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volume i chapter i emma woodhouse, handsome, clever, and rich,with a comfortable home and happy disposition, seemed to unite some of thebest blessings of existence; and had lived nearly twenty-one years in the world withvery little to distress or vex her. she was the youngest of the two daughtersof a most affectionate, indulgent father; and had, in consequence of her sister'smarriage, been mistress of his house from a very early period. her mother had died too long ago for her tohave more than an indistinct remembrance of
her caresses; and her place had beensupplied by an excellent woman as governess, who had fallen little short of amother in affection. sixteen years had miss taylor 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 ofsisters. even before miss taylor had ceased to holdthe nominal office of governess, the mildness of her temper had hardly allowedher to impose any restraint; and the shadow of authority being now long passed away, they had been living together as friend andfriend very mutually attached, and emma
doing just what she liked; highly esteemingmiss taylor's judgment, but directed chiefly by her own. the real evils, indeed, of emma's situationwere the power of having rather too much her own way, and a disposition to think alittle too well of herself; these were the disadvantages which threatened alloy to hermany enjoyments. the danger, however, was at present sounperceived, that they did not by any means rank as misfortunes with her. sorrow came--a gentle sorrow--but not atall in the shape of any disagreeable consciousness.--miss taylor married.it was miss taylor's loss which first
brought grief. it was on the wedding-day of this belovedfriend that emma first sat in mournful thought of any continuance. the wedding over, and the bride-peoplegone, her father and herself were left to dine together, with no prospect of a thirdto cheer a long evening. her father composed himself to sleep afterdinner, as usual, and she had then only to sit and think of what she had lost.the event had every promise of happiness for her friend. mr. weston was a man of unexceptionablecharacter, easy fortune, suitable age, and
pleasant manners; and there was somesatisfaction in considering with what self- denying, generous friendship she had always wished and promoted the match; but it was ablack morning's work for her. the want of miss taylor would be felt everyhour of every day. she recalled her past kindness--thekindness, the affection of sixteen years-- how she had taught and how she had playedwith her from five years old--how she had devoted all her powers to attach and amuse her in health--and how nursed her throughthe various illnesses of childhood. a large debt of gratitude was owing here;but the intercourse of the last seven
years, the equal footing and perfectunreserve which had soon followed isabella's marriage, on their being left to each other, was yet a dearer, tendererrecollection. she had been a friend and companion such asfew possessed: intelligent, well-informed, useful, gentle, knowing all the ways of thefamily, interested in all its concerns, and peculiarly interested in herself, in every pleasure, every scheme of hers--one to whomshe could speak every thought as it arose, and who had such an affection for her ascould never find fault. how was she to bear the change?--it wastrue that her friend was going only half a
mile from them; but emma was aware thatgreat must be the difference between a mrs. weston, only half a mile from them, and a miss taylor in the house; and with all heradvantages, natural and domestic, she was now in great danger of suffering fromintellectual solitude. she dearly loved her father, but he was nocompanion for her. he could not meet her in conversation,rational or playful. the evil of the actual disparity in theirages (and mr. woodhouse had not married early) was much increased by hisconstitution and habits; for having been a valetudinarian all his life, without
activity of mind or body, he was a mucholder man in ways than in years; and though everywhere beloved for the friendliness ofhis heart and his amiable temper, his talents could not have recommended him atany time. her sister, though comparatively but littleremoved by matrimony, being settled in london, only sixteen miles off, was muchbeyond her daily reach; and many a long october and november evening must be struggled through at hartfield, beforechristmas brought the next visit from isabella and her husband, and their littlechildren, to fill the house, and give her pleasant society again.
highbury, the large and populous village,almost amounting to a town, to which hartfield, in spite of its separate lawn,and shrubberies, and name, did really belong, afforded her no equals. the woodhouses were first in consequencethere. all looked up to them. she had many acquaintance in the place, forher father was universally civil, but not one among them who could be accepted inlieu of miss taylor for even half a day. it was a melancholy change; and emma couldnot but sigh over it, and wish for impossible things, till her father awoke,and made it necessary to be cheerful.
his spirits required support. he was a nervous man, easily depressed;fond of every body that he was used to, and hating to part with them; hating change ofevery kind. matrimony, as the origin of change, wasalways disagreeable; and he was by no means yet reconciled to his own daughter'smarrying, nor could ever speak of her but with compassion, though it had been entirely a match of affection, when he wasnow obliged to part with miss taylor too; and from his habits of gentle selfishness,and of being never able to suppose that other people could feel differently from
himself, he was very much disposed to thinkmiss taylor had done as sad a thing for herself as for them, and would have been agreat deal happier if she had spent all the rest of her life at hartfield. emma smiled and chatted as cheerfully asshe could, to keep him from such thoughts; but when tea came, it was impossible forhim not to say exactly as he had said at dinner, "poor miss taylor!--i wish she were hereagain. what a pity it is that mr. weston everthought of her!" "i cannot agree with you, papa; you know icannot.
mr. weston is such a good-humoured,pleasant, excellent man, that he thoroughly deserves a good wife;--and you would nothave had miss taylor live with us for ever, and bear all my odd humours, when she mighthave a house of her own?" "a house of her own!--but where is theadvantage of a house of her own? this is three times as large.--and you havenever any odd humours, my dear." "how often we shall be going to see them,and they coming to see us!--we shall be always meeting! we must begin; we must go and pay weddingvisit very soon." "my dear, how am i to get so far?randalls is such a distance.
