“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.