Emma

different homes, and their different ways, might be looking back on it with pleasure; but in her view it was a morning more completely misspent, more totally bare of rat

oped she was not without a heart. She hoped no one could have said to her, "How could you be so unfeeling to your father?-I must, I will tell you truths while I can." Miss Bates should never again-no, never! If attention, in future, could do away the past, she might hope to be forgiven. She had been o

he might see Mr. Knightley in her way; or, perhaps, he might come in while she were paying her visit. She had no objection. She would not

before entered the passage, nor walked up the stairs, with any wish of giving plea

ed she would be pleased to wait a moment, and then ushered her in too soon. The aunt and niece seemed both escaping into the adjoining room. Jane she had a distinct glimpse of, look

e as usual, looked as if she did not

daughter will be here presently, Miss Woodhouse. I hope you find a chair. I wish Hetty had not gone. I am

and obliged"-but Emma's conscience told her that there was not the same cheerful volubility as before-less ease of look and manner

fortune-(again dispersing her tears)-but, poor dear soul! if you were to see what a headache she has. When one is in great pain, you know one cannot feel any blessing quite as it may deserve. She is as low as possible. To look at her, nobody would think how delighted and happy she is to have secured such a situation. You will excuse her not coming to you-she is not able-she is gone into her own room-I want her to lie down upon the bed. 'My dear,' said I, 'I shall say you are laid down upon the bed:' but, however, she is not; she is walking about the room. But, now that she has written her letters, she says she shall soon be well. She will be extremely sorry to miss seeing you, Miss Woodhouse, but your kindness will excuse her. You

entle sensations of the past, obliged her to admit that Jane might very naturally resolve on seeing Mrs. Cole or any other steady friend, when she might not bear to see herself. She spoke as she felt, with earnest regret and solicitude-sincerely wishing that the c

ied Miss Bates. "But

and to break through her dreadful gra

ask?-is Miss

tuation could be more replete with comfort; if we except, perhaps, Mrs. Suckling's own family, and Mrs. Bragge's; but Mrs. Smallridge is in

has been the person to

ampbell's return, and nothing should induce her to enter into any engagement at present-and so she told Mrs. Elton over and over again-and I am sure I had no more idea that she would change her mind!-but that good Mrs. Elton, whose judgment never fails her, saw farther than I did. It is not every body that would have stood out in such a kind way as she did, and refuse to take Jane's answer; but she positively declared she

e evening wit

he hill, while we were walking about with Mr. Knightley. 'You must all sp

ey was there

nd a very agreeable evening we had. Such kind friends, you know, Miss Woodhouse, one must always find agreeable, though every body seemed rather fagged after the morning's party. Even pleasure, you know, is

ou were not aware of it, had been

say sh

r friends-but I hope her engagement will have every alleviation tha

Smallridge, a most delightful woman!-A style of living almost equal to Maple Grove-and as to the children, except the little Sucklings and little Bragges, there are not such elegant sweet children anywhere. Jane will be treated with such regard and kindness

ber to have been myself, I should think five times the amount of what I

noble in y

Miss Fairfax

dge is in a great hurry. My poor mother does not know how to bear it. So then, I try to

ll not Colonel and Mrs. Campbell be sorry to find

something happened before tea, but not that. Mr. Elton was called out of the room before tea, old John Abdy's son wanted to speak with him. Poor old John, I have a great regard for him; he was clerk to my poor father twenty-seven years; and now, poor old man, he is bed-ridden, and very poorly with the rheumatic gout in his joints-I must go and see him to-day; and so will Jane, I am sure, if she gets out at all. And poor John's son came to talk to Mr. Elton abo

r; but as without supposing it possible that she could be ignorant of any of the particular

nger, however, had been no more than was expected; and that Mr. Churchill had sent his nephew a few lines, containing, upon the whole, a tolerable account of Mrs. Churchill, and only wishing him not to delay coming back beyond the next morning early; but that Mr. Frank

aged her mind. The contrast between Mrs. Churchill's importance in the world, and Jane Fairfax's, struck her; one was every thing, the other noth

u and I must part. You will have no business here.-Let it stay, however,' said she; 'give it houseroom till Colonel Campbell comes back. I shall talk about it to h

ctures was so little pleasing, that she soon allowed herself to believe her visit had been long enough; and, wit