prompt:
Chapter: Every body in and about Highbury who had ever visited Mr. Elton, was
disposed to pay him attention on his marriage. Dinner-parties and
evening-parties were made for him and his lady; and invitations flowed
in so fast that she had soon the pleasure of apprehending they were
never to have a disengaged day.

"I see how it is," said she. "I see what a life I am to lead among you.
Upon my word we shall be absolutely dissipated. We really seem quite
the fashion. If this is living in the country, it is nothing very
formidable. From Monday next to Saturday, I assure you we have not a
disengaged day!--A woman with fewer resources than I have, need not have
been at a loss."

No invitation came amiss to her. Her Bath habits made evening-parties
perfectly natural to her, and Maple Grove had given her a taste for
dinners. She was a little shocked at the want of two drawing rooms, at
the poor attempt at rout-cakes, and there being no ice in the Highbury
card-parties. Mrs. Bates, Mrs. Perry, Mrs. Goddard and others, were a
good deal behind-hand in knowledge of the world, but she would soon shew
them how every thing ought to be arranged. In the course of the spring
she must return their civilities by one very superior party--in which
her card-tables should be set out with their separate candles and
unbroken packs in the true style--and more waiters engaged for the
evening than their own establishment could furnish, to carry round the
refreshments at exactly the proper hour, and in the proper order.

Emma, in the meanwhile, could not be satisfied without a dinner at
Hartfield for the Eltons. They must not do less than others, or she
should be exposed to odious suspicions, and imagined capable of pitiful
resentment. A dinner there must be. After Emma had talked about it for
ten minutes, Mr. Woodhouse felt no unwillingness, and only made the
usual stipulation of not sitting at the bottom of the table himself,
with the usual regular difficulty of deciding who should do it for him.

The persons to be invited, required little thought. Besides the
Eltons, it must be the Westons and Mr. Knightley; so far it was all of
course--and it was hardly less inevitable that poor little Harriet must
be asked to make the eighth:--but this invitation was not given with
equal satisfaction, and on many accounts Emma was particularly pleased
by Harriet's begging to be allowed to decline it. "She would rather not
be in his company more than she could help. She was not yet quite
able to see him and his charming happy wife together, without feeling
uncomfortable. If Miss Woodhouse would not be displeased, she would
rather stay at home." It was precisely what Emma would have wished, had
she deemed it possible enough for wishing. She was delighted with the
fortitude of her little friend--for fortitude she knew it was in her to
give up being in company and stay at home; and she could now invite the
very person whom she really wanted to make the eighth, Jane Fairfax.--
Since her last conversation with Mrs. Weston and Mr. Knightley, she
was more conscience-stricken about Jane Fairfax than she had often
been.--Mr. Knightley's words dwelt with her. He had said that Jane
Fairfax received attentions from Mrs. Elton which nobody else paid her.

"This is very true," said she, "at least as far as relates to me, which
was all that was meant--and it is very shameful.--Of the same age--and
always knowing her--I ought to have been more her friend.--She will
never like me now. I have neglected her too long. But I will shew her
greater attention than I have done."

Every invitation was successful. They were all disengaged and all
happy.--The preparatory interest of this dinner, however, was not yet
over. A circumstance rather unlucky occurred. The two eldest little
Knightleys were engaged to pay their grandpapa and aunt a visit of some
weeks in the spring, and their papa now proposed bringing them, and
staying one whole day at Hartfield--which one day would be the very day
of this party.--His professional engagements did not allow of his being
put off, but both father and daughter were disturbed by its happening
so. Mr. Woodhouse considered eight persons at dinner together as the
utmost that his nerves could bear--and here would be a ninth--and Emma
apprehended that it would be a ninth very much out of humour at not
being able to come even to Hartfield for forty-eight hours without
falling in with a dinner-party.

She comforted her father better than she could comfort herself, by
representing that though he certainly would make them nine, yet
he always said so little, that the increase of noise would be very
immaterial. She thought it in reality a sad exchange for herself, to
have him with his grave looks and reluctant conversation opposed to her
instead of his brother.

The event was more favourable to Mr. Woodhouse than to Emma. John
Knightley came; but Mr. Weston was unexpectedly summoned to town and
must be absent on the very day. He might be able to join them in the
evening, but certainly not to dinner. Mr. Woodhouse was quite at ease;
and the seeing him so, with the arrival of the little boys and the
philosophic composure of her brother on hearing his fate, removed the
chief of even Emma's vexation.

The day came, the party were punctually assembled, and Mr. John
Knightley seemed early to devote himself to the business of being
agreeable. Instead of drawing his brother off to a window while they
waited for dinner, he was talking to Miss Fairfax. Mrs. Elton,
as elegant as lace and pearls could make her, he looked at in
silence--wanting only to observe enough for Isabella's information--but
Miss Fairfax was an old acquaintance and a quiet girl, and he could talk
to her. He had met her before breakfast as he was returning from a walk
with his little boys, when it had been just beginning to rain. It was
natural to have some civil hopes on the subject, and he said,

"I hope you did not venture far, Miss Fairfax, this morning, or I am
sure you must have been wet.--We scarcely got home in time. I hope you
turned directly."

"I 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 connexion, 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 any body. 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 every
body 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
to-day."

"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, shewed 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 grand-mama 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 to-day, 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 kind-hearted, 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 word, I have
scarcely ever had a bad morning before."

"My dear Jane, say no more about it. The thing is determined, that is
(laughing affectedly) as far as I can presume to determine any thing
without the concurrence of my lord and master. You know, Mrs. Weston,
you and I must be cautious how we express ourselves. But I do flatter
myself, my dear Jane, that my influence is not entirely worn out. If I
meet with no insuperable difficulties therefore, consider that point as
settled."

"Excuse me," said Jane earnestly, "I cannot by any means consent to such
an arrangement, so needlessly troublesome to your servant. If the errand
were not a pleasure to me, it could be done, as it always is when I am
not here, by my grandmama's."

"Oh! my dear; but so much as Patty has to do!--And it is a kindness to
employ our men."

Jane looked as if she did not mean to be conquered; but instead of
answering, she began speaking again to Mr. John Knightley.

"The post-office is a wonderful establishment!" said she.--"The
regularity and despatch of it! If one thinks of all that it has to do,
and all that it does so well, it is really astonishing!"

"It is certainly very well regulated."

"So seldom that any negligence or blunder appears! So seldom that
a letter, among the thousands that are constantly passing about the
kingdom, is even carried wrong--and not one in a million, I suppose,
actually lost! And when one considers the variety of hands, and of bad
hands too, that are to be deciphered, it increases the wonder."

"The clerks grow expert from habit.--They must begin with some quickness
of sight and hand, and exercise improves them. If you want any farther
explanation," continued he, smiling, "they are paid for it. That is
the key to a great deal of capacity. The public pays and must be served
well."

The varieties of handwriting were farther talked of, and the usual
observations made.

"I have heard it asserted," said John Knightley, "that the same sort
of handwriting often prevails in a family; and where the same master
teaches, it is natural enough. But for that reason, I should imagine
the likeness must be chiefly confined to the females, for boys have very
little teaching after an early age, and scramble into any hand they can
get. Isabella and Emma, I think, do write very much alike. I have not
always known their writing apart."

"Yes," said his brother hesitatingly, "there is a likeness. I know what
you mean--but Emma's hand is the strongest."

"Isabella and Emma both write beautifully," said Mr. Woodhouse; "and
always did. And so does poor Mrs. Weston"--with half a sigh and half a
smile at her.

"I never saw any gentleman's handwriting"--Emma began, looking also at
Mrs. Weston; but stopped, on perceiving that Mrs. Weston was attending
to some one else--and the pause gave her time to reflect, "Now, how am
I going to introduce him?--Am I unequal to speaking his name at once
before all these people? Is it necessary for me to use any roundabout
phrase?--Your Yorkshire friend--your correspondent in Yorkshire;--that
would be the way, I suppose, if I were very bad.--No, I can pronounce
his name without the smallest distress. I certainly get better and
better.--Now for it."

Mrs. Weston was disengaged and Emma began again--"Mr. Frank Churchill
writes one of the best gentleman's hands I ever saw."

"I do not admire it," said Mr. Knightley. "It is too small--wants
strength. It is like a woman's writing."

This was not submitted to by either lady. They vindicated him against
the base aspersion. "No, it by no means wanted strength--it was not a
large hand, but very clear and certainly strong. Had not Mrs. Weston any
letter about her to produce?" No, she had heard from him very lately,
but having answered the letter, had put it away.

"If we were in the other room," said Emma, "if I had my writing-desk, I
am sure I could produce a specimen. I have a note of his.--Do not you
remember, Mrs. Weston, employing him to write for you one day?"

"He chose to say he was employed"--

"Well, well, I have that note; and can shew it after dinner to convince
Mr. Knightley."

"Oh! when a gallant young man, like Mr. Frank Churchill," said Mr.
Knightley dryly, "writes to a fair lady like Miss Woodhouse, he will, of
course, put forth his best."

Dinner was on table.--Mrs. Elton, before she could be spoken to, was
ready; and before Mr. Woodhouse had reached her with his request to be
allowed to hand her into the dining-parlour, was saying--

"Must I go first? I really am ashamed of always leading the way."

Jane's solicitude about fetching her own letters had not escaped Emma.
She had heard and seen it all; and felt some curiosity to know whether
the wet walk of this morning had produced any. She suspected that it
_had_; that it would not have been so resolutely encountered but in full
expectation of hearing from some one very dear, and that it had not been
in vain. She thought there was an air of greater happiness than usual--a
glow both of complexion and spirits.

