wohnzimmertür kaufen

volume ii chapter i emma and harriet had been walking togetherone morning, and, in emma's opinion, had been talking enough of mr. elton for thatday. she could not think that harriet's solaceor her own sins required more; and she was therefore industriously getting rid of thesubject as they returned;--but it burst out again when she thought she had succeeded, and after speaking some time of what thepoor must suffer in winter, and receiving no other answer than a very plaintive--"mr.elton is so good to the poor!" she found

something else must be done. they were just approaching the house wherelived mrs. and miss bates. she determined to call upon them and seeksafety in numbers. there was always sufficient reason for suchan attention; mrs. and miss bates loved to be called on, and she knew she wasconsidered by the very few who presumed ever to see imperfection in her, as rather negligent in that respect, and as notcontributing what she ought to the stock of their scanty comforts. she had had many a hint from mr. knightleyand some from her own heart, as to her

deficiency--but none were equal tocounteract the persuasion of its being very disagreeable,--a waste of time--tiresome women--and all the horror of being indanger of falling in with the second-rate and third-rate of highbury, who werecalling on them for ever, and therefore she seldom went near them. but now she made the sudden resolution ofnot passing their door without going in-- observing, as she proposed it to harriet,that, as well as she could calculate, they were just now quite safe from any letterfrom jane fairfax. the house belonged to people in business.

mrs. and miss bates occupied the drawing-room floor; and there, in the very moderate-sized apartment, which was everything to them, the visitors were most cordially and even gratefully welcomed; the quiet neat old lady, who with her knittingwas seated in the warmest corner, wanting even to give up her place to misswoodhouse, and her more active, talking daughter, almost ready to overpower them with care and kindness, thanks for theirvisit, solicitude for their shoes, anxious inquiries after mr. woodhouse's health,cheerful communications about her mother's, and sweet-cake from the beaufet--"mrs. cole

had just been there, just called in for tenminutes, and had been so good as to sit an hour with them, and she had taken a pieceof cake and been so kind as to say she liked it very much; and, therefore, she hoped miss woodhouse and miss smith woulddo them the favour to eat a piece too." the mention of the coles was sure to befollowed by that of mr. elton. there was intimacy between them, and mr.cole had heard from mr. elton since his going away. emma knew what was coming; they must havethe letter over again, and settle how long he had been gone, and how much he wasengaged in company, and what a favourite he

was wherever he went, and how full the master of the ceremonies' ball had been;and she went through it very well, with all the interest and all the commendation thatcould be requisite, and always putting forward to prevent harriet's being obligedto say a word. this she had been prepared for when sheentered the house; but meant, having once talked him handsomely over, to be nofarther incommoded by any troublesome topic, and to wander at large amongst all the mistresses and misses of highbury, andtheir card-parties. she had not been prepared to have janefairfax succeed mr. elton; but he was

actually hurried off by miss bates, shejumped away from him at last abruptly to the coles, to usher in a letter from herniece. "oh! yes--mr. elton, i understand--certainly as to dancing--mrs. cole was telling me that dancing at the rooms atbath was--mrs. cole was so kind as to sit some time with us, talking of jane; for as soon as she came in, she began inquiringafter her, jane is so very great a favourite there. whenever she is with us, mrs. cole does notknow how to shew her kindness enough; and i must say that jane deserves it as much asany body can.

and so she began inquiring after herdirectly, saying, 'i know you cannot have heard from jane lately, because it is nother time for writing;' and when i immediately said, 'but indeed we have, we had a letter this very morning,' i do notknow that i ever saw any body more surprized.'have you, upon your honour?' said she; 'well, that is quite unexpected. do let me hear what she says.'"emma's politeness was at hand directly, to say, with smiling interest--"have you heard from miss fairfax so lately?

i am extremely happy.i hope she is well?" "thank you. you are so kind!" replied the happilydeceived aunt, while eagerly hunting for the letter.--"oh! here it is. i was sure it could not be far off; but ihad put my huswife upon it, you see, without being aware, and so it was quitehid, but i had it in my hand so very lately that i was almost sure it must be on thetable. i was reading it to mrs. cole, and sinceshe went away, i was reading it again to my mother, for it is such a pleasure to her--aletter from jane--that she can never hear

it often enough; so i knew it could not be far off, and here it is, only just under myhuswife--and since you are so kind as to wish to hear what she says;--but, first ofall, i really must, in justice to jane, apologise for her writing so short a letter--only two pages you see--hardly two--and in general she fills the whole paper and crosses half.my mother often wonders that i can make it out so well. she often says, when the letter is firstopened, 'well, hetty, now i think you will be put to it to make out all that checker-work'--don't you, ma'am?--and then i tell

her, i am sure she would contrive to make it out herself, if she had nobody to do itfor her--every word of it--i am sure she would pore over it till she had made outevery word. and, indeed, though my mother's eyes arenot so good as they were, she can see amazingly well still, thank god! with thehelp of spectacles. it is such a blessing! my mother's are really very good indeed. jane often says, when she is here, 'i amsure, grandmama, you must have had very strong eyes to see as you do--and so muchfine work as you have done too!--i only

wish my eyes may last me as well.'" all this spoken extremely fast obliged missbates to stop for breath; and emma said something very civil about the excellenceof miss fairfax's handwriting. "you are extremely kind," replied missbates, highly gratified; "you who are such a judge, and write so beautifully yourself. i am sure there is nobody's praise thatcould give us so much pleasure as miss woodhouse's.my mother does not hear; she is a little deaf you know. ma'am," addressing her, "do you hear whatmiss woodhouse is so obliging to say about

jane's handwriting?" and emma had the advantage of hearing herown silly compliment repeated twice over before the good old lady could comprehendit. she was pondering, in the meanwhile, uponthe possibility, without seeming very rude, of making her escape from jane fairfax'sletter, and had almost resolved on hurrying away directly under some slight excuse, when miss bates turned to her again andseized her attention. "my mother's deafness is very trifling yousee--just nothing at all. by only raising my voice, and saying anything two or three times over, she is sure

to hear; but then she is used to my voice.but it is very remarkable that she should always hear jane better than she does me. jane speaks so distinct! however, she will not find her grandmama atall deafer than she was two years ago; which is saying a great deal at my mother'stime of life--and it really is full two years, you know, since she was here. we never were so long without seeing herbefore, and as i was telling mrs. cole, we shall hardly know how to make enough of hernow." "are you expecting miss fairfax here soon?"

"oh yes; next week.""indeed!--that must be a very great pleasure.""thank you. you are very kind. yes, next week.every body is so surprized; and every body says the same obliging things. i am sure she will be as happy to see herfriends at highbury, as they can be to see her. yes, friday or saturday; she cannot saywhich, because colonel campbell will be wanting the carriage himself one of thosedays.

so very good of them to send her the wholeway! but they always do, you know.oh yes, friday or saturday next. that is what she writes about. that is the reason of her writing out ofrule, as we call it; for, in the common course, we should not have heard from herbefore next tuesday or wednesday." "yes, so i imagined. i was afraid there could be little chanceof my hearing any thing of miss fairfax to- day.""so obliging of you! no, we should not have heard, if it had notbeen for this particular circumstance, of

her being to come here so soon.my mother is so delighted!--for she is to be three months with us at least. three months, she says so, positively, as iam going to have the pleasure of reading to you.the case is, you see, that the campbells are going to ireland. mrs. dixon has persuaded her father andmother to come over and see her directly. they had not intended to go over till thesummer, but she is so impatient to see them again--for till she married, last october,she was never away from them so much as a week, which must make it very strange to be

in different kingdoms, i was going to say,but however different countries, and so she wrote a very urgent letter to her mother--or her father, i declare i do not know which it was, but we shall see presently in jane's letter--wrote in mr. dixon's name aswell as her own, to press their coming over directly, and they would give them themeeting in dublin, and take them back to their country seat, baly-craig, a beautifulplace, i fancy. jane has heard a great deal of its beauty;from mr. dixon, i mean--i do not know that she ever heard about it from any body else;but it was very natural, you know, that he should like to speak of his own place while

he was paying his addresses--and as janeused to be very often walking out with them--for colonel and mrs. campbell werevery particular about their daughter's not walking out often with only mr. dixon, for which i do not at all blame them; of courseshe heard every thing he might be telling miss campbell about his own home inireland; and i think she wrote us word that he had shewn them some drawings of theplace, views that he had taken himself. he is a most amiable, charming young man, ibelieve. jane was quite longing to go to ireland,from his account of things." at this moment, an ingenious and animatingsuspicion entering emma's brain with regard

to jane fairfax, this charming mr. dixon,and the not going to ireland, she said, with the insidious design of fartherdiscovery, "you must feel it very fortunate that missfairfax should be allowed to come to you at such a time. considering the very particular friendshipbetween her and mrs. dixon, you could hardly have expected her to be excused fromaccompanying colonel and mrs. campbell." "very true, very true, indeed. the very thing that we have always beenrather afraid of; for we should not have liked to have her at such a distance fromus, for months together--not able to come

if any thing was to happen. but you see, every thing turns out for thebest. they want her (mr. and mrs. dixon)excessively to come over with colonel and mrs. campbell; quite depend upon it;nothing can be more kind or pressing than their joint invitation, jane says, as you will hear presently; mr. dixon does notseem in the least backward in any attention.he is a most charming young man. ever since the service he rendered jane atweymouth, when they were out in that party on the water, and she, by the suddenwhirling round of something or other among

the sails, would have been dashed into the sea at once, and actually was all but gone,if he had not, with the greatest presence of mind, caught hold of her habit-- (i cannever think of it without trembling!)--but ever since we had the history of that day,i have been so fond of mr. dixon!" "but, in spite of all her friends' urgency,and her own wish of seeing ireland, miss fairfax prefers devoting the time to youand mrs. bates?" "yes--entirely her own doing, entirely herown choice; and colonel and mrs. campbell think she does quite right, just what theyshould recommend; and indeed they particularly wish her to try her native

air, as she has not been quite so well asusual lately." "i am concerned to hear of it.i think they judge wisely. but mrs. dixon must be very muchdisappointed. mrs. dixon, i understand, has no remarkabledegree of personal beauty; is not, by any means, to be compared with miss fairfax." "oh! no.you are very obliging to say such things-- but certainly not.there is no comparison between them. miss campbell always was absolutely plain--but extremely elegant and amiable." "yes, that of course."

