVISION SET OF NEW YEAR'S EVE ON TIMES SQUARE And pull back to reveal: INT. HOUSEBOAT - NIGHT Sam, alone, watching the ball drop. He's got a bag of Doritos and a beer. A VOICE Can I have half your beer? SAM Sure. It's Maggie. She takes his bottle of beer and pours half of it into a glass. MAGGIE What did I used to say? Here's looking at you? Here's mud in your eye? SAM Here's to us. You used to say here's to us. (he looks at her and his eyes well with tears) Oh babe. I miss you so much it hurts. He reaches out for her. She's gone. And we hear the television set now counting down to midnight in New York. CUT TO: INT. NEW YEAR'S EVE PARTY IN BALTIMORE - NIGHT The same television show counting down to midnight. Champagne corks popping, etc. And we see Walter and Annie. WALTER Happy New Year, darling. ANNIE Happy New Year. They start to dance. WALTER I was thinking, I have to go up to Boston for the AAP convention and then visit Winston-Hughes about switching over our computers. Why don't we meet in New York for Valentine's Day weekend? ANNIE Walter, I'd love to -- WALTER We'll stay at the Plaza -- ANNIE Go for a walk in Central Park -- WALTER Go to the Symphony -- A beat. ANNIE We will? (beat) The Symphony? (beat) Okay. (beat) I'll take you to the Russian Tea Room for pelmeni. WALTER What is it? ANNIE It's delicious, trust me. WALTER Does it have wheat in it? ANNIE I don't think so. They go on dancing. It's one of those parties where everyone looks so happy and so in love. Annie, however, looks thoughtful. ET. MARINA PARKING AREA - DAY Sam gets out of his car and starts down the dock toward his houseboat. He's carrying a bag of groceries. In the parking lot is a U.S. MAIL TRUCK. EXT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY Sam approaches his boat and a puzzled look comes over his face. A MAILMAN with a sack of mail is standing outside the front door of the houseboat. Jonah is signing a receipt for the mail. JONAH Look at this, Dad. They're all for you -- Sam picks up an envelop and looks at it. It's addressed to Sleepless in Seattle c/o Dr. Marcia Fieldstone, Radio Station KWRS in Chicago. He's stunned. As he signs the receipt: MAILMAN If you're having trouble sleeping, you might want to try drinking a glass of water from the other side. JONAH I thought that was for hiccups. MAILMAN Does it work for hiccups? JONAH For hiccups, a spoonful of sugar, you hold it in your mouth for a minute. MAILMAN Really? The mailman starts back toward the mail truck. Sam and Jonah start toward the door. INT. HOUSEBOAT - NIGHT Sam is in the kitchen making dinner. Jonah is sitting at the table, reading the letters from the stack they found by the door. SAM Just out of curiosity, how did they get our address? JONAH They called and asked for it. (reading) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle. You are the most attractive man I've ever laid ears on." Jonah rolls his eyes, tosses the letter into a pile of rejects, opens another. SAM How did they get our phone number? JONAH You have to give them your phone number or they won't let you go on the air. Sam nods as if this makes perfect sense. JONAH (continues, reading) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle: I am an SWF"-- (to Sam) What is that? SAM Thank God. Something you don't know. It's a single white female. JONAH This is no good. She's looking for someone French. Or Greek. (puzzled, he throws the letter into the reject pile, opens another) "Dear Sleepless in Seattle: I live in Tulsa." Where is that? -- SAM Oklahoma. Do you know where that is? JONAH Somewhere in the middle. SAM I'm not going to think about what they're not teaching you in school. I am not going to think about it. (beat) Generally speaking I think we should rule out people who don't live somewhere near here -- JONAH She's willing to fly anywhere. As Jonah hands Sam the picture. SAM She looks like my third grade teacher. I hated my third grade teacher. Hold it! Wait a minute! She is my third grade teacher! JONAH Dad, you're not taking this seriously. SAM This is not how you do it. (referring to the hamburger) You want this on an English muffin or a bun? JONAH English muffin. How do you do it? SAM You see someone you like, you get a feeling about them, you ask them if they want to have a drink or -- JONAH -- a slice of pizza -- SAM But not dinner necessarily on the first date because by the time you're halfway through dinner you might be sorry you asked them to dinner whereas if it's just a drink, if you like them you can always ask them for dinner but if you don't you can go home if you see what I mean. (beat) I wonder if it still works this way. JONAH It doesn't. They ask you. SAM I'm starting to notice that. INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie and Walter are making love. JONAH (V.O.) If you get a new wife, I guess you'll have sex with her, huh? SAM (V.O.) What do you think? JONAH (V.O.) Will she scratch up your back? SAM (V.O.) What? JONAH'S BEDROOM - NIGHT As Sam puts Jonah to sleep. Jonah is holding his teddy bear while this conversation concludes. JONAH In the movies women are always scratching