Austen Said:

"I hope I am aware that they may be too noisy for your father—or even may be some encumbrance to you, if your visiting engagements continue to increase as much as they have done lately."

"Certainly; you must be sensible that the last half-year has made a great difference in your way of life."

"There can be no doubt of your being much more engaged with company than you used to be. Witness this very time. Here am I come down for only one day, and you are engaged with a dinner-party!—When did it happen before, or any thing like it? Your neighbourhood is increasing, and you mix more with it. A little while ago, every letter to Isabella brought an account of fresh gaieties; dinners at Mr. Cole's, or balls at the Crown. The difference which Randalls, Randalls alone makes in your goings-on, is very great."

"Very well— and as Randalls, I suppose, is not likely to have less influence than heretofore, it strikes me as a possible thing, Emma, that Henry and John may be sometimes in the way. And if they are, I only beg you to send them home."

It was the very circumstance he could have wished for. Now, it would be really having Frank in their neighbourhood. What were nine miles to a young man?—An hour's ride. He would be always coming over. The difference in that respect of Richmond and London was enough to make the whole difference of seeing him always and seeing him never. Sixteen miles— — nay, eighteen — —it must be full eighteen to Manchester-street —was a serious obstacle. Were he ever able to get away, the day would be spent in coming and returning. There was no comfort in having him in London; he might as well be at Enscombe; but Richmond was the very distance for easy intercourse. Better than nearer!

his aunt felt already much better for the change, and

he had no doubt of being able to join them for twenty-four hours at any given time,

neither dear little Henry nor dear little John would have any thing the matter with them, while dear Emma were gone.

"But Miss Bates and Miss Fairfax!"

"We thought you were to bring them."

"And what are we to do for a proper partner for her?"

"She will think Frank ought to ask her."

"Come Miss Woodhouse, Miss Otway, Miss Fairfax, what are you all doing?—Come Emma, set your companions the example. Every body is lazy! Every body is asleep!"

"What is this?—What is this?"

"about Perry and a carriage? Is Perry going to set up his carriage, Frank? I am glad he can afford it. You had it from himself, had you?"

"It is odd though,"

"that you should have had such a regular connected dream about people whom it was not very likely you should be thinking of at Enscombe. Perry's setting up his carriage! and his wife's persuading him to it, out of care for his health— just what will happen, I have no doubt, some time or other; only a little premature. What an air of probability sometimes runs through a dream! And at others, what a heap of absurdities it is! Well, Frank, your dream certainly shews that Highbury is in your thoughts when you are absent. Emma, you are a great dreamer, I think?"

he had been proposing to Mrs. Elton, as her brother and sister had failed her, that the two parties should unite, and go together;

as Mrs. Elton had very readily acceded to it, so it was to be, if she had no objection.

"I am glad you approve of what I have done,"

"But I thought you would. Such schemes as these are nothing without numbers. One cannot have too large a party. A large party secures its own amusement. And she is a good-natured woman after all. One could not leave her out."

to get Frank over to join them, if possible;

"I like your plan,"

"Agreed, agreed. I will do my best. I am making a conundrum. How will a conundrum reckon?"

"I doubt its being very clever myself,"

"It is too much a matter of fact, but here it is.—What two letters of the alphabet are there, that express perfection?"

"Ah! you will never guess. You,

I am certain, will never guess.—I will tell you.—M. and A.—Em-ma.—Do you understand?"

"Ah! poor woman, who would have thought it!"

she was suffering under severe headaches, and a nervous fever to a degree, which made him doubt the possibility of her going to Mrs. Smallridge's at the time proposed. Her health seemed for the moment completely deranged —appetite quite gone— and though there were no absolutely alarming symptoms, nothing touching the pulmonary complaint, which was the standing apprehension of the family, Mr. Perry was uneasy about her. He thought she had undertaken more than she was equal to, and that she felt it so herself, though she would not own it. Her spirits seemed overcome. Her present home, he could not but observe, was unfavourable to a nervous disorder:—confined always to one room;—he could have wished it otherwise— and her good aunt, though his very old friend, he must acknowledge to be not the best companion for an invalid of that description. Her care and attention could not be questioned; they were, in fact, only too great. He very much feared that Miss Fairfax derived more evil than good from them.

"could not stay five minutes, and wanted particularly to speak with her."—

"Can you come to Randalls at any time this morning?—Do, if it be possible. Mrs. Weston wants to see you. She must see you."

"No, no, not at all— only a little agitated. She would have ordered the carriage, and come to you, but she must see you alone, and that you know—

Humph!—Can you come?"

"Depend upon me—but ask no more questions. You will know it all in time. The most unaccountable business! But hush, hush!"

"No, no,"—

"Don't ask me. I promised my wife to leave it all to her. She will break it to you better than I can. Do not be impatient, Emma; it will all come out too soon."

"No, indeed you are mistaken."—

"Upon my word, Emma."—

"Upon my honour,"

"it does not. It is not in the smallest degree connected with any human being of the name of Knightley."

"I was wrong,"

"in talking of its being broke to you. I should not have used the expression. In fact, it does not concern you— it concerns only myself,—that is, we hope.—Humph!—In short, my dear Emma, there is no occasion to be so uneasy about it. I don't say that it is not a disagreeable business—but things might be much worse.—If we walk fast, we shall soon be at Randalls."

"I do not know.—One of the Otways.—Not Frank;—it is not Frank, I assure you. You will not see him. He is half way to Windsor by this time."

"Oh! yes —did not you know?—Well, well, never mind."

"Yes, Frank came over this morning, just to ask us how we did."

"Well, my dear,"

"I have brought her, and now I hope you will soon be better. I shall leave you together. There is no use in delay. I shall not be far off, if you want me."—

"I have been as good as my word. She has not the least idea."

"For the present, the whole affair was to be completely a secret. Mr. Churchill had made a point of it, as a token of respect to the wife he had so very recently lost; and every body admitted it to be no more than due decorum."—