Chapter II

Elton, papa, – I m ust look about for a wife for him . There is nobody in Highbury who deserves him – and he has been here a whole y ear, and has fitted up his house so com fortably, that it would be a sham e to have him single any longer –

and I thought when he was j oining their hands to-day, he looked so very m uch as if he would like to have the sam e kind office done for him ! I think very well of Mr. Elton, and this is the only way I have of doing him a service.”

“Mr. Elton is a very pretty y oung m an, to be sure, and a very good y oung m an, and I have a great regard for him . But if y ou want to shew him any attention, m y dear, ask him to com e and dine with us som e day. That will be a m uch better thing. I dare say Mr. Knightley will be so kind as to m eet him .”

“With a great deal of pleasure, sir, at any tim e,” said Mr. Knightley, laughing, “and I agree with y ou entirely, that it will be a m uch better thing. Invite him to dinner, Em m a, and help him to the best of the fish and the chicken, but leave him to chuse his own wife. Depend upon it, a m an of six or seven-and-twenty can take care of him self.”

CHAPTER II

Mr. Weston was a native of Highbury, and born of a respectable fam ily, which for the last two or three generations had been rising into gentility and property. He had received a good education, but, on succeeding early in life to a sm all independence, had becom e indisposed for any of the m ore hom ely pursuits in which his brothers were engaged, and had satisfied an active, cheerful m ind and social tem per by entering into the m ilitia of his county, then em bodied.

Captain Weston was a general favourite; and when the chances of his m ilitary life had introduced him to Miss Churchill, of a great Yorkshire fam ily, and Miss Churchill fell in love with him , nobody was surprized, except her brother and his wife, who had never seen him , and who were full of pride and im portance, which the connexion would offend.

Miss Churchill, however, being of age, and with the full com m and of her fortune – though her fortune bore no proportion to the fam ily -estate – was not to be dissuaded from the m arriage, and it took place, to the infinite m ortification of Mr. and Mrs. Churchill, who threw her off with due decorum . It was an unsuitable connexion, and did not produce m uch happiness. Mrs. Weston ought to have found m ore in it, for she had a husband whose warm heart and sweet tem per m ade him think every thing due to her in return for the great goodness of being in love with him ; but though she had one sort of spirit, she had not the best.

She had resolution enough to pursue her own will in spite of her brother, but not enough to refrain from unreasonable regrets at that brother’s unreasonable anger, nor from m issing the luxuries of her form er hom e. They lived bey ond their incom e, but still it was nothing in com parison of Enscom be: she did not cease to love her husband, but she wanted at once to be the wife of Captain Weston, and Miss Churchill of Enscom be.

Captain Weston, who had been considered, especially by the Churchills, as m aking such an am azing m atch, was proved to have m uch the worst of the bargain; for when his wife died, after a three y ears’ m arriage, he was rather a poorer m an than at first, and with a child to m aintain. From the expense of the child, however, he was soon relieved. The boy had, with the additional softening claim of a lingering illness of his m other’s, been the m eans of a sort of reconciliation; and Mr. and Mrs. Churchill, having no children of their own, nor any other y oung creature of equal kindred to care for, offered to take the whole charge of the little Frank soon after her decease. Som e scruples and som e reluctance the widower-father m ay be supposed to have felt; but as they were overcom e by other considerations, the child was given up to the care and the wealth of the Churchills, and he had only his own com fort to seek, and his own

situation to im prove as he could.

A com plete change of life becam e desirable. He quitted the m ilitia and engaged in trade, having brothers already established in a good way in London, which afforded him a favourable opening. It was a concern which brought j ust em ploy m ent enough. He had still a sm all house in Highbury, where m ost of his leisure day s were spent; and between useful occupation and the pleasures of society, the next eighteen or twenty y ears of his life passed cheerfully away. He had, by that tim e, realised an easy com petence – enough to secure the purchase of a little estate adj oining Highbury, which he had alway s longed for – enough to m arry a wom an as portionless even as Miss Tay lor, and to live according to the wishes of his own friendly and social disposition.

It was now som e tim e since Miss Tay lor had begun to influence his schem es; but as it was not the ty rannic influence of y outh on y outh, it had not shaken his determ ination of never settling till he could purchase Randalls, and the sale of Randalls was long looked forward to; but he had gone steadily on, with these obj ects in view, till they were accom plished. He had m ade his fortune, bought his house, and obtained his wife; and was beginning a new period of existence, with every probability of greater happiness than in any y et passed through. He had never been an unhappy m an; his own tem per had secured him from that, even in his first m arriage; but his second m ust shew him how delightful a well-j udging and truly am iable wom an could be, and m ust give him the pleasantest proof of its being a great deal better to choose than to be chosen, to excite gratitude than to feel it.