i could not walk half so far." "no, papa, nobody thought of your walking.we must go in the carriage, to be sure." "the carriage! but james will not like to put the horsesto for such a little way;--and where are the poor horses to be while we are payingour visit?" "they are to be put into mr. weston'sstable, papa. you know we have settled all that already.we talked it all over with mr. weston last night. and as for james, you may be very sure hewill always like going to randalls, because
of his daughter's being housemaid there.i only doubt whether he will ever take us anywhere else. that was your doing, papa.you got hannah that good place. nobody thought of hannah till you mentionedher--james is so obliged to you!" "i am very glad i did think of her. it was very lucky, for i would not have hadpoor james think himself slighted upon any account; and i am sure she will make a verygood servant: she is a civil, pretty-spoken girl; i have a great opinion of her. whenever i see her, she always curtseys andasks me how i do, in a very pretty manner;
and when you have had her here to doneedlework, i observe she always turns the lock of the door the right way and neverbangs it. i am sure she will be an excellent servant;and it will be a great comfort to poor miss taylor to have somebody about her that sheis used to see. whenever james goes over to see hisdaughter, you know, she will be hearing of us.he will be able to tell her how we all are." emma spared no exertions to maintain thishappier flow of ideas, and hoped, by the help of backgammon, to get her fathertolerably through the evening, and be
attacked by no regrets but her own. the backgammon-table was placed; but avisitor immediately afterwards walked in and made it unnecessary. mr. knightley, a sensible man about sevenor eight-and-thirty, was not only a very old and intimate friend of the family, butparticularly connected with it, as the elder brother of isabella's husband. he lived about a mile from highbury, was afrequent visitor, and always welcome, and at this time more welcome than usual, ascoming directly from their mutual connexions in london.
he had returned to a late dinner, aftersome days' absence, and now walked up to hartfield to say that all were well inbrunswick square. it was a happy circumstance, and animatedmr. woodhouse for some time. mr. knightley had a cheerful manner, whichalways did him good; and his many inquiries after "poor isabella" and her children wereanswered most satisfactorily. when this was over, mr. woodhousegratefully observed, "it is very kind of you, mr. knightley, to come out at thislate hour to call upon us. i am afraid you must have had a shockingwalk." "not at all, sir.
it is a beautiful moonlight night; and somild that i must draw back from your great fire.""but you must have found it very damp and dirty. i wish you may not catch cold.""dirty, sir! look at my shoes.not a speck on them." "well! that is quite surprising, for wehave had a vast deal of rain here. it rained dreadfully hard for half an hourwhile we were at breakfast. i wanted them to put off the wedding." "by the bye--i have not wished you joy.being pretty well aware of what sort of joy
you must both be feeling, i have been in nohurry with my congratulations; but i hope it all went off tolerably well. how did you all behave?who cried most?" "ah! poor miss taylor!'tis a sad business." "poor mr. and miss woodhouse, if youplease; but i cannot possibly say 'poor miss taylor.' i have a great regard for you and emma; butwhen it comes to the question of dependence or independence!--at any rate, it must bebetter to have only one to please than two."
"especially when one of those two is sucha fanciful, troublesome creature!" said emma playfully. "that is what you have in your head, iknow--and what you would certainly say if my father were not by.""i believe it is very true, my dear, indeed," said mr. woodhouse, with a sigh. "i am afraid i am sometimes very fancifuland troublesome." "my dearest papa!you do not think i could mean you, or suppose mr. knightley to mean you. what a horrible idea!oh no!
i meant only myself.mr. knightley loves to find fault with me, you know--in a joke--it is all a joke. we always say what we like to one another." mr. knightley, in fact, was one of the fewpeople who could see faults in emma woodhouse, and the only one who ever toldher of them: and though this was not particularly agreeable to emma herself, she knew it would be so much less so to herfather, that she would not have him really suspect such a circumstance as her notbeing thought perfect by every body. "emma knows i never flatter her," said mr.knightley, "but i meant no reflection on
any body. miss taylor has been used to have twopersons to please; she will now have but one.the chances are that she must be a gainer." "well," said emma, willing to let it pass--"you want to hear about the wedding; and i shall be happy to tell you, for we allbehaved charmingly. every body was punctual, every body intheir best looks: not a tear, and hardly a long face to be seen. oh no; we all felt that we were going to beonly half a mile apart, and were sure of meeting every day.""dear emma bears every thing so well," said
her father. "but, mr. knightley, she is really verysorry to lose poor miss taylor, and i am sure she will miss her more than shethinks for." emma turned away her head, divided betweentears and smiles. "it is impossible that emma should not misssuch a companion," said mr. knightley. "we should not like her so well as we do,sir, if we could suppose it; but she knows how much the marriage is to miss taylor'sadvantage; she knows how very acceptable it must be, at miss taylor's time of life, to be settled in a home of her own, and howimportant to her to be secure of a
comfortable provision, and therefore cannotallow herself to feel so much pain as pleasure. every friend of miss taylor must be glad tohave her so happily married." "and you have forgotten one matter of joyto me," said emma, "and a very considerable one--that i made the match myself. i made the match, you know, four years ago;and to have it take place, and be proved in the right, when so many people said mr.weston would never marry again, may comfort me for any thing." mr. knightley shook his head at her.her father fondly replied, "ah! my dear, i
wish you would not make matches andforetell things, for whatever you say always comes to pass. pray do not make any more matches.""i promise you to make none for myself, papa; but i must, indeed, for other people.it is the greatest amusement in the world! and after such success, you know!--everybody said that mr. weston would never marry again.oh dear, no! mr. weston, who had been a widower so long,and who seemed so perfectly comfortable without a wife, so constantly occupiedeither in his business in town or among his friends here, always acceptable wherever he
went, always cheerful--mr. weston need notspend a single evening in the year alone if he did not like it.oh no! mr. weston certainly would never marryagain. some people even talked of a promise to hiswife on her deathbed, and others of the son and the uncle not letting him. all manner of solemn nonsense was talked onthe subject, but i believed none of it. "ever since the day--about four years ago--that miss taylor and i met with him in broadway lane, when, because it began todrizzle, he darted away with so much gallantry, and borrowed two umbrellas for
us from farmer mitchell's, i made up mymind on the subject. i planned the match from that hour; andwhen such success has blessed me in this instance, dear papa, you cannot think thati shall leave off match-making." "i do not understand what you mean by'success,'" said mr. knightley. "success supposes endeavour. your time has been properly and delicatelyspent, if you have been endeavouring for the last four years to bring about thismarriage. a worthy employment for a young lady'smind! but if, which i rather imagine, your makingthe match, as you call it, means only your
planning it, your saying to yourself oneidle day, 'i think it would be a very good thing for miss taylor if mr. weston were to marry her,' and saying it again to yourselfevery now and then afterwards, why do you talk of success?where is your merit? what are you proud of? you made a lucky guess; and that is allthat can be said." "and have you never known the pleasure andtriumph of a lucky guess?--i pity you.--i thought you cleverer--for, depend upon it alucky guess is never merely luck. there is always some talent in it.