She could have made an inquiry or two, as to the expedition and the
expense of the Irish mails;--it was at her tongue's end--but she
abstained. She was quite determined not to utter a word that should hurt
Jane Fairfax's feelings; and they followed the other ladies out of the
room, arm in arm, with an appearance of good-will highly becoming to the
beauty and grace of each.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Even though Emma hates Mrs. Elton, manners are manners. We've talked about this before, haven't we? Everyone has to throw a dinner party for a new bride. That's just how it is. Emma throws a dinner party for the Eltons. She invites Harriet because she needs to have eight people in order to have an even table. Harriet begs to be left out, but to no avail. Emma pushes her into coming. At the last minute, Emma's brother-in-law, Mr. John Knightley, announces that he's coming through to drop off Emma's nephews. There's a brief scramble to figure out how have an eight-person dinner with nine people, but it gets resolved smoothly. At the party, there's a long conversation about Jane's walk to the post office. It's fascinating. Aren't all post offices? We won't spoil your fun, however. You can read it yourself. There's another great conversation about handwriting. Emma declares that Frank Churchill has the best man's handwriting that she's ever seen. Mr. Knightley thinks that Frank writes like a girl. And that's not supposed to be a compliment. The party all heads in to dinner. Mrs. Elton strategically places herself on the end of the room closest to the dining room in order to make it seem like she's the first person who walks into the dinner.


prompt:
Chapter: When the ladies returned to the drawing-room after dinner, Emma found it
hardly possible to prevent their making two distinct parties;--with so
much perseverance in judging and behaving ill did Mrs. Elton engross
Jane Fairfax and slight herself. She and Mrs. Weston were obliged to
be almost always either talking together or silent together. Mrs. Elton
left them no choice. If Jane repressed her for a little time, she
soon began again; and though much that passed between them was in a
half-whisper, especially on Mrs. Elton's side, there was no avoiding
a knowledge of their principal subjects: The post-office--catching
cold--fetching letters--and friendship, were long under discussion;
and to them succeeded one, which must be at least equally unpleasant
to Jane--inquiries whether she had yet heard of any situation likely to
suit her, and professions of Mrs. Elton's meditated activity.

"Here is April come!" said she, "I get quite anxious about you. June
will soon be here."

"But I have never fixed on June or any other month--merely looked
forward to the summer in general."

"But have you really heard of nothing?"

"I have not even made any inquiry; I do not wish to make any yet."

"Oh! my dear, we cannot begin too early; you are not aware of the
difficulty of procuring exactly the desirable thing."

"I not aware!" said Jane, shaking her head; "dear Mrs. Elton, who can
have thought of it as I have done?"

"But you have not seen so much of the world as I have. You do not know
how many candidates there always are for the _first_ situations. I saw
a vast deal of that in the neighbourhood round Maple Grove. A cousin of
Mr. Suckling, Mrs. Bragge, had such an infinity of applications; every
body was anxious to be in her family, for she moves in the first circle.
Wax-candles in the schoolroom! You may imagine how desirable! Of all
houses in the kingdom Mrs. Bragge's is the one I would most wish to see
you in."

"Colonel and Mrs. Campbell are to be in town again by midsummer,"
said Jane. "I must spend some time with them; I am sure they will want
it;--afterwards I may probably be glad to dispose of myself. But I would
not wish you to take the trouble of making any inquiries at present."

"Trouble! aye, I know your scruples. You are afraid of giving me
trouble; but I assure you, my dear Jane, the Campbells can hardly be
more interested about you than I am. I shall write to Mrs. Partridge in
a day or two, and shall give her a strict charge to be on the look-out
for any thing eligible."

"Thank you, but I would rather you did not mention the subject to
her; till the time draws nearer, I do not wish to be giving any body
trouble."

"But, my dear child, the time is drawing near; here is April, and June,
or say even July, is very near, with such business to accomplish before
us. Your inexperience really amuses me! A situation such as you deserve,
and your friends would require for you, is no everyday occurrence,
is not obtained at a moment's notice; indeed, indeed, we must begin
inquiring directly."

"Excuse me, ma'am, but this is by no means my intention; I make no
inquiry myself, and should be sorry to have any made by my friends. When
I am quite determined as to the time, I am not at all afraid of being
long unemployed. There are places in town, offices, where inquiry
would soon produce something--Offices for the sale--not quite of human
flesh--but of human intellect."

"Oh! my dear, human flesh! You quite shock me; if you mean a fling at
the slave-trade, I assure you Mr. Suckling was always rather a friend to
the abolition."

"I did not mean, I was not thinking of the slave-trade," replied Jane;
"governess-trade, I assure you, was all that I had in view; widely
different certainly as to the guilt of those who carry it on; but as to
the greater misery of the victims, I do not know where it lies. But
I only mean to say that there are advertising offices, and that by
applying to them I should have no doubt of very soon meeting with
something that would do."

"Something that would do!" repeated Mrs. Elton. "Aye, _that_ may suit
your humble ideas of yourself;--I know what a modest creature you are;
but it will not satisfy your friends to have you taking up with any
thing that may offer, any inferior, commonplace situation, in a family
not moving in a certain circle, or able to command the elegancies of
life."

"You are very obliging; but as to all that, I am very indifferent;
it would be no object to me to be with the rich; my mortifications, I
think, would only be the greater; I should suffer more from comparison.
A gentleman's family is all that I should condition for."

"I know you, I know you; you would take up with any thing; but I shall
be a little more nice, and I am sure the good Campbells will be quite
on my side; with your superior talents, you have a right to move in the
first circle. Your musical knowledge alone would entitle you to name
your own terms, have as many rooms as you like, and mix in the family
as much as you chose;--that is--I do not know--if you knew the harp, you
might do all that, I am very sure; but you sing as well as play;--yes, I
really believe you might, even without the harp, stipulate for what
you chose;--and you must and shall be delightfully, honourably and
comfortably settled before the Campbells or I have any rest."

"You may well class the delight, the honour, and the comfort of such
a situation together," said Jane, "they are pretty sure to be equal;
however, I am very serious in not wishing any thing to be attempted
at present for me. I am exceedingly obliged to you, Mrs. Elton, I am
obliged to any body who feels for me, but I am quite serious in wishing
nothing to be done till the summer. For two or three months longer I
shall remain where I am, and as I am."

"And I am quite serious too, I assure you," replied Mrs. Elton gaily,
"in resolving to be always on the watch, and employing my friends to
watch also, that nothing really unexceptionable may pass us."

In this style she ran on; never thoroughly stopped by any thing till Mr.
Woodhouse came into the room; her vanity had then a change of object,
and Emma heard her saying in the same half-whisper to Jane,

"Here comes this dear old beau of mine, I protest!--Only think of his
gallantry in coming away before the other men!--what a dear creature
he is;--I assure you I like him excessively. I admire all that quaint,
old-fashioned politeness; it is much more to my taste than modern ease;
modern ease often disgusts me. But this good old Mr. Woodhouse, I wish
you had heard his gallant speeches to me at dinner. Oh! I assure you I
began to think my caro sposo would be absolutely jealous. I fancy I
am rather a favourite; he took notice of my gown. How do you like
it?--Selina's choice--handsome, I think, but I do not know whether it
is not over-trimmed; I have the greatest dislike to the idea of being
over-trimmed--quite a horror of finery. I must put on a few ornaments
now, because it is expected of me. A bride, you know, must appear like
a bride, but my natural taste is all for simplicity; a simple style
of dress is so infinitely preferable to finery. But I am quite in the
minority, I believe; few people seem to value simplicity of dress,--show
and finery are every thing. I have some notion of putting such a
trimming as this to my white and silver poplin. Do you think it will
look well?"

The whole party were but just reassembled in the drawing-room when Mr.
Weston made his appearance among them. He had returned to a late dinner,
and walked to Hartfield as soon as it was over. He had been too much
expected by the best judges, for surprize--but there was great joy. Mr.
Woodhouse was almost as glad to see him now, as he would have been sorry
to see him before. John Knightley only was in mute astonishment.--That
a man who might have spent his evening quietly at home after a day
of business in London, should set off again, and walk half a mile
to another man's house, for the sake of being in mixed company till
bed-time, of finishing his day in the efforts of civility and the noise
of numbers, was a circumstance to strike him deeply. A man who had been
in motion since eight o'clock in the morning, and might now have been
still, who had been long talking, and might have been silent, who had
been in more than one crowd, and might have been alone!--Such a man, to
quit the tranquillity and independence of his own fireside, and on the
evening of a cold sleety April day rush out again into the world!--Could
he by a touch of his finger have instantly taken back his wife, there
would have been a motive; but his coming would probably prolong rather
than break up the party. John Knightley looked at him with amazement,
then shrugged his shoulders, and said, "I could not have believed it
even of _him_."

Mr. Weston meanwhile, perfectly unsuspicious of the indignation he was
exciting, happy and cheerful as usual, and with all the right of being
principal talker, which a day spent anywhere from home confers, was
making himself agreeable among the rest; and having satisfied the
inquiries of his wife as to his dinner, convincing her that none of all
her careful directions to the servants had been forgotten, and spread
abroad what public news he had heard, was proceeding to a family
communication, which, though principally addressed to Mrs. Weston, he
had not the smallest doubt of being highly interesting to every body in
the room. He gave her a letter, it was from Frank, and to herself; he
had met with it in his way, and had taken the liberty of opening it.

"Read it, read it," said he, "it will give you pleasure; only a few
lines--will not take you long; read it to Emma."

The two ladies looked over it together; and he sat smiling and talking
to them the whole time, in a voice a little subdued, but very audible to
every body.

"Well, he is coming, you see; good news, I think. Well, what do you say
to it?--I always told you he would be here again soon, did not I?--Anne,
my dear, did not I always tell you so, and you would not believe me?--In
town next week, you see--at the latest, I dare say; for _she_ is as
impatient as the black gentleman when any thing is to be done; most
likely they will be there to-morrow or Saturday. As to her illness, all
nothing of course. But it is an excellent thing to have Frank among us
again, so near as town. They will stay a good while when they do come,
and he will be half his time with us. This is precisely what I wanted.
Well, pretty good news, is not it? Have you finished it? Has Emma read
it all? Put it up, put it up; we will have a good talk about it some
other time, but it will not do now. I shall only just mention the
circumstance to the others in a common way."

