By Jane Austen.
This story set in the village of Highbury.
Follows Emma Woodhouse,
A privileged young woman.
Who fancies herself a matchmaker.
Meddling in the romantic lives of those around her.
Particularly her new friend Harriet Smith.
Emma finds her misguided interventions.
Lead to hurt feelings.
And unexpected revelations.
Happy listening.
Chapter 12 Mr.
Likely was to dine with them,
Rather against the inclination of Mr.
Woodhouse,
Who did not like that anyone should share with him in Isabella's first day.
Emma's sense of right,
However,
Had decided it,
And besides the consideration of what was due to each brother,
She had particular pleasure from the circumstance of the late disagreement between Mr Knightley and herself in procuring him the proper invitation.
She hoped they might now become friends again.
She thought it was time to make up.
Making up indeed would not do.
She certainly had not been in the wrong and he would never own he had.
Concession must be out of the question.
But it was time to appear to forget they had ever quarrelled,
And she hoped it might rather assist at the restoration of friendship,
That when he came into the room she had one of the children with her.
The youngest,
A nice little girl about eight months old,
Who was now making her first visit to Hartfield and very happy to be danced about in her aunt's arms.
It did assist,
For though he began with grave looks and short questions,
He was soon led on to talk of them all in the usual way,
And to take the child out of her arms with all the unceremoniousness.
Of perfect amity.
Emma felt they were friends again,
And the conviction giving her at first great satisfaction and then a little sauciness,
She could not help saying as he was admiring the baby,
What a comfort it is that we think alike about our nephews and nieces.
As to men and women,
Our opinions are somewhat very different.
But with regard to these children,
I observe we never disagree.
If you are as much guided by nature in your estimate of men and women.
And as little under the power of fancying women your dealings with them.
As you are when these children are concerned,
We might always think alike.
To be sure,
Our discordancies must always arise from my being in the wrong.
Yes,
Said he smiling,
And reason good.
I was 16 years old when you were born.
A material difference then?
She replied,
And no doubt you were much my superior in judgment at that period of our lives,
But does not the lapse of one in twenty years bring our understandings a good deal nearer?
Yes,
A good deal nearer.
But still not near enough to give me a chance of being right if we think differently.
I still have the advantage of you by 16 years' experience and by not being a pretty young woman and a spoiled child.
Come,
My dear Emma,
Let us be friends and say no more about it.
Tell your aunt,
Little Emma,
That she ought to set you a better example than to be renewing old grievances.
That if she were not wrong before,
She is now.
That's true,
She cried,
Very true.
Little Emma,
Grow up a better woman than your aunt.
Be infinitely cleverer and half so conceited.
Now,
Mr Knightley,
A word or two more and I have done.
As far as good intentions went,
We were both right.
And I must say,
No effects on my side of the argument have yet proved wrong.
I only want to know Mr Martin is not very,
Very bitterly disappointed.
A man cannot be more so,
Was his short,
Full answer.
Oh indeed,
I'm very sorry.
Come shake hands with me.
This had just taken place,
And with great cordiality,
When John Knightley made his appearance,
And,
How do you do,
George?
And,
John,
How are you?
Succeeded in the true English style,
Bearing under a calmness that seemed all but indifference.
The real attachment which would have led either of them,
If requisite,
To do everything for the good of the other.
The evening was quiet and conservable as Mr.
Woodhouse declined cards entirely for the sake of comfortable talk with dear Isabella.
And the little party made two natural divisions.
On one side he and his daughter,
On the other the two Mr Knightleys,
Their subjects totally distinct or very rarely mixing,
And Emma only occasionally joining in one or the other.
The brothers talked of their own concerns and pursuits,
But principally of those of the elder,
Whose temper was by much the most communicative,
And who was always the great talker.
As a magistrate,
He had generally some point of law to consult John about,
Or at least some curious anecdote to give.
And as a farmer,
As keeping in hand the home farm,
Donald,
He had to tell what every field was to bear next year,
And to give all such local information as could not fail of being interesting to a brother,
Whose home it had equally been the longest part of his life,
And whose attachments were strong.
The plan of a drain,
The change of a fence,
The felling of a tree,
And the destination of every acre for wheat,
Turnips or spring corn.
Was entered into with as much equality of interest by John as his cooler manners rendered possible.
And if his willing brother ever let him anything to inquire about,
His inquiries even approached a tone of eagerness.
While they were thus comfortably occupied,
Mr.
