ker, with his thousands and tens of thousands.--'Happier than I
deserve.' Come, he knows himself there. 'Miss Woodhouse calls me the
child of good fortune.'--Those were Miss Woodhouse's words, were they?--
And a fine ending--and there is the letter. The child of good fortune!
That was your name for him, was it?"

"You do not appear so well satisfied with his letter as I am; but still
you must, at least I hope you must, think the better of him for it. I
hope it does him some service with you."

"Yes, certainly it does. He has had great faults, faults of
inconsideration and thoughtlessness; and I am very much of his opinion
in thinking him likely to be happier than he deserves: but still as he
is, beyond a doubt, really attached to Miss Fairfax, and will soon, it
may be hoped, have the advantage of being constantly with her, I am very
ready to believe his character will improve, and acquire from hers the
steadiness and delicacy of principle that it wants. And now, let me talk
to you of something else. I have another person's interest at present
so much at heart, that I cannot think any longer about Frank Churchill.
Ever since I left you this morning, Emma, my mind has been hard at work
on one subject."

The subject followed; it was in plain, unaffected, gentlemanlike
English, such as Mr. Knightley used even to the woman he was in love
with, how to be able to ask her to marry him, without attacking the
happiness of her father. Emma's answer was ready at the first word.
"While her dear father lived, any change of condition must be impossible
for her. She could never quit him." Part only of this answer, however,
was admitted. The impossibility of her quitting her father, Mr.
Knightley felt as strongly as herself; but the inadmissibility of any
other change, he could not agree to. He had been thinking it over most
deeply, most intently; he had at first hoped to induce Mr. Woodhouse to
remove with her to Donwell; he had wanted to believe it feasible, but
his knowledge of Mr. Woodhouse would not suffer him to deceive himself
long; and now he confessed his persuasion, that such a transplantation
would be a risk of her father's comfort, perhaps even of his life, which
must not be hazarded. Mr. Woodhouse taken from Hartfield!--No, he felt
that it ought not to be attempted. But the plan which had arisen on the
sacrifice of this, he trusted his dearest Emma would not find in any
respect objectionable; it was, that he should be rec