Volume I: Chapter XI

by Jane Austen

　　Mr. Elton must now be left to himself. It was no longer in Emma'spower to superintend his happiness or quicken his measures.The coming of her sister's family was so very near at hand,that first in anticipation, and then in reality, it became henceforthher prime object of interest; and during the ten days of their stayat Hartfield it was not to be expected--she did not herself expect--that any thing beyond occasional, fortuitous assistance couldbe afforded by her to the lovers. They might advance rapidlyif they would, however; they must advance somehow or other whetherthey would or no. She hardly wished to have more leisure for them.There are people, who the more you do for them, the less they willdo for themselves.

　　Mr. and Mrs. John Knightley, from having been longer than usualabsent from Surry, were exciting of course rather more than theusual interest. Till this year, every long vacation since theirmarriage had been divided between Hartfield and Donwell Abbey;but all the holidays of this autumn had been given to sea-bathingfor the children, and it was therefore many months since they hadbeen seen in a regular way by their Surry connexions, or seen at allby Mr. Woodhouse, who could not be induced to get so far as London,even for poor Isabella's sake; and who consequently was now mostnervously and apprehensively happy in forestalling this too short visit.

　　He thought much of the evils of the journey for her, and not alittle of the fatigues of his own horses and coachman who were tobring some of the party the last half of the way; but his alarmswere needless; the sixteen miles being happily accomplished,and Mr. and Mrs. John Knightley, their five children, and a competentnumber of nursery-maids, all reaching Hartfield in safety.The bustle and joy of such an arrival, the many to be talked to,welcomed, encouraged, and variously dispersed and disposed of,produced a noise and confusion which his nerves could not have borneunder any other cause, nor have endured much longer even for this;but the ways of Hartfield and the feelings of her father wereso respected by Mrs. John Knightley, that in spite of maternalsolicitude for the immediate enjoyment of her little ones,and for their having instantly all the liberty and attendance,all the eating and drinking, and sleeping and playing,which they could possibly wish for, without the smallest delay,the children were never allowed to be long a disturbance to him,either in themselves or in any restless attendance on them.

　　Mrs. John Knightley was a pretty, elegant little woman, of gentle,quiet manners, and a disposition remarkably amiable and affectionate;wrapt up in her family; a devoted wife, a doating mother,and so tenderly attached to her father and sister that, but forthese higher ties, a warmer love might have seemed impossible.She could never see a fault in any of them. She was not a womanof strong understanding or any quickness; and with this resemblanceof her father, she inherited also much of his constitution;was delicate in her own health, over-careful of that of her children,had many fears and many nerves, and was as fond of her own Mr. Wingfieldin town as her father could be of Mr. Perry. They were alike too,in a general benevolence of temper, and a strong habit of regardfor every old acquaintance.

　　Mr. John Knightley was a tall, gentleman-like, and very clever man;rising in his profession, domestic, and respectable in hisprivate character; but with reserved manners which prevented his beinggenerally pleasing; and capable of being sometimes out of humour.He was not an ill-tempered man, not so often unreasonably crossas to deserve such a reproach; but his temper was not hisgreat perfection; and, indeed, with such a worshipping wife,it was hardly possible that any natural defects in it should notbe increased. The extreme sweetness of her temper must hurt his.He had all the clearness and quickness of mind which she wanted,and he could sometimes act an ungracious, or say a severe thing.

　　He was not a great favourite with his fair sister-in-law. Nothingwrong in him escaped her. She was quick in feeling the littleinjuries to Isabella, which Isabella never felt herself.Perhaps she might have passed over more had his manners beenflattering to Isabella's sister, but they were only those of a calmlykind brother and friend, without praise and without blindness;but hardly any degree of personal compliment could have made herregardless of that greatest fault of all in her eyes which he sometimesfell into, the want of respectful forbearance towards her father.There he had not always the patience that could have been wished.Mr. Woodhouse's peculiarities and fidgetiness were sometimes provokinghim to a rational remonstrance or sharp retort equally ill-bestowed.It did not often happen; for Mr. John Knightley had really a greatregard for his father-in-law, and generally a strong sense of what wasdue to him; but it was too often for Emma's charity, especially asthere was all the pain of apprehension frequently to be endured,though the offence came not. The beginning, however, of every visitdisplayed none but the properest feelings, and this being of necessityso short might be hoped to pass away in unsullied cordiality.They had not been long seated and composed when Mr. Woodhouse,with a melancholy shake of the head and a sigh, called his daughter'sattention to the sad change at Hartfield since she had been there last.

　　"Ah, my dear," said he, "poor Miss Taylor--It is a grievous business."

　　"Oh yes, sir," cried she with ready sympathy, "how you mustmiss her! And dear Emma, tooI have been so grieved for you.--I could not imagine how you couldpossibly do without her.--It is a sad change indeed.--But I hopeshe is pretty well, sir."

　　"Pretty well, my dear--I hope--pretty well.--I do not knowbut that the place agrees with her tolerably."

　　Mr. John Knightley here asked Emma quietly whether there were anydoubts of the air of Randalls.

