“But she is so amusing, so extremely amusing!
I am very fond of hearing Miss Bates talk.
And I need not bring the whole family, you know.”
Here Mr. Weston joined them, and on hearing what was
proposed, gave it his decided approbation.
“Aye, do, Frank.—Go and fetch Miss
Bates, and let us end the matter at once. She
will enjoy the scheme, I am sure; and I do not know
a properer person for shewing us how to do away difficulties.
Fetch Miss Bates. We are growing a little too
nice. She is a standing lesson of how to be
happy. But fetch them both. Invite them
both.”
“Both sir! Can the old lady?” .
. .
“The old lady! No, the young lady, to
be sure. I shall think you a great blockhead,
Frank, if you bring the aunt without the niece.”
“Oh! I beg your pardon, sir. I did
not immediately recollect. Undoubtedly if you
wish it, I will endeavour to persuade them both.”
And away he ran.
Long before he reappeared, attending the short, neat,
brisk-moving aunt, and her elegant niece,—Mrs.
Weston, like a sweet-tempered woman and a good wife,
had examined the passage again, and found the evils
of it much less than she had supposed before—
indeed very trifling; and here ended the difficulties
of decision. All the rest, in speculation at
least, was perfectly smooth. All the minor arrangements
of table and chair, lights and music, tea and supper,
made themselves; or were left as mere trifles to be
settled at any time between Mrs. Weston and Mrs. Stokes.—
Every body invited, was certainly to come; Frank had
already written to Enscombe to propose staying a few
days beyond his fortnight, which could not possibly
be refused. And a delightful dance it was to
be.
Most cordially, when Miss Bates arrived, did she agree
that it must. As a counsellor she was not wanted;
but as an approver, (a much safer character,) she
was truly welcome. Her approbation, at once
general and minute, warm and incessant, could not but
please; and for another half-hour they were all walking
to and fro, between the different rooms, some suggesting,
some attending, and all in happy enjoyment of the
future. The party did not break up without Emma’s
being positively secured for the two first dances
by the hero of the evening, nor without her overhearing
Mr. Weston whisper to his wife, “He has asked
her, my dear. That’s right. I knew
he would!”
One thing only was wanting to make the prospect of
the ball completely satisfactory to Emma—its
being fixed for a day within the granted term of Frank
Churchill’s stay in Surry; for, in spite of
Mr. Weston’s confidence, she could not think
it so very impossible that the Churchills might not
allow their nephew to remain a day beyond his fortnight.
But this was not judged feasible. The preparations
must take their time, nothing could be properly ready
till the third week were entered on, and for a few
days they must be planning, proceeding and hoping
in uncertainty—at the risk—
in her opinion, the great risk, of its being all in
vain.
