poor Mrs. Bates had a
bad cold about a month ago."

"How sorry I am! but colds were never so prevalent as they have been
this autumn. Mr. Wingfield told me that he had never known them more
general or heavy, except when it has been quite an influenza."

"That has been a good deal the case, my dear, but not to the degree you
mention. Perry says that colds have been very general, but not so heavy
as he has very often known them in November. Perry does not call it
altogether a sickly season."

"No, I do not know that Mr. Wingfield considers it _very_ sickly,
except--"

"Ah, my poor, dear child, the truth is, that in London it is always a
sickly season. Nobody is healthy in London, nobody can be. It is a
dreadful thing to have you forced to live there;--so far off!--and the
air so bad!"

"No, indeed, _we_ are not at all in a bad air. Our part of London is so
very superior to most others. You must not confound us with London in
general, my dear sir. The neighborhood of Brunswick Square is very
different from almost all the rest. We are so very airy! I should be
unwilling, I own, to live in any other part of the town; there is hardly
any other that I could be satisfied to have my children in: but _we_ are
so remarkably airy! Mr. Wingfield thinks the vicinity of Brunswick
Square decidedly the most favorable as to air."

"Ah, my dear, it is not like Hartfield. You make the best of it--but
after you have been a week at Hartfield, you are all of you different
creatures; you do not look like the same. Now, I cannot say that I think
you are any of you looking well at present."

"I am sorry to hear you say so, sir; but I assure you, excepting those
little nervous headaches and palpitations which I am never entirely free
from anywhere, I am quite well myself; and if the children were rather
pale before they went to bed, it was only because they were a little
more tired than usual from their journey and the happiness of coming. I
hope you will think better of their looks to-morrow; for I assure you
Mr. Wingfield told me that he did not believe he had ever sent us off,
altogether, in such good case. I trust at least that you do not think
Mr. Knightley looking ill," turning her eyes with affectionate anxiety
toward her husband.

"Middling, my dear; I cannot compliment you. I think Mr. John Knightley
very far from looking well."

"What is the matter, sir? Did you speak to me?" cried Mr. John
Knightley, hearing his own name.