"jane caught a bad cold, poor thing! solong ago as the 7th of november, (as i am going to read to you,) and has never beenwell since. a long time, is not it, for a cold to hangupon her? she never mentioned it before, because shewould not alarm us. just like her! so considerate!--buthowever, she is so far from well, that her kind friends the campbells think she hadbetter come home, and try an air that always agrees with her; and they have no doubt that three or four months at highburywill entirely cure her--and it is certainly a great deal better that she should comehere, than go to ireland, if she is unwell.

nobody could nurse her, as we should do." "it appears to me the most desirablearrangement in the world." "and so she is to come to us next friday orsaturday, and the campbells leave town in their way to holyhead the monday following--as you will find from jane's letter. so sudden!--you may guess, dear misswoodhouse, what a flurry it has thrown me in! if it was not for the drawback of herillness--but i am afraid we must expect to see her grown thin, and looking verypoorly. i must tell you what an unlucky thinghappened to me, as to that.

i always make a point of reading jane'sletters through to myself first, before i read them aloud to my mother, you know, forfear of there being any thing in them to distress her. jane desired me to do it, so i always do:and so i began to-day with my usual caution; but no sooner did i come to themention of her being unwell, than i burst out, quite frightened, with 'bless me! poor jane is ill!'--which my mother, being onthe watch, heard distinctly, and was sadly alarmed at. however, when i read on, i found it was notnear so bad as i had fancied at first; and

i make so light of it now to her, that shedoes not think much about it. but i cannot imagine how i could be so offmy guard. if jane does not get well soon, we willcall in mr. perry. the expense shall not be thought of; andthough he is so liberal, and so fond of jane that i dare say he would not mean tocharge any thing for attendance, we could not suffer it to be so, you know. he has a wife and family to maintain, andis not to be giving away his time. well, now i have just given you a hint ofwhat jane writes about, we will turn to her letter, and i am sure she tells her ownstory a great deal better than i can tell

it for her." "i am afraid we must be running away," saidemma, glancing at harriet, and beginning to rise--"my father will be expecting us. i had no intention, i thought i had nopower of staying more than five minutes, when i first entered the house. i merely called, because i would not passthe door without inquiring after mrs. bates; but i have been so pleasantlydetained! now, however, we must wish you and mrs.bates good morning." and not all that could be urged to detainher succeeded.

she regained the street--happy in this,that though much had been forced on her against her will, though she had in factheard the whole substance of jane fairfax's letter, she had been able to escape theletter itself. > chapter ii jane fairfax was an orphan, the only childof mrs. bates's youngest daughter. the marriage of lieut. fairfax of the ----regiment of infantry,and miss jane bates, had had its day of fame and pleasure, hope and interest; butnothing now remained of it, save the

melancholy remembrance of him dying in action abroad--of his widow sinking underconsumption and grief soon afterwards--and this girl. by birth she belonged to highbury: and whenat three years old, on losing her mother, she became the property, the charge, theconsolation, the fondling of her grandmother and aunt, there had seemed every probability of her being permanentlyfixed there; of her being taught only what very limited means could command, andgrowing up with no advantages of connexion or improvement, to be engrafted on what

nature had given her in a pleasing person,good understanding, and warm-hearted, well- meaning relations.but the compassionate feelings of a friend of her father gave a change to her destiny. this was colonel campbell, who had veryhighly regarded fairfax, as an excellent officer and most deserving young man; andfarther, had been indebted to him for such attentions, during a severe camp-fever, ashe believed had saved his life. these were claims which he did not learn tooverlook, though some years passed away from the death of poor fairfax, before hisown return to england put any thing in his power.

when he did return, he sought out the childand took notice of her. he was a married man, with only one livingchild, a girl, about jane's age: and jane became their guest, paying them long visitsand growing a favourite with all; and before she was nine years old, his daughter's great fondness for her, and hisown wish of being a real friend, united to produce an offer from colonel campbell ofundertaking the whole charge of her education. it was accepted; and from that period janehad belonged to colonel campbell's family, and had lived with them entirely, onlyvisiting her grandmother from time to time.

the plan was that she should be brought upfor educating others; the very few hundred pounds which she inherited from her fathermaking independence impossible. to provide for her otherwise was out ofcolonel campbell's power; for though his income, by pay and appointments, washandsome, his fortune was moderate and must be all his daughter's; but, by giving her an education, he hoped to be supplying themeans of respectable subsistence hereafter. such was jane fairfax's history. she had fallen into good hands, knownnothing but kindness from the campbells, and been given an excellent education.

living constantly with right-minded andwell-informed people, her heart and understanding had received every advantageof discipline and culture; and colonel campbell's residence being in london, every lighter talent had been done full justiceto, by the attendance of first-rate masters. her disposition and abilities were equallyworthy of all that friendship could do; and at eighteen or nineteen she was, as far assuch an early age can be qualified for the care of children, fully competent to the office of instruction herself; but she wastoo much beloved to be parted with.

neither father nor mother could promote,and the daughter could not endure it. the evil day was put off. it was easy to decide that she was stilltoo young; and jane remained with them, sharing, as another daughter, in all therational pleasures of an elegant society, and a judicious mixture of home and amusement, with only the drawback of thefuture, the sobering suggestions of her own good understanding to remind her that allthis might soon be over. the affection of the whole family, the warmattachment of miss campbell in particular, was the more honourable to each party fromthe circumstance of jane's decided

superiority both in beauty andacquirements. that nature had given it in feature couldnot be unseen by the young woman, nor could her higher powers of mind be unfelt by theparents. they continued together with unabatedregard however, till the marriage of miss campbell, who by that chance, that luckwhich so often defies anticipation in matrimonial affairs, giving attraction to what is moderate rather than to what issuperior, engaged the affections of mr. dixon, a young man, rich and agreeable,almost as soon as they were acquainted; and was eligibly and happily settled, whilejane fairfax had yet her bread to earn.

this event had very lately taken place; toolately for any thing to be yet attempted by her less fortunate friend towards enteringon her path of duty; though she had now reached the age which her own judgment hadfixed on for beginning. she had long resolved that one-and-twentyshould be the period. with the fortitude of a devoted novitiate,she had resolved at one-and-twenty to complete the sacrifice, and retire from allthe pleasures of life, of rational intercourse, equal society, peace and hope,to penance and mortification for ever. the good sense of colonel and mrs. campbellcould not oppose such a resolution, though their feelings did.

as long as they lived, no exertions wouldbe necessary, their home might be hers for ever; and for their own comfort they wouldhave retained her wholly; but this would be selfishness:--what must be at last, hadbetter be soon. perhaps they began to feel it might havebeen kinder and wiser to have resisted the temptation of any delay, and spared herfrom a taste of such enjoyments of ease and leisure as must now be relinquished. still, however, affection was glad to catchat any reasonable excuse for not hurrying on the wretched moment. she had never been quite well since thetime of their daughter's marriage; and till

she should have completely recovered herusual strength, they must forbid her engaging in duties, which, so far from being compatible with a weakened frame andvarying spirits, seemed, under the most favourable circumstances, to requiresomething more than human perfection of body and mind to be discharged withtolerable comfort. with regard to her not accompanying them toireland, her account to her aunt contained nothing but truth, though there might besome truths not told. it was her own choice to give the time oftheir absence to highbury; to spend, perhaps, her last months of perfect libertywith those kind relations to whom she was

so very dear: and the campbells, whatever might be their motive or motives, whethersingle, or double, or treble, gave the arrangement their ready sanction, and said,that they depended more on a few months spent in her native air, for the recoveryof her health, than on any thing else. certain it was that she was to come; andthat highbury, instead of welcoming that perfect novelty which had been so longpromised it--mr. frank churchill--must put up for the present with jane fairfax, who could bring only the freshness of a twoyears' absence. emma was sorry;--to have to pay civilitiesto a person she did not like through three

long months!--to be always doing more thanshe wished, and less than she ought! why she did not like jane fairfax might bea difficult question to answer; mr. knightley had once told her it was becauseshe saw in her the really accomplished young woman, which she wanted to be thought herself; and though the accusation had beeneagerly refuted at the time, there were moments of self-examination in which herconscience could not quite acquit her. but "she could never get acquainted withher: she did not know how it was, but there was such coldness and reserve--suchapparent indifference whether she pleased or not--and then, her aunt was such an

eternal talker!--and she was made such afuss with by every body!--and it had been always imagined that they were to be sointimate--because their ages were the same, every body had supposed they must be sofond of each other." these were her reasons--she had no better. it was a dislike so little just--everyimputed fault was so magnified by fancy, that she never saw jane fairfax the firsttime after any considerable absence, without feeling that she had injured her; and now, when the due visit was paid, onher arrival, after a two years' interval, she was particularly struck with the veryappearance and manners, which for those two

whole years she had been depreciating. jane fairfax was very elegant, remarkablyelegant; and she had herself the highest value for elegance. her height was pretty, just such as almostevery body would think tall, and nobody could think very tall; her figureparticularly graceful; her size a most becoming medium, between fat and thin, though a slight appearance of ill-healthseemed to point out the likeliest evil of the two. emma could not but feel all this; and then,her face--her features--there was more

beauty in them altogether than she hadremembered; it was not regular, but it was very pleasing beauty. her eyes, a deep grey, with dark eye-lashesand eyebrows, had never been denied their praise; but the skin, which she had beenused to cavil at, as wanting colour, had a clearness and delicacy which really neededno fuller bloom. it was a style of beauty, of which elegancewas the reigning character, and as such, she must, in honour, by all her principles,admire it:--elegance, which, whether of person or of mind, she saw so little inhighbury. there, not to be vulgar, was distinction,and merit.

in short, she sat, during the first visit,looking at jane fairfax with twofold complacency; the sense of pleasure and thesense of rendering justice, and was determining that she would dislike her nolonger. when she took in her history, indeed, hersituation, as well as her beauty; when she considered what all this elegance wasdestined to, what she was going to sink from, how she was going to live, it seemed impossible to feel any thing but compassionand respect; especially, if to every well- known particular entitling her to interest,were added the highly probable circumstance of an attachment to mr. dixon, which shehad so naturally started to herself.

in that case, nothing could be morepitiable or more honourable than the sacrifices she had resolved on. emma was very willing now to acquit her ofhaving seduced mr. dixon's actions from his wife, or of any thing mischievous which herimagination had suggested at first. if it were love, it might be simple,single, successless love on her side alone. she might have been unconsciously suckingin the sad poison, while a sharer of his conversation with her friend; and from thebest, the purest of motives, might now be denying herself this visit to ireland, and resolving to divide herself effectuallyfrom him and his connexions by soon

beginning her career of laborious duty. upon the whole, emma left her with suchsoftened, charitable feelings, as made her look around in walking home, and lamentthat highbury afforded no young man worthy of giving her independence; nobody that shecould wish to scheme about for her. these were charming feelings--but notlasting. before she had committed herself by anypublic profession of eternal friendship for jane fairfax, or done more towards arecantation of past prejudices and errors, than saying to mr. knightley, "she certainly is handsome; she is better thanhandsome!"

