‘Especially when one of those two is such a fanciful,trouble some creature!’said Emma playfully.‘That is what you have in your head,I know-and what you would certainly say if my father were not by.’
‘I believe it is very true,my dear,indeed,’said Mr Woodhouse,with a sigh.‘I am afraid I am sometimes very fanciful and troublesome.’
‘My dearest papa!You do not think I could mean you,or suppose Mr Knightley to mean you.What a horrible idea!Oh,no!I meant only myself.Mr Knightley loves to find fault with me,you know-in a joke-it is all a joke.We always say what we like to one another.’
Mr Knightley,in fact,was one of the few people who could see faults in Emma Woodhouse,and the only one who ever told her of them;and though this was not particularly agreeable to Emma herself,she knew it would be so much less so to her father,that she would not have him really suspect such a circumstance as her not being thought perfect by everybody.
‘Emma knows I never flatter her,’said Mr Knightley,‘but I meant no reflection on anybody.Miss Taylor has been used to have two persons to please;she will now have but one.The chances are that she must be a gainer.’
‘Well,’said Emma,willing to let it pass,‘you want to hear about the wedding;and I shall be happy to tell you,for we all behaved charmingly.Everybody was punctual,everybody in their best looks:not a tear,and hardly a long face to be seen.Oh,no;we all felt that we were going to be only half a mile apart,and were sure of meeting every day.’
‘Dear Emma bears everything so well,’said her father.‘But,Mr Knightley,she is really very sorry to lose poor Miss Taylor,and I am sure she will miss her more than she thinks for.’
Emma turned away her head,divided between tears and smiles.
‘It is impossible that Emma should not miss such a companion,’said Mr Knightley.‘We should not like her so well as we do,sir,if we could suppose it:but she knows how much the marriage is to Miss Taylor's advantage;she knows how very acceptable it must be,at Miss Taylor's time of life,to be settled in a home of her own,and how important to her to be secure of a comfortable provision,and therefore cannot allow herself to feel so much pain as pleasure.Every friend of Miss Taylor must be glad to have her so happily married.’
‘And you have forgotten one matter of joy to me,’said Emma,‘and a very considerable one-that I made the match myself.I made the match,you know,four years ago;and to have it take place,and be proved in the right,when so many people said Mr Weston would never marry again,may comfort me for anything.’
Mr Knightley shook his head at her.Her father fondly replied,‘Ah!my dear,I wish you would not make matches and foretell things,for whatever you say always comes to pass.Pray do not make any more matches.’
‘I promise you to make none for myself,papa;but I must,indeed,for other people.It is the greatest amusement in the world!And after such success,you know!Everybody said that Mr Weston would never marry again.Oh dear,no!Mr Weston who had been a widower so long,and who seemed so perfectly comfortable without a wife,so constantly occupied either in his business in town or among his friends here,always acceptable wherever he went,always cheerful-Mr Weston need not spend a single evening in the year alone if he did not like it.Oh no!Mr Weston certainly would never marry again.Some people even talked of a promise to his wife on her deathbed,and others of the son and the uncle not letting him.All manner of solemn nonsense was talked on the subject,but I believed none of it.Ever since the day(about four years ago)that Miss Taylor and I met with him in Broadway Lane,when,because it began to mizzle,he darted away with so much gallantry,and borrowed two umbrellas for us from Farmer Mitchell's,I made up my mind on the subject.I planned the match from that hour;and when such success has blessed me in this instance,dear papa,you cannot think that I shall leave off match-making.’
‘I do not understand what you mean by "success",’said Mr Knightley.‘Success supposes endeavour.Your time has been properly and delicately spent,if you have been endeavouring for the last four years to bring about this marriage.A worthy employment for a young lady's mind!but if,which I rather imagine,your making the match,as you call it,means only your planning it,your saying to yourself one idle day,“I think it would be a very good thing for Miss Taylor if Mr Weston were to marry her,”and saying it again to yourself every now and then afterwards-why do you talk of success?Where is your merit?What are you proud of?You made a lucky guess;and that is all that can be said.’
‘And have you never known the pleasure and triumph of a lucky guess?I pity you.I thought you cleverer;for,depend upon it,a lucky guess is never merely luck.There is always some talent in it.And as to my poor word “success”,which you quarrel with,I do not know that I am so entirely without any claim to it.You have drawn two pretty pictures;but I think there may be a third-a something between the do-nothing and the do-all.If I had not promoted Mr Weston's visits here,and given many little encouragements,and smoothed many little matters,it might not have come to anything after all.I think you must know Hartfield enough to comprehend that.’
‘A straightforward,open-hearted man like Weston,and a rational,unaffected woman like Miss Taylor,may be safely left to manage their own concerns.You are more likely to have done harm to yourself,than good to them,by interference.’
‘Emma never thinks of herself,if she can do good to others,’rejoined Mr Woodhouse,understanding but in part.‘But,my dear,pray do not make any more matches;they are silly things,and break up one's family circle grievously.’