Mrs. Weston was most comfortably pleased on the occasion. Her looks
and words had nothing to restrain them. She was happy, she knew she was
happy, and knew she ought to be happy. Her congratulations were warm and
open; but Emma could not speak so fluently. _She_ was a little occupied
in weighing her own feelings, and trying to understand the degree of her
agitation, which she rather thought was considerable.

Mr. Weston, however, too eager to be very observant, too communicative
to want others to talk, was very well satisfied with what she did say,
and soon moved away to make the rest of his friends happy by a partial
communication of what the whole room must have overheard already.

It was well that he took every body's joy for granted, or he might
not have thought either Mr. Woodhouse or Mr. Knightley particularly
delighted. They were the first entitled, after Mrs. Weston and Emma, to
be made happy;--from them he would have proceeded to Miss Fairfax, but
she was so deep in conversation with John Knightley, that it would have
been too positive an interruption; and finding himself close to Mrs.
Elton, and her attention disengaged, he necessarily began on the subject
with her.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: After dinner, Emma notices with a bit of dismay that the conversation seems to break into two distinct parties. Even her best efforts as a hostess don't detach Mrs. Elton from Jane's side. Prodded by Mrs. Elton into talking about her future, Jane says that she won't be returning to live with the Campbells once they return from Ireland. She's determined to make her own living as a governess. We interrupt this program for a brief history lesson: Amazingly enough, nineteenth-century England isn't exactly known for its gender equality. Unmarried gentlewomen had very few options. And those options weren't exactly lucrative. If you happened to have wealthy relatives, you could sponge off of them for the rest of your life. If you didn't have wealthy relatives, you could become a governess. This involved caring for whiny kids for the rest of your life. That's it. Pretty short interruption, huh? That's because there weren't all that many options out there. OK, back to our party: Mrs. Elton, helpful as ever, barges into the conversation and demands that Jane allow her to find a family for Jane. Jane refuses. Mrs. Elton refuses to accept her refusal. Mr. Weston enters with news: Frank writes that he will soon move with his aunt to a vacation spot about nine miles away from Highbury. It's close enough to allow Frank to come over all the time. Emma's thrilled. Mr. Knightley doesn't look so pleased.


prompt:
Chapter: "I hope I shall soon have the pleasure of introducing my son to you,"
said Mr. Weston.

Mrs. Elton, very willing to suppose a particular compliment intended her
by such a hope, smiled most graciously.

"You have heard of a certain Frank Churchill, I presume," he
continued--"and know him to be my son, though he does not bear my name."

"Oh! yes, and I shall be very happy in his acquaintance. I am sure Mr.
Elton will lose no time in calling on him; and we shall both have great
pleasure in seeing him at the Vicarage."

"You are very obliging.--Frank will be extremely happy, I am sure.--
He is to be in town next week, if not sooner. We have notice of it in a
letter to-day. I met the letters in my way this morning, and seeing my
son's hand, presumed to open it--though it was not directed to me--it
was to Mrs. Weston. She is his principal correspondent, I assure you. I
hardly ever get a letter."

"And so you absolutely opened what was directed to her! Oh! Mr.
Weston--(laughing affectedly) I must protest against that.--A most
dangerous precedent indeed!--I beg you will not let your neighbours
follow your example.--Upon my word, if this is what I am to expect, we
married women must begin to exert ourselves!--Oh! Mr. Weston, I could
not have believed it of you!"

"Aye, we men are sad fellows. You must take care of yourself, Mrs.
Elton.--This letter tells us--it is a short letter--written in a hurry,
merely to give us notice--it tells us that they are all coming up to
town directly, on Mrs. Churchill's account--she has not been well the
whole winter, and thinks Enscombe too cold for her--so they are all to
move southward without loss of time."

"Indeed!--from Yorkshire, I think. Enscombe is in Yorkshire?"

"Yes, they are about one hundred and ninety miles from London, a
considerable journey."

"Yes, upon my word, very considerable. Sixty-five miles farther than
from Maple Grove to London. But what is distance, Mr. Weston, to people
of large fortune?--You would be amazed to hear how my brother, Mr.
Suckling, sometimes flies about. You will hardly believe me--but twice
in one week he and Mr. Bragge went to London and back again with four
horses."

"The evil of the distance from Enscombe," said Mr. Weston, "is, that
Mrs. Churchill, _as_ _we_ _understand_, has not been able to leave the
sofa for a week together. In Frank's last letter she complained, he
said, of being too weak to get into her conservatory without having
both his arm and his uncle's! This, you know, speaks a great degree of
weakness--but now she is so impatient to be in town, that she means to
sleep only two nights on the road.--So Frank writes word. Certainly,
delicate ladies have very extraordinary constitutions, Mrs. Elton. You
must grant me that."

"No, indeed, I shall grant you nothing. I always take the part of my
own sex. I do indeed. I give you notice--You will find me a formidable
antagonist on that point. I always stand up for women--and I assure you,
if you knew how Selina feels with respect to sleeping at an inn, you
would not wonder at Mrs. Churchill's making incredible exertions to
avoid it. Selina says it is quite horror to her--and I believe I have
caught a little of her nicety. She always travels with her own sheets;
an excellent precaution. Does Mrs. Churchill do the same?"

"Depend upon it, Mrs. Churchill does every thing that any other fine
lady ever did. Mrs. Churchill will not be second to any lady in the land
for"--

Mrs. Elton eagerly interposed with,

"Oh! Mr. Weston, do not mistake me. Selina is no fine lady, I assure
you. Do not run away with such an idea."

"Is not she? Then she is no rule for Mrs. Churchill, who is as thorough
a fine lady as any body ever beheld."

Mrs. Elton began to think she had been wrong in disclaiming so warmly.
It was by no means her object to have it believed that her sister was
_not_ a fine lady; perhaps there was want of spirit in the pretence of
it;--and she was considering in what way she had best retract, when Mr.
Weston went on.

"Mrs. Churchill is not much in my good graces, as you may suspect--but
this is quite between ourselves. She is very fond of Frank, and
therefore I would not speak ill of her. Besides, she is out of health
now; but _that_ indeed, by her own account, she has always been. I would
not say so to every body, Mrs. Elton, but I have not much faith in Mrs.
Churchill's illness."

"If she is really ill, why not go to Bath, Mr. Weston?--To Bath, or to
Clifton?" "She has taken it into her head that Enscombe is too cold for
her. The fact is, I suppose, that she is tired of Enscombe. She has now
been a longer time stationary there, than she ever was before, and she
begins to want change. It is a retired place. A fine place, but very
retired."

"Aye--like Maple Grove, I dare say. Nothing can stand more retired from
the road than Maple Grove. Such an immense plantation all round it! You
seem shut out from every thing--in the most complete retirement.--And
Mrs. Churchill probably has not health or spirits like Selina to enjoy
that sort of seclusion. Or, perhaps she may not have resources enough in
herself to be qualified for a country life. I always say a woman cannot
have too many resources--and I feel very thankful that I have so many
myself as to be quite independent of society."

"Frank was here in February for a fortnight."

"So I remember to have heard. He will find an _addition_ to the society
of Highbury when he comes again; that is, if I may presume to call
myself an addition. But perhaps he may never have heard of there being
such a creature in the world."

This was too loud a call for a compliment to be passed by, and Mr.
Weston, with a very good grace, immediately exclaimed,

"My dear madam! Nobody but yourself could imagine such a thing possible.
Not heard of you!--I believe Mrs. Weston's letters lately have been full
of very little else than Mrs. Elton."

He had done his duty and could return to his son.

"When Frank left us," continued he, "it was quite uncertain when we
might see him again, which makes this day's news doubly welcome. It has
been completely unexpected. That is, _I_ always had a strong persuasion
he would be here again soon, I was sure something favourable would turn
up--but nobody believed me. He and Mrs. Weston were both dreadfully
desponding. 'How could he contrive to come? And how could it be supposed
that his uncle and aunt would spare him again?' and so forth--I always
felt that something would happen in our favour; and so it has, you see.
I have observed, Mrs. Elton, in the course of my life, that if things
are going untowardly one month, they are sure to mend the next."

"Very true, Mr. Weston, perfectly true. It is just what I used to say to
a certain gentleman in company in the days of courtship, when, because
things did not go quite right, did not proceed with all the rapidity
which suited his feelings, he was apt to be in despair, and exclaim that
he was sure at this rate it would be _May_ before Hymen's saffron robe
would be put on for us. Oh! the pains I have been at to dispel those
gloomy ideas and give him cheerfuller views! The carriage--we had
disappointments about the carriage;--one morning, I remember, he came to
me quite in despair."

She was stopped by a slight fit of coughing, and Mr. Weston instantly
seized the opportunity of going on.

"You were mentioning May. May is the very month which Mrs. Churchill
is ordered, or has ordered herself, to spend in some warmer place than
Enscombe--in short, to spend in London; so that we have the agreeable
prospect of frequent visits from Frank the whole spring--precisely the
season of the year which one should have chosen for it: days almost at
the longest; weather genial and pleasant, always inviting one out, and
never too hot for exercise. When he was here before, we made the best
of it; but there was a good deal of wet, damp, cheerless weather;
there always is in February, you know, and we could not do half that we
intended. Now will be the time. This will be complete enjoyment; and I
do not know, Mrs. Elton, whether the uncertainty of our meetings, the
sort of constant expectation there will be of his coming in to-day or
to-morrow, and at any hour, may not be more friendly to happiness than
having him actually in the house. I think it is so. I think it is the
state of mind which gives most spirit and delight. I hope you will be
pleased with my son; but you must not expect a prodigy. He is generally
thought a fine young man, but do not expect a prodigy. Mrs. Weston's
partiality for him is very great, and, as you may suppose, most
gratifying to me. She thinks nobody equal to him."

