t yet he must confess, that to him
nothing could make amends for the want of the fine glow of health. Where
features were indifferent, a fine complexion gave beauty to them all;
and where they were good, the effect was--fortunately he need not
attempt to describe what the effect was.

"Well," said Emma, "there is no disputing about taste.--At least you
admire her except her complexion."

He shook his head and laughed.--"I cannot separate Miss Fairfax and her
complexion."

"Did you see her often at Weymouth? Were you often in the same society?"

At this moment they were approaching Ford's, and he hastily exclaimed,
"Ha! this must be the very shop that every body attends every day of
their lives, as my father informs me. He comes to Highbury himself, he
says, six days out of the seven, and has always business at Ford's.
If it be not inconvenient to you, pray let us go in, that I may prove
myself to belong to the place, to be a true citizen of Highbury. I must
buy something at Ford's. It will be taking out my freedom.--I dare say
they sell gloves."

"Oh! yes, gloves and every thing. I do admire your patriotism. You will
be adored in Highbury. You were very popular before you came, because
you were Mr. Weston's son--but lay out half a guinea at Ford's, and your
popularity will stand upon your own virtues."

They went in; and while the sleek, well-tied parcels of "Men's Beavers"
and "York Tan" were bringing down and displaying on the counter, he
said--"But I beg your pardon, Miss Woodhouse, you were speaking to me,
you were saying something at the very moment of this burst of my _amor_
_patriae_. Do not let me lose it. I assure you the utmost stretch of
public fame would not make me amends for the loss of any happiness in
private life."

"I merely asked, whether you had known much of Miss Fairfax and her
party at Weymouth."

"And now that I understand your question, I must pronounce it to be a
very unfair one. It is always the lady's right to decide on the degree
of acquaintance. Miss Fairfax must already have given her account.--I
shall not commit myself by claiming more than she may chuse to allow."

"Upon my word! you answer as discreetly as she could do herself. But
her account of every thing leaves so much to be guessed, she is so very
reserved, so very unwilling to give the least information about any
body, that I really think you may say what you like of your acquaintance
with her."

"May I, indeed?--Then