jane had spent an evening at hartfield withher grandmother and aunt, and every thing was relapsing much into its usual state. former provocations reappeared. the aunt was as tiresome as ever; moretiresome, because anxiety for her health was now added to admiration of her powers;and they had to listen to the description of exactly how little bread and butter she ate for breakfast, and how small a slice ofmutton for dinner, as well as to see exhibitions of new caps and new workbagsfor her mother and herself; and jane's offences rose again.

they had music; emma was obliged to play;and the thanks and praise which necessarily followed appeared to her an affectation ofcandour, an air of greatness, meaning only to shew off in higher style her own verysuperior performance. she was, besides, which was the worst ofall, so cold, so cautious! there was no getting at her real opinion. wrapt up in a cloak of politeness, sheseemed determined to hazard nothing. she was disgustingly, was suspiciouslyreserved. if any thing could be more, where all wasmost, she was more reserved on the subject of weymouth and the dixons than any thing.

she seemed bent on giving no real insightinto mr. dixon's character, or her own value for his company, or opinion of thesuitableness of the match. it was all general approbation andsmoothness; nothing delineated or distinguished.it did her no service however. her caution was thrown away. emma saw its artifice, and returned to herfirst surmises. there probably was something more toconceal than her own preference; mr. dixon, perhaps, had been very near changing onefriend for the other, or been fixed only to miss campbell, for the sake of the futuretwelve thousand pounds.

the like reserve prevailed on other topics.she and mr. frank churchill had been at weymouth at the same time. it was known that they were a littleacquainted; but not a syllable of real information could emma procure as to whathe truly was. "was he handsome?"--"she believed he wasreckoned a very fine young man." "was he agreeable?"--"he was generallythought so." "did he appear a sensible young man; ayoung man of information?"--"at a watering- place, or in a common london acquaintance,it was difficult to decide on such points. manners were all that could be safelyjudged of, under a much longer knowledge

than they had yet had of mr. churchill.she believed every body found his manners pleasing." emma could not forgive her. chapter iii emma could not forgive her;--but as neitherprovocation nor resentment were discerned by mr. knightley, who had been of theparty, and had seen only proper attention and pleasing behaviour on each side, he was expressing the next morning, being athartfield again on business with mr. woodhouse, his approbation of the whole;not so openly as he might have done had her

father been out of the room, but speaking plain enough to be very intelligible toemma. he had been used to think her unjust tojane, and had now great pleasure in marking an improvement. "a very pleasant evening," he began, assoon as mr. woodhouse had been talked into what was necessary, told that heunderstood, and the papers swept away;-- "particularly pleasant. you and miss fairfax gave us some very goodmusic. i do not know a more luxurious state, sir,than sitting at one's ease to be

entertained a whole evening by two suchyoung women; sometimes with music and sometimes with conversation. i am sure miss fairfax must have found theevening pleasant, emma. you left nothing undone. i was glad you made her play so much, forhaving no instrument at her grandmother's, it must have been a real indulgence." "i am happy you approved," said emma,smiling; "but i hope i am not often deficient in what is due to guests athartfield." "no, my dear," said her father instantly;"that i am sure you are not.

there is nobody half so attentive and civilas you are. if any thing, you are too attentive. the muffin last night--if it had beenhanded round once, i think it would have been enough." "no," said mr. knightley, nearly at thesame time; "you are not often deficient; not often deficient either in manner orcomprehension. i think you understand me, therefore." an arch look expressed--"i understand youwell enough;" but she said only, "miss fairfax is reserved."

"i always told you she was--a little; butyou will soon overcome all that part of her reserve which ought to be overcome, allthat has its foundation in diffidence. what arises from discretion must behonoured." "you think her diffident.i do not see it." "my dear emma," said he, moving from hischair into one close by her, "you are not going to tell me, i hope, that you had nota pleasant evening." "oh! no; i was pleased with my ownperseverance in asking questions; and amused to think how little information iobtained." "i am disappointed," was his only answer.

"i hope every body had a pleasant evening,"said mr. woodhouse, in his quiet way. "i had. once, i felt the fire rather too much; butthen i moved back my chair a little, a very little, and it did not disturb me. miss bates was very chatty and good-humoured, as she always is, though she speaks rather too quick.however, she is very agreeable, and mrs. bates too, in a different way. i like old friends; and miss jane fairfaxis a very pretty sort of young lady, a very pretty and a very well-behaved young ladyindeed.

she must have found the evening agreeable,mr. knightley, because she had emma." "true, sir; and emma, because she had missfairfax." emma saw his anxiety, and wishing toappease it, at least for the present, said, and with a sincerity which no one couldquestion-- "she is a sort of elegant creature that onecannot keep one's eyes from. i am always watching her to admire; and ido pity her from my heart." mr. knightley looked as if he were moregratified than he cared to express; and before he could make any reply, mr.woodhouse, whose thoughts were on the bates's, said--

"it is a great pity that theircircumstances should be so confined! a great pity indeed! and i have often wished--but it is so little one can venture to do- -small, trifling presents, of any thing uncommon--now we have killed a porker, andemma thinks of sending them a loin or a leg; it is very small and delicate--hartfield pork is not like any other pork-- but still it is pork--and, my dear emma, unless one could be sure of their making itinto steaks, nicely fried, as ours are fried, without the smallest grease, and notroast it, for no stomach can bear roast pork--i think we had better send the leg--do not you think so, my dear?"

"my dear papa, i sent the whole hind-quarter. i knew you would wish it. there will be the leg to be salted, youknow, which is so very nice, and the loin to be dressed directly in any manner theylike." "that's right, my dear, very right. i had not thought of it before, but that isthe best way. they must not over-salt the leg; and then,if it is not over-salted, and if it is very thoroughly boiled, just as serle boilsours, and eaten very moderately of, with a boiled turnip, and a little carrot orparsnip, i do not consider it unwholesome."

"emma," said mr. knightley presently, "ihave a piece of news for you. you like news--and i heard an article in myway hither that i think will interest you." "news!oh! yes, i always like news. what is it?--why do you smile so?--wheredid you hear it?--at randalls?" he had time only to say, "no, not at randalls; i have not been nearrandalls," when the door was thrown open, and miss bates and miss fairfax walked intothe room. full of thanks, and full of news, missbates knew not which to give quickest. mr. knightley soon saw that he had lost hismoment, and that not another syllable of

communication could rest with him. "oh! my dear sir, how are you this morning?my dear miss woodhouse--i come quite over- powered.such a beautiful hind-quarter of pork! you are too bountiful! have you heard the news?mr. elton is going to be married." emma had not had time even to think of mr.elton, and she was so completely surprized that she could not avoid a little start,and a little blush, at the sound. "there is my news:--i thought it wouldinterest you," said mr. knightley, with a smile which implied a conviction of somepart of what had passed between them.

"but where could you hear it?" cried missbates. "where could you possibly hear it, mr.knightley? for it is not five minutes since i receivedmrs. cole's note--no, it cannot be more than five--or at least ten--for i had gotmy bonnet and spencer on, just ready to come out--i was only gone down to speak to patty again about the pork--jane wasstanding in the passage--were not you, jane?--for my mother was so afraid that wehad not any salting-pan large enough. so i said i would go down and see, and janesaid, 'shall i go down instead? for i think you have a little cold, and patty has beenwashing the kitchen.'--'oh! my dear,' said

i--well, and just then came the note. a miss hawkins--that's all i know.a miss hawkins of bath. but, mr. knightley, how could you possiblyhave heard it? for the very moment mr. cole told mrs. cole of it, she sat down andwrote to me. a miss hawkins--" "i was with mr. cole on business an hourand a half ago. he had just read elton's letter as i wasshewn in, and handed it to me directly." "well! that is quite--i suppose there neverwas a piece of news more generally interesting.my dear sir, you really are too bountiful.

my mother desires her very best complimentsand regards, and a thousand thanks, and says you really quite oppress her." "we consider our hartfield pork," repliedmr. woodhouse--"indeed it certainly is, so very superior to all other pork, that emmaand i cannot have a greater pleasure than-- " "oh! my dear sir, as my mother says, ourfriends are only too good to us. if ever there were people who, withouthaving great wealth themselves, had every thing they could wish for, i am sure it isus. we may well say that 'our lot is cast in agoodly heritage.'

well, mr. knightley, and so you actuallysaw the letter; well--" "it was short--merely to announce--butcheerful, exulting, of course."-- here was a sly glance at emma. "he had been so fortunate as to--i forgetthe precise words--one has no business to remember them.the information was, as you state, that he was going to be married to a miss hawkins. by his style, i should imagine it justsettled." "mr. elton going to be married!" said emma,as soon as she could speak. "he will have every body's wishes for hishappiness."

"he is very young to settle," was mr.woodhouse's observation. "he had better not be in a hurry. he seemed to me very well off as he was.we were always glad to see him at hartfield." "a new neighbour for us all, misswoodhouse!" said miss bates, joyfully; "my mother is so pleased!--she says she cannotbear to have the poor old vicarage without a mistress. this is great news, indeed.jane, you have never seen mr. elton!--no wonder that you have such a curiosity tosee him."

jane's curiosity did not appear of thatabsorbing nature as wholly to occupy her. "no--i have never seen mr. elton," shereplied, starting on this appeal; "is he-- is he a tall man?" "who shall answer that question?" criedemma. "my father would say 'yes,' mr. knightley'no;' and miss bates and i that he is just the happy medium. when you have been here a little longer,miss fairfax, you will understand that mr. elton is the standard of perfection inhighbury, both in person and mind." "very true, miss woodhouse, so she will.

he is the very best young man--but, my dearjane, if you remember, i told you yesterday he was precisely the height of mr. perry.miss hawkins,--i dare say, an excellent young woman. his extreme attention to my mother--wantingher to sit in the vicarage pew, that she might hear the better, for my mother is alittle deaf, you know--it is not much, but she does not hear quite quick. jane says that colonel campbell is a littledeaf. he fancied bathing might be good for it--the warm bath--but she says it did him no lasting benefit.