"And I assure you, Mr. Weston, I have very little doubt that my opinion
will be decidedly in his favour. I have heard so much in praise of Mr.
Frank Churchill.--At the same time it is fair to observe, that I am one
of those who always judge for themselves, and are by no means implicitly
guided by others. I give you notice that as I find your son, so I shall
judge of him.--I am no flatterer."

Mr. Weston was musing.

"I hope," said he presently, "I have not been severe upon poor Mrs.
Churchill. If she is ill I should be sorry to do her injustice; but
there are some traits in her character which make it difficult for me to
speak of her with the forbearance I could wish. You cannot be ignorant,
Mrs. Elton, of my connexion with the family, nor of the treatment I have
met with; and, between ourselves, the whole blame of it is to be laid
to her. She was the instigator. Frank's mother would never have been
slighted as she was but for her. Mr. Churchill has pride; but his pride
is nothing to his wife's: his is a quiet, indolent, gentlemanlike sort
of pride that would harm nobody, and only make himself a little helpless
and tiresome; but her pride is arrogance and insolence! And what
inclines one less to bear, she has no fair pretence of family or blood.
She was nobody when he married her, barely the daughter of a gentleman;
but ever since her being turned into a Churchill she has out-Churchill'd
them all in high and mighty claims: but in herself, I assure you, she is
an upstart."

"Only think! well, that must be infinitely provoking! I have quite
a horror of upstarts. Maple Grove has given me a thorough disgust to
people of that sort; for there is a family in that neighbourhood who
are such an annoyance to my brother and sister from the airs they give
themselves! Your description of Mrs. Churchill made me think of them
directly. People of the name of Tupman, very lately settled there, and
encumbered with many low connexions, but giving themselves immense airs,
and expecting to be on a footing with the old established families.
A year and a half is the very utmost that they can have lived at West
Hall; and how they got their fortune nobody knows. They came from
Birmingham, which is not a place to promise much, you know, Mr. Weston.
One has not great hopes from Birmingham. I always say there is something
direful in the sound: but nothing more is positively known of the
Tupmans, though a good many things I assure you are suspected; and
yet by their manners they evidently think themselves equal even to
my brother, Mr. Suckling, who happens to be one of their nearest
neighbours. It is infinitely too bad. Mr. Suckling, who has been eleven
years a resident at Maple Grove, and whose father had it before him--I
believe, at least--I am almost sure that old Mr. Suckling had completed
the purchase before his death."

They were interrupted. Tea was carrying round, and Mr. Weston, having
said all that he wanted, soon took the opportunity of walking away.

After tea, Mr. and Mrs. Weston, and Mr. Elton sat down with Mr.
Woodhouse to cards. The remaining five were left to their own powers,
and Emma doubted their getting on very well; for Mr. Knightley seemed
little disposed for conversation; Mrs. Elton was wanting notice, which
nobody had inclination to pay, and she was herself in a worry of spirits
which would have made her prefer being silent.

Mr. John Knightley proved more talkative than his brother. He was to
leave them early the next day; and he soon began with--

"Well, Emma, I do not believe I have any thing more to say about the
boys; but you have your sister's letter, and every thing is down at full
length there we may be sure. My charge would be much more concise than
her's, and probably not much in the same spirit; all that I have to
recommend being comprised in, do not spoil them, and do not physic
them."

"I rather hope to satisfy you both," said Emma, "for I shall do all
in my power to make them happy, which will be enough for Isabella; and
happiness must preclude false indulgence and physic."

"And if you find them troublesome, you must send them home again."

"That is very likely. You think so, do not you?"

"I hope I am aware that they may be too noisy for your father--or even
may be some encumbrance to you, if your visiting engagements continue to
increase as much as they have done lately."

"Increase!"

"Certainly; you must be sensible that the last half-year has made a
great difference in your way of life."

"Difference! No indeed I am not."

"There can be no doubt of your being much more engaged with company than
you used to be. Witness this very time. Here am I come down for only
one day, and you are engaged with a dinner-party!--When did it happen
before, or any thing like it? Your neighbourhood is increasing, and you
mix more with it. A little while ago, every letter to Isabella brought
an account of fresh gaieties; dinners at Mr. Cole's, or balls at the
Crown. The difference which Randalls, Randalls alone makes in your
goings-on, is very great."

"Yes," said his brother quickly, "it is Randalls that does it all."

"Very well--and as Randalls, I suppose, is not likely to have less
influence than heretofore, it strikes me as a possible thing, Emma, that
Henry and John may be sometimes in the way. And if they are, I only beg
you to send them home."

"No," cried Mr. Knightley, "that need not be the consequence. Let them
be sent to Donwell. I shall certainly be at leisure."

"Upon my word," exclaimed Emma, "you amuse me! I should like to know how
many of all my numerous engagements take place without your being of
the party; and why I am to be supposed in danger of wanting leisure to
attend to the little boys. These amazing engagements of mine--what have
they been? Dining once with the Coles--and having a ball talked of,
which never took place. I can understand you--(nodding at Mr. John
Knightley)--your good fortune in meeting with so many of your friends at
once here, delights you too much to pass unnoticed. But you, (turning to
Mr. Knightley,) who know how very, very seldom I am ever two hours from
Hartfield, why you should foresee such a series of dissipation for me, I
cannot imagine. And as to my dear little boys, I must say, that if Aunt
Emma has not time for them, I do not think they would fare much better
with Uncle Knightley, who is absent from home about five hours where she
is absent one--and who, when he is at home, is either reading to himself
or settling his accounts."

Mr. Knightley seemed to be trying not to smile; and succeeded without
difficulty, upon Mrs. Elton's beginning to talk to him.

VOLUME III

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Mr. Weston thinks that it's only polite to tell Mrs. Elton how pleased he will be to introduce her to Frank. Mrs. Elton immediately assumes that Mr. Weston is paying her a special compliment. Mr. Weston declares that Frank's aunt is a "fine lady." Not willing to be outdone, Mrs. Elton asserts that her sister is also a fine lady. It becomes clear that Mr. Weston didn't mean his comment to be a compliment. Mrs. Elton's in a pickle: she wants Mr. Weston to admire her sister, but she doesn't want her to be the same sort of fine lady as Mrs. Churchill. She does some fancy back-pedaling. Luckily, Mr. Weston's attention span isn't too good. He's forgotten all about their conversation within seconds. Mr. Weston and Mrs. Elton begin to have a battle of the tongues: He talks for awhile about Frank and the Churchills. She replies by talking for awhile about her sister and Maple Grove. He responds with an answer about Frank. She talks about her sister. It's almost like two monologues going on side-by-side. Emma sends for tea. Several members of the party play cards. Emma is left to talk to her brother-in-law, Mr. John Knightley. Mr. John Knightley usually hates dinner parties. Also, he's a bit of a bear to begin with. Emma's actually delighted to find that he seems to be in a fairly good mood! Mr. John Knightley mentions that his two boys can be a bit rowdy. He offers to take them back whenever they begin to cause trouble. Observing that Emma seems to have a much more active social calendar than she used to, he smilingly asks her if she'll have any time at all for the boys. Mr. Knightley interrupts to say that the boys can come over to his house whenever Emma wishes. Indignant, Emma refuses to give up any time with her beloved nephews. . The Knightley brothers chuckle over Emma's ruffled feathers.


prompt:
Chapter: A very little quiet reflection was enough to satisfy Emma as to the
nature of her agitation on hearing this news of Frank Churchill. She
was soon convinced that it was not for herself she was feeling at all
apprehensive or embarrassed; it was for him. Her own attachment had
really subsided into a mere nothing; it was not worth thinking of;--but
if he, who had undoubtedly been always so much the most in love of the
two, were to be returning with the same warmth of sentiment which he had
taken away, it would be very distressing. If a separation of two
months should not have cooled him, there were dangers and evils before
her:--caution for him and for herself would be necessary. She did
not mean to have her own affections entangled again, and it would be
incumbent on her to avoid any encouragement of his.

She wished she might be able to keep him from an absolute declaration.
That would be so very painful a conclusion of their present
acquaintance! and yet, she could not help rather anticipating something
decisive. She felt as if the spring would not pass without bringing a
crisis, an event, a something to alter her present composed and tranquil
state.

It was not very long, though rather longer than Mr. Weston had foreseen,
before she had the power of forming some opinion of Frank Churchill's
feelings. The Enscombe family were not in town quite so soon as had been
imagined, but he was at Highbury very soon afterwards. He rode down
for a couple of hours; he could not yet do more; but as he came from
Randalls immediately to Hartfield, she could then exercise all her quick
observation, and speedily determine how he was influenced, and how she
must act. They met with the utmost friendliness. There could be no doubt
of his great pleasure in seeing her. But she had an almost instant doubt
of his caring for her as he had done, of his feeling the same tenderness
in the same degree. She watched him well. It was a clear thing he was
less in love than he had been. Absence, with the conviction probably
of her indifference, had produced this very natural and very desirable
effect.

He was in high spirits; as ready to talk and laugh as ever, and seemed
delighted to speak of his former visit, and recur to old stories: and he
was not without agitation. It was not in his calmness that she read
his comparative difference. He was not calm; his spirits were evidently
fluttered; there was restlessness about him. Lively as he was, it seemed
a liveliness that did not satisfy himself; but what decided her belief
on the subject, was his staying only a quarter of an hour, and hurrying
away to make other calls in Highbury. "He had seen a group of old
acquaintance in the street as he passed--he had not stopped, he would
not stop for more than a word--but he had the vanity to think they would
be disappointed if he did not call, and much as he wished to stay longer
at Hartfield, he must hurry off." She had no doubt as to his being less
in love--but neither his agitated spirits, nor his hurrying away, seemed
like a perfect cure; and she was rather inclined to think it implied a
dread of her returning power, and a discreet resolution of not trusting
himself with her long.

