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.
CHAPTER III
Mr. Woodhouse was fond of society in his own way.
He liked very much to have his friends come and see
him; and from various united causes, from his long
residence at Hartfield, and his good nature, from
his fortune, his house, and his daughter, he could
command the visits of his own little circle, in a
great measure, as he liked. He had not much intercourse
with any families beyond that circle; his horror of
late hours, and large dinner-parties, made him unfit
for any acquaintance but such as would visit him on
his own terms. Fortunately for him, Highbury,
including Randalls in the same parish, and Donwell
Abbey in the parish adjoining, the seat of Mr. Knightley,
comprehended many such. Not unfrequently, through
Emma’s persuasion, he had some of the chosen
and the best to dine with him: but evening parties
were what he preferred; and, unless he fancied himself
at any time unequal to company, there was scarcely
an evening in the week in which Emma could not make
up a card-table for him.
Real, long-standing regard brought the Westons and
Mr. Knightley; and by Mr. Elton, a young man living
alone without liking it, the privilege of exchanging
any vacant evening of his own blank solitude for the
elegancies and society of Mr. Woodhouse’s drawing-room,
and the smiles of his lovely daughter, was in no danger
of being thrown away.
After these came a second set; among the most come-at-able
of whom were Mrs. and Miss Bates, and Mrs. Goddard,
three ladies almost always at the service of an invitation
from Hartfield, and who were fetched and carried home
so often, that Mr. Woodhouse thought it no hardship
for either James or the horses. Had it taken
place only once a year, it would have been a grievance.
