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games;
and dwelt a good deal upon his being so very good-humoured and
obliging. She felt no danger being out with him. Mr. Martin was a
tough sort of man in his own way and an excellent marksman. He
always walked with his rifle these days and carried it on their
times together. He had gone three miles round one day in order to
bring her some walnuts, because she had said how fond she was of
them, and in every thing else he was so very obliging. He had his
shepherd’s son into the parlour one night on purpose to sing to
her. She was very fond of singing. He could sing a little himself.
She believed he was very clever, and understood every thing. He had
a very fine flock, which he guarded closely, and, while she was
with them, he had been bid more for his wool than any body in the
country. She believed every body spoke well of him. His mother and
sisters were very fond of him. Mrs. Martin had told her one day
(and there was a blush as she said it) that it was impossible for
any body to be a better son, and therefore she was sure, whenever
he married, he would make a good husband. Not that she wanted him
to marry. She was in no hurry at all.
    Well done, Mrs. Martin! thought Emma. You
know what you are about.
    “ And when she had come
away, Mrs. Martin was so very kind as to send Mrs. Goddard a
beautiful goose—the finest goose Mrs. Goddard had ever seen. Mrs.
Goddard had dressed it on a Sunday, and asked all the three
teachers, Miss Nash, and Miss Prince, and Miss Richardson, to sup
with her.”
    “ Mr. Martin, I suppose, is
not a man of information beyond the line of his own business? He
does not read?”
    “ Oh yes! that is, no—I do
not know—but I believe he has read a good deal—but not what you
would think any thing of. He reads the Agricultural Reports, and
some other books that lay in one of the window seats—but he reads
all them to himself. But sometimes of an evening, before we went to
cards, he would read something aloud out of the ‘Elegant Extracts,’
very entertaining. And I know he has read the ‘Vicar of Wakefield.’
He never read the ‘Romance of the Forest,’ nor ‘The Children of the
Abbey.’ He had never heard of such books before I mentioned them,
but he is determined to get them now as soon as ever he
can.”
    The next question
was—
    “ What sort of looking man
is Mr. Martin?”
    “ Oh! not handsome—not at
all handsome. I thought him very plain at first, but I do not think
him so plain now. One does not, you know, after a time. But did you
never see him? He is in Highbury every now and then, and he is sure
to ride through every week in his way to Kingston. He has passed
you very often.”
    “ That may be, and I may
have seen him fifty times, but without having any idea of his name.
A young farmer, whether on horseback or on foot, is the very last
sort of person to raise my curiosity. The yeomanry are precisely
the order of people with whom I feel I can have nothing to do. A
degree or two lower, and a creditable appearance might interest me;
I might hope to be useful to their families in some way or other.
But a farmer can need none of my help, and is, therefore, in one
sense, as much above my notice as in every other he is below
it.”
    “ To be sure. Oh yes! It is
not likely you should ever have observed him; but he knows you very
well indeed—I mean by sight.”
    “ I have no doubt of his
being a very respectable young man. I know, indeed, that he is so,
and, as such, wish him well. What do you imagine his age to
be?”
    “ He was four-and-twenty the
8th of last June, and my birthday is the 23rd just a fortnight and
a day’s difference—which is very odd.”
    “ Only four-and-twenty. That
is too young to settle. His mother is perfectly right not to be in
a hurry. They seem very comfortable as they are, and if she were to
take any pains to marry him, she would probably repent it. Six
years hence, if he could meet with a good sort of young woman in
the same rank as his own,