and as to my poor word 'success,' which youquarrel with, i do not know that i am so entirely without any claim to it. you have drawn two pretty pictures; but ithink there may be a third--a something between the do-nothing and the do-all. if i had not promoted mr. weston's visitshere, and given many little encouragements, and smoothed many little matters, it mightnot have come to any thing after all. i think you must know hartfield enough tocomprehend that." "a straightforward, open-hearted man likeweston, and a rational, unaffected woman like miss taylor, may be safely left tomanage their own concerns.
you are more likely to have done harm toyourself, than good to them, by interference." "emma never thinks of herself, if she cando good to others," rejoined mr. woodhouse, understanding but in part. "but, my dear, pray do not make any morematches; they are silly things, and break up one's family circle grievously.""only one more, papa; only for mr. elton. poor mr. elton! you like mr. elton, papa,--i must lookabout for a wife for him. there is nobody in highbury who deserveshim--and he has been here a whole year, and
has fitted up his house so comfortably,that it would be a shame to have him single any longer--and i thought when he was joining their hands to-day, he looked sovery much as if he would like to have the same kind office done for him! i think very well of mr. elton, and this isthe only way i have of doing him a service." "mr. elton is a very pretty young man, tobe sure, and a very good young man, and i have a great regard for him. but if you want to shew him any attention,my dear, ask him to come and dine with us
some day.that will be a much better thing. i dare say mr. knightley will be so kind asto meet him." "with a great deal of pleasure, sir, at anytime," said mr. knightley, laughing, "and i agree with you entirely, that it will be amuch better thing. invite him to dinner, emma, and help him tothe best of the fish and the chicken, but leave him to chuse his own wife.depend upon it, a man of six or seven-and- twenty can take care of himself." > chapter ii
mr. weston was a native of highbury, andborn of a respectable family, which for the last two or three generations had beenrising into gentility and property. he had received a good education, but, onsucceeding early in life to a small independence, had become indisposed for anyof the more homely pursuits in which his brothers were engaged, and had satisfied an active, cheerful mind and social temper byentering into the militia of his county, then embodied. captain weston was a general favourite; andwhen the chances of his military life had introduced him to miss churchill, of agreat yorkshire family, and miss churchill
fell in love with him, nobody was surprized, except her brother and his wife,who had never seen him, and who were full of pride and importance, which theconnexion would offend. miss churchill, however, being of age, andwith the full command of her fortune-- though her fortune bore no proportion tothe family-estate--was not to be dissuaded from the marriage, and it took place, to the infinite mortification of mr. and mrs.churchill, who threw her off with due decorum.it was an unsuitable connexion, and did not produce much happiness.
mrs. weston ought to have found more in it,for she had a husband whose warm heart and sweet temper made him think every thing dueto her in return for the great goodness of being in love with him; but though she hadone sort of spirit, she had not the best. she had resolution enough to pursue her ownwill in spite of her brother, but not enough to refrain from unreasonable regretsat that brother's unreasonable anger, nor from missing the luxuries of her formerhome. they lived beyond their income, but stillit was nothing in comparison of enscombe: she did not cease to love her husband, butshe wanted at once to be the wife of captain weston, and miss churchill ofenscombe.
captain weston, who had been considered,especially by the churchills, as making such an amazing match, was proved to havemuch the worst of the bargain; for when his wife died, after a three years' marriage, he was rather a poorer man than at first,and with a child to maintain. from the expense of the child, however, hewas soon relieved. the boy had, with the additional softeningclaim of a lingering illness of his mother's, been the means of a sort ofreconciliation; and mr. and mrs. churchill, having no children of their own, nor any other young creature of equal kindred tocare for, offered to take the whole charge
of the little frank soon after her decease. some scruples and some reluctance thewidower-father may be supposed to have felt; but as they were overcome by otherconsiderations, the child was given up to the care and the wealth of the churchills, and he had only his own comfort to seek,and his own situation to improve as he could.a complete change of life became desirable. he quitted the militia and engaged intrade, having brothers already established in a good way in london, which afforded hima favourable opening. it was a concern which brought justemployment enough.
