Mr. Knightley stepped into the parlor of Hartfield. It was a cool, rainy day, and the walk over could most charitably be described as brisk, but he enjoyed it nonetheless.
Emma was alone in the room, sitting near the window with a book.
"Good afternoon, Emma," Mr. Knightley said.
"Oh! Hello, Mr. Knightley! I've been reading."
"I can see that," Knightley smiled. "And where is Miss Taylor?"
"She has gone to the library to see if she can find another volume of poetry. I've decided to read more classical poetry," Emma declared.
"Indeed? And how far along are you in this endeavor?"
Emma looked at the place she had left off in the book.
"I'm about halfway through the English section of Milton's 1645 Poems," she declared.
"And do you intend to master Latin to read the other part of the book when you've finished the English poems?" Knightley asked.
Emma frowned. "I remember seeing a Latin primer somewhere around here, perhaps I'll try that."
"If you were to master that, it would be most impressive," Knightley declared.
Emma slammed the book shut. "You don't believe me, do you, Mr. Knightley?"
"I never said that you couldn't," he protested, "but perhaps…"
"Is this about the unfinished portrait? I will finish it, if you like."
Knightley laughed. "I forgot about that, to be honest. I wouldn't want to interrupt your current poetic interests with another project."
Emma sighed and picked up her book, looking for the page where she had been. Just then, Mr. Woodhouse entered the room.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Knightley!" he said. "Did you know that Emma has been reading Milton?"