asy fortune, suitable age, and pleasant
manners; and there was some satisfaction in considering with what
self-denying, generous friendship she had always wished and promoted the
match. But it was a black morning's work for her. The want of Miss
Taylor would be felt every hour of every day. She had been a friend and
companion such as few possessed: intelligent, well-informed, useful,
gentle; knowing all the ways of the family, interested in all its
concerns, and peculiarly interested in herself, in every pleasure, every
scheme of hers--one to whom she could speak every thought, and who had
such an affection for her as could never find fault.

How was Emma to bear the change? She was now in great danger of
suffering from intellectual solitude. She dearly loved her father, but
he was no companion for her. He could not meet her in conversation,
rational or playful. The evil of the actual disparity in their ages (as
Mr. Woodhouse had not married early) was much increased by his
constitution and habits; for, having been a valetudinarian all his life,
without activity of mind or body, he was a much older man in ways than
in years; and though everywhere beloved for the friendliness of his
heart and his amiable temper, his talents could not have recommended him
at any time.

Emma's sister, though comparatively but little removed by matrimony,
being settled in London, only sixteen miles off, was much beyond her
daily reach; and it was quite three months before Christmas, that would
bring the next visit from Isabella, her husband, and children.

Highbury, the large and populous village to which her house, Hartfield,
really belonged, afforded her no equals. The Woodhouses were first in
consequence there. All looked up to them; but there was not one of her
acquaintances among them who could be accepted in lieu of Miss Taylor
for even half a day. It was a melancholy change; and Emma could not but
sigh over it, and wish for impossible things, till her father awoke from
his usual after-dinner sleep, and made it necessary to be cheerful. His
spirits required support. He was a nervous man, easily depressed; fond
of everybody he was used to, and hating to part with them; hating change
of every kind. Matrimony, as the origin of change, was always
disagreeable to him; and he was not yet reconciled to his own daughter
marrying, nor could ever speak of her but with compassion, though it had
been entirely a match of affection, when he was n