Emma | Page 3

old and intimate friend of the family, but particularly
connected with it, as the elder brother of Isabella's husband. He lived
about a mile from Highbury, was a frequent visitor, and always
welcome, and at this time more welcome than 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, which always did him good; and his many inquiries
after "poor Isabella" and her children were answered most satisfactorily.
When this was over, Mr. Woodhouse gratefully observed, "It is very
kind of you, Mr. Knightley, to come out at this late hour to call upon us.
I am afraid you must have had a shocking walk."
"Not at all, sir. It is a beautiful moonlight night; and so mild that I must
draw back from your great fire."
"But you must have found it very damp and dirty. I wish you may not
catch cold."

"Dirty, sir! Look at my shoes. Not a speck on them."
"Well! that is quite surprising, for we have had a vast deal of rain here.
It rained dreadfully hard for half an hour while we were at breakfast. I
wanted them to put off the wedding."
"By the bye--I have not wished you joy. Being pretty well aware of
what sort of joy you must both be feeling, I have been in no hurry with
my congratulations; but I hope it all went off tolerably well. How did
you all behave? Who cried most?"
"Ah! poor Miss Taylor! 'Tis a sad business."
"Poor Mr. and Miss Woodhouse, if you please; but I cannot possibly
say `poor Miss Taylor.' I have a great regard for you and Emma; but
when it comes to the question of dependence or independence!--At any
rate, it must be better to have only one to please than two."
"Especially when one of those two is such a fanciful, troublesome
creature!" said Emma playfully. "That is what you have in your head, I
know--and what you would certainly say if my father were not by."
"I believe it is very true, my dear, indeed," said Mr. Woodhouse, with a
sigh. "I am afraid I am sometimes very fanciful and troublesome."
"My dearest papa! You do not think I could mean you, or suppose Mr.
Knightley to mean you. What a horrible idea! Oh no! I meant only
myself. Mr. Knightley loves to find fault with me, you know-- in a
joke--it is all a joke. We always say what we like to one another."
Mr. Knightley, in fact, was one of the few people who could see faults
in Emma Woodhouse, and the only one who ever told her of them: and
though this was not particularly agreeable to Emma herself, she knew it
would be so much less so to her father, that she would not have him
really suspect such a circumstance as her not being thought perfect by
every body.
"Emma knows I never flatter her," said Mr. Knightley, "but I meant no

reflection on any body. Miss Taylor has been used to have two persons
to please; she will now have but one. The chances are that she must be
a gainer."
"Well," said Emma, willing to let it pass--"you want to hear about the
wedding; and I shall be happy to tell you, for we all behaved
charmingly. Every body was punctual, every body in their best looks:
not a tear, and hardly a long face to be seen. Oh no; we all felt that we
were going to be only half a mile apart, and were sure of meeting every
day."
"Dear Emma bears every thing so well," said her father. "But, Mr.
Knightley, she is really very sorry to lose poor Miss Taylor, and I am
sure she will miss her more than she thinks for."
Emma turned away her head, divided between tears and smiles. "It is
impossible that Emma should not miss such a companion," said Mr.
Knightley. "We should not like her so well as we do, sir, if we could
suppose it; but she knows how much the marriage is to Miss Taylor's
advantage; she knows how very acceptable it must be, at Miss Taylor's
time of life, to be settled in a home of her own, and how important to
her to be secure of a comfortable provision, and therefore cannot allow
herself to feel so much pain as pleasure. Every friend of Miss Taylor
must be glad to have her so happily married."
"And you have forgotten one matter of joy to me," said Emma, "and