Эмма / Emma

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Emma Woodhouse[1], handsome, clever, and rich, with a comfortable home and happy disposition, had lived nearly twenty-one years in the world with very little to distress or vex her. She was the youngest of the two daughters of a most affectionate, indulgent father; and had, in consequence of her sister’s marriage, been mistress of his house from a very early period. Her mother had died long ago.

Sixteen years had Miss Taylor[2] been in Mr. Woodhouse’s family, less as a governess than a friend, very fond of both daughters, but particularly of Emma. Between them it was more the intimacy of sisters. Then Miss Taylor married. It was Miss Taylor’s loss which first brought grief. It was on the wedding-day of this beloved friend that Emma first sat in mournful thought. The wedding was over, and the bride-people had gone, and Emma’s father and herself were left to dine together. Her father had gone to sleep after dinner, as usual, and she had then only to sit and think of what she had lost.

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“Miss Woodhouse has given her friend the only beauty she wanted,” observed Mrs. Weston. “The expression of the eye is most correct, but Miss Smith has not those eyebrows and eyelashes. It is the fault of her face that she has them not.”

“Do you think so?” replied Mr. Elton. “I cannot agree with you. It appears to me a most perfect resemblance in every feature. I never saw such a likeness in my life, you know.”

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