up guy's back and screaming and stuff. When they're having sex. SAM Whose show was this on? JONAH Jed's got cables. SAM Go to sleep. He kisses him good-night. JONAH Kiss Howard. (he holds out the teddy bear) G'night, Howard. INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie and Walter have just finished making love. Walter falling asleep. Annie lying in bed, with her eyes open. She starts to get out of bed. Puts on a robe. INT. STAIRWAY - HOUSE As Annie comes downstairs in a bathrobe. She opens the door to the street. EXT. STREET - NIGHT As Annie starts to run down the street. CLOSEUP OF: ANNIE, RUNNING And now we widen out to see a misty highway she's running down. Past a sign saying: Seattle Approximately 3,000 miles. Past another sign: Your nerves are shot. And another: Your feet are cold. And another: Will you find love. And another: Before you're cold? And another: Burma Shave. And Annie continues to run, and now we see she's running across a map of the United States -- it's a little like the one we saw in the beginning of the movie -- it's like the famous map of the United States by Saul Steinberg, but instead of being about New York, this one is about Seattle. In the distance, at the very edge of the map, we see two indistinct figures -- a map and a young boy. They start to wave at her, very slowly. Annie's eyes widen. CUT TO: INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Annie in bed, eyes open. Walter fast asleep. She gets out of bed, puts on her robe (just as she did in the dream sequence). INT. STAIRWELL - NIGHT As Annie comes down the stairs. INT. KITCHEN - HOUSE She turns the light on. Opens the refrigerator. Closes it. Opens it again. Takes out some milk. Sits down at the kitchen table with a bowl, corn flakes, banana. She's about to assemble it when: She sees: THE RADIO She stands up, turns it on to the station Dr. Marcia Fieldstone is on. She sits back down with her corn flakes. ANNOUNCER (V.O.) Up next, "You and Your Emotions" with Dr. Marcia Fieldstone, clinical psychologist and the best friend you never had. (the teaser continues) WOMAN'S VOICE (V.O.) He says he doesn't love me any more. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why do you want to be with someone who doesn't love you? ANOTHER WOMAN (V.O.) Every time I come close to orgasm he stops and goes to make himself a sandwich -- DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why don't you make him a sandwich beforehand? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) When I met my wife, it was so clear. I jus knew. Annie starts at hearing Sam's voice. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) What was it that made you know? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) I don't think I could really describe it. DR. MARCIA FIELDSTONE (V.O.) Why not? SAM'S VOICE (V.O.) And if I could describe it, it probably wouldn't be on a radio show. (he laughs to himself) But what the hell. It's not one specific thing. It's more of a feeling. (continuing) You touch her for the first time, and suddenly... you're home. It's almost like... magic. Annie closes her eyes. ANNOUNCER (V.O.) We'll be back after this commercial with Dr. Marcia Fieldstone. EXT. BALTIMORE - PEABODY LIBRARY - DAY We see Annie's car pull into a parking space outside the Peabody Library. Annie gets out of the car. INT. LIBRARY - DAY As Annie strides purposefully across the library and enters: INT. ANNIE'S BROTHER TOM'S OFFICE - DAY Annie bursts into Tom's office and walks over to his desk. We barely has time to look up. ANNIE I think I'm going crazy, Tom. I really do. Are you happily married? TOM (completely panicked by the question) What? ANNIE I mean, why did you get married? Was it all fireworks and trumpets and -- TOM (regaining composure) I got married because Betsy said we had to break up or get married. So we get married. ANNIE But when you met her, did you believe she was the only person for you? That in some mystical, cosmic way, it was fated? TOM Annie, when you meet someone and you're attracted to them, it just means that your subconscious is attracted to their subconscious, subconsciously. So what we think of as chemistry is just two neuroses knowing that they are a perfect match. ANNIE I don't even know him. But I'm having all these fantasies about a man I've never met, who lives in Seattle. TOM It rains nine months of the year in Seattle. ANNIE I know, I know. I do not want to move to Seattle. But what I really don't want to do is end up always wondering what might have happened and knowing I could have done something. What do you think? (Tom opens his mouth to say something, but before anything comes out, Annie fills the void) It's just cold feet, isn't it? Everyone panics before they get married, didn't you? TOM Yes, I did. ANNIE Thank you, Tom. I feel so much better just having blown this off. TOM Any time. INT. PEABODY LIBRARY - DAY As Annie walks through it and pushes the door to exit. EXT. A DOOR OPENING TO SEATTLE STREET - DAY Sam and Jay walk out of the Arctic Building onto the street. JAY Sandy has a girlfriend, Clenda ... She's a weightlifter, but