He had only him self to please in his choice: his fortune was his own; for as to Frank, it was m ore than being tacitly brought up as his uncle’s heir, it had becom e so avowed an adoption as to have him assum e the nam e of Churchill on com ing of age. It was m ost unlikely, therefore, that he should ever want his father’s assistance. His father had no apprehension of it. The aunt was a capricious wom an, and governed her husband entirely ; but it was not in Mr.

Weston’s nature to im agine that any caprice could be strong enough to affect one so dear, and, as he believed, so deservedly dear. He saw his son every y ear in London, and was proud of him ; and his fond report of him as a very fine y oung m an had m ade Highbury feel a sort of pride in him too. He was looked on as sufficiently belonging to the place to m ake his m erits and prospects a kind of com m on concern.

Mr. Frank Churchill was one of the boasts of Highbury, and a lively curiosity to see him prevailed, though the com plim ent was so little returned that he had never been there in his life. His com ing to visit his father had been often talked of but never achieved.

Now, upon his father’s m arriage, it was very generally proposed, as a m ost proper attention, that the visit should take place. There was not a dissentient voice on the subj ect, either when Mrs. Perry drank tea with Mrs. and Miss Bates, or when Mrs. and Miss Bates returned the visit. Now was the tim e for Mr. Frank Churchill to com e am ong them ; and the hope strengthened when it was understood that he had written to his new m other on the occasion. For a few day s, every m orning visit in Highbury included som e m ention of the handsom e letter Mrs. Weston had received. “I suppose y ou have heard of the handsom e letter Mr.

Frank Churchill has written to Mrs. Weston? I understand it was a very handsom e letter, indeed. Mr. Woodhouse told m e of it. Mr. Woodhouse saw the letter, and he say s he never saw such a handsom e letter in his life.”

It was, indeed, a highly prized letter. Mrs. Weston had, of course, form ed a very favourable idea of the y oung m an; and such a pleasing attention was an irresistible proof of his great good sense, and a m ost welcom e addition to every source and every expression of congratulation which her m arriage had already secured. She felt herself a m ost fortunate wom an; and she had lived long enough to know how fortunate she m ight well be thought, where the only regret was for a partial separation from friends whose friendship for her had never cooled, and who could ill bear to part with her.

She knew that at tim es she m ust be m issed; and could not think, without pain, of Em m a’s losing a single pleasure, or suffering an hour’s ennui, from the want of her com panionableness: but dear Em m a was of no feeble character; she was m ore equal to her situation than m ost girls would have been, and had sense, and energy, and spirits that m ight be hoped would bear her well and happily through its little difficulties and privations. And then there was such com fort in the very easy distance of Randalls from Hartfield, so convenient for even solitary fem ale walking, and in Mr. Weston’s disposition and circum stances, which would m ake the approaching season no hindrance to their spending half the evenings in the week together.

Her situation was altogether the subj ect of hours of gratitude to Mrs.

Weston, and of m om ents only of regret; and her satisfaction – her m ore than satisfaction – her cheerful enj oy m ent, was so j ust and so apparent, that Em m a, well as she knew her father, was som etim es taken by surprize at his being still able to pity ‘poor Miss Tay lor,’ when they left her at Randalls in the centre of every dom estic com fort, or saw her go away in the evening attended by her pleasant husband to a carriage of her own. But never did she go without Mr.

Woodhouse’s giving a gentle sigh, and say ing, “Ah, poor Miss Tay lor! She would be very glad to stay.”

There was no recovering Miss Tay lor – nor m uch likelihood of ceasing

to pity her; but a few weeks brought som e alleviation to Mr. Woodhouse. The com plim ents of his neighbours were over; he was no longer teased by being wished j oy of so sorrowful an event; and the wedding-cake, which had been a great distress to him , was all eat up. His own stom ach could bear nothing rich, and he could never believe other people to be different from him self. What was unwholesom e to him he regarded as unfit for any body ; and he had, therefore, earnestly tried to dissuade them from having any wedding-cake at all, and when that proved vain, as earnestly tried to prevent any body ’s eating it. He had been at the pains of consulting Mr. Perry, the apothecary, on the subj ect. Mr. Perry was an intelligent, gentlem anlike m an, whose frequent visits were one of the com forts of Mr. Woodhouse’s life; and upon being applied to, he could not but acknowledge (though it seem ed rather against the bias of inclination) that wedding-cake m ight certainly disagree with m any – perhaps with m ost people, unless taken m oderately. With such an opinion, in confirm ation of his own, Mr. Woodhouse hoped to influence every visitor of the newly m arried pair; but still the cake was eaten; and there was no rest for his benevolent nerves till it was all gone.