This was the only visit from Frank Churchill in the course of ten days.
He was often hoping, intending to come--but was always prevented. His
aunt could not bear to have him leave her. Such was his own account at
Randall's. If he were quite sincere, if he really tried to come, it was
to be inferred that Mrs. Churchill's removal to London had been of no
service to the wilful or nervous part of her disorder. That she was
really ill was very certain; he had declared himself convinced of it, at
Randalls. Though much might be fancy, he could not doubt, when he looked
back, that she was in a weaker state of health than she had been half a
year ago. He did not believe it to proceed from any thing that care
and medicine might not remove, or at least that she might not have many
years of existence before her; but he could not be prevailed on, by all
his father's doubts, to say that her complaints were merely imaginary,
or that she was as strong as ever.

It soon appeared that London was not the place for her. She could
not endure its noise. Her nerves were under continual irritation and
suffering; and by the ten days' end, her nephew's letter to Randalls
communicated a change of plan. They were going to remove immediately to
Richmond. Mrs. Churchill had been recommended to the medical skill of
an eminent person there, and had otherwise a fancy for the place. A
ready-furnished house in a favourite spot was engaged, and much benefit
expected from the change.

Emma heard that Frank wrote in the highest spirits of this arrangement,
and seemed most fully to appreciate the blessing of having two months
before him of such near neighbourhood to many dear friends--for the
house was taken for May and June. She was told that now he wrote with
the greatest confidence of being often with them, almost as often as he
could even wish.

Emma saw how Mr. Weston understood these joyous prospects. He was
considering her as the source of all the happiness they offered. She
hoped it was not so. Two months must bring it to the proof.

Mr. Weston's own happiness was indisputable. He was quite delighted.
It was the very circumstance he could have wished for. Now, it would be
really having Frank in their neighbourhood. What were nine miles to
a young man?--An hour's ride. He would be always coming over. The
difference in that respect of Richmond and London was enough to make
the whole difference of seeing him always and seeing him never. Sixteen
miles--nay, eighteen--it must be full eighteen to Manchester-street--was
a serious obstacle. Were he ever able to get away, the day would be
spent in coming and returning. There was no comfort in having him in
London; he might as well be at Enscombe; but Richmond was the very
distance for easy intercourse. Better than nearer!

One good thing was immediately brought to a certainty by this
removal,--the ball at the Crown. It had not been forgotten before,
but it had been soon acknowledged vain to attempt to fix a day. Now,
however, it was absolutely to be; every preparation was resumed, and
very soon after the Churchills had removed to Richmond, a few lines from
Frank, to say that his aunt felt already much better for the change, and
that he had no doubt of being able to join them for twenty-four hours at
any given time, induced them to name as early a day as possible.

Mr. Weston's ball was to be a real thing. A very few to-morrows stood
between the young people of Highbury and happiness.

Mr. Woodhouse was resigned. The time of year lightened the evil to him.
May was better for every thing than February. Mrs. Bates was engaged to
spend the evening at Hartfield, James had due notice, and he sanguinely
hoped that neither dear little Henry nor dear little John would have any
thing the matter with them, while dear Emma were gone.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Knowing that Frank plans to come back to Highbury soon causes Emma to think seriously about her affection for Frank. As soon as she starts thinking about it, though, she realizes that she doesn't really have any affection for Frank. He's a great friend, sure, but he's just not the upstanding gentleman that she imagined he would be. In other words, imaginary Frank was so, so much better than real Frank. Frank does indeed arrive within a few days. He and the Westons visit Hartfield. Emma notices a slight difference in Frank's manners. He's still fun and engaging, but he doesn't seem to have any affection left for her, either. Philosophically, Emma determines that absence doesn't make the heart grow fonder. In fact, absence is the best cure for half-formed loves. Like hers and Frank's. Frank doesn't visit Hartfield again during his stay, proving Emma right once again. It's got to be hard to be so right all the time, don't you think? Now that Frank's residence is a mere nine miles from Highbury, however, the Westons decide to resurrect their plans for a ball. Although he's slightly terrified at the thought of rampant disease, Mr. Woodhouse does agree that a ball in May is less likely to cause a pandemic than a ball in February. Mr. Woodhouse just prays that nothing will happen to the young boys while Emma is out dancing. How could she ever forgive herself?


prompt:
Chapter: No misfortune occurred, again to prevent the ball. The day approached,
the day arrived; and after a morning of some anxious watching, Frank
Churchill, in all the certainty of his own self, reached Randalls before
dinner, and every thing was safe.

No second meeting had there yet been between him and Emma. The room
at the Crown was to witness it;--but it would be better than a
common meeting in a crowd. Mr. Weston had been so very earnest in his
entreaties for her arriving there as soon as possible after themselves,
for the purpose of taking her opinion as to the propriety and comfort of
the rooms before any other persons came, that she could not refuse him,
and must therefore spend some quiet interval in the young man's company.
She was to convey Harriet, and they drove to the Crown in good time, the
Randalls party just sufficiently before them.

Frank Churchill seemed to have been on the watch; and though he did not
say much, his eyes declared that he meant to have a delightful evening.
They all walked about together, to see that every thing was as it should
be; and within a few minutes were joined by the contents of another
carriage, which Emma could not hear the sound of at first, without great
surprize. "So unreasonably early!" she was going to exclaim; but she
presently found that it was a family of old friends, who were coming,
like herself, by particular desire, to help Mr. Weston's judgment; and
they were so very closely followed by another carriage of cousins,
who had been entreated to come early with the same distinguishing
earnestness, on the same errand, that it seemed as if half the company
might soon be collected together for the purpose of preparatory
inspection.

Emma perceived that her taste was not the only taste on which Mr. Weston
depended, and felt, that to be the favourite and intimate of a man
who had so many intimates and confidantes, was not the very first
distinction in the scale of vanity. She liked his open manners, but
a little less of open-heartedness would have made him a higher
character.--General benevolence, but not general friendship, made a
man what he ought to be.--She could fancy such a man. The whole party
walked about, and looked, and praised again; and then, having nothing
else to do, formed a sort of half-circle round the fire, to observe
in their various modes, till other subjects were started, that, though
_May_, a fire in the evening was still very pleasant.

Emma found that it was not Mr. Weston's fault that the number of privy
councillors was not yet larger. They had stopped at Mrs. Bates's door
to offer the use of their carriage, but the aunt and niece were to be
brought by the Eltons.

Frank was standing by her, but not steadily; there was a restlessness,
which shewed a mind not at ease. He was looking about, he was going to
the door, he was watching for the sound of other carriages,--impatient
to begin, or afraid of being always near her.

Mrs. Elton was spoken of. "I think she must be here soon," said he. "I
have a great curiosity to see Mrs. Elton, I have heard so much of her.
It cannot be long, I think, before she comes."

A carriage was heard. He was on the move immediately; but coming back,
said,

"I am forgetting that I am not acquainted with her. I have never seen
either Mr. or Mrs. Elton. I have no business to put myself forward."

Mr. and Mrs. Elton appeared; and all the smiles and the proprieties
passed.

"But Miss Bates and Miss Fairfax!" said Mr. Weston, looking about. "We
thought you were to bring them."

The mistake had been slight. The carriage was sent for them now. Emma
longed to know what Frank's first opinion of Mrs. Elton might be; how
he was affected by the studied elegance of her dress, and her smiles of
graciousness. He was immediately qualifying himself to form an opinion,
by giving her very proper attention, after the introduction had passed.

In a few minutes the carriage returned.--Somebody talked of rain.--"I
will see that there are umbrellas, sir," said Frank to his father:
"Miss Bates must not be forgotten:" and away he went. Mr. Weston was
following; but Mrs. Elton detained him, to gratify him by her opinion
of his son; and so briskly did she begin, that the young man himself,
though by no means moving slowly, could hardly be out of hearing.

"A very fine young man indeed, Mr. Weston. You know I candidly told you
I should form my own opinion; and I am happy to say that I am extremely
pleased with him.--You may believe me. I never compliment. I think him
a very handsome young man, and his manners are precisely what I like and
approve--so truly the gentleman, without the least conceit or puppyism.
You must know I have a vast dislike to puppies--quite a horror of them.
They were never tolerated at Maple Grove. Neither Mr. Suckling nor
me had ever any patience with them; and we used sometimes to say very
cutting things! Selina, who is mild almost to a fault, bore with them
much better."

While she talked of his son, Mr. Weston's attention was chained; but
when she got to Maple Grove, he could recollect that there were ladies
just arriving to be attended to, and with happy smiles must hurry away.

Mrs. Elton turned to Mrs. Weston. "I have no doubt of its being our
carriage with Miss Bates and Jane. Our coachman and horses are so
extremely expeditious!--I believe we drive faster than any body.--What
a pleasure it is to send one's carriage for a friend!--I understand you
were so kind as to offer, but another time it will be quite unnecessary.
You may be very sure I shall always take care of _them_."

