claims on Isabella, except his own. He sat musing a little while, and then said,
“But I do not see why poor Isabella should be obliged to go back so soon, though he does. I think, Emma, I shall try and persuade her to stay longer with us. She and the children might stay very well.”
“Ah! papa–that is what you never have been able to accomplish, and I do not think you ever will. Isabella cannot bear to stay behind her husband.”
That was too true for contradiction. Unwelcome as it was, Mr. Woodhouse could only give a submissive sigh; and Emma saw his spirits affected by the idea of his daughter’s attachment to her husband, she immediately led to such a branch of the subject as must raise them.
“Harriet must give us as much of her company as she can while my brother and sister are here. I am sure she will be pleased with the children. We are very proud of the children, are we not, papa? I wonder which she will think the handsomest, Henry or John?”
“Aye, I wonder which she will. Poor little dears, how glad they will be to come. They are very fond of being at Hartfield, Harriet.”
“I dare say they are, sir. I am sure I do not know who is not.”
“Henry is a fine boy, but John is very much like his mamma. Henry is the eldest, he was named after me, not his father. John, the second, is named after his father. Some people are surprized, I believe, that the eldest was not, but Isabella would have him called Henry, which I thought very pretty of her. And he is a very clever boy, indeed. They are all remarkably clever; and they have so many pretty ways. They will come and stand by my chair, and say, ‘Grand-papa, can you give me a bit of string?’ and once Henry asked me for a knife,