colonel campbell, you know, is quite ourangel. and mr. dixon seems a very charming youngman, quite worthy of him. it is such a happiness when good people gettogether--and they always do. now, here will be mr. elton and misshawkins; and there are the coles, such very good people; and the perrys--i supposethere never was a happier or a better couple than mr. and mrs. perry. i say, sir," turning to mr. woodhouse, "ithink there are few places with such society as highbury. i always say, we are quite blessed in ourneighbours.--my dear sir, if there is one

thing my mother loves better than another,it is pork--a roast loin of pork--" "as to who, or what miss hawkins is, or howlong he has been acquainted with her," said emma, "nothing i suppose can be known.one feels that it cannot be a very long acquaintance. he has been gone only four weeks."nobody had any information to give; and, after a few more wonderings, emma said,"you are silent, miss fairfax--but i hope you mean to take an interest in this news. you, who have been hearing and seeing somuch of late on these subjects, who must have been so deep in the business on misscampbell's account--we shall not excuse

your being indifferent about mr. elton andmiss hawkins." "when i have seen mr. elton," replied jane,"i dare say i shall be interested--but i believe it requires that with me. and as it is some months since misscampbell married, the impression may be a little worn off." "yes, he has been gone just four weeks, asyou observe, miss woodhouse," said miss bates, "four weeks yesterday.--a misshawkins!--well, i had always rather fancied it would be some young lady hereabouts; not that i ever--mrs. cole once whispered tome--but i immediately said, 'no, mr. elton

is a most worthy young man--but'--in short,i do not think i am particularly quick at those sort of discoveries. i do not pretend to it.what is before me, i see. at the same time, nobody could wonder ifmr. elton should have aspired--miss woodhouse lets me chatter on, so good-humouredly. she knows i would not offend for the world. how does miss smith do?she seems quite recovered now. have you heard from mrs. john knightleylately? oh! those dear little children.

jane, do you know i always fancy mr. dixonlike mr. john knightley. i mean in person--tall, and with that sortof look--and not very talkative." "quite wrong, my dear aunt; there is nolikeness at all." "very odd! but one never does form a justidea of any body beforehand. one takes up a notion, and runs away withit. mr. dixon, you say, is not, strictlyspeaking, handsome?" "handsome! oh! no--far from it--certainly plain.i told you he was plain." "my dear, you said that miss campbell wouldnot allow him to be plain, and that you

yourself--" "oh! as for me, my judgment is worthnothing. where i have a regard, i always think aperson well-looking. but i gave what i believed the generalopinion, when i called him plain." "well, my dear jane, i believe we must berunning away. the weather does not look well, andgrandmama will be uneasy. you are too obliging, my dear misswoodhouse; but we really must take leave. this has been a most agreeable piece ofnews indeed. i shall just go round by mrs. cole's; but ishall not stop three minutes: and, jane,

you had better go home directly--i wouldnot have you out in a shower!--we think she is the better for highbury already. thank you, we do indeed.i shall not attempt calling on mrs. goddard, for i really do not think shecares for any thing but boiled pork: when we dress the leg it will be another thing. good morning to you, my dear sir.oh! mr. knightley is coming too. well, that is so very!--i am sure if janeis tired, you will be so kind as to give her your arm.--mr. elton, and misshawkins!--good morning to you." emma, alone with her father, had half herattention wanted by him while he lamented

that young people would be in such a hurryto marry--and to marry strangers too--and the other half she could give to her ownview of the subject. it was to herself an amusing and a verywelcome piece of news, as proving that mr. elton could not have suffered long; but shewas sorry for harriet: harriet must feel it--and all that she could hope was, by giving the first information herself, tosave her from hearing it abruptly from others.it was now about the time that she was likely to call. if she were to meet miss bates in her way!--and upon its beginning to rain, emma was

obliged to expect that the weather would bedetaining her at mrs. goddard's, and that the intelligence would undoubtedly rushupon her without preparation. the shower was heavy, but short; and it hadnot been over five minutes, when in came harriet, with just the heated, agitatedlook which hurrying thither with a full heart was likely to give; and the "oh! miss woodhouse, what do you think has happened!"which instantly burst forth, had all the evidence of corresponding perturbation. as the blow was given, emma felt that shecould not now shew greater kindness than in listening; and harriet, unchecked, raneagerly through what she had to tell.

"she had set out from mrs. goddard's halfan hour ago--she had been afraid it would rain--she had been afraid it would pourdown every moment--but she thought she might get to hartfield first--she had hurried on as fast as possible; but then,as she was passing by the house where a young woman was making up a gown for her,she thought she would just step in and see how it went on; and though she did not seem to stay half a moment there, soon after shecame out it began to rain, and she did not know what to do; so she ran on directly, asfast as she could, and took shelter at ford's."--ford's was the principal woollen-

draper, linen-draper, and haberdasher'sshop united; the shop first in size and fashion in the place.--"and so, there shehad set, without an idea of any thing in the world, full ten minutes, perhaps--when, all of a sudden, who should come in--to besure it was so very odd!--but they always dealt at ford's--who should come in, butelizabeth martin and her brother!--dear miss woodhouse! only think. i thought i should have fainted.i did not know what to do. i was sitting near the door--elizabeth sawme directly; but he did not; he was busy with the umbrella.

i am sure she saw me, but she looked awaydirectly, and took no notice; and they both went to quite the farther end of the shop;and i kept sitting near the door!--oh! dear; i was so miserable! i am sure i must have been as white as mygown. i could not go away you know, because ofthe rain; but i did so wish myself anywhere in the world but there.--oh! dear, misswoodhouse--well, at last, i fancy, he looked round and saw me; for instead of going on with her buyings, they beganwhispering to one another. i am sure they were talking of me; and icould not help thinking that he was

persuading her to speak to me--(do youthink he was, miss woodhouse?)--for presently she came forward--came quite up to me, and asked me how i did, and seemedready to shake hands, if i would. she did not do any of it in the same waythat she used; i could see she was altered; but, however, she seemed to try to bevery friendly, and we shook hands, and stood talking some time; but i know no more what i said--i was in such a tremble!--iremember she said she was sorry we never met now; which i thought almost too kind!dear, miss woodhouse, i was absolutely miserable!

by that time, it was beginning to hold up,and i was determined that nothing should stop me from getting away--and then--onlythink!--i found he was coming up towards me too--slowly you know, and as if he did not quite know what to do; and so he came andspoke, and i answered--and i stood for a minute, feeling dreadfully, you know, onecan't tell how; and then i took courage, and said it did not rain, and i must go; and so off i set; and i had not got threeyards from the door, when he came after me, only to say, if i was going to hartfield,he thought i had much better go round by mr. cole's stables, for i should find thenear way quite floated by this rain.

oh! dear, i thought it would have been thedeath of me! so i said, i was very much obliged to him:you know i could not do less; and then he went back to elizabeth, and i came round bythe stables--i believe i did--but i hardly knew where i was, or any thing about it. oh! miss woodhouse, i would rather done anything than have it happen: and yet, you know, there was a sort of satisfaction inseeing him behave so pleasantly and so kindly. and elizabeth, too.oh! miss woodhouse, do talk to me and make me comfortable again."very sincerely did emma wish to do so; but

it was not immediately in her power. she was obliged to stop and think.she was not thoroughly comfortable herself. the young man's conduct, and his sister's,seemed the result of real feeling, and she could not but pity them. as harriet described it, there had been aninteresting mixture of wounded affection and genuine delicacy in their behaviour. but she had believed them to be well-meaning, worthy people before; and what difference did this make in the evils ofthe connexion? it was folly to be disturbed by it.

of course, he must be sorry to lose her--they must be all sorry. ambition, as well as love, had probablybeen mortified. they might all have hoped to rise byharriet's acquaintance: and besides, what was the value of harriet's description?--soeasily pleased--so little discerning;--what signified her praise? she exerted herself, and did try to makeher comfortable, by considering all that had passed as a mere trifle, and quiteunworthy of being dwelt on, "it might be distressing, for the moment,"said she; "but you seem to have behaved extremely well; and it is over--and maynever--can never, as a first meeting, occur

again, and therefore you need not thinkabout it." harriet said, "very true," and she "wouldnot think about it;" but still she talked of it--still she could talk of nothingelse; and emma, at last, in order to put the martins out of her head, was obliged to hurry on the news, which she had meant togive with so much tender caution; hardly knowing herself whether to rejoice or beangry, ashamed or only amused, at such a state of mind in poor harriet--such a conclusion of mr. elton's importance withher! mr. elton's rights, however, graduallyrevived.

though she did not feel the firstintelligence as she might have done the day before, or an hour before, its interestsoon increased; and before their first conversation was over, she had talked herself into all the sensations ofcuriosity, wonder and regret, pain and pleasure, as to this fortunate misshawkins, which could conduce to place the martins under proper subordination in herfancy. emma learned to be rather glad that therehad been such a meeting. it had been serviceable in deadening thefirst shock, without retaining any influence to alarm.

as harriet now lived, the martins could notget at her, without seeking her, where hitherto they had wanted either the courageor the condescension to seek her; for since her refusal of the brother, the sisters never had been at mrs. goddard's; and atwelvemonth might pass without their being thrown together again, with any necessity,or even any power of speech. chapter iv human nature is so well disposed towardsthose who are in interesting situations, that a young person, who either marries ordies, is sure of being kindly spoken of. a week had not passed since miss hawkins'sname was first mentioned in highbury,

before she was, by some means or other,discovered to have every recommendation of person and mind; to be handsome, elegant, highly accomplished, and perfectly amiable:and when mr. elton himself arrived to triumph in his happy prospects, andcirculate the fame of her merits, there was very little more for him to do, than to tell her christian name, and say whosemusic she principally played. mr. elton returned, a very happy man. he had gone away rejected and mortified--disappointed in a very sanguine hope, after a series of what appeared to him strongencouragement; and not only losing the

right lady, but finding himself debased tothe level of a very wrong one. he had gone away deeply offended--he cameback engaged to another--and to another as superior, of course, to the first, as undersuch circumstances what is gained always is to what is lost. he came back gay and self-satisfied, eagerand busy, caring nothing for miss woodhouse, and defying miss smith. the charming augusta hawkins, in additionto all the usual advantages of perfect beauty and merit, was in possession of anindependent fortune, of so many thousands as would always be called ten; a point of

some dignity, as well as some convenience:the story told well; he had not thrown himself away--he had gained a woman of10,000 l. or thereabouts; and he had gained her with such delightful rapidity--the first hour of introduction had been so verysoon followed by distinguishing notice; the history which he had to give mrs. cole ofthe rise and progress of the affair was so glorious--the steps so quick, from the accidental rencontre, to the dinner at mr.green's, and the party at mrs. brown's-- smiles and blushes rising in importance--with consciousness and agitation richly scattered--the lady had been so easily

impressed--so sweetly disposed--had inshort, to use a most intelligible phrase, been so very ready to have him, that vanityand prudence were equally contented. he had caught both substance and shadow--both fortune and affection, and was just the happy man he ought to be; talking onlyof himself and his own concerns--expecting to be congratulated--ready to be laughed at--and, with cordial, fearless smiles, nowaddressing all the young ladies of the place, to whom, a few weeks ago, he wouldhave been more cautiously gallant. the wedding was no distant event, as theparties had only themselves to please, and nothing but the necessary preparations towait for; and when he set out for bath

