Austen Said:

said Mr. John Knightley,

said Mr. Woodhouse—

said John Knightley pleasantly,

cried his wife, hearing and understanding only in part.—

said John Knightley.

replied Emma.

said her father.

cried the good-hearted Mrs. John Knightley.

observed Mr. John Knightley coolly.

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 let it pass.

Mr. Knightley was to dine with them—rather against the inclination of Mr. Woodhouse, who did not like that any one 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

She thought

and she hoped it might rather assist 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

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,

said he, smiling—

she replied—

she cried—

was his short, full answer.

This had just taken place and with great cordiality, when John Knightley made his appearance, and

and

succeeded in the true English style, burying under a calmness that seemed all but indifference, the real attachment which would have led either of them, if requisite, to do every thing for the good of the other.

The evening was quiet and conversable, as Mr. Woodhouse declined cards entirely for the sake of comfortable talk with his 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 greater 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 at Donwell, 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 left him any thing 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.

said he, fondly taking her hand, and interrupting, for a few moments, her busy labours for some one of her five children—

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. After a little more discourse in praise of gruel, with some wondering

he proceeded to say, with an air of grave reflection,

cried Emma, feeling this to be an unsafe subject,

said Emma,

turning her eyes with affectionate anxiety towards her husband.

cried Mr. John Knightley, hearing his own name.

exclaimed he hastily—

cried Emma,

And she talked in this way so long and successfully that, when forced to give her attention again to her father and sister, she 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.

said Mrs. John Knightley.—

Mr. Woodhouse agreed to it all, but added,

This topic was discussed very happily, and others succeeded of similar moment, and passed away with similar harmony; but the evening did not close without a little return of agitation. The gruel came and supplied a great deal to be said— much praise and many comments— undoubting decision of

and pretty severe Philippics upon

but, unfortunately, among the failures which

the daughter

had to instance, the most recent, and therefore most prominent, was in

Here was a dangerous opening.

said Mr. Woodhouse, shaking his head and fixing his eyes on her with tender concern.—The ejaculation in Emma's ear expressed,

And for a little while

she hoped

and that a silent rumination might suffice to restore him to the relish of his own smooth gruel. After an interval of some minutes, however, he began with,

Emma's attempts to stop her father had been vain; and when he had reached such a point as this, she could not wonder at her brother-in-law's breaking out.

said he, in a voice of very strong displeasure,