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of the handsome letter Mrs. Weston had received. "I suppose you
have heard of the handsome letter Mr. Frank Churchill has written
to Mrs. Weston? I understand it was a very handsome letter, indeed.
Mr. Woodhouse told me of it. Mr. Woodhouse saw the letter, and he
says he never saw such a handsome letter in his life."

It was, indeed, a highly prized letter. Mrs. Weston had, of course,
formed a very favourable idea of the young man; and such a pleasing
attention was an irresistible proof of his great good sense,
and a most welcome addition to every source and every expression
of congratulation which her marriage had already secured. She felt
herself a most fortunate woman; and she had lived long enough
to know how fortunate she might well be thought, where the only
regret was for a partial separation from friends whose friendship
for her had never cooled, and who could ill bear to part with her.

She knew that at times she must be missed; and could not think,
without pain, of Emma's losing a single pleasure, or suffering
an hour's ennui, from the want of her companionableness: but dear
Emma was of no feeble character; she was more equal to her situation
than most girls would have been, and had sense, and energy,
and spirits that might be hoped would bear her well and happily
through its little difficulties and privations. And then there was
such comfort in the very easy distance of Randalls from Hartfield,
so convenient for even solitary female walking, and in Mr. Weston's
disposition and circumstances, which would make the approaching
season no hindrance to their spending half the evenings in the
week together.

Her situation was altogether the subject of hours of gratitude
to Mrs. Weston, and of moments only of regret; and her
satisfaction--her more than satisfaction--her cheerful enjoyment,
was so just and so apparent, that Emma, well as she knew her father,
was sometimes taken by surprize at his being still able to pity
`poor Miss Taylor,' when they left her at Randalls in the centre
of every domestic comfort, or saw her go away in the evening
attended by her pleasant husband to a carriage of her own.
But never did she go without Mr. Woodhouse's giving a gentle sigh,
and saying, "Ah, poor Miss Taylor! She would be very glad to stay."

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.

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