Emma's Chronicles

r? Randalls is such a distance

f your walking. We must go

horses to for such a little way;—and where are the

r James, you may be very sure he will always like going to Randalls, because of his daughter's being housemaid there. I only doubt whether he will ever ta

. Whenever I see her, she always curtseys and asks me how I do, in a very pretty manner; and when you have had her here to do needlework, I observe she always turns the lock of the door the right way and never bangs it. I am sure she will be an e

on, to get her father tolerably through the evening, and be attacked by no regrets but her own. The

han usual, as coming directly from their mutual connexions in London. He had returned to a late dinner, after some days' absence, and now walked up to Hartfield to say that all were well in Brunswick Square. It was a happy circumstance, and animated Mr. Woodhouse for some time. Mr. Knightley had a cheerful manner

moonlight night; and so mild that I

t very damp and dirty. I w

at my shoes. Not

of rain here. It rained dreadfully hard for half an hour whil

retty well aware of what sort of joy you must

l went off tolerably well. How di

Taylor! 'Tis

.' I have a great regard for you and Emma; but when it comes to the question of dependen

reature!” said Emma playfully. “That is what you have in your head,

said Mr. Woodhouse, with a sigh. “I am afraid

u. What a horrible idea! Oh no! I meant only myself. Mr. Knightley loves to find fault w

her of them: and though this was not particularly agreeable to Emma herself, she knew it would be so much less so to he

lection on any body. Miss Taylor has been used to have two persons to ple

we all behaved charmingly. Every body was punctual, every body in their best looks: not a tear, and hardly a long fac

Mr. Knightley, she is really very sorry to lose poor Miss Tayl

t miss such a companion,” said Mr. Knightley. “We should not like her so well as we do, sir, if we

w important to her to be secure of a comfortable provision, and therefore cannot allow herself to fee

he match myself. I made the match, you know, four years ago; and to have it take place, and be proved i

y dear, I wish you would not make matches and foretell things, for wha

long, and who seemed so perfectly comfortable without a wife, so constantly occupied either in his business in town or among his friends here, always acceptable wherever he went, always cheerful —Mr. Weston need not spend a single evening in the year alone if he did

away with so much gallantry, and borrowed two umbrellas for us from Farmer Mitchell's, I made up my mind on the subject. I planned the mat

A worthy employment for a young lady's mind! But if, which I rather imagine, your making the match, as you call it, means only your planning it, your saying to yourself one idle day, 'I think it would be a very good thing for Miss T

uccess,' which you quarrel with, I do not know that I am so entirely without any claim to it. You have drawn two pretty pictures; but I think there may be a third—a something between the do-nothing and the do-all. If I h

man like Miss Taylor, may be safely left to manage their own concerns. You are

only for Mr. Elton. Poor Mr. Elton! You like Mr. Elton, papa,—I must look about for a wife for him. There is nobody in Highbury who deserves him—and he has been here a whole year, and has fitted up his house so comfortably, that it would be a shame to

gard for him. But if you want to shew him any attention, my dear, ask him to come and dine with us

hat it will be a much better thing. Invite him to dinner, Emma, and help him to the best of the fish and the chick