　　"Oh! no--none in the least. I never saw Mrs. Weston better in my life--never looking so well. Papa is only speaking his own regret."

　　"Very much to the honour of both," was the handsome reply.

　　"And do you see her, sir, tolerably often?" asked Isabellain the plaintive tone which just suited her father.

　　Mr. Woodhouse hesitated.--"Not near so often, my dear, as I could wish."

　　"Oh! papa, we have missed seeing them but one entire day sincethey married. Either in the morning or evening of every day,excepting one, have we seen either Mr. Weston or Mrs. Weston,and generally both, either at Randalls or here--and as youmay suppose, Isabella, most frequently here. They are very,very kind in their visits. Mr. Weston is really as kind as herself.Papa, if you speak in that melancholy way, you will be givingIsabella a false idea of us all. Every body must be aware that MissTaylor must be missed, but every body ought also to be assuredthat Mr. and Mrs. Weston do really prevent our missing her by anymeans to the extent we ourselves anticipated--which is the exact truth."

　　"Just as it should be," said Mr. John Knightley, "and just as I hopedit was from your letters. Her wish of shewing you attention couldnot be doubted, and his being a disengaged and social man makes itall easy. I have been always telling you, my love, that I had no ideaof the change being so very material to Hartfield as you apprehended;and now you have Emma's account, I hope you will be satisfied."

　　"Why, to be sure," said Mr. Woodhouse--"yes, certainly--I cannot denythat Mrs. Weston, poor Mrs. Weston, does come and see us pretty often--but then--she is always obliged to go away again."

　　"It would be very hard upon Mr. Weston if she did not, papa.--You quite forget poor Mr. Weston."

　　"I think, indeed," said John Knightley pleasantly, "that Mr. Westonhas some little claim. You and I, Emma, will venture to take the partof the poor husband. I, being a husband, and you not being a wife,the claims of the man may very likely strike us with equal force.As for Isabella, she has been married long enough to see the convenienceof putting all the Mr. Westons aside as much as she can."

　　"Me, my love," cried his wife, hearing and understanding only in part.--"Are you talking about me?--I am sure nobody ought to be, or can be,a greater advocate for matrimony than I am; and if it had not beenfor the misery of her leaving Hartfield, I should never have thoughtof Miss Taylor but as the most fortunate woman in the world;and as to slighting Mr. Weston, that excellent Mr. Weston, I thinkthere is nothing he does not deserve. I believe he is one of thevery best-tempered men that ever existed. Excepting yourselfand your brother, I do not know his equal for temper. I shallnever forget his flying Henry's kite for him that very windy daylast Easter--and ever since his particular kindness last Septembertwelvemonth in writing that note, at twelve o'clock at night,on purpose to assure me that there was no scarlet fever at Cobham,I have been convinced there could not be a more feeling heart nora better man in existence.--If any body can deserve him, it must beMiss Taylor."

　　"Where is the young man?" said John Knightley. "Has he been hereon this occasion--or has he not?"

　　"He has not been here yet," replied Emma. "There was a strongexpectation of his coming soon after the marriage, but it endedin nothing; and I have not heard him mentioned lately."

　　"But you should tell them of the letter, my dear," said her father."He wrote a letter to poor Mrs. Weston, to congratulate her,and a very proper, handsome letter it was. She shewed it to me.I thought it very well done of him indeed. Whether it was his own ideayou know, one cannot tell. He is but young, and his uncle, perhaps--"

　　"My dear papa, he is three-and-twenty. You forget how time passes."

　　"Three-and-twentyWell, I could not have thought it--and he was but two years old when he lost his poor mother! Well,time does fly indeed!--and my memory is very bad. However, it wasan exceeding good, pretty letter, and gave Mr. and Mrs. Westona great deal of pleasure. I remember it was written from Weymouth,and dated Sept. 28th--and began, `My dear Madam,' but I forgethow it went on; and it was signed `F. C. Weston Churchill.'--I remember that perfectly."

　　"How very pleasing and proper of him!" cried the good-hearted Mrs. JohnKnightley. "I have no doubt of his being a most amiable young man.But how sad it is that he should not live at home with his father!There is something so shocking in a child's being taken away from hisparents and natural home! I never could comprehend how Mr. Westoncould part with him. To give up one's child! I really nevercould think well of any body who proposed such a thing to any body else."

　　"Nobody ever did think well of the Churchills, I fancy,"observed Mr. John Knightley coolly. "But you need not imagineMr. Weston to have felt what you would feel in giving up Henryor John. Mr. Weston is rather an easy, cheerful-tempered man,than a man of strong feelings; he takes things as he finds them,and makes enjoyment of them somehow or other, depending, I suspect,much more upon what is called society for his comforts, that is,upon the power of eating and drinking, and playing whist with hisneighbours five times a week, than upon family affection, or anything that home affords."

　　Emma could not like what bordered on a reflection on Mr. Weston,and had half a mind to take it up; but she struggled, and letit pass. She would keep the peace if possible; and there wassomething honourable and valuable in the strong domestic habits,the all-sufficiency of home to himself, whence resulted her brother'sdisposition to look down on the common rate of social intercourse,and those to whom it was important.--It had a high claim to forbearance.