Miss Bates and Miss Fairfax, escorted by the two gentlemen, walked into
the room; and Mrs. Elton seemed to think it as much her duty as Mrs.
Weston's to receive them. Her gestures and movements might be understood
by any one who looked on like Emma; but her words, every body's words,
were soon lost under the incessant flow of Miss Bates, who came in
talking, and had not finished her speech under many minutes after her
being admitted into the circle at the fire. As the door opened she was
heard,

"So very obliging of you!--No rain at all. Nothing to signify. I do not
care for myself. Quite thick shoes. And Jane declares--Well!--(as soon
as she was within the door) Well! This is brilliant indeed!--This is
admirable!--Excellently contrived, upon my word. Nothing wanting. Could
not have imagined it.--So well lighted up!--Jane, Jane, look!--did you
ever see any thing? Oh! Mr. Weston, you must really have had Aladdin's
lamp. Good Mrs. Stokes would not know her own room again. I saw her as
I came in; she was standing in the entrance. 'Oh! Mrs. Stokes,' said
I--but I had not time for more." She was now met by Mrs. Weston.--"Very
well, I thank you, ma'am. I hope you are quite well. Very happy to hear
it. So afraid you might have a headache!--seeing you pass by so often,
and knowing how much trouble you must have. Delighted to hear it indeed.
Ah! dear Mrs. Elton, so obliged to you for the carriage!--excellent
time. Jane and I quite ready. Did not keep the horses a moment. Most
comfortable carriage.--Oh! and I am sure our thanks are due to you,
Mrs. Weston, on that score. Mrs. Elton had most kindly sent Jane a note,
or we should have been.--But two such offers in one day!--Never were
such neighbours. I said to my mother, 'Upon my word, ma'am--.' Thank
you, my mother is remarkably well. Gone to Mr. Woodhouse's. I made her
take her shawl--for the evenings are not warm--her large new shawl--
Mrs. Dixon's wedding-present.--So kind of her to think of my mother!
Bought at Weymouth, you know--Mr. Dixon's choice. There were three
others, Jane says, which they hesitated about some time. Colonel
Campbell rather preferred an olive. My dear Jane, are you sure you did
not wet your feet?--It was but a drop or two, but I am so afraid:--but
Mr. Frank Churchill was so extremely--and there was a mat to step
upon--I shall never forget his extreme politeness.--Oh! Mr. Frank
Churchill, I must tell you my mother's spectacles have never been in
fault since; the rivet never came out again. My mother often talks of
your good-nature. Does not she, Jane?--Do not we often talk of Mr. Frank
Churchill?--Ah! here's Miss Woodhouse.--Dear Miss Woodhouse, how do
you do?--Very well I thank you, quite well. This is meeting quite
in fairy-land!--Such a transformation!--Must not compliment, I know
(eyeing Emma most complacently)--that would be rude--but upon my word,
Miss Woodhouse, you do look--how do you like Jane's hair?--You are
a judge.--She did it all herself. Quite wonderful how she does her
hair!--No hairdresser from London I think could.--Ah! Dr. Hughes I
declare--and Mrs. Hughes. Must go and speak to Dr. and Mrs. Hughes for a
moment.--How do you do? How do you do?--Very well, I thank you. This
is delightful, is not it?--Where's dear Mr. Richard?--Oh! there he is.
Don't disturb him. Much better employed talking to the young ladies. How
do you do, Mr. Richard?--I saw you the other day as you rode through
the town--Mrs. Otway, I protest!--and good Mr. Otway, and Miss Otway
and Miss Caroline.--Such a host of friends!--and Mr. George and Mr.
Arthur!--How do you do? How do you all do?--Quite well, I am much
obliged to you. Never better.--Don't I hear another carriage?--Who can
this be?--very likely the worthy Coles.--Upon my word, this is charming
to be standing about among such friends! And such a noble fire!--I am
quite roasted. No coffee, I thank you, for me--never take coffee.--A
little tea if you please, sir, by and bye,--no hurry--Oh! here it comes.
Every thing so good!"

Frank Churchill returned to his station by Emma; and as soon as Miss
Bates was quiet, she found herself necessarily overhearing the discourse
of Mrs. Elton and Miss Fairfax, who were standing a little way behind
her.--He was thoughtful. Whether he were overhearing too, she could not
determine. After a good many compliments to Jane on her dress and look,
compliments very quietly and properly taken, Mrs. Elton was evidently
wanting to be complimented herself--and it was, "How do you like
my gown?--How do you like my trimming?--How has Wright done my
hair?"--with many other relative questions, all answered with patient
politeness. Mrs. Elton then said, "Nobody can think less of dress in
general than I do--but upon such an occasion as this, when every body's
eyes are so much upon me, and in compliment to the Westons--who I have
no doubt are giving this ball chiefly to do me honour--I would not wish
to be inferior to others. And I see very few pearls in the room except
mine.--So Frank Churchill is a capital dancer, I understand.--We shall
see if our styles suit.--A fine young man certainly is Frank Churchill.
I like him very well."

At this moment Frank began talking so vigorously, that Emma could not
but imagine he had overheard his own praises, and did not want to hear
more;--and the voices of the ladies were drowned for a while, till
another suspension brought Mrs. Elton's tones again distinctly
forward.--Mr. Elton had just joined them, and his wife was exclaiming,

"Oh! you have found us out at last, have you, in our seclusion?--I was
this moment telling Jane, I thought you would begin to be impatient for
tidings of us."

"Jane!"--repeated Frank Churchill, with a look of surprize and
displeasure.--"That is easy--but Miss Fairfax does not disapprove it, I
suppose."

"How do you like Mrs. Elton?" said Emma in a whisper.

"Not at all."

"You are ungrateful."

"Ungrateful!--What do you mean?" Then changing from a frown to a
smile--"No, do not tell me--I do not want to know what you mean.--Where
is my father?--When are we to begin dancing?"

Emma could hardly understand him; he seemed in an odd humour. He walked
off to find his father, but was quickly back again with both Mr. and
Mrs. Weston. He had met with them in a little perplexity, which must be
laid before Emma. It had just occurred to Mrs. Weston that Mrs. Elton
must be asked to begin the ball; that she would expect it; which
interfered with all their wishes of giving Emma that distinction.--Emma
heard the sad truth with fortitude.

"And what are we to do for a proper partner for her?" said Mr. Weston.
"She will think Frank ought to ask her."

Frank turned instantly to Emma, to claim her former promise; and
boasted himself an engaged man, which his father looked his most perfect
approbation of--and it then appeared that Mrs. Weston was wanting _him_
to dance with Mrs. Elton himself, and that their business was to help to
persuade him into it, which was done pretty soon.--Mr. Weston and Mrs.
Elton led the way, Mr. Frank Churchill and Miss Woodhouse followed.
Emma must submit to stand second to Mrs. Elton, though she had always
considered the ball as peculiarly for her. It was almost enough to make
her think of marrying. Mrs. Elton had undoubtedly the advantage, at this
time, in vanity completely gratified; for though she had intended to
begin with Frank Churchill, she could not lose by the change. Mr. Weston
might be his son's superior.--In spite of this little rub, however,
Emma was smiling with enjoyment, delighted to see the respectable length
of the set as it was forming, and to feel that she had so many hours
of unusual festivity before her.--She was more disturbed by Mr.
Knightley's not dancing than by any thing else.--There he was, among
the standers-by, where he ought not to be; he ought to be dancing,--not
classing himself with the husbands, and fathers, and whist-players, who
were pretending to feel an interest in the dance till their rubbers were
made up,--so young as he looked!--He could not have appeared to greater
advantage perhaps anywhere, than where he had placed himself. His tall,
firm, upright figure, among the bulky forms and stooping shoulders of
the elderly men, was such as Emma felt must draw every body's eyes;
and, excepting her own partner, there was not one among the whole row of
young men who could be compared with him.--He moved a few steps nearer,
and those few steps were enough to prove in how gentlemanlike a manner,
with what natural grace, he must have danced, would he but take the
trouble.--Whenever she caught his eye, she forced him to smile; but
in general he was looking grave. She wished he could love a ballroom
better, and could like Frank Churchill better.--He seemed often
observing her. She must not flatter herself that he thought of her
dancing, but if he were criticising her behaviour, she did not feel
afraid. There was nothing like flirtation between her and her partner.
They seemed more like cheerful, easy friends, than lovers. That Frank
Churchill thought less of her than he had done, was indubitable.

The ball proceeded pleasantly. The anxious cares, the incessant
attentions of Mrs. Weston, were not thrown away. Every body seemed
happy; and the praise of being a delightful ball, which is seldom
bestowed till after a ball has ceased to be, was repeatedly given in
the very beginning of the existence of this. Of very important, very
recordable events, it was not more productive than such meetings usually
are. There was one, however, which Emma thought something of.--The two
last dances before supper were begun, and Harriet had no partner;--the
only young lady sitting down;--and so equal had been hitherto the
number of dancers, that how there could be any one disengaged was the
wonder!--But Emma's wonder lessened soon afterwards, on seeing Mr. Elton
sauntering about. He would not ask Harriet to dance if it were possible
to be avoided: she was sure he would not--and she was expecting him
every moment to escape into the card-room.

Escape, however, was not his plan. He came to the part of the room where
the sitters-by were collected, spoke to some, and walked about in front
of them, as if to shew his liberty, and his resolution of maintaining
it. He did not omit being sometimes directly before Miss Smith, or
speaking to those who were close to her.--Emma saw it. She was not yet
dancing; she was working her way up from the bottom, and had therefore
leisure to look around, and by only turning her head a little she saw
it all. When she was half-way up the set, the whole group were exactly
behind her, and she would no longer allow her eyes to watch; but Mr.
Elton was so near, that she heard every syllable of a dialogue which
just then took place between him and Mrs. Weston; and she perceived that
his wife, who was standing immediately above her, was not only
listening also, but even encouraging him by significant glances.--The
kind-hearted, gentle Mrs. Weston had left her seat to join him and say,
"Do not you dance, Mr. Elton?" to which his prompt reply was, "Most
readily, Mrs. Weston, if you will dance with me."

"Me!--oh! no--I would get you a better partner than myself. I am no
dancer."