he had still a small house in highbury,where most of his leisure days were spent; and between useful occupation and thepleasures of society, the next eighteen or twenty years of his life passed cheerfullyaway. he had, by that time, realised an easycompetence--enough to secure the purchase of a little estate adjoining highbury,which he had always longed for--enough to marry a woman as portionless even as miss taylor, and to live according to the wishesof his own friendly and social disposition. it was now some time since miss taylor hadbegun to influence his schemes; but as it was not the tyrannic influence of youth onyouth, it had not shaken his determination
of never settling till he could purchase randalls, and the sale of randalls was longlooked forward to; but he had gone steadily on, with these objects in view, till theywere accomplished. he had made his fortune, bought his house,and obtained his wife; and was beginning a new period of existence, with everyprobability of greater happiness than in any yet passed through. he had never been an unhappy man; his owntemper had secured him from that, even in his first marriage; but his second mustshew him how delightful a well-judging and truly amiable woman could be, and must give
him the pleasantest proof of its being agreat deal better to choose than to be chosen, to excite gratitude than to feelit. he had only himself to please in hischoice: his fortune was his own; for as to frank, it was more than being tacitlybrought up as his uncle's heir, it had become so avowed an adoption as to have him assume the name of churchill on coming ofage. it was most unlikely, therefore, that heshould ever want his father's assistance. his father had no apprehension of it. the aunt was a capricious woman, andgoverned her husband entirely; but it was
not in mr. weston's nature to imagine thatany caprice could be strong enough to affect one so dear, and, as he believed, sodeservedly dear. he saw his son every year in london, andwas proud of him; and his fond report of him as a very fine young man had madehighbury feel a sort of pride in him too. he was looked on as sufficiently belongingto the place to make his merits and prospects a kind of common concern. mr. frank churchill was one of the boastsof highbury, and a lively curiosity to see him prevailed, though the compliment was solittle returned that he had never been there in his life.
his coming to visit his father had beenoften talked of but never achieved. now, upon his father's marriage, it wasvery generally proposed, as a most proper attention, that the visit should takeplace. there was not a dissentient voice on thesubject, either when mrs. perry drank tea with mrs. and miss bates, or when mrs. andmiss bates returned the visit. now was the time for mr. frank churchill tocome among them; and the hope strengthened when it was understood that he had writtento his new mother on the occasion. for a few days, every morning visit inhighbury included some mention of the handsome letter mrs. weston had received.
"i suppose you have heard of the handsomeletter mr. frank churchill has written to mrs. weston?i understand it was a very handsome letter, indeed. mr. woodhouse told me of it.mr. woodhouse saw the letter, and he says he never saw such a handsome letter in hislife." it was, indeed, a highly prized letter. mrs. weston had, of course, formed a veryfavourable idea of the young man; and such a pleasing attention was an irresistibleproof of his great good sense, and a most welcome addition to every source and every
expression of congratulation which hermarriage had already secured. she felt herself a most fortunate woman;and she had lived long enough to know how fortunate she might well be thought, wherethe only regret was for a partial separation from friends whose friendship for her had never cooled, and who could illbear to part with her. she knew that at times she must be missed;and could not think, without pain, of emma's losing a single pleasure, orsuffering an hour's ennui, from the want of her companionableness: but dear emma was of no feeble character; she was more equal toher situation than most girls would have
been, and had sense, and energy, andspirits that might be hoped would bear her well and happily through its littledifficulties and privations. and then there was such comfort in the veryeasy distance of randalls from hartfield, so convenient for even solitary femalewalking, and in mr. weston's disposition and circumstances, which would make the approaching season no hindrance to theirspending half the evenings in the week together. her situation was altogether the subject ofhours of gratitude to mrs. weston, and of moments only of regret; and hersatisfaction--her more than satisfaction--
her cheerful enjoyment, was so just and so apparent, that emma, well as she knew herfather, was sometimes taken by surprize at his being still able to pity 'poor misstaylor,' when they left her at randalls in the centre of every domestic comfort, or saw her go away in the evening attended byher pleasant husband to a carriage of her own. but never did she go without mr.woodhouse's giving a gentle sigh, and saying, "ah, poor miss taylor!she would be very glad to stay." there was no recovering miss taylor--normuch likelihood of ceasing to pity her; but
a few weeks brought some alleviation to mr.woodhouse. the compliments of his neighbours wereover; he was no longer teased by being wished joy of so sorrowful an event; andthe wedding-cake, which had been a great distress to him, was all eat up. his own stomach could bear nothing rich,and he could never believe other people to be different from himself. what was unwholesome to him he regarded asunfit for any body; and he had, therefore, earnestly tried to dissuade them fromhaving any wedding-cake at all, and when that proved vain, as earnestly tried toprevent any body's eating it.
he had been at the pains of consulting mr.perry, the apothecary, on the subject. mr. perry was an intelligent, gentlemanlikeman, whose frequent visits were one of the comforts of mr. woodhouse's life; and uponbeing applied to, he could not but acknowledge (though it seemed rather against the bias of inclination) thatwedding-cake might certainly disagree with many--perhaps with most people, unlesstaken moderately. with such an opinion, in confirmation ofhis own, mr. woodhouse hoped to influence every visitor of the newly married pair;but still the cake was eaten; and there was no rest for his benevolent nerves till itwas all gone.
there was a strange rumour in highbury ofall the little perrys being seen with a slice of mrs. weston's wedding-cake intheir hands: but mr. woodhouse would never believe it. chapter iii mr. woodhouse was fond of society in hisown way. he liked very much to have his friends comeand see him; and from various united causes, from his long residence athartfield, and his good nature, from his fortune, his house, and his daughter, he could command the visits of his own littlecircle, in a great measure, as he liked.