it's not like her neck is bigger than her head or anything -- SAM I'm not asking you to set me up, Jay. That's not what I need your help for. I want to know what it's like over there. JAY And that's what I'm trying to tell you. What women are looking over, okay? Pecs and a cute butt. SAM You mean, like, "He has the cutest butt"? Where did I hear that recently? JAY Everywhere. You can't even turn on the news without hearing about how some babe thought some guy's butt was cute. Who the first babe to say this was I don't know, but it caught on. INT. SEATTLE RESTAURANT - DAY Sam and Jay at the counter. Out the window, we can see water. JAY When's the latest time you were out there? SAM (trying to remember) Seventy... eight. JAY Well. Things are different. First, you have to be friends. You have to like each other. Then you neck. This can go on for years. Then you have tests. Then you get to do it with a condom. (beat) The good news is, split the check. SAM I don't think it could let a woman pay for dinner. JAY Great. They'll have a parade in your honor. You'll be Man of the Year in Seattle Magazine. Tira misu. SAM What's tira misu? JAY You'll find out. SAM What is it? JAY You'll see. SAM Some woman is going to want me to do it to her and I'm not going to know what it is. JAY You'll like it. SAM (grimly) This is going to be tougher than I thought. EXT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY EVENING Sam coming home. INT. HOUSEBOAT - EARLY EVENING As he enters. It's very quiet. Too quiet. SAM Jonah? No answers. SAM Jonah? He starts to look concerned. SAM Jonah? He goes down the hall to Jonah's room. The door is shut. He opens it. Jonah is sitting on his bed listening to a tape. Earphones on. Next to him is a young girl named JESSICA. SAM Jonah? Jonah takes off the earphones. JONAH Hi, Dad. Dad, this is Jessica. SAM It's nice to meet you, Jessica. JONAH Dad, this is amazing. If you play this backwards, it says "Paul is dead." SAM I know. JONAH How do you know? Sam shrugs, turns to go back down the hall. JONAH Dad, could you close the door? JESSICA H and G. (Sam looks back) Hi and goodbye. Sam closes the door to Jonah's room. Hold on Sam. SAM (to himself) Get a life. INT. HOUSEBOAT - CONTINUOUS As Sam comes downstairs, goes into his office. Closes the door. INT. SAM'S OFFICE AT HOME - CONTINUOUS He goes to the phone. Looks up a number in the phone book. Picks up the phone and dials a number. SAM Hi, Victoria?... It's Sam Baldwin, I don't know if you remember me. Oh? Well, great. I was wondering if you wanted to have a drink... Friday, say... Dinner?... Sure, dinner would be fine. Sure. Dinner. INT. AN UNFINISHED DINNER ON A PLATE IN ANNIE'S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT Annie is watching "An Affair to Remember" on television, tears pouring down her face. Cary Grant is saying: "Are you in love with him?" Deborah Kerr replies: "I'm not now." She's sitting at the dining room table. A dozen pieces of paper litter the table. Annie's been unsuccessfully typing a letter on an old Underwood typewriter. ANNIE Now those were the days when people knew how to be in love. She takes a blast from the wine glass to her right. Becky leans in, refilling the glass. Annie begins to type and sob and look at the TV. BECKY You're a basket case. ANNIE (as she types) They knew it. Time, distance, nothing could separate them. Because they knew. It was right. It was real. It was... BECKY ... movie. (beat) That's your problem. You don't want to be in love. You want to be in love in a movie. (beat) Read it to me. ANNIE (reading her letter) "Dear Sleepless and Son..." BECKY It sounds like the name of a mattress store -- ANNIE "I am not the sort of person who listens to call-in radio shows" -- Becky flops on the couch. BECKY And this woman is a writer! That's what everyone writes at the beginning of letters to strangers. ANNIE I know that. You think I don't know that? "I know that's a dumb way to begin, but it's the only way I can think of to convey what happened to me the other night when I heard the two of you on the radio. On the other hand, maybe I'm just losing my mind." BECKY You are. You're losing your mind. What about Walter? ANNIE I'm going to marry Walter. I just have to get this out of my system. BECKY Right. ANNIE I should say something in this about magic. BECKY What? ANNIE I don't know. I mean, what if I never meet him? What if this man is my destiny and I never meet him? BECKY Your destiny can be your doom. Look at me and Rick. ANNIE (typing some more) "I want to meet you..." Cary Grant says: "How about the top of the Empire State Building?" BECKY "On top of the Empire State Building at sunset on Valentine's Day." ANNIE Good. Perfect. I'll be in New York with Walter, I can squeeze it in. She types in Becky's idea. Then she takes the piece of paper out of the typewriter, smashes it into a ball and tosses it up in the air and into Becky's lap. BECKY You want to hear about destiny? If my husband hadn't gone on a diet, which caused me to leave him, I would never have been on that flight to

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