Emma by Jane Austen (free ereaders txt) 📕

went only to the post-office,” said she, “and reached home before the rain was much. It is my daily errand. I always fetch the letters when I am here. It saves trouble, and is a something to get me out. A walk before breakfast does me good.”

“Not a walk in the rain, I should imagine.”

“No, but it did not absolutely rain when I set out.”

Mr. John Knightley smiled, and replied,

“That is to say, you chose to have your walk, for you were not six yards from your own door when I had the pleasure of meeting you; and Henry and John had seen more drops than they could count long before. The post-office has a great charm at one period of our lives. When you have lived to my age, you will begin to think letters are never worth going through the rain for.”

There was a little blush, and then this answer,

“I must not hope to be ever situated as you are, in the midst of every dearest connection, and therefore I cannot expect that simply growing older should make me indifferent about letters.”

“Indifferent! Oh! no⁠—I never conceived you could become indifferent. Letters are no matter of indifference; they are generally a very positive curse.”

“You are speaking of letters of business; mine are letters of friendship.”

“I have often thought them the worst of the two,” replied he coolly. “Business, you know, may bring money, but friendship hardly ever does.”

“Ah! you are not serious now. I know Mr. John Knightley too well⁠—I am very sure he understands the value of friendship as well as anybody. I can easily believe that letters are very little to you, much less than to me, but it is not your being ten years older than myself which makes the difference, it is not age, but situation. You have everybody dearest to you always at hand, I, probably, never shall again; and therefore till I have outlived all my affections, a post-office, I think, must always have power to draw me out, in worse weather than today.”

“When I talked of your being altered by time, by the progress of years,” said John Knightley, “I meant to imply the change of situation which time usually brings. I consider one as including the other. Time will generally lessen the interest of every attachment not within the daily circle⁠—but that is not the change I had in view for you. As an old friend, you will allow me to hope, Miss Fairfax, that ten years hence you may have as many concentrated objects as I have.”

It was kindly said, and very far from giving offence. A pleasant “thank you” seemed meant to laugh it off, but a blush, a quivering lip, a tear in the eye, showed that it was felt beyond a laugh. Her attention was now claimed by Mr. Woodhouse, who being, according to his custom on such occasions, making the circle of his guests, and paying his particular compliments to the ladies, was ending with her⁠—and with all his mildest urbanity, said,

“I am very sorry to hear, Miss Fairfax, of your being out this morning in the rain. Young ladies should take care of themselves.⁠—Young ladies are delicate plants. They should take care of their health and their complexion. My dear, did you change your stockings?”

“Yes, sir, I did indeed; and I am very much obliged by your kind solicitude about me.”

“My dear Miss Fairfax, young ladies are very sure to be cared for.⁠—I hope your good grandmama and aunt are well. They are some of my very old friends. I wish my health allowed me to be a better neighbour. You do us a great deal of honour today, I am sure. My daughter and I are both highly sensible of your goodness, and have the greatest satisfaction in seeing you at Hartfield.”

The kindhearted, polite old man might then sit down and feel that he had done his duty, and made every fair lady welcome and easy.

By this time, the walk in the rain had reached Mrs. Elton, and her remonstrances now opened upon Jane.

“My dear Jane, what is this I hear?⁠—Going to the post-office in the rain!⁠—This must not be, I assure you.⁠—You sad girl, how could you do such a thing?⁠—It is a sign I was not there to take care of you.”

Jane very patiently assured her that she had not caught any cold.

“Oh! do not tell me. You really are a very sad girl, and do not know how to take care of yourself.⁠—To the post-office indeed! Mrs. Weston, did you ever hear the like? You and I must positively exert our authority.”

“My advice,” said Mrs. Weston kindly and persuasively, “I certainly do feel tempted to give. Miss Fairfax, you must not run such risks.⁠—Liable as you have been to severe colds, indeed you ought to be particularly careful, especially at this time of year. The spring I always think requires more than common care. Better wait an hour or two, or even half a day for your letters, than run the risk of bringing on your cough again. Now do not you feel that you had? Yes, I am sure you are much too reasonable. You look as if you would not do such a thing again.”

“Oh! she shall not do such a thing again,” eagerly rejoined Mrs. Elton. “We will not allow her to do such a thing again:”⁠—and nodding significantly⁠—“there must be some arrangement made, there must indeed. I shall speak to Mr. E. The man who fetches our letters every morning (one of our men, I forget his name) shall inquire for yours too and bring them to you. That will obviate all difficulties you know; and from us I really think, my dear Jane, you can have no scruple to accept such an accommodation.”

“You are extremely kind,” said Jane; “but I cannot give up my early walk. I am advised to be out of doors as much as I can, I must walk somewhere, and the post-office is an object; and upon my