he had not much intercourse with anyfamilies beyond that circle; his horror of late hours, and large dinner-parties, madehim unfit for any acquaintance but such as would visit him on his own terms. fortunately for him, highbury, includingrandalls in the same parish, and donwell abbey in the parish adjoining, the seat ofmr. knightley, comprehended many such. not unfrequently, through emma'spersuasion, he had some of the chosen and the best to dine with him: but eveningparties were what he preferred; and, unless he fancied himself at any time unequal to company, there was scarcely an evening inthe week in which emma could not make up a
card-table for him. real, long-standing regard brought thewestons and mr. knightley; and by mr. elton, a young man living alone withoutliking it, the privilege of exchanging any vacant evening of his own blank solitude for the elegancies and society of mr.woodhouse's drawing-room, and the smiles of his lovely daughter, was in no danger ofbeing thrown away. after these came a second set; among themost come-at-able of whom were mrs. and miss bates, and mrs. goddard, three ladiesalmost always at the service of an invitation from hartfield, and who were
fetched and carried home so often, that mr.woodhouse thought it no hardship for either james or the horses.had it taken place only once a year, it would have been a grievance. mrs. bates, the widow of a former vicar ofhighbury, was a very old lady, almost past every thing but tea and quadrille. she lived with her single daughter in avery small way, and was considered with all the regard and respect which a harmless oldlady, under such untoward circumstances, can excite. her daughter enjoyed a most uncommon degreeof popularity for a woman neither young,
handsome, rich, nor married. miss bates stood in the very worstpredicament in the world for having much of the public favour; and she had nointellectual superiority to make atonement to herself, or frighten those who mighthate her into outward respect. she had never boasted either beauty orcleverness. her youth had passed without distinction,and her middle of life was devoted to the care of a failing mother, and the endeavourto make a small income go as far as possible. and yet she was a happy woman, and a womanwhom no one named without good-will.
it was her own universal good-will andcontented temper which worked such wonders. she loved every body, was interested inevery body's happiness, quicksighted to every body's merits; thought herself a mostfortunate creature, and surrounded with blessings in such an excellent mother, and so many good neighbours and friends, and ahome that wanted for nothing. the simplicity and cheerfulness of hernature, her contented and grateful spirit, were a recommendation to every body, and amine of felicity to herself. she was a great talker upon little matters,which exactly suited mr. woodhouse, full of trivial communications and harmless gossip.
mrs. goddard was the mistress of a school--not of a seminary, or an establishment, or any thing which professed, in longsentences of refined nonsense, to combine liberal acquirements with elegant morality, upon new principles and new systems--andwhere young ladies for enormous pay might be screwed out of health and into vanity--but a real, honest, old-fashioned boarding- school, where a reasonable quantity of accomplishments were sold at a reasonableprice, and where girls might be sent to be out of the way, and scramble themselvesinto a little education, without any danger of coming back prodigies.
mrs. goddard's school was in high repute--and very deservedly; for highbury was reckoned a particularly healthy spot: shehad an ample house and garden, gave the children plenty of wholesome food, let them run about a great deal in the summer, andin winter dressed their chilblains with her own hands. it was no wonder that a train of twentyyoung couple now walked after her to church. she was a plain, motherly kind of woman,who had worked hard in her youth, and now thought herself entitled to the occasionalholiday of a tea-visit; and having formerly
owed much to mr. woodhouse's kindness, felt his particular claim on her to leave herneat parlour, hung round with fancy-work, whenever she could, and win or lose a fewsixpences by his fireside. these were the ladies whom emma foundherself very frequently able to collect; and happy was she, for her father's sake,in the power; though, as far as she was herself concerned, it was no remedy for theabsence of mrs. weston. she was delighted to see her father lookcomfortable, and very much pleased with herself for contriving things so well; butthe quiet prosings of three such women made her feel that every evening so spent was
indeed one of the long evenings she hadfearfully anticipated. as she sat one morning, looking forward toexactly such a close of the present day, a note was brought from mrs. goddard,requesting, in most respectful terms, to be allowed to bring miss smith with her; a most welcome request: for miss smith was agirl of seventeen, whom emma knew very well by sight, and had long felt an interest in,on account of her beauty. a very gracious invitation was returned,and the evening no longer dreaded by the fair mistress of the mansion.harriet smith was the natural daughter of somebody.
somebody had placed her, several yearsback, at mrs. goddard's school, and somebody had lately raised her from thecondition of scholar to that of parlour- boarder. this was all that was generally known ofher history. she had no visible friends but what hadbeen acquired at highbury, and was now just returned from a long visit in the countryto some young ladies who had been at school there with her. she was a very pretty girl, and her beautyhappened to be of a sort which emma particularly admired.
she was short, plump, and fair, with a finebloom, blue eyes, light hair, regular features, and a look of great sweetness,and, before the end of the evening, emma was as much pleased with her manners as her person, and quite determined to continuethe acquaintance. she was not struck by any thing remarkablyclever in miss smith's conversation, but she found her altogether very engaging--notinconveniently shy, not unwilling to talk-- and yet so far from pushing, shewing so proper and becoming a deference, seeming sopleasantly grateful for being admitted to hartfield, and so artlessly impressed bythe appearance of every thing in so
superior a style to what she had been used to, that she must have good sense, anddeserve encouragement. encouragement should be given. those soft blue eyes, and all those naturalgraces, should not be wasted on the inferior society of highbury and itsconnexions. the acquaintance she had already formedwere unworthy of her. the friends from whom she had just parted,though very good sort of people, must be doing her harm. they were a family of the name of martin,whom emma well knew by character, as
renting a large farm of mr. knightley, andresiding in the parish of donwell--very creditably, she believed--she knew mr. knightley thought highly of them--but theymust be coarse and unpolished, and very unfit to be the intimates of a girl whowanted only a little more knowledge and elegance to be quite perfect. she would notice her; she would improveher; she would detach her from her bad acquaintance, and introduce her into goodsociety; she would form her opinions and her manners. it would be an interesting, and certainly avery kind undertaking; highly becoming her
own situation in life, her leisure, andpowers. she was so busy in admiring those soft blueeyes, in talking and listening, and forming all these schemes in the in-betweens, thatthe evening flew away at a very unusual rate; and the supper-table, which always closed such parties, and for which she hadbeen used to sit and watch the due time, was all set out and ready, and movedforwards to the fire, before she was aware. with an alacrity beyond the common impulseof a spirit which yet was never indifferent to the credit of doing every thing well andattentively, with the real good-will of a mind delighted with its own ideas, did she
then do all the honours of the meal, andhelp and recommend the minced chicken and scalloped oysters, with an urgency whichshe knew would be acceptable to the early hours and civil scruples of their guests. upon such occasions poor mr. woodhousesfeelings were in sad warfare. he loved to have the cloth laid, because ithad been the fashion of his youth, but his conviction of suppers being veryunwholesome made him rather sorry to see any thing put on it; and while his hospitality would have welcomed hisvisitors to every thing, his care for their health made him grieve that they would eat.