again, there was a general expectation, which a certain glance of mrs. cole's didnot seem to contradict, that when he next entered highbury he would bring his bride. during his present short stay, emma hadbarely seen him; but just enough to feel that the first meeting was over, and togive her the impression of his not being improved by the mixture of pique andpretension, now spread over his air. she was, in fact, beginning very much towonder that she had ever thought him pleasing at all; and his sight was soinseparably connected with some very disagreeable feelings, that, except in a

moral light, as a penance, a lesson, asource of profitable humiliation to her own mind, she would have been thankful to beassured of never seeing him again. she wished him very well; but he gave herpain, and his welfare twenty miles off would administer most satisfaction. the pain of his continued residence inhighbury, however, must certainly be lessened by his marriage.many vain solicitudes would be prevented-- many awkwardnesses smoothed by it. a mrs. elton would be an excuse for anychange of intercourse; former intimacy might sink without remark.it would be almost beginning their life of

civility again. of the lady, individually, emma thoughtvery little. she was good enough for mr. elton, nodoubt; accomplished enough for highbury-- handsome enough--to look plain, probably,by harriet's side. as to connexion, there emma was perfectlyeasy; persuaded, that after all his own vaunted claims and disdain of harriet, hehad done nothing. on that article, truth seemed attainable. what she was, must be uncertain; butwho she was, might be found out; and setting aside the 10,000 l., it did notappear that she was at all harriet's

superior. she brought no name, no blood, no alliance. miss hawkins was the youngest of the twodaughters of a bristol--merchant, of course, he must be called; but, as thewhole of the profits of his mercantile life appeared so very moderate, it was not unfair to guess the dignity of his line oftrade had been very moderate also. part of every winter she had been used tospend in bath; but bristol was her home, the very heart of bristol; for though thefather and mother had died some years ago, an uncle remained--in the law line--nothing

more distinctly honourable was hazarded ofhim, than that he was in the law line; and with him the daughter had lived.emma guessed him to be the drudge of some attorney, and too stupid to rise. and all the grandeur of the connexionseemed dependent on the elder sister, who was very well married, to a gentlemanin a great way, near bristol, who kept two carriages! that was the wind-up of the history; thatwas the glory of miss hawkins. could she but have given harriet herfeelings about it all! she had talked her into love; but, alas!she was not so easily to be talked out of

it. the charm of an object to occupy the manyvacancies of harriet's mind was not to be talked away. he might be superseded by another; hecertainly would indeed; nothing could be clearer; even a robert martin would havebeen sufficient; but nothing else, she feared, would cure her. harriet was one of those, who, having oncebegun, would be always in love. and now, poor girl! she was considerablyworse from this reappearance of mr. elton. she was always having a glimpse of himsomewhere or other.

emma saw him only once; but two or threetimes every day harriet was sure just to meet with him, or just to miss him,just to hear his voice, or see his shoulder, just to have something occur to preserve him in her fancy, in all thefavouring warmth of surprize and conjecture. she was, moreover, perpetually hearingabout him; for, excepting when at hartfield, she was always among those whosaw no fault in mr. elton, and found nothing so interesting as the discussion of his concerns; and every report, therefore,every guess--all that had already occurred,

all that might occur in the arrangement ofhis affairs, comprehending income, servants, and furniture, was continually inagitation around her. her regard was receiving strength byinvariable praise of him, and her regrets kept alive, and feelings irritated byceaseless repetitions of miss hawkins's happiness, and continual observation of, how much he seemed attached!--his air as hewalked by the house--the very sitting of his hat, being all in proof of how much hewas in love! had it been allowable entertainment, hadthere been no pain to her friend, or reproach to herself, in the waverings ofharriet's mind, emma would have been amused

by its variations. sometimes mr. elton predominated, sometimesthe martins; and each was occasionally useful as a check to the other.mr. elton's engagement had been the cure of the agitation of meeting mr. martin. the unhappiness produced by the knowledgeof that engagement had been a little put aside by elizabeth martin's calling at mrs.goddard's a few days afterwards. harriet had not been at home; but a notehad been prepared and left for her, written in the very style to touch; a small mixtureof reproach, with a great deal of kindness; and till mr. elton himself appeared, she

had been much occupied by it, continuallypondering over what could be done in return, and wishing to do more than shedared to confess. but mr. elton, in person, had driven awayall such cares. while he staid, the martins were forgotten;and on the very morning of his setting off for bath again, emma, to dissipate some ofthe distress it occasioned, judged it best for her to return elizabeth martin's visit. how that visit was to be acknowledged--whatwould be necessary--and what might be safest, had been a point of some doubtfulconsideration. absolute neglect of the mother and sisters,when invited to come, would be ingratitude.

it must not be: and yet the danger of arenewal of the acquaintance--! after much thinking, she could determine onnothing better, than harriet's returning the visit; but in a way that, if they hadunderstanding, should convince them that it was to be only a formal acquaintance. she meant to take her in the carriage,leave her at the abbey mill, while she drove a little farther, and call for heragain so soon, as to allow no time for insidious applications or dangerous recurrences to the past, and give the mostdecided proof of what degree of intimacy was chosen for the future.

she could think of nothing better: andthough there was something in it which her own heart could not approve--something ofingratitude, merely glossed over--it must be done, or what would become of harriet? chapter v small heart had harriet for visiting. only half an hour before her friend calledfor her at mrs. goddard's, her evil stars had led her to the very spot where, at thatmoment, a trunk, directed to the rev. philip elton, white-hart, bath, was to be seen under the operation of being liftedinto the butcher's cart, which was to

convey it to where the coaches past; andevery thing in this world, excepting that trunk and the direction, was consequently ablank. she went, however; and when they reachedthe farm, and she was to be put down, at the end of the broad, neat gravel walk,which led between espalier apple-trees to the front door, the sight of every thing which had given her so much pleasure theautumn before, was beginning to revive a little local agitation; and when theyparted, emma observed her to be looking around with a sort of fearful curiosity, which determined her not to allow the visitto exceed the proposed quarter of an hour.

she went on herself, to give that portionof time to an old servant who was married, and settled in donwell. the quarter of an hour brought herpunctually to the white gate again; and miss smith receiving her summons, was withher without delay, and unattended by any alarming young man. she came solitarily down the gravel walk--amiss martin just appearing at the door, and parting with her seemingly with ceremoniouscivility. harriet could not very soon give anintelligible account. she was feeling too much; but at last emmacollected from her enough to understand the

sort of meeting, and the sort of pain itwas creating. she had seen only mrs. martin and the twogirls. they had received her doubtingly, if notcoolly; and nothing beyond the merest commonplace had been talked almost all thetime--till just at last, when mrs. martin's saying, all of a sudden, that she thought miss smith was grown, had brought on a moreinteresting subject, and a warmer manner. in that very room she had been measuredlast september, with her two friends. there were the pencilled marks andmemorandums on the wainscot by the window. he had done it.

they all seemed to remember the day, thehour, the party, the occasion--to feel the same consciousness, the same regrets--to beready to return to the same good understanding; and they were just growing again like themselves, (harriet, as emmamust suspect, as ready as the best of them to be cordial and happy,) when the carriagereappeared, and all was over. the style of the visit, and the shortnessof it, were then felt to be decisive. fourteen minutes to be given to those withwhom she had thankfully passed six weeks not six months ago!--emma could not butpicture it all, and feel how justly they might resent, how naturally harriet mustsuffer.

it was a bad business. she would have given a great deal, orendured a great deal, to have had the martins in a higher rank of life. they were so deserving, that a littlehigher should have been enough: but as it was, how could she have done otherwise?--impossible!--she could not repent. they must be separated; but there was agreat deal of pain in the process--so much to herself at this time, that she soon feltthe necessity of a little consolation, and resolved on going home by way of randallsto procure it. her mind was quite sick of mr. elton andthe martins.

the refreshment of randalls was absolutelynecessary. it was a good scheme; but on driving to thedoor they heard that neither "master nor mistress was at home;" they had both beenout some time; the man believed they were gone to hartfield. "this is too bad," cried emma, as theyturned away. "and now we shall just miss them; tooprovoking!--i do not know when i have been so disappointed." and she leaned back in the corner, toindulge her murmurs, or to reason them away; probably a little of both--such beingthe commonest process of a not ill-disposed

mind. presently the carriage stopt; she lookedup; it was stopt by mr. and mrs. weston, who were standing to speak to her. there was instant pleasure in the sight ofthem, and still greater pleasure was conveyed in sound--for mr. westonimmediately accosted her with, "how d'ye do?--how d'ye do?--we have beensitting with your father--glad to see him so well. frank comes to-morrow--i had a letter thismorning--we see him to-morrow by dinner- time to a certainty--he is at oxford to-day, and he comes for a whole fortnight; i

knew it would be so. if he had come at christmas he could nothave staid three days; i was always glad he did not come at christmas; now we are goingto have just the right weather for him, fine, dry, settled weather. we shall enjoy him completely; every thinghas turned out exactly as we could wish." there was no resisting such news, nopossibility of avoiding the influence of such a happy face as mr. weston's,confirmed as it all was by the words and the countenance of his wife, fewer andquieter, but not less to the purpose. to know that she thought his comingcertain was enough to make emma consider it

so, and sincerely did she rejoice in theirjoy. it was a most delightful reanimation ofexhausted spirits. the worn-out past was sunk in the freshnessof what was coming; and in the rapidity of half a moment's thought, she hoped mr.elton would now be talked of no more. mr. weston gave her the history of theengagements at enscombe, which allowed his son to answer for having an entirefortnight at his command, as well as the route and the method of his journey; and she listened, and smiled, andcongratulated. "i shall soon bring him over to hartfield,"said he, at the conclusion.