"If Mrs. Gilbert wishes to dance," said he, "I shall have great
pleasure, I am sure--for, though beginning to feel myself rather an old
married man, and that my dancing days are over, it would give me very
great pleasure at any time to stand up with an old friend like Mrs.
Gilbert."

"Mrs. Gilbert does not mean to dance, but there is a young lady
disengaged whom I should be very glad to see dancing--Miss Smith." "Miss
Smith!--oh!--I had not observed.--You are extremely obliging--and if I
were not an old married man.--But my dancing days are over, Mrs. Weston.
You will excuse me. Any thing else I should be most happy to do, at your
command--but my dancing days are over."

Mrs. Weston said no more; and Emma could imagine with what surprize and
mortification she must be returning to her seat. This was Mr. Elton! the
amiable, obliging, gentle Mr. Elton.--She looked round for a moment; he
had joined Mr. Knightley at a little distance, and was arranging himself
for settled conversation, while smiles of high glee passed between him
and his wife.

She would not look again. Her heart was in a glow, and she feared her
face might be as hot.

In another moment a happier sight caught her;--Mr. Knightley leading
Harriet to the set!--Never had she been more surprized, seldom more
delighted, than at that instant. She was all pleasure and gratitude,
both for Harriet and herself, and longed to be thanking him; and though
too distant for speech, her countenance said much, as soon as she could
catch his eye again.

His dancing proved to be just what she had believed it, extremely good;
and Harriet would have seemed almost too lucky, if it had not been for
the cruel state of things before, and for the very complete enjoyment
and very high sense of the distinction which her happy features
announced. It was not thrown away on her, she bounded higher than ever,
flew farther down the middle, and was in a continual course of smiles.

Mr. Elton had retreated into the card-room, looking (Emma trusted) very
foolish. She did not think he was quite so hardened as his wife, though
growing very like her;--_she_ spoke some of her feelings, by observing
audibly to her partner,

"Knightley has taken pity on poor little Miss Smith!--Very good-natured,
I declare."

Supper was announced. The move began; and Miss Bates might be heard from
that moment, without interruption, till her being seated at table and
taking up her spoon.

"Jane, Jane, my dear Jane, where are you?--Here is your tippet. Mrs.
Weston begs you to put on your tippet. She says she is afraid there will
be draughts in the passage, though every thing has been done--One door
nailed up--Quantities of matting--My dear Jane, indeed you must.
Mr. Churchill, oh! you are too obliging! How well you put it on!--so
gratified! Excellent dancing indeed!--Yes, my dear, I ran home, as I
said I should, to help grandmama to bed, and got back again, and
nobody missed me.--I set off without saying a word, just as I told you.
Grandmama was quite well, had a charming evening with Mr. Woodhouse, a
vast deal of chat, and backgammon.--Tea was made downstairs, biscuits
and baked apples and wine before she came away: amazing luck in some
of her throws: and she inquired a great deal about you, how you were
amused, and who were your partners. 'Oh!' said I, 'I shall not forestall
Jane; I left her dancing with Mr. George Otway; she will love to tell
you all about it herself to-morrow: her first partner was Mr. Elton,
I do not know who will ask her next, perhaps Mr. William Cox.' My dear
sir, you are too obliging.--Is there nobody you would not rather?--I am
not helpless. Sir, you are most kind. Upon my word, Jane on one arm, and
me on the other!--Stop, stop, let us stand a little back, Mrs. Elton is
going; dear Mrs. Elton, how elegant she looks!--Beautiful lace!--Now we
all follow in her train. Quite the queen of the evening!--Well, here we
are at the passage. Two steps, Jane, take care of the two steps. Oh! no,
there is but one. Well, I was persuaded there were two. How very odd!
I was convinced there were two, and there is but one. I never saw any
thing equal to the comfort and style--Candles everywhere.--I was telling
you of your grandmama, Jane,--There was a little disappointment.--The
baked apples and biscuits, excellent in their way, you know; but there
was a delicate fricassee of sweetbread and some asparagus brought in at
first, and good Mr. Woodhouse, not thinking the asparagus quite boiled
enough, sent it all out again. Now there is nothing grandmama loves
better than sweetbread and asparagus--so she was rather disappointed,
but we agreed we would not speak of it to any body, for fear of
its getting round to dear Miss Woodhouse, who would be so very much
concerned!--Well, this is brilliant! I am all amazement! could not have
supposed any thing!--Such elegance and profusion!--I have seen nothing
like it since--Well, where shall we sit? where shall we sit? Anywhere,
so that Jane is not in a draught. Where _I_ sit is of no consequence.
Oh! do you recommend this side?--Well, I am sure, Mr. Churchill--only
it seems too good--but just as you please. What you direct in this house
cannot be wrong. Dear Jane, how shall we ever recollect half the dishes
for grandmama? Soup too! Bless me! I should not be helped so soon, but
it smells most excellent, and I cannot help beginning."

Emma had no opportunity of speaking to Mr. Knightley till after supper;
but, when they were all in the ballroom again, her eyes invited
him irresistibly to come to her and be thanked. He was warm in his
reprobation of Mr. Elton's conduct; it had been unpardonable rudeness;
and Mrs. Elton's looks also received the due share of censure.

"They aimed at wounding more than Harriet," said he. "Emma, why is it
that they are your enemies?"

He looked with smiling penetration; and, on receiving no answer, added,
"_She_ ought not to be angry with you, I suspect, whatever he may
be.--To that surmise, you say nothing, of course; but confess, Emma,
that you did want him to marry Harriet."

"I did," replied Emma, "and they cannot forgive me."

He shook his head; but there was a smile of indulgence with it, and he
only said,

"I shall not scold you. I leave you to your own reflections."

"Can you trust me with such flatterers?--Does my vain spirit ever tell
me I am wrong?"

"Not your vain spirit, but your serious spirit.--If one leads you wrong,
I am sure the other tells you of it."

"I do own myself to have been completely mistaken in Mr. Elton. There is
a littleness about him which you discovered, and which I did not: and I
was fully convinced of his being in love with Harriet. It was through a
series of strange blunders!"

"And, in return for your acknowledging so much, I will do you the
justice to say, that you would have chosen for him better than he has
chosen for himself.--Harriet Smith has some first-rate qualities, which
Mrs. Elton is totally without. An unpretending, single-minded, artless
girl--infinitely to be preferred by any man of sense and taste to such a
woman as Mrs. Elton. I found Harriet more conversable than I expected."

Emma was extremely gratified.--They were interrupted by the bustle of
Mr. Weston calling on every body to begin dancing again.

"Come Miss Woodhouse, Miss Otway, Miss Fairfax, what are you all
doing?--Come Emma, set your companions the example. Every body is lazy!
Every body is asleep!"

"I am ready," said Emma, "whenever I am wanted."

"Whom are you going to dance with?" asked Mr. Knightley.

She hesitated a moment, and then replied, "With you, if you will ask
me."

"Will you?" said he, offering his hand.

"Indeed I will. You have shewn that you can dance, and you know we are
not really so much brother and sister as to make it at all improper."

"Brother and sister! no, indeed."

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: In which the Westons have a ball: Mr. Weston particularly asks Emma to arrive at the ball early. As a close, close friend, he wants her to look over the arrangements before the ball starts. Once Emma arrives, however, she realizes that Mr. Weston seems to have many close, close friends. Just about everybody she knows shows up a few hours early to "inspect" the ballroom. Despite the early start, everyone has a wonderful time at the ball. Mrs. Elton had arranged to bring Miss Bates and Jane Fairfax in her carriage, but she apparently forgot. There's a bit of a hubbub as Mr. Weston and Mrs. Elton try to figure out whose carriage should be sent to collect them. As the host, Mr. Weston argues that his carriage should be sent; as Jane's "special" friend, Mrs. Elton thinks that she has the right to take care of the Bateses. Mrs. Elton wins. Typically, a hostess greets all the guests as they arrive. Of course, Mrs. Elton seems to think that it's as much her party as the Westons'. She stands on the other side of Mrs. Weston to greet the guests. Emma and Frank make fun of Mrs. Elton from a distance. Miss Bates and Jane enter. Miss Bates has lots and lots of news about everything that happened to everybody in Highbury that day. She proceeds to tell all of it. Mrs. Elton loudly remarks that she "approves" of Frank Churchill. Frank pretends to ignore her, continuing to spend time with Emma. Emma sarcastically remarks that Frank should be grateful for Mrs. Elton's close friendship with Jane. Frank seems startled and gasps for a bit. Emma can't understand his response, but she finally decides that he was just laughing with her. Dancing is the main attraction of any ball. Frank asks Emma to be his partner for the first dances . Luckily, Mr. Weston asks Mrs. Elton to dance. As the music begins, Emma catches sight of Mr. Elton prowling on the boundaries of the room. She watches as he walks up to Mrs. Weston and asks her to dance. Mrs. Weston declines, but suggests that he should ask any one of the single young ladies to dance - she points out Harriet as one such lady. Mr. Elton immediately backs away, muttering something about being an old married man. Emma and Harriet overhear all of this conversation. Emma watches in dismay as Mrs. Elton exchanges smug looks with her husband. Immediately after this, Mr. Knightley asks Harriet to dance. Harriet goes from tearful to blissful in a few seconds. Emma, watching the whole encounter, casts Mr. Knightley many grateful looks. She also notices that he's a pretty fine dancer. Later, during dinner, Mr. Knightley catches up with Emma and asks her why the Eltons seemed so willing to consciously hurt Harriet. As he observes, it seems to have something to do with Emma. Emma ignores this point. Mr. Knightley also tells Emma that he was astonished to find out how lovely and simple Harriet actually is. OK, he knew she wasn't all that bright - but after dancing with her, he doesn't think that she's all that bad, either. She's infinitely better than that cat, Mrs. Elton! The music begins again. Looking around, Mr. Knightley asks Emma who she plans to dance with. She declares that she intends to dance with him. As they begin to dance, Emma observes that she and Mr. Knightley aren't really like a brother and sister. It won't be like Flowers in the Attic if they decide to dance. Mr. Knightley agrees.


prompt:
Chapter: This little explanation with Mr. Knightley gave Emma considerable
pleasure. It was one of the agreeable recollections of the ball, which
she walked about the lawn the next morning to enjoy.--She was extremely
glad that they had come to so good an understanding respecting the
Eltons, and that their opinions of both husband and wife were so much
alike; and his praise of Harriet, his concession in her favour, was
peculiarly gratifying. The impertinence of the Eltons, which for a few
minutes had threatened to ruin the rest of her evening, had been the
occasion of some of its highest satisfactions; and she looked forward
to another happy result--the cure of Harriet's infatuation.--From
Harriet's manner of speaking of the circumstance before they quitted the
ballroom, she had strong hopes. It seemed as if her eyes were suddenly
opened, and she were enabled to see that Mr. Elton was not the superior
creature she had believed him. The fever was over, and Emma could
harbour little fear of the pulse being quickened again by injurious
courtesy. She depended on the evil feelings of the Eltons for
supplying all the discipline of pointed neglect that could be farther
requisite.--Harriet rational, Frank Churchill not too much in love, and
Mr. Knightley not wanting to quarrel with her, how very happy a summer
must be before her!

