 style, burying under a calmness that seemed all
but indifference, the real attachment which would have led either of them, if
requisite, to do every thing for the good of the other.
    The evening was quiet and conversible, as Mr. Woodhouse declined cards
entirely for the sake of comfortable talk with his dear Isabella, and the little
party made two natural divisions; on one side he and his daughter; on the other
the two Mr. Knightleys; their subjects totally distinct, or very rarely mixing -
and Emma only occasionally joining in one or the other.
    The brothers talked of their own concerns and pursuits, but principally of
those of the elder, whose temper was by much the most communicative, and who was
always the greater talker. As a magistrate, he had generally some point of law
to consult John about, or, at least, some curious anecdote to give; and as a
farmer, as keeping in hand the home-farm at Donwell, he had to tell what every
field was to bear next year, and to give all such local information as could not
fail of being interesting to a brother whose home it had equally been the
longest part of his life, and whose attachments were strong. The plan of a
drain, the change of a fence, the felling of a tree, and the destination of
every acre for wheat, turnips, or spring corn, was entered into with as much
equality of interest by John, as his cooler manners rendered possible; and if
his willing brother ever left him any thing to inquire about, his inquiries even
approached a tone of eagerness.
    While they were thus comfortably occupied, Mr. Woodhouse was enjoying a full
flow of happy regrets and fearful affection with his daughter.
    »My poor dear Isabella,« said he, fondly taking her hand, and interrupting,
for a few moments, her busy labours for some one of her five children - »How
long it is, how terribly long since you were here! And how tired you must be
after your journey! You must go to bed early, my dear - and I recommend a little
gruel to you before you go. - You and I will have a nice basin of gruel
together. My dear Emma, suppose we all have a little gruel.«
    Emma could not suppose any such thing, knowing, as she did, that both the
Mr. Knightleys were as unpersuadable on that article as herself; - and two
basins only were ordered. After a little more discourse in praise of gruel, with
some wondering at its not being taken every evening by