emma could imagine she saw a touch of thearm at this speech, from his wife. "we had better move on, mr. weston," saidshe, "we are detaining the girls." "well, well, i am ready;"--and turningagain to emma, "but you must not be expecting such a very fine young man; youhave only had my account you know; i dare say he is really nothing extraordinary:"-- though his own sparkling eyes at the momentwere speaking a very different conviction. emma could look perfectly unconscious andinnocent, and answer in a manner that appropriated nothing. "think of me to-morrow, my dear emma, aboutfour o'clock," was mrs. weston's parting

injunction; spoken with some anxiety, andmeant only for her. "four o'clock!--depend upon it he will behere by three," was mr. weston's quick amendment; and so ended a most satisfactorymeeting. emma's spirits were mounted quite up tohappiness; every thing wore a different air; james and his horses seemed not halfso sluggish as before. when she looked at the hedges, she thoughtthe elder at least must soon be coming out; and when she turned round to harriet, shesaw something like a look of spring, a tender smile even there. "will mr. frank churchill pass through bathas well as oxford?"--was a question,

however, which did not augur much. but neither geography nor tranquillitycould come all at once, and emma was now in a humour to resolve that they should bothcome in time. the morning of the interesting day arrived,and mrs. weston's faithful pupil did not forget either at ten, or eleven, or twelveo'clock, that she was to think of her at four. "my dear, dear anxious friend,"--said she,in mental soliloquy, while walking downstairs from her own room, "alwaysovercareful for every body's comfort but your own; i see you now in all your little

fidgets, going again and again into hisroom, to be sure that all is right." the clock struck twelve as she passedthrough the hall. "'tis twelve; i shall not forget to thinkof you four hours hence; and by this time to-morrow, perhaps, or a little later, imay be thinking of the possibility of their all calling here. i am sure they will bring him soon."she opened the parlour door, and saw two gentlemen sitting with her father--mr.weston and his son. they had been arrived only a few minutes,and mr. weston had scarcely finished his explanation of frank's being a day beforehis time, and her father was yet in the

midst of his very civil welcome and congratulations, when she appeared, to haveher share of surprize, introduction, and pleasure. the frank churchill so long talked of, sohigh in interest, was actually before her-- he was presented to her, and she did notthink too much had been said in his praise; he was a very good looking young man; height, air, address, all wereunexceptionable, and his countenance had a great deal of the spirit and liveliness ofhis father's; he looked quick and sensible. she felt immediately that she should likehim; and there was a well-bred ease of

manner, and a readiness to talk, whichconvinced her that he came intending to be acquainted with her, and that acquaintedthey soon must be. he had reached randalls the evening before. she was pleased with the eagerness toarrive which had made him alter his plan, and travel earlier, later, and quicker,that he might gain half a day. "i told you yesterday," cried mr. westonwith exultation, "i told you all that he would be here before the time named.i remembered what i used to do myself. one cannot creep upon a journey; one cannothelp getting on faster than one has planned; and the pleasure of coming in uponone's friends before the look-out begins,

is worth a great deal more than any littleexertion it needs." "it is a great pleasure where one canindulge in it," said the young man, "though there are not many houses that i shouldpresume on so far; but in coming home i felt i might do any thing." the word home made his father look on himwith fresh complacency. emma was directly sure that he knew how tomake himself agreeable; the conviction was strengthened by what followed. he was very much pleased with randalls,thought it a most admirably arranged house, would hardly allow it even to be verysmall, admired the situation, the walk to

highbury, highbury itself, hartfield still more, and professed himself to have alwaysfelt the sort of interest in the country which none but one's own country gives,and the greatest curiosity to visit it. that he should never have been able toindulge so amiable a feeling before, passed suspiciously through emma's brain; butstill, if it were a falsehood, it was a pleasant one, and pleasantly handled. his manner had no air of study orexaggeration. he did really look and speak as if in astate of no common enjoyment. their subjects in general were such asbelong to an opening acquaintance.

on his side were the inquiries,--"was she ahorsewoman?--pleasant rides?--pleasant walks?--had they a large neighbourhood?--highbury, perhaps, afforded society enough?--there were several very pretty houses in and about it.--balls--had theyballs?--was it a musical society?" but when satisfied on all these points, andtheir acquaintance proportionably advanced, he contrived to find an opportunity, whiletheir two fathers were engaged with each other, of introducing his mother-in-law, and speaking of her with so much handsomepraise, so much warm admiration, so much gratitude for the happiness she secured tohis father, and her very kind reception of

himself, as was an additional proof of his knowing how to please--and of his certainlythinking it worth while to try to please he did not advance a word of praise beyondwhat she knew to be thoroughly deserved by mrs. weston; but, undoubtedly he could knowvery little of the matter. he understood what would be welcome; hecould be sure of little else. "his father's marriage," he said, "had beenthe wisest measure, every friend must rejoice in it; and the family from whom hehad received such a blessing must be ever considered as having conferred the highestobligation on him." he got as near as he could to thanking herfor miss taylor's merits, without seeming

quite to forget that in the common courseof things it was to be rather supposed that miss taylor had formed miss woodhouse's character, than miss woodhouse misstaylor's. and at last, as if resolved to qualify hisopinion completely for travelling round to its object, he wound it all up withastonishment at the youth and beauty of her person. "elegant, agreeable manners, i was preparedfor," said he; "but i confess that, considering every thing, i had not expectedmore than a very tolerably well-looking woman of a certain age; i did not know that

i was to find a pretty young woman in mrs.weston." "you cannot see too much perfection in mrs.weston for my feelings," said emma; "were you to guess her to be eighteen, i shouldlisten with pleasure; but she would be ready to quarrel with you for using suchwords. don't let her imagine that you have spokenof her as a pretty young woman." "i hope i should know better," he replied;"no, depend upon it, (with a gallant bow,) that in addressing mrs. weston i shouldunderstand whom i might praise without any danger of being thought extravagant in myterms." emma wondered whether the same suspicion ofwhat might be expected from their knowing

each other, which had taken strongpossession of her mind, had ever crossed his; and whether his compliments were to be considered as marks of acquiescence, orproofs of defiance. she must see more of him to understand hisways; at present she only felt they were agreeable. she had no doubt of what mr. weston wasoften thinking about. his quick eye she detected again and againglancing towards them with a happy expression; and even, when he might havedetermined not to look, she was confident that he was often listening.

her own father's perfect exemption from anythought of the kind, the entire deficiency in him of all such sort of penetration orsuspicion, was a most comfortable circumstance. happily he was not farther from approvingmatrimony than from foreseeing it.--though always objecting to every marriage that wasarranged, he never suffered beforehand from the apprehension of any; it seemed as if he could not think so ill of any two persons'understanding as to suppose they meant to marry till it were proved against them.she blessed the favouring blindness. he could now, without the drawback of asingle unpleasant surmise, without a glance

forward at any possible treachery in hisguest, give way to all his natural kind- hearted civility in solicitous inquiries after mr. frank churchill's accommodationon his journey, through the sad evils of sleeping two nights on the road, andexpress very genuine unmixed anxiety to know that he had certainly escaped catching cold--which, however, he could not allowhim to feel quite assured of himself till after another night.a reasonable visit paid, mr. weston began to move.--"he must be going. he had business at the crown about his hay,and a great many errands for mrs. weston at

ford's, but he need not hurry any bodyelse." his son, too well bred to hear the hint,rose immediately also, saying, "as you are going farther on business, sir,i will take the opportunity of paying a visit, which must be paid some day orother, and therefore may as well be paid now. i have the honour of being acquainted witha neighbour of yours, (turning to emma,) a lady residing in or near highbury; a familyof the name of fairfax. i shall have no difficulty, i suppose, infinding the house; though fairfax, i believe, is not the proper name--i shouldrather say barnes, or bates.

do you know any family of that name?" "to be sure we do," cried his father; "mrs.bates--we passed her house--i saw miss bates at the window. true, true, you are acquainted with missfairfax; i remember you knew her at weymouth, and a fine girl she is.call upon her, by all means." "there is no necessity for my calling thismorning," said the young man; "another day would do as well; but there was that degreeof acquaintance at weymouth which--" "oh! go to-day, go to-day. do not defer it.what is right to be done cannot be done too

soon. and, besides, i must give you a hint,frank; any want of attention to her here should be carefully avoided. you saw her with the campbells, when shewas the equal of every body she mixed with, but here she is with a poor oldgrandmother, who has barely enough to live on. if you do not call early it will be aslight." the son looked convinced. "i have heard her speak of theacquaintance," said emma; "she is a very

elegant young woman." he agreed to it, but with so quiet a "yes,"as inclined her almost to doubt his real concurrence; and yet there must be a verydistinct sort of elegance for the fashionable world, if jane fairfax could bethought only ordinarily gifted with it. "if you were never particularly struck byher manners before," said she, "i think you will to-day. you will see her to advantage; see her andhear her--no, i am afraid you will not hear her at all, for she has an aunt who neverholds her tongue." "you are acquainted with miss jane fairfax,sir, are you?" said mr. woodhouse, always

the last to make his way in conversation;"then give me leave to assure you that you will find her a very agreeable young lady. she is staying here on a visit to hergrandmama and aunt, very worthy people; i have known them all my life. they will be extremely glad to see you, iam sure; and one of my servants shall go with you to shew you the way.""my dear sir, upon no account in the world; my father can direct me." "but your father is not going so far; he isonly going to the crown, quite on the other side of the street, and there are a greatmany houses; you might be very much at a

loss, and it is a very dirty walk, unless you keep on the footpath; but my coachmancan tell you where you had best cross the street." mr. frank churchill still declined it,looking as serious as he could, and his father gave his hearty support by callingout, "my good friend, this is quite unnecessary; frank knows a puddle of water when he sees it, and as to mrs. bates's, hemay get there from the crown in a hop, step, and jump." they were permitted to go alone; and with acordial nod from one, and a graceful bow

from the other, the two gentlemen tookleave. emma remained very well pleased with thisbeginning of the acquaintance, and could now engage to think of them all at randallsany hour of the day, with full confidence in their comfort. chapter vi the next morning brought mr. frankchurchill again. he came with mrs. weston, to whom and tohighbury he seemed to take very cordially. he had been sitting with her, it appeared,most companionably at home, till her usual hour of exercise; and on being desired tochuse their walk, immediately fixed on

highbury.--"he did not doubt there being very pleasant walks in every direction, butif left to him, he should always chuse the same. highbury, that airy, cheerful, happy-looking highbury, would be his constant attraction."--highbury, with mrs. weston,stood for hartfield; and she trusted to its bearing the same construction with him. they walked thither directly. emma had hardly expected them: for mr.weston, who had called in for half a minute, in order to hear that his son wasvery handsome, knew nothing of their plans;

and it was an agreeable surprize to her, therefore, to perceive them walking up tothe house together, arm in arm. she was wanting to see him again, andespecially to see him in company with mrs. weston, upon his behaviour to whom heropinion of him was to depend. if he were deficient there, nothing shouldmake amends for it. but on seeing them together, she becameperfectly satisfied. it was not merely in fine words orhyperbolical compliment that he paid his duty; nothing could be more proper orpleasing than his whole manner to her-- nothing could more agreeably denote his

wish of considering her as a friend andsecuring her affection. and there was time enough for emma to forma reasonable judgment, as their visit included all the rest of the morning. they were all three walking about togetherfor an hour or two--first round the shrubberies of hartfield, and afterwards inhighbury. he was delighted with every thing; admiredhartfield sufficiently for mr. woodhouse's ear; and when their going farther wasresolved on, confessed his wish to be made acquainted with the whole village, and found matter of commendation and interestmuch oftener than emma could have supposed.