such another small basin of thin gruel ashis own was all that he could, with thorough self-approbation, recommend;though he might constrain himself, while the ladies were comfortably clearing thenicer things, to say: "mrs. bates, let me propose your venturingon one of these eggs. an egg boiled very soft is not unwholesome. serle understands boiling an egg betterthan any body. i would not recommend an egg boiled by anybody else; but you need not be afraid, they are very small, you see--one of our smalleggs will not hurt you. miss bates, let emma help you to a littlebit of tart--a very little bit.
ours are all apple-tarts.you need not be afraid of unwholesome preserves here. i do not advise the custard.mrs. goddard, what say you to half a glass of wine?a small half-glass, put into a tumbler of water? i do not think it could disagree with you." emma allowed her father to talk--butsupplied her visitors in a much more satisfactory style, and on the presentevening had particular pleasure in sending them away happy.
the happiness of miss smith was quite equalto her intentions. miss woodhouse was so great a personage inhighbury, that the prospect of the introduction had given as much panic aspleasure; but the humble, grateful little girl went off with highly gratified feelings, delighted with the affabilitywith which miss woodhouse had treated her all the evening, and actually shaken handswith her at last! chapter iv harriet smith's intimacy at hartfield wassoon a settled thing. quick and decided in her ways, emma lost notime in inviting, encouraging, and telling
her to come very often; and as theiracquaintance increased, so did their satisfaction in each other. as a walking companion, emma had very earlyforeseen how useful she might find her. in that respect mrs. weston's loss had beenimportant. her father never went beyond the shrubbery,where two divisions of the ground sufficed him for his long walk, or his short, as theyear varied; and since mrs. weston's marriage her exercise had been too muchconfined. she had ventured once alone to randalls,but it was not pleasant; and a harriet smith, therefore, one whom she could summonat any time to a walk, would be a valuable
addition to her privileges. but in every respect, as she saw more ofher, she approved her, and was confirmed in all her kind designs. harriet certainly was not clever, but shehad a sweet, docile, grateful disposition, was totally free from conceit, and onlydesiring to be guided by any one she looked up to. her early attachment to herself was veryamiable; and her inclination for good company, and power of appreciating what waselegant and clever, shewed that there was no want of taste, though strength ofunderstanding must not be expected.
altogether she was quite convinced ofharriet smith's being exactly the young friend she wanted--exactly the somethingwhich her home required. such a friend as mrs. weston was out of thequestion. two such could never be granted.two such she did not want. it was quite a different sort of thing, asentiment distinct and independent. mrs. weston was the object of a regardwhich had its basis in gratitude and esteem. harriet would be loved as one to whom shecould be useful. for mrs. weston there was nothing to bedone; for harriet every thing.
her first attempts at usefulness were in anendeavour to find out who were the parents, but harriet could not tell. she was ready to tell every thing in herpower, but on this subject questions were vain. emma was obliged to fancy what she liked--but she could never believe that in the same situation she should not havediscovered the truth. harriet had no penetration. she had been satisfied to hear and believejust what mrs. goddard chose to tell her; and looked no farther.
mrs. goddard, and the teachers, and thegirls and the affairs of the school in general, formed naturally a great part ofthe conversation--and but for her acquaintance with the martins of abbey-millfarm, it must have been the whole. but the martins occupied her thoughts agood deal; she had spent two very happy months with them, and now loved to talk ofthe pleasures of her visit, and describe the many comforts and wonders of the place. emma encouraged her talkativeness--amusedby such a picture of another set of beings, and enjoying the youthful simplicity whichcould speak with so much exultation of mrs. martin's having "two parlours, two very
good parlours, indeed; one of them quite aslarge as mrs. goddard's drawing-room; and of her having an upper maid who had livedfive-and-twenty years with her; and of their having eight cows, two of them alderneys, and one a little welch cow, avery pretty little welch cow indeed; and of mrs. martin's saying as she was so fond ofit, it should be called her cow; and of their having a very handsome summer-house in their garden, where some day next yearthey were all to drink tea:--a very handsome summer-house, large enough to holda dozen people." for some time she was amused, withoutthinking beyond the immediate cause; but as
she came to understand the family better,other feelings arose. she had taken up a wrong idea, fancying itwas a mother and daughter, a son and son's wife, who all lived together; but when itappeared that the mr. martin, who bore a part in the narrative, and was always mentioned with approbation for his greatgood-nature in doing something or other, was a single man; that there was no youngmrs. martin, no wife in the case; she did suspect danger to her poor little friend from all this hospitality and kindness, andthat, if she were not taken care of, she might be required to sink herself forever.
with this inspiriting notion, her questionsincreased in number and meaning; and she particularly led harriet to talk more ofmr. martin, and there was evidently no dislike to it. harriet was very ready to speak of theshare he had had in their moonlight walks and merry evening games; and dwelt a gooddeal upon his being so very good-humoured and obliging. he had gone three miles round one day inorder to bring her some walnuts, because she had said how fond she was of them, andin every thing else he was so very obliging.
he had his shepherd's son into the parlourone 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, andunderstood every thing. he had a very fine flock, and, while shewas 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 therewas 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. martinwas 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 ofinformation beyond the line of his own business?he does not read?"