Woodhouse was enjoying a full flow of happy regrets and fearful affection with his daughter.
My poor dear Isabella,
Said he,
Fondly taking her hand.
How long it is,
How terribly long since you were here,
And how tired you must be after your journey.
You must go to bed early,
My dear,
And I recommend a little gruel before you go.
You and I will have a nice basin together.
My dear Emma,
Suppose we all have a little gruel.
Emma could not suppose any such thing,
Knowing as she did that both the Mr Knightleys were as unpersuadable on that article as herself.
And two basins only were ordered.
It was an awkward business,
My dear,
Your spending the ultimate South End instead of coming here.
I never had much opinion of the sea air.
Mr.
Wingfield most strenuously recommended it,
Sir,
Or we should not have gone.
He recommended it for all the children,
But particularly for the weakness in little Bella's throat.
Both sea air and bathing.
Come,
Come!
" cried Emma.
Feeling this to be an unsafe subject,
I must beg you not to talk of the sea.
It makes me envious and miserable,
I who have never seen it.
South End is prohibited if you please.
My dear Isabella,
I have not heard you made one inquiry about Mr.
Perry yet,
And he never forgets you.
Oh good Mr Perry,
How is he sir?
Pretty well,
But not quite well.
Poor Perry is bilious and he has not time to take care of himself.
He tells me he's not time to take care of himself,
Which is very sad.
But he's always wanted around the country.
I suppose there is not a man in such practice anywhere.
But then there is not so clever a man anywhere.
And Mrs.
Perry and the children,
How are they?
Do the children grow?
I have a great regard for Mr.
Perry.
I hope he'll be calling soon.
They will be so pleased to see my little ones.
My dear,
Whenever he comes,
You'd better tell him to look at little Bella's throat.
You seem to have forgotten Mr and Mrs Bates,
Said Emma.
I've not heard one enquiry after them.
Oh,
The good Bateses,
I'm quite ashamed of myself.
But you mention them in most of your letters.
I hope they are well.
Good old Mrs.
Bates.
I'll call upon her tomorrow and take my children.
They're always so pleased to see my children.
Why,
Pretty well,
My dear,
Upon the whole.
They are well,
But poor Mrs Bates,
She has had a bad cold about a month ago.
How sorry I am.
But colds were never so prevalent as they've been this autumn.
Mr Wingfield told me he's never known them more general or heavy.
Except when it's been an influenza.
That has been a good deal the case,
My dear,
But not the degree you mention.
Perry says Colt have been very general.
Ah,
My poor dear child.
The truth is,
In London,
It is always a sickly season.
Nobody is healthy in London.
Nobody can be.
It's a dreadful thing to have you forced to live there,
So far off,
And the air so bad.
No indeed.
We are not at all in bad air.
Our part of London is very superior to most others.
You must not confound us,
Father,
With London in general.
My neighbourhood of Brunswick Square is very different from all the rest.
We are so very airy.
I should be unwilling,
I own,
To live in any other part of the town.
Mr.
Wingfield thinks the vicinity of Brunswick Square decidedly the most favourable as to where.
It is not like Hartfield,
My dear.
You make the best of it.
But after you've been a week at Hartfield,
You are all of you different creatures.
You do not look the same.
I think not any of you are looking well at present.
I'm sorry to hear you say so,
Sir,
But I assure you,
Excepting those little nervous headaches and palpitations,
Which I'm never entirely free from,
I'm quite well myself.
And if the children were pale before they went to bed,
It is only because they were more tired than usual.
I think Mr John Knightley very far from looking well.
What is the matter,
Sir?
Did you speak to me?
" cried Mr John Knightley,
Hearing his own name.
I'm sorry to find,
My love,
My father does not think you're looking well.
I hope it's only from being a little fatigued.
I could have wished,
However,
That you had seen Mr.
Wingfield before you left home.
My dear Isabella,
Exclaimed he hastily,
Do not concern yourself about my looks.
Be satisfied with doctoring,
Coddling yourself and the children,
And let me look as I choose.
I did not thoroughly understand what you were telling your brother,
Cried Emma,
About your friend Mr.
Grahame's intending to have a bailiff from Scotland to look after his new estate.
What will it answer?
Will not the old prejudice be too strong?
And she talked in this way so long and successfully that when forced to give her attention again to her father and sister,
Emma had nothing worse to hear than Isabella's kind inquiry after Jane Fairfax.
And Jane Fairfax,
Though no great favourite with her in general,
She was at that moment very happy to assist in praising.