some of the objects of his curiosity spokevery amiable feelings. he begged to be shewn the house which hisfather had lived in so long, and which had been the home of his father's father; andon recollecting that an old woman who had nursed him was still living, walked in quest of her cottage from one end of thestreet to the other; and though in some points of pursuit or observation there wasno positive merit, they shewed, altogether, a good-will towards highbury in general, which must be very like a merit to those hewas with. emma watched and decided, that with suchfeelings as were now shewn, it could not be

fairly supposed that he had been evervoluntarily absenting himself; that he had not been acting a part, or making a parade of insincere professions; and that mr.knightley certainly had not done him justice. their first pause was at the crown inn, aninconsiderable house, though the principal one of the sort, where a couple of pair ofpost-horses were kept, more for the convenience of the neighbourhood than from any run on the road; and his companions hadnot expected to be detained by any interest excited there; but in passing it they gavethe history of the large room visibly

added; it had been built many years ago for a ball-room, and while the neighbourhoodhad been in a particularly populous, dancing state, had been occasionally usedas such;--but such brilliant days had long passed away, and now the highest purpose for which it was ever wanted was toaccommodate a whist club established among the gentlemen and half-gentlemen of theplace. he was immediately interested. its character as a ball-room caught him;and instead of passing on, he stopt for several minutes at the two superior sashedwindows which were open, to look in and

contemplate its capabilities, and lament that its original purpose should haveceased. he saw no fault in the room, he wouldacknowledge none which they suggested. no, it was long enough, broad enough,handsome enough. it would hold the very number for comfort.they ought to have balls there at least every fortnight through the winter. why had not miss woodhouse revived theformer good old days of the room?--she who could do any thing in highbury! the want of proper families in the place,and the conviction that none beyond the

place and its immediate environs could betempted to attend, were mentioned; but he was not satisfied. he could not be persuaded that so manygood-looking houses as he saw around him, could not furnish numbers enough for such ameeting; and even when particulars were given and families described, he was still unwilling to admit that the inconvenienceof such a mixture would be any thing, or that there would be the smallest difficultyin every body's returning into their proper place the next morning. he argued like a young man very much benton dancing; and emma was rather surprized

to see the constitution of the westonprevail so decidedly against the habits of the churchills. he seemed to have all the life and spirit,cheerful feelings, and social inclinations of his father, and nothing of the pride orreserve of enscombe. of pride, indeed, there was, perhaps,scarcely enough; his indifference to a confusion of rank, bordered too much oninelegance of mind. he could be no judge, however, of the evilhe was holding cheap. it was but an effusion of lively spirits. at last he was persuaded to move on fromthe front of the crown; and being now

almost facing the house where the bateseslodged, emma recollected his intended visit the day before, and asked him if he hadpaid it. "yes, oh! yes"--he replied; "i was justgoing to mention it. a very successful visit:--i saw all thethree ladies; and felt very much obliged to you for your preparatory hint. if the talking aunt had taken me quite bysurprize, it must have been the death of me.as it was, i was only betrayed into paying a most unreasonable visit. ten minutes would have been all that wasnecessary, perhaps all that was proper; and

i had told my father i should certainly beat home before him--but there was no getting away, no pause; and, to my utter astonishment, i found, when he (finding menowhere else) joined me there at last, that i had been actually sitting with them verynearly three-quarters of an hour. the good lady had not given me thepossibility of escape before." "and how did you think miss fairfaxlooking?" "ill, very ill--that is, if a young ladycan ever be allowed to look ill. but the expression is hardly admissible,mrs. weston, is it? ladies can never look ill.

and, seriously, miss fairfax is naturallyso pale, as almost always to give the appearance of ill health.--a mostdeplorable want of complexion." emma would not agree to this, and began awarm defence of miss fairfax's complexion. "it was certainly never brilliant, but shewould not allow it to have a sickly hue in general; and there was a softness anddelicacy in her skin which gave peculiar elegance to the character of her face." he listened with all due deference;acknowledged that he had heard many people say the same--but yet he must confess, thatto him nothing could make amends for the want of the fine glow of health.

where features were indifferent, a finecomplexion gave beauty to them all; and where they were good, the effect was--fortunately he need not attempt to describe what the effect was. "well," said emma, "there is no disputingabout taste.--at least you admire her except her complexion."he shook his head and laughed.--"i cannot separate miss fairfax and her complexion." "did you see her often at weymouth?were you often in the same society?" at this moment they were approachingford's, and he hastily exclaimed, "ha! this must be the very shop that every bodyattends every day of their lives, as my

father informs me. he comes to highbury himself, he says, sixdays out of the seven, and has always business at ford's. if it be not inconvenient to you, pray letus go in, that i may prove myself to belong to the place, to be a true citizen ofhighbury. i must buy something at ford's. it will be taking out my freedom.--i daresay they sell gloves." "oh! yes, gloves and every thing.i do admire your patriotism. you will be adored in highbury.

you were very popular before you came,because you were mr. weston's son--but lay out half a guinea at ford's, and yourpopularity will stand upon your own virtues." they went in; and while the sleek, well-tied parcels of "men's beavers" and "york tan" were bringing down and displaying onthe counter, he said--"but i beg your pardon, miss woodhouse, you were speaking to me, you were saying something at thevery moment of this burst of my amor patriae.do not let me lose it. i assure you the utmost stretch of publicfame would not make me amends for the loss

of any happiness in private life.""i merely asked, whether you had known much of miss fairfax and her party at weymouth." "and now that i understand your question, imust pronounce it to be a very unfair one. it is always the lady's right to decide onthe degree of acquaintance. miss fairfax must already have given heraccount.--i shall not commit myself by claiming more than she may chuse to allow.""upon my word! you answer as discreetly as she could do herself. but her account of every thing leaves somuch to be guessed, she is so very reserved, so very unwilling to give theleast information about any body, that i

really think you may say what you like ofyour acquaintance with her." "may i, indeed?--then i will speak thetruth, and nothing suits me so well. i met her frequently at weymouth. i had known the campbells a little in town;and at weymouth we were very much in the same set. colonel campbell is a very agreeable man,and mrs. campbell a friendly, warm-hearted woman.i like them all." "you know miss fairfax's situation in life,i conclude; what she is destined to be?" "yes--(rather hesitatingly)--i believe ido."

"you get upon delicate subjects, emma,"said mrs. weston smiling; "remember that i am here.--mr. frank churchill hardly knowswhat to say when you speak of miss fairfax's situation in life. i will move a little farther off.""i certainly do forget to think of her," said emma, "as having ever been any thingbut my friend and my dearest friend." he looked as if he fully understood andhonoured such a sentiment. when the gloves were bought, and they hadquitted the shop again, "did you ever hear the young lady we were speaking of, play?"said frank churchill. "ever hear her!" repeated emma.

"you forget how much she belongs tohighbury. i have heard her every year of our livessince we both began. she plays charmingly." "you think so, do you?--i wanted theopinion of some one who could really judge. she appeared to me to play well, that is,with considerable taste, but i know nothing of the matter myself.--i am excessivelyfond of music, but without the smallest skill or right of judging of any body's performance.--i have been used to hearher's admired; and i remember one proof of her being thought to play well:--a man, avery musical man, and in love with another

woman--engaged to her--on the point of marriage--would yet never ask that otherwoman to sit down to the instrument, if the lady in question could sit down instead--never seemed to like to hear one if he could hear the other. that, i thought, in a man of known musicaltalent, was some proof." "proof indeed!" said emma, highly amused.--"mr. dixon is very musical, is he? we shall know more about them all, in halfan hour, from you, than miss fairfax would have vouchsafed in half a year." "yes, mr. dixon and miss campbell were thepersons; and i thought it a very strong

proof." "certainly--very strong it was; to own thetruth, a great deal stronger than, if i had been miss campbell, would have been atall agreeable to me. i could not excuse a man's having moremusic than love--more ear than eye--a more acute sensibility to fine sounds than to myfeelings. how did miss campbell appear to like it?" "it was her very particular friend, youknow." "poor comfort!" said emma, laughing. "one would rather have a stranger preferredthan one's very particular friend--with a

stranger it might not recur again--but themisery of having a very particular friend always at hand, to do every thing betterthan one does oneself!--poor mrs. dixon! well, i am glad she is gone to settle inireland." "you are right. it was not very flattering to misscampbell; but she really did not seem to feel it.""so much the better--or so much the worse:- -i do not know which. but be it sweetness or be it stupidity inher--quickness of friendship, or dulness of feeling--there was one person, i think, whomust have felt it: miss fairfax herself.

she must have felt the improper anddangerous distinction." "as to that--i do not--" "oh! do not imagine that i expect anaccount of miss fairfax's sensations from you, or from any body else.they are known to no human being, i guess, but herself. but if she continued to play whenever shewas asked by mr. dixon, one may guess what one chuses." "there appeared such a perfectly goodunderstanding among them all--" he began rather quickly, but checking himself,added, "however, it is impossible for me to

say on what terms they really were--how itmight all be behind the scenes. i can only say that there was smoothnessoutwardly. but you, who have known miss fairfax from achild, must be a better judge of her character, and of how she is likely toconduct herself in critical situations, than i can be." "i have known her from a child,undoubtedly; we have been children and women together; and it is natural tosuppose that we should be intimate,--that we should have taken to each other whenevershe visited her friends. but we never did.

i hardly know how it has happened; alittle, perhaps, from that wickedness on my side which was prone to take disgusttowards a girl so idolized and so cried up as she always was, by her aunt andgrandmother, and all their set. and then, her reserve--i never could attachmyself to any one so completely reserved." "it is a most repulsive quality, indeed,"said he. "oftentimes very convenient, no doubt, butnever pleasing. there is safety in reserve, but noattraction. one cannot love a reserved person." "not till the reserve ceases towardsoneself; and then the attraction may be the

greater. but i must be more in want of a friend, oran agreeable companion, than i have yet been, to take the trouble of conquering anybody's reserve to procure one. intimacy between miss fairfax and me isquite out of the question. i have no reason to think ill of her--notthe least--except that such extreme and perpetual cautiousness of word and manner,such a dread of giving a distinct idea about any body, is apt to suggest suspicions of there being something toconceal." he perfectly agreed with her: and afterwalking together so long, and thinking so

much alike, emma felt herself so wellacquainted with him, that she could hardly believe it to be only their second meeting. he was not exactly what she had expected;less of the man of the world in some of his notions, less of the spoiled child offortune, therefore better than she had expected. his ideas seemed more moderate--hisfeelings warmer. she was particularly struck by his mannerof considering mr. elton's house, which, as well as the church, he would go and lookat, and would not join them in finding much fault with.