"oh yes!--that is, no--i do not know--but ibelieve he has read a good deal--but not what you would think any thing of. he reads the agricultural reports, and someother books that lay in one of the window seats--but he reads all them to himself. but sometimes of an evening, before we wentto 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 imentioned 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, andhe 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 hisname.
a young farmer, whether on horseback or onfoot, is the very last sort of person to raise my curiosity. the yeomanry are precisely the order ofpeople with whom i feel i can have nothing to do. a degree or two lower, and a creditableappearance might interest me; i might hope to be useful to their families in some wayor other. but a farmer can need none of my help, andis, therefore, in one sense, as much above my notice as in every other he is belowit." "to be sure.
oh yes!it is not likely you should ever have observed him; but he knows you very wellindeed--i mean by sight." "i have no doubt of his being a veryrespectable young man. i know, indeed, that he is so, and, assuch, wish him well. what do you imagine his age to be?" "he was four-and-twenty the 8th of lastjune, and my birthday is the 23rd just a fortnight and a day's difference--which isvery 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, andif she were to take any pains to marry him, she would probably repent it. six years hence, if he could meet with agood sort of young woman in the same rank as his own, with a little money, it mightbe very desirable." "six years hence! dear miss woodhouse, he would be thirtyyears old!" "well, and that is as early as most men canafford to marry, who are not born to an independence.
mr. martin, i imagine, has his fortuneentirely to make--cannot be at all beforehand with the world. whatever money he might come into when hisfather died, whatever his share of the family property, it is, i dare say, allafloat, all employed in his stock, and so forth; and though, with diligence and good luck, he may be rich in time, it is next toimpossible that he should have realised any thing yet.""to be sure, so it is. but they live very comfortably. they have no indoors man, else they do notwant for any thing; and mrs. martin talks
of taking a boy another year." "i wish you may not get into a scrape,harriet, whenever he does marry;--i mean, as to being acquainted with his wife--forthough his sisters, from a superior education, are not to be altogether objected to, it does not follow that hemight marry any body at all fit for you to notice. the misfortune of your birth ought to makeyou particularly careful as to your associates. there can be no doubt of your being agentleman's daughter, and you must support
your claim to that station by every thingwithin your own power, or there will be plenty of people who would take pleasure indegrading you." "yes, to be sure, i suppose there are. but while i visit at hartfield, and you areso kind to me, miss woodhouse, i am not afraid of what any body can do." "you understand the force of influencepretty well, harriet; but i would have you so firmly established in good society, asto be independent even of hartfield and miss woodhouse. i want to see you permanently wellconnected, and to that end it will be
advisable to have as few odd acquaintanceas may be; and, therefore, i say that if you should still be in this country when mr. martin marries, i wish you may not bedrawn in by your intimacy with the sisters, to be acquainted with the wife, who willprobably be some mere farmer's daughter, without education." "to be sure. yes. not that i think mr.martin would ever marry any body but what had had some education--and been very wellbrought up. however, i do not mean to set up my opinionagainst yours--and i am sure i shall not wish for the acquaintance of his wife.
i shall always have a great regard for themiss martins, especially elizabeth, and should be very sorry to give them up, forthey are quite as well educated as me. but if he marries a very ignorant, vulgarwoman, certainly i had better not visit her, if i can help it." emma watched her through the fluctuationsof this speech, and saw no alarming symptoms of love. the young man had been the first admirer,but she trusted there was no other hold, and that there would be no seriousdifficulty, on harriet's side, to oppose any friendly arrangement of her own.
they met mr. martin the very next day, asthey were walking on the donwell road. he was on foot, and after looking veryrespectfully at her, looked with most unfeigned satisfaction at her companion. emma was not sorry to have such anopportunity of survey; and walking a few yards forward, while they talked together,soon made her quick eye sufficiently acquainted with mr. robert martin. his appearance was very neat, and he lookedlike a sensible young man, but his person had no other advantage; and when he came tobe contrasted with gentlemen, she thought he must lose all the ground he had gainedin harriet's inclination.
harriet was not insensible of manner; shehad voluntarily noticed her father's gentleness with admiration as well aswonder. mr. martin looked as if he did not knowwhat manner was. they remained but a few minutes together,as miss woodhouse must not be kept waiting; and harriet then came running to her with asmiling face, and in a flutter of spirits, which miss woodhouse hoped very soon tocompose. "only think of our happening to meet him!--how very odd! it was quite a chance, he said, that he hadnot gone round by randalls. he did not think we ever walked this road.he thought we walked towards randalls most
days. he has not been able to get the romance ofthe forest yet. he was so busy the last time he was atkingston that he quite forgot it, but he goes again to-morrow. so very odd we should happen to meet!well, miss woodhouse, is he like what you expected?what do you think of him? do you think him so very plain?" "he is very plain, undoubtedly--remarkablyplain:--but that is nothing compared with his entire want of gentility.
i had no right to expect much, and i didnot expect much; but i had no idea that he could be so very clownish, so totallywithout air. i had imagined him, i confess, a degree ortwo nearer gentility." "to be sure," said harriet, in a mortifiedvoice, "he is not so genteel as real gentlemen." "i think, harriet, since your acquaintancewith us, you have been repeatedly in the company of some such very real gentlemen,that you must yourself be struck with the difference in mr. martin. at hartfield, you have had very goodspecimens of well educated, well bred men.
i should be surprized if, after seeingthem, you could be in company with mr. martin again without perceiving him to be avery inferior creature--and rather wondering at yourself for having everthought him at all agreeable before. do not you begin to feel that now?were not you struck? i am sure you must have been struck by hisawkward look and abrupt manner, and the uncouthness of a voice which i heard to bewholly unmodulated as i stood here." "certainly, he is not like mr. knightley. he has not such a fine air and way ofwalking as mr. knightley. i see the difference plain enough.but mr. knightley is so very fine a man!"
