Mrs. Weston laughed, and said he did not know what
he was talking about. Used only to a large house
himself, and without ever thinking how many advantages
and accommodations were attached to its size, he could
be no judge of the privations inevitably belonging
to a small one. But Emma, in her own mind, determined
that he did know what he was talking about,
and that he shewed a very amiable inclination to settle
early in life, and to marry, from worthy motives.
He might not be aware of the inroads on domestic peace
to be occasioned by no housekeeper’s room, or
a bad butler’s pantry, but no doubt he did perfectly
feel that Enscombe could not make him happy, and that
whenever he were attached, he would willingly give
up much of wealth to be allowed an early establishment.
CHAPTER VII
Emma’s very good opinion of Frank Churchill
was a little shaken the following day, by hearing
that he was gone off to London, merely to have his
hair cut. A sudden freak seemed to have seized
him at breakfast, and he had sent for a chaise and
set off, intending to return to dinner, but with no
more important view that appeared than having his
hair cut. There was certainly no harm in his
travelling sixteen miles twice over on such an errand;
but there was an air of foppery and nonsense in it
which she could not approve. It did not accord
with the rationality of plan, the moderation in expense,
or even the unselfish warmth of heart, which she had
believed herself to discern in him yesterday.
Vanity, extravagance, love of change, restlessness
of temper, which must be doing something, good or bad;
heedlessness as to the pleasure of his father and Mrs.
Weston, indifferent as to how his conduct might appear
in general; he became liable to all these charges.
His father only called him a coxcomb, and thought
it a very good story; but that Mrs. Weston did not
like it, was clear enough, by her passing it over
as quickly as possible, and making no other comment
than that “all young people would have their
little whims.”
With the exception of this little blot, Emma found
that his visit hitherto had given her friend only
good ideas of him. Mrs. Weston was very ready
to say how attentive and pleasant a companion he made
himself—how much she saw to like in his
disposition altogether. He appeared to have a
very open temper—certainly a very cheerful
and lively one; she could observe nothing wrong in
his notions, a great deal decidedly right; he spoke
of his uncle with warm regard, was fond of talking
of him—said he would be the best man in
the world if he were left to himself; and though there
was no being attached to the aunt, he acknowledged
her kindness with gratitude, and seemed to mean always
to speak of her with respect. This was all very
promising; and, but for such an unfortunate fancy
for having his hair cut, there was nothing to denote
him unworthy of the distinguished honour which her
imagination had given him; the honour, if not of being
really in love with her, of being at least very near
it, and saved only by her own indifference—
(for still her resolution held of never marrying)—the
honour, in short, of being marked out for her by all
their joint acquaintance.
