 Emma Austen's delightfully self-absorbed, self-satisfied and self-deluding heroine is still in the early stages of her education in the following missing scene that appears to be the original chapter ten. Little has occurred to anguish her vanity or to convince her that any other person is quite as important as herself. As Emma says, 'My being charming, Harriet, is not quite enough to induce me to marry; I must find other people charming — one other person at least.' Emma has just come from an encounter with Mr. Elton, the new vicar, and Harriet, the rural innocent whom Emma has adopted as a protégé. Mr. Elton is in love with Emma — but Emma thinks he loves Harriet, and that she has succeeded in cementing a match between them. In chapter nine, we leave Emma gleeful and laughing over her supposed accomplishments. To the satisfaction she feels on the subject, she now adds another kind. Chapter Ten  Emma soon found herself sitting in her dressing closet as she finished off her hearty laugh. Calmed, she peered smiling at her self in the looking glass and said aloud, 'You are quite a woman, Emma. Your virtue is even more than you were wont to believe. Excellent work you have done. Cleverer than your keenest admirers would even suppose. And Mr. Knightly can now begin to compose his apologies. Well done, Emma, well done.'
Emma could not remove the smile from her face, pleased as she was with herself. Again and again, she rehearsed in her mind how perfectly in the right she was in designing such a match between Harriet and Mr. Elton. Her judgement would soon be lauded by all. Emma's elegant manner would, of course, induce her to deny all praise — at first. But, she would slowly allow for compliment here and there; remarks upon her foresight, assistance, intelligence, advice and general good will would be allowed, in bits and bites now and again, especially in Mr. Knightly's presence — to be sure he was made to understand exactly how right she would was. 'How very hard it is to be Miss Emma Woodhouse,' she thought. 'Not even Mr. Knightly, gentleman that he is, can claim to have the sort of quickness and powers of assistance as I. Though I have no peers, it is a comfort to know what comfort I bring to others. I can be satisfied with that, if nothing else.' This self-praise was just the sort of wood for Emma's fire. For those who see themselves superior to all, there is nothing quite as rousing as a compliment for oneself. Emma continued in this manner for sometime, as she was in the habit of doing — for hours at a time — since little other activity was nearly as captivating to her attention. Soon she was quite breathless with hearing so much unqualified approbation. Emma looked at her rosy complexion, touched her fingers to her lips to kiss them and then moved her fingers to those very same lips facing her in the looking-glass, 'for you, Miss Woodhouse,' she said aloud. Emma continued to observe herself; every detail of her eyes, nose, lips, hair, neck, bustline. Her smile grew as she took in more and more of herself. 'What a fine figure you cut — the finest in Highbury, if not in all of the country!' she thought with bravado. Emma removed her glove and moved her hand up under her shift as she continued her imaginings. Each thought brought a new wave of pleasure and heightened good looks. Emma was not the sort to allow an activity that accentuated any one of her numerous assets to pass her by; and so she continued to form a list of her accomplishments without hesitation. 'Miss Taylor at Randalls — my doing,' brought on a deep sigh. 'Harriet at the vicarage — my doing.' Emma closed her eyes and laughed as she reached further under her dress. 'Chusing the perfect fabric for my new parasol to wear with my lemon yellow poplin frock — only I would have seen the match in the two.' She bowed to herself and let out an elegant little cry. 'Mr. Knightly's heartfelt amends followed a remorseful session of praise.' Emma could hardly stand the excitement such thoughts produced. She moved her hand out from under her to take in the fragrance of herself with feverish delight. 'As always, smelling and tasting like lilies of the valley with a hint of lavender.' Emma dipped back under her dress where her activity resumed with some fervour. She thought momentarily of her needing to get everything in order for dinner, but did not allow this thought to interrupt her activities. Rather, it heightened her excitement as it reminded her (not that she ever truly forgot) how essential she was to the flawless running of the household. It would do to have her father and Harriet take a moment without her if only to realise how utterly necessary she was to them in every way. Of course, they were surely already convinced of this matter, but Emma believed one could never feel too much her usefulness. Before long, Emma was near completely done with her regalement. At this point, she did what she always had done — stopt; for small beads for perspiration began to appear on Emma's brow and her colour deepened from a rosy blush to a coarse crimson. There was nothing Emma liked less than to have to witness herself in an uncontrolled state — not that she had ever observed such a state in her person; such inelegance and bad taste were not a part of her existence. But, she certainly was not willing to risk any behavior of the sort; she would leave that to those of inferior habits. One ought to know how to conduct oneself with decorum at all times and in all circumstances; moreover, to have the ability to control oneself was yet another reason to be pleased with oneself, or so Emma believed. And so Emma congratulated herself, once again, for complete self-command. She carefully arranged her dress, dabbed her brow and observed her visage in silence as she thought, 'What an honour to be me.' *Italicized text is found in the expurgated, published editions of Austen's novels. From Pride and Promiscuity by Arielle Eckstut. Copyright © 2001 by Arielle Eckstut and Dennis Ashton. Reprinted by permission of Fireside, an Imprint of Simon and Schuster, Inc. 
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