She was not to see Frank Churchill this morning. He had told her that he
could not allow himself the pleasure of stopping at Hartfield, as he was
to be at home by the middle of the day. She did not regret it.

Having arranged all these matters, looked them through, and put them all
to rights, she was just turning to the house with spirits freshened up
for the demands of the two little boys, as well as of their grandpapa,
when the great iron sweep-gate opened, and two persons entered whom she
had never less expected to see together--Frank Churchill, with Harriet
leaning on his arm--actually Harriet!--A moment sufficed to convince
her that something extraordinary had happened. Harriet looked white
and frightened, and he was trying to cheer her.--The iron gates and the
front-door were not twenty yards asunder;--they were all three soon in
the hall, and Harriet immediately sinking into a chair fainted away.

A young lady who faints, must be recovered; questions must be answered,
and surprizes be explained. Such events are very interesting, but the
suspense of them cannot last long. A few minutes made Emma acquainted
with the whole.

Miss Smith, and Miss Bickerton, another parlour boarder at Mrs.
Goddard's, who had been also at the ball, had walked out together, and
taken a road, the Richmond road, which, though apparently public enough
for safety, had led them into alarm.--About half a mile beyond Highbury,
making a sudden turn, and deeply shaded by elms on each side, it became
for a considerable stretch very retired; and when the young ladies
had advanced some way into it, they had suddenly perceived at a small
distance before them, on a broader patch of greensward by the side, a
party of gipsies. A child on the watch, came towards them to beg; and
Miss Bickerton, excessively frightened, gave a great scream, and calling
on Harriet to follow her, ran up a steep bank, cleared a slight hedge at
the top, and made the best of her way by a short cut back to Highbury.
But poor Harriet could not follow. She had suffered very much from cramp
after dancing, and her first attempt to mount the bank brought on such
a return of it as made her absolutely powerless--and in this state, and
exceedingly terrified, she had been obliged to remain.

How the trampers might have behaved, had the young ladies been more
courageous, must be doubtful; but such an invitation for attack could
not be resisted; and Harriet was soon assailed by half a dozen children,
headed by a stout woman and a great boy, all clamorous, and impertinent
in look, though not absolutely in word.--More and more frightened, she
immediately promised them money, and taking out her purse, gave them a
shilling, and begged them not to want more, or to use her ill.--She
was then able to walk, though but slowly, and was moving away--but her
terror and her purse were too tempting, and she was followed, or rather
surrounded, by the whole gang, demanding more.

In this state Frank Churchill had found her, she trembling and
conditioning, they loud and insolent. By a most fortunate chance his
leaving Highbury had been delayed so as to bring him to her assistance
at this critical moment. The pleasantness of the morning had induced
him to walk forward, and leave his horses to meet him by another road,
a mile or two beyond Highbury--and happening to have borrowed a pair
of scissors the night before of Miss Bates, and to have forgotten to
restore them, he had been obliged to stop at her door, and go in for a
few minutes: he was therefore later than he had intended; and being
on foot, was unseen by the whole party till almost close to them. The
terror which the woman and boy had been creating in Harriet was then
their own portion. He had left them completely frightened; and Harriet
eagerly clinging to him, and hardly able to speak, had just strength
enough to reach Hartfield, before her spirits were quite overcome.
It was his idea to bring her to Hartfield: he had thought of no other
place.

This was the amount of the whole story,--of his communication and of
Harriet's as soon as she had recovered her senses and speech.--He dared
not stay longer than to see her well; these several delays left him
not another minute to lose; and Emma engaging to give assurance of her
safety to Mrs. Goddard, and notice of there being such a set of people
in the neighbourhood to Mr. Knightley, he set off, with all the grateful
blessings that she could utter for her friend and herself.

Such an adventure as this,--a fine young man and a lovely young woman
thrown together in such a way, could hardly fail of suggesting certain
ideas to the coldest heart and the steadiest brain. So Emma thought, at
least. Could a linguist, could a grammarian, could even a mathematician
have seen what she did, have witnessed their appearance together, and
heard their history of it, without feeling that circumstances had been
at work to make them peculiarly interesting to each other?--How much
more must an imaginist, like herself, be on fire with speculation and
foresight!--especially with such a groundwork of anticipation as her
mind had already made.

It was a very extraordinary thing! Nothing of the sort had ever
occurred before to any young ladies in the place, within her memory; no
rencontre, no alarm of the kind;--and now it had happened to the very
person, and at the very hour, when the other very person was chancing
to pass by to rescue her!--It certainly was very extraordinary!--And
knowing, as she did, the favourable state of mind of each at this
period, it struck her the more. He was wishing to get the better of his
attachment to herself, she just recovering from her mania for Mr. Elton.
It seemed as if every thing united to promise the most interesting
consequences. It was not possible that the occurrence should not be
strongly recommending each to the other.

In the few minutes' conversation which she had yet had with him, while
Harriet had been partially insensible, he had spoken of her terror,
her naivete, her fervour as she seized and clung to his arm, with a
sensibility amused and delighted; and just at last, after Harriet's
own account had been given, he had expressed his indignation at the
abominable folly of Miss Bickerton in the warmest terms. Every thing was
to take its natural course, however, neither impelled nor assisted.
She would not stir a step, nor drop a hint. No, she had had enough of
interference. There could be no harm in a scheme, a mere passive scheme.
It was no more than a wish. Beyond it she would on no account proceed.

Emma's first resolution was to keep her father from the knowledge of
what had passed,--aware of the anxiety and alarm it would occasion: but
she soon felt that concealment must be impossible. Within half an hour
it was known all over Highbury. It was the very event to engage those
who talk most, the young and the low; and all the youth and servants in
the place were soon in the happiness of frightful news. The last night's
ball seemed lost in the gipsies. Poor Mr. Woodhouse trembled as he sat,
and, as Emma had foreseen, would scarcely be satisfied without their
promising never to go beyond the shrubbery again. It was some comfort
to him that many inquiries after himself and Miss Woodhouse (for his
neighbours knew that he loved to be inquired after), as well as Miss
Smith, were coming in during the rest of the day; and he had
the pleasure of returning for answer, that they were all very
indifferent--which, though not exactly true, for she was perfectly well,
and Harriet not much otherwise, Emma would not interfere with. She had
an unhappy state of health in general for the child of such a man,
for she hardly knew what indisposition was; and if he did not invent
illnesses for her, she could make no figure in a message.

The gipsies did not wait for the operations of justice; they took
themselves off in a hurry. The young ladies of Highbury might have
walked again in safety before their panic began, and the whole history
dwindled soon into a matter of little importance but to Emma and her
nephews:--in her imagination it maintained its ground, and Henry and
John were still asking every day for the story of Harriet and the
gipsies, and still tenaciously setting her right if she varied in the
slightest particular from the original recital.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: As Emma thinks over the ball the next day, she's satisfied to remember that Mr. Knightley shares her opinion about the Eltons. Even Harriet seems to be getting over Mr. Elton after his snub at the ball. Everything is as perfect as Emma could want it to be: Harriet is no longer in love, Mr. Knightley is not quarrelling with her, and Frank Churchill seems to be staying away from Hartfield. Emma settles down to play with her nephews for the morning. Before long, however, Frank and a very weak Harriet come in the gate. Emma rushes out to meet them. Harriet's face is completely white. Together Emma and Frank assist her into the house, where she faints on the couch. Once Harriet recovers, she shares her story. Harriet and another classmate had been walking along a lane when a small band of gypsy children came up behind them. Harriet's friend ran away. Harriet, whose muscles were cramped from dancing the night before, couldn't really walk. The gypsy kids surround her threateningly. We know what you're thinking. She's scared of a group of kids? Seriously? But maybe they were really scary kids. Or maybe she's just a wimp. Either way, she's having a rough day. She offers the children a shilling to go away, but they seem to know a good thing when they've found it. They refuse to leave. Suddenly, Frank Churchill comes around the corner and rescues her. Frank chases the children away and helps Harriet to Emma's door. Frank leaves to begin his journey to London. Although Emma worries about Harriet, she's actually rather delighted about this turn of events. Woman in distress + handsome hero = true love. Right? She's sure that this rescue is the groundwork for Harriet and Frank's love. Nonetheless, Emma worries about telling her father the news - and rightfully so. Mr. Woodhouse frets for days about the threat of savages on the loose. Our narrator informs us that the gypsies move out of Highbury before they can be found. Fortunately, upon hearing of the incident, all of Mr. Woodhouse's neighbors make sure to ask him about his health.