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hesitation.
    â€œI do not believe there are families as distinguished as Mrs. Smallridge’s family in all of England. Only the Sucklings and the Bragges come anywhere near her … well perhaps the Sucklings can be called superior, if only by reason of the extent of their park; but Mrs. Elton assures me Jane is so very happy. So very. In a house which is only four miles from Mrs. Elton’s old home. Maple Grove. And on the occasion of Mrs. Elton’s going for a visit, she saw dear Jane several times! Can you imagine? Jane most satisfied. Candles in the schoolroom. She wants for nothing, dear Mrs. Knightley, I can assure you. Last year she was in Norfolk in the summer, with the three children. Three little girls. Is it not delightful? This year she has been at Weymouth; and all arranged with an idea to her happiness, for Colonel and Mrs. Campbell are at Weymouth, you know, and Jane’sgreat friends Mr. and Mrs. Dixon visiting them there. Can you give credence to anything so agreeable as that?”
    â€œHow shall we salt the pork?” enquired Mrs. Bates from her seat by the fire. The good lady had now placed her spectacles on her nose, to examine the hindquarter; and after pronouncing it excellent, she fell off to sleep again.
    â€œMy poor mother does not enjoy this heat,” said Miss Bates. “She is for ever. And you are. It is so kind of you. Indeed.”
    Emma saw that Miss Bates was more confused than usual, today; she felt with a pang of self-reproach that she had not visited her in a long time. Mr. Woodhouse would also have gone more often to see that Miss Bates and her mother were in good health. Now, from the appearance and speech of Miss Bates, her mother was declining sadly, and the daughter was distraught by the imminent loss of a loved parent.
    â€œI trust Mrs. Bates is well,” said Emma, who was at last prevailed upon to sit down, and was able to look around her. The pianoforte was gone; she saw this with a pang. Poor Jane Fairfax! She would not play for her own amusement again.
    â€œMother is doing excellently well for her years,” replied Miss Bates. “You do not ask in any spirit of true concern, do you, dear Mrs. Knightley?”
    Before Emma – abashed by this sudden revelation on Miss Bates’s part of the sad truth of the long neglect on the part of the mistress of Donwell Abbey of the two ladies most esteemed in Highbury (their poverty, constant kindnesses to all and inability to cause harm to anyone had earned them this accolade) – could discover a way to evade the directness of Miss Bates’s question, the stream of utterance went on.
    â€œYou are cordially invited to take tea or dinner with us. Yes. Mr. Knightley and yourself. You will, I hope, Mrs. Knightley. It would be so great an honour. Yes. Yes. And Mr. and Mrs. Cole have asked a hundred times. No, maybe it is five or six times, if they may invite you. They do not dare approach Donwell Abbey. ‘But Mrs. Knightley – dear Emma – is a great friend of mine,’ I said to Mrs. Cole. ‘I shall ask her to meet you here. Then you may go ahead with your invitation.’ As for Mr. Knightley, he keeps my mother in apples, you know. Oh yes, even if he has to go without, he ensures we are stuffed. Yes. But Jane is not a great apple-eater and we do not need such quantities. They rot and they stink – oh, I beg your pardon, Mrs. Knightley – but we are in such close quarters here—”
    â€œWhere is Miss Fairfax?” cried Emma, for she was determined to insert a word while Miss Bates paused for breath. “Mrs. Weston informed us she came here. We assumed she would stay in her old home, that hersituation with Mrs. Smallridge would permit it, if only for a short time. Is she delayed at Weymouth still?”
    â€œDelayed?” answered Miss Bates. “If only she were, dear Emma – if I may, my dear, if I may. No, Jane is out walking. It is most