no, he could not believe it a bad house;not such a house as a man was to be pitied for having. if it were to be shared with the woman heloved, he could not think any man to be pitied for having that house.there must be ample room in it for every real comfort. the man must be a blockhead who wantedmore. mrs. weston laughed, and said he did notknow what he was talking about. used only to a large house himself, andwithout ever thinking how many advantages and accommodations were attached to itssize, he could be no judge of the

privations inevitably belonging to a smallone. but emma, in her own mind, determined thathe did know what he was talking about, and that he shewed a very amiableinclination to settle early in life, and to marry, from worthy motives. he might not be aware of the inroads ondomestic peace to be occasioned by no housekeeper's room, or a bad butler'spantry, but no doubt he did perfectly feel that enscombe could not make him happy, and that whenever he were attached, he wouldwillingly give up much of wealth to be allowed an early establishment.

chapter vii emma's very good opinion of frank churchillwas a little shaken the following day, by hearing that he was gone off to london,merely to have his hair cut. a sudden freak seemed to have seized him atbreakfast, and he had sent for a chaise and set off, intending to return to dinner, butwith no more important view that appeared than having his hair cut. there was certainly no harm in histravelling sixteen miles twice over on such an errand; but there was an air of fopperyand nonsense in it which she could not approve.

it did not accord with the rationality ofplan, the moderation in expense, or even the unselfish warmth of heart, which shehad believed herself to discern in him yesterday. vanity, extravagance, love of change,restlessness of temper, which must be doing something, good or bad; heedlessness as tothe pleasure of his father and mrs. weston, indifferent as to how his conduct might appear in general; he became liable to allthese charges. his father only called him a coxcomb, andthought it a very good story; but that mrs. weston did not like it, was clear enough,by her passing it over as quickly as

possible, and making no other comment than that "all young people would have theirlittle whims." with the exception of this little blot,emma found that his visit hitherto had given her friend only good ideas of him. mrs. weston was very ready to say howattentive and pleasant a companion he made himself--how much she saw to like in hisdisposition altogether. he appeared to have a very open temper--certainly a very cheerful and lively one; she could observe nothing wrong in hisnotions, a great deal decidedly right; he spoke of his uncle with warm regard, was

fond of talking of him--said he would bethe best man in the world if he were left to himself; and though there was no beingattached to the aunt, he acknowledged her kindness with gratitude, and seemed to meanalways to speak of her with respect. this was all very promising; and, but forsuch an unfortunate fancy for having his hair cut, there was nothing to denote himunworthy of the distinguished honour which her imagination had given him; the honour, if not of being really in love with her, ofbeing at least very near it, and saved only by her own indifference--(for still herresolution held of never marrying)--the honour, in short, of being marked out forher by all their joint acquaintance.

mr. weston, on his side, added a virtue tothe account which must have some weight. he gave her to understand that frankadmired her extremely--thought her very beautiful and very charming; and with somuch to be said for him altogether, she found she must not judge him harshly. as mrs. weston observed, "all young peoplewould have their little whims." there was one person among his newacquaintance in surry, not so leniently disposed. in general he was judged, throughout theparishes of donwell and highbury, with great candour; liberal allowances were madefor the little excesses of such a handsome

young man--one who smiled so often and bowed so well; but there was one spiritamong them not to be softened, from its power of censure, by bows or smiles--mr.knightley. the circumstance was told him at hartfield;for the moment, he was silent; but emma heard him almost immediately afterwards sayto himself, over a newspaper he held in his hand, "hum! just the trifling, silly fellowi took him for." she had half a mind to resent; but aninstant's observation convinced her that it was really said only to relieve his ownfeelings, and not meant to provoke; and therefore she let it pass.

although in one instance the bearers of notgood tidings, mr. and mrs. weston's visit this morning was in another respectparticularly opportune. something occurred while they were athartfield, to make emma want their advice; and, which was still more lucky, she wantedexactly the advice they gave. this was the occurrence:--the coles hadbeen settled some years in highbury, and were very good sort of people--friendly,liberal, and unpretending; but, on the other hand, they were of low origin, intrade, and only moderately genteel. on their first coming into the country,they had lived in proportion to their income, quietly, keeping little company,and that little unexpensively; but the last

year or two had brought them a considerable increase of means--the house in town hadyielded greater profits, and fortune in general had smiled on them. with their wealth, their views increased;their want of a larger house, their inclination for more company. they added to their house, to their numberof servants, to their expenses of every sort; and by this time were, in fortune andstyle of living, second only to the family at hartfield. their love of society, and their newdining-room, prepared every body for their

keeping dinner-company; and a few parties,chiefly among the single men, had already taken place. the regular and best families emma couldhardly suppose they would presume to invite--neither donwell, nor hartfield, norrandalls. nothing should tempt her to go, if theydid; and she regretted that her father's known habits would be giving her refusalless meaning than she could wish. the coles were very respectable in theirway, but they ought to be taught that it was not for them to arrange the terms onwhich the superior families would visit them.

this lesson, she very much feared, theywould receive only from herself; she had little hope of mr. knightley, none of mr.weston. but she had made up her mind how to meetthis presumption so many weeks before it appeared, that when the insult came atlast, it found her very differently affected. donwell and randalls had received theirinvitation, and none had come for her father and herself; and mrs. weston'saccounting for it with "i suppose they will not take the liberty with you; they know you do not dine out," was not quitesufficient.

she felt that she should like to have hadthe power of refusal; and afterwards, as the idea of the party to be assembledthere, consisting precisely of those whose society was dearest to her, occurred again and again, she did not know that she mightnot have been tempted to accept. harriet was to be there in the evening, andthe bateses. they had been speaking of it as they walkedabout highbury the day before, and frank churchill had most earnestly lamented herabsence. might not the evening end in a dance? hadbeen a question of his. the bare possibility of it acted as afarther irritation on her spirits; and her

being left in solitary grandeur, evensupposing the omission to be intended as a compliment, was but poor comfort. it was the arrival of this very invitationwhile the westons were at hartfield, which made their presence so acceptable; forthough her first remark, on reading it, was that "of course it must be declined," she so very soon proceeded to ask them whatthey advised her to do, that their advice for her going was most prompt andsuccessful. she owned that, considering every thing,she was not absolutely without inclination for the party.

the coles expressed themselves so properly--there was so much real attention in the manner of it--so much consideration for herfather. "they would have solicited the honourearlier, but had been waiting the arrival of a folding-screen from london, which theyhoped might keep mr. woodhouse from any draught of air, and therefore induce him the more readily to give them the honour ofhis company." upon the whole, she was very persuadable;and it being briefly settled among themselves how it might be done withoutneglecting his comfort--how certainly mrs. goddard, if not mrs. bates, might be

depended on for bearing him company--mr.woodhouse was to be talked into an acquiescence of his daughter's going out todinner on a day now near at hand, and spending the whole evening away from him. as for his going, emma did not wish himto think it possible, the hours would be too late, and the party too numerous.he was soon pretty well resigned. "i am not fond of dinner-visiting," saidhe--"i never was. no more is emma.late hours do not agree with us. i am sorry mr. and mrs. cole should havedone it. i think it would be much better if theywould come in one afternoon next summer,

and take their tea with us--take us intheir afternoon walk; which they might do, as our hours are so reasonable, and yet get home without being out in the damp of theevening. the dews of a summer evening are what iwould not expose any body to. however, as they are so very desirous tohave dear emma dine with them, and as you will both be there, and mr. knightley too,to take care of her, i cannot wish to prevent it, provided the weather be what itought, neither damp, nor cold, nor windy." then turning to mrs. weston, with a look ofgentle reproach--"ah! miss taylor, if you had not married, you would have staid athome with me."

"well, sir," cried mr. weston, "as i tookmiss taylor away, it is incumbent on me to supply her place, if i can; and i will stepto mrs. goddard in a moment, if you wish it." but the idea of any thing to be done in amoment, was increasing, not lessening, mr. woodhouse's agitation.the ladies knew better how to allay it. mr. weston must be quiet, and every thingdeliberately arranged. with this treatment, mr. woodhouse was sooncomposed enough for talking as usual. "he should be happy to see mrs. goddard. he had a great regard for mrs. goddard; andemma should write a line, and invite her.

james could take the note.but first of all, there must be an answer written to mrs. cole." "you will make my excuses, my dear, ascivilly as possible. you will say that i am quite an invalid,and go no where, and therefore must decline their obliging invitation; beginning withmy compliments, of course. but you will do every thing right. i need not tell you what is to be done.we must remember to let james know that the carriage will be wanted on tuesday.i shall have no fears for you with him. we have never been there above once sincethe new approach was made; but still i have

no doubt that james will take you verysafely. and when you get there, you must tell himat what time you would have him come for you again; and you had better name an earlyhour. you will not like staying late. you will get very tired when tea is over.""but you would not wish me to come away before i am tired, papa?""oh! no, my love; but you will soon be tired. there will be a great many people talkingat once. you will not like the noise."

"but, my dear sir," cried mr. weston, "ifemma comes away early, it will be breaking up the party.""and no great harm if it does," said mr. woodhouse. "the sooner every party breaks up, thebetter." "but you do not consider how it may appearto the coles. emma's going away directly after tea mightbe giving offence. they are good-natured people, and thinklittle of their own claims; but still they must feel that any body's hurrying away isno great compliment; and miss woodhouse's doing it would be more thought of than anyother person's in the room.

you would not wish to disappoint andmortify the coles, i am sure, sir; friendly, good sort of people as everlived, and who have been your neighbours these ten years." "no, upon no account in the world, mr.weston; i am much obliged to you for reminding me.i should be extremely sorry to be giving them any pain. i know what worthy people they are.perry tells me that mr. cole never touches malt liquor.you would not think it to look at him, but he is bilious--mr. cole is very bilious.

no, i would not be the means of giving themany pain. my dear emma, we must consider this. i am sure, rather than run the risk ofhurting mr. and mrs. cole, you would stay a little longer than you might wish.you will not regard being tired. you will be perfectly safe, you know, amongyour friends." "oh yes, papa. i have no fears at all for myself; and ishould have no scruples of staying as late as mrs. weston, but on your account.i am only afraid of your sitting up for me. i am not afraid of your not beingexceedingly comfortable with mrs. goddard.

she loves piquet, you know; but when she isgone home, i am afraid you will be sitting up by yourself, instead of going to bed atyour usual time--and the idea of that would entirely destroy my comfort. you must promise me not to sit up." he did, on the condition of some promiseson her side: such as that, if she came home cold, she would be sure to warm herselfthoroughly; if hungry, that she would take something to eat; that her own maid should sit up for her; and that serle and thebutler should see that every thing were safe in the house, as usual.

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