sort good—­hautboy infinitely superior—­no comparison—­ the others hardly eatable—­hautboys very scarce—­Chili preferred—­ white wood finest flavour of all—­price of strawberries in London—­ abundance about Bristol—­Maple Grove—­cultivation—­beds when to be renewed—­gardeners thinking exactly different—­no general rule—­ gardeners never to be put out of their way—­delicious fruit—­ only too rich to be eaten much of—­inferior to cherries—­ currants more refreshing—­only objection to gathering strawberries the stooping—­glaring sun—­tired to death—­could bear it no longer—­ must go and sit in the shade.”

Such, for half an hour, was the conversation—­interrupted only once by Mrs. Weston, who came out, in her solicitude after her son-in-law, to inquire if he were come—­and she was a little uneasy.—­ She had some fears of his horse.

Seats tolerably in the shade were found; and now Emma was obliged to overhear what Mrs. Elton and Jane Fairfax were talking of.—­ A situation, a most desirable situation, was in question.  Mrs. Elton had received notice of it that morning, and was in raptures.  It was not with Mrs. Suckling, it was not with Mrs. Bragge, but in felicity and splendour it fell short only of them:  it was with a cousin of Mrs. Bragge, an acquaintance of Mrs. Suckling, a lady known at Maple Grove.  Delightful, charming, superior, first circles, spheres, lines, ranks, every thing—­and Mrs. Elton was wild to have the offer closed with immediately.—­On her side, all was warmth, energy, and triumph—­and she positively refused to take her friend’s negative, though Miss Fairfax continued to assure her that she would not at present engage in any thing, repeating the same motives which she had been heard to urge before.—­ Still Mrs. Elton insisted on being authorised to write an acquiescence by the morrow’s post.—­How Jane could bear it at all, was astonishing to Emma.—­She did look vexed, she did speak pointedly—­and at last, with a decision of action unusual to her, proposed a removal.—­ “Should not they walk?  Would not Mr. Knightley shew them the gardens—­ all the gardens?—­She wished to see the whole extent.”—­The pertinacity of her friend seemed more than she could bear.

It was hot; and after walking some time over the gardens in a scattered, dispersed way, scarcely any three together, they insensibly followed one another to the delicious shade of a broad short avenue of limes, which stretching beyond the garden at an equal distance from the river, seemed the finish of the pleasure grounds.—­ It led to nothing; nothing but a view at the end over a low stone wall with high pillars, which seemed intended, in their erection, to give the appearance of an approach to the house, which never had been there.  Disputable, however, as might be the taste of such a termination, it was in itself a charming walk, and the view which closed it extremely pretty.—­The considerable slope, at nearly the foot of which the Abbey stood, gradually acquired a steeper form beyond its grounds; and at half a mile distant was a bank of considerable abruptness and grandeur, well clothed with wood;—­ and at the bottom of this bank, favourably placed and sheltered, rose the Abbey Mill Farm, with meadows in front, and the river making a close and handsome curve around it.