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Emma
by Jane Austen
VOLUME I
CHAPTER II
Mr. Weston was a native of Highbury, and born of a respectable
family, 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 small independence, had become
indisposed for any of the more homely pursuits in which his brothers
were engaged, and had satisfied an active, cheerful mind and social
temper by entering into the militia of his county, then embodied.
Captain Weston was a general favourite; and when the chances of
his military life had introduced him to Miss Churchill, of a great
Yorkshire family, 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 importance, which the connexion
would offend.
Miss Churchill, however, being of age, and with the full command
of her fortune--though her fortune bore no proportion to the family-estate--was
not to be dissuaded from the marriage, and it took place, to the
infinite mortification of Mr. and Mrs. Churchill, who threw her
off with due decorum. It was an unsuitable connexion, and did not
produce much happiness. Mrs. Weston ought to have found more in
it, for she had a husband whose warm heart and sweet temper made
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 ofpirit,
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 missing the
luxuries of her former home. They lived beyond their income, but
still it was nothing in comparison of nscombe: she did not cease
to love her husband, but she wanted at once to be the wife of Captain
Weston, and Miss Churchill of Enscombe.
Captain Weston, who had been considered, especially by the Churchills,
as making such an amazing match, was proved to have much the worst
of the bargain; for when his wife died, after a three years' marriage,
he was rather a poorer man than at first, and with a child to 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 mother's, been the means of a sort of econciliation; and
Mr. and Mrs. Churchill, having no children of their own, nor any
other young creature of equal kindred to care for, ffered to take
the whole charge of the little Frank soon after her decease. Some
scruples and some reluctance the widower-father may be supposed
to have felt; but as they were overcome by other considerations,
the child was given up to the care and the wealth of the hurchills
and he had only his own comfort to seek, and his own situation to
improve as he could.
A complete change of life became desirable. He quitted the militia
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 just employment enough. He had still a small
house in Highbury, where most of his leisure days wer spent; and
between useful occupation and the pleasures of society, the next
eighteen or twenty years of his life passed cheerfully away. He
had, by that time, realised an easy competence--enough to secure
the purchase of a little estate adjoining Highbury, which he had
always longed for--enough to marry a woman as portionless ven as
Miss Taylor, and to live according to the wishes of his own friendly
and social disposition.
It was now some time since Miss Taylor had begun to influence his
schemes; but as it was not the tyrannic influence of youth on youth,
it had not shaken his determination 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 objects in view, till
they were accomplished. He had made 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 yet passed
through. He had never been an unhappy man; his own temper had secured
him from that, even in his first marriage; but his second must shew
him how delightful a well-judging and truly amiable woman could
be, and must 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 himself to please in his choice: his fortune was his
own; for as to Frank, it was more than being tacitly brought up
as his uncle's heir, it had become so avowed an adoption as to have
him assume the name of Churchill on coming of age. It was most unlikely,
therefore, that he should ever want his father's assistance. His
father had no apprehension of it. The aunt was a capricious woman,
and governed her husband entirely; but it was not in Mr. Weston's
nature to imagine that any caprice could be strong enough to affect
one so dear, and, as he believed, so deservedly dear. He saw his
son every year in London, and was proud of him; and his fond report
of him as a very fine young man had made Highbury feel a sort of
pride in him too. He was looked on as sufficiently belonging to
the place to make his merits and prospects a kind of common concern.
Mr. Frank Churchill was one of the boasts of Highbury, and a lively
curiosity to see him prevailed, though the compliment was so little
returned that he had never been there in his life. His coming to
visit his father had been often talked of but never achieved.
Now, upon his father's marriage, it was very generally proposed,
as a most proper attention, that the visit should take place. There
was not a dissentient voice on the subject, either when Mrs. Perry
drank tea with Mrs. and Miss Bates, or when Mrs. and Miss Bates
returned the visit. Now was the time for Mr. Frank Churchill to
come among them; and the hope strengthened when it was understood
that he had written to his new mother on the occasion. For a few
days, every morning visit in Highbury included some mention of the
handsome letter Mrs. Weston had received. "I suppose you have
heard of the handsome letter Mr. Frank Churchill has written to
Mrs. Weston? I understand it was a very handsome letter, indeed.
Mr. Woodhouse told me of it. Mr. Woodhouse saw the letter, and he
says he never saw such a handsome letter in his life."
It was, indeed, a highly prized letter. Mrs. Weston had, of course,
formed a very favourable idea of the young man; and such a pleasing
attention was an irresistible proof of his great good sense, and
a most welcome addition to every source and every expression of
congratulation which her marriage had already secured. She felt
herself a most fortunate woman; and she had lived long enough to
know how fortunate she might 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 times she must be missed; and could not think,
without pain, of Emma's losing a single pleasure, or suffering an
hour's ennui, from the want of her companionableness: but dear Emma
was of no feeble character; she was more equal to her situation
than most girls would have been, and had sense, and energy, and
spirits that might be hoped would bear her well and happily through
its little difficulties and privations. And then there was such
comfort in the very easy distance of Randalls from Hartfield, so
convenient for even solitary female walking, and in Mr. Weston's
disposition and circumstances, which would make the approaching
season no hindrance to their spending half the evenings in the week
together.
Her situation was altogether the subject of hours of gratitude
to Mrs. Weston, and of moments only of regret; and her satisfaction---her
more than satisfaction--her cheerful enjoyment, was so just and
so apparent, that Emma, well as she knew her father, was sometimes
taken by surprize at his being still able to pity `poor Miss Taylor,'
when they left her at Randalls in the centre of every domestic comfort,
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 saying, "Ah, poor Miss Taylor! She
would be very glad to stay."
There was no recovering Miss Taylor--nor much likelihood of ceasing
to pity her; but a few weeks brought some alleviation to Mr. Woodhouse.
The compliments of his neighbours were over; he was no longer teased
by being wished joy of so sorrowful an event; and the wedding-cake,
which had been a great distress to him, was all eat up. His own
stomach could bear nothing rich, and he could never believe other
people to be different from himself. What was unwholesome 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 subject. Mr. Perry was an intelligent, gentlemanlike
man, whose frequent visits were one of the comforts of Mr. Woodhouse's
life; and upon being applied to, he could not but acknowledge (though
it seemed rather against the bias of inclination) that wedding-cake
might certainly disagree with many--perhaps with most people, unless
taken moderately. With such an opinion, in confirmation of his own,
Mr. Woodhouse hoped to influence every visitor of the newly married
pair; but still the cake was eaten; and there was no rest for his
benevolent nerves till it was all gone.
There was a strange rumour in Highbury of all the little Perrys
being seen with a slice of Mrs. Weston's wedding-cake in their hands:
but Mr. Woodhouse would never believe it.
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