"mr. knightley's air is so remarkably goodthat it is not fair to compare mr. martin with him. you might not see one in a hundred withgentleman so plainly written as in mr. knightley.but he is not the only gentleman you have been lately used to. what say you to mr. weston and mr. elton?compare mr. martin with either of them. compare their manner of carryingthemselves; of walking; of speaking; of being silent. you must see the difference.""oh yes!--there is a great difference.
but mr. weston is almost an old man.mr. weston must be between forty and fifty." "which makes his good manners the morevaluable. the older a person grows, harriet, the moreimportant it is that their manners should not be bad; the more glaring and disgustingany loudness, or coarseness, or awkwardness becomes. what is passable in youth is detestable inlater age. mr. martin is now awkward and abrupt; whatwill he be at mr. weston's time of life?" "there is no saying, indeed," repliedharriet rather solemnly.
"but there may be pretty good guessing. he will be a completely gross, vulgarfarmer, totally inattentive to appearances, and thinking of nothing but profit andloss." "will he, indeed? that will be very bad.""how much his business engrosses him already is very plain from the circumstanceof his forgetting to inquire for the book you recommended. he was a great deal too full of the marketto think of any thing else--which is just as it should be, for a thriving man.what has he to do with books?
and i have no doubt that he will thrive,and be a very rich man in time--and his being illiterate and coarse need notdisturb us." "i wonder he did not remember the book"--was all harriet's answer, and spoken with a degree of grave displeasure which emmathought might be safely left to itself. she, therefore, said no more for some time. her next beginning was,"in one respect, perhaps, mr. elton's manners are superior to mr. knightley's ormr. weston's. they have more gentleness. they might be more safely held up as apattern.
there is an openness, a quickness, almost abluntness in mr. weston, which every body likes in him, because there is so muchgood-humour with it--but that would not do to be copied. neither would mr. knightley's downright,decided, commanding sort of manner, though it suits him very well; his figure, andlook, and situation in life seem to allow it; but if any young man were to set aboutcopying him, he would not be sufferable. on the contrary, i think a young man mightbe very safely recommended to take mr. elton as a model. mr. elton is good-humoured, cheerful,obliging, and gentle.
he seems to me to be grown particularlygentle of late. i do not know whether he has any design ofingratiating himself with either of us, harriet, by additional softness, but itstrikes me that his manners are softer than they used to be. if he means any thing, it must be to pleaseyou. did not i tell you what he said of you theother day?" she then repeated some warm personal praisewhich she had drawn from mr. elton, and now did full justice to; and harriet blushedand smiled, and said she had always thought mr. elton very agreeable.
mr. elton was the very person fixed on byemma for driving the young farmer out of harriet's head. she thought it would be an excellent match;and only too palpably desirable, natural, and probable, for her to have much merit inplanning it. she feared it was what every body else mustthink of and predict. it was not likely, however, that any bodyshould have equalled her in the date of the plan, as it had entered her brain duringthe very first evening of harriet's coming to hartfield. the longer she considered it, the greaterwas her sense of its expediency.
mr. elton's situation was most suitable,quite the gentleman himself, and without low connexions; at the same time, not ofany family that could fairly object to the doubtful birth of harriet. he had a comfortable home for her, and emmaimagined a very sufficient income; for though the vicarage of highbury was notlarge, he was known to have some independent property; and she thought very highly of him as a good-humoured, well-meaning, respectable young man, without any deficiency of useful understanding orknowledge of the world. she had already satisfied herself that hethought harriet a beautiful girl, which she
trusted, with such frequent meetings athartfield, was foundation enough on his side; and on harriet's there could be little doubt that the idea of beingpreferred by him would have all the usual weight and efficacy. and he was really a very pleasing youngman, a young man whom any woman not fastidious might like. he was reckoned very handsome; his personmuch admired in general, though not by her, there being a want of elegance of featurewhich she could not dispense with:--but the girl who could be gratified by a robert
martin's riding about the country to getwalnuts for her might very well be conquered by mr. elton's admiration. chapter v "i do not know what your opinion may be,mrs. weston," said mr. knightley, "of this great intimacy between emma and harrietsmith, but i think it a bad thing." "a bad thing! do you really think it a bad thing?--whyso?" "i think they will neither of them do theother any good." "you surprize me!
emma must do harriet good: and by supplyingher with a new object of interest, harriet may be said to do emma good.i have been seeing their intimacy with the greatest pleasure. how very differently we feel!--not thinkthey will do each other any good! this will certainly be the beginning of oneof our quarrels about emma, mr. knightley." "perhaps you think i am come on purpose toquarrel with you, knowing weston to be out, and that you must still fight your ownbattle." "mr. weston would undoubtedly support me,if he were here, for he thinks exactly as i do on the subject.
we were speaking of it only yesterday, andagreeing how fortunate it was for emma, that there should be such a girl inhighbury for her to associate with. mr. knightley, i shall not allow you to bea fair judge in this case. you are so much used to live alone, thatyou do not know the value of a companion; and, perhaps no man can be a good judge ofthe comfort a woman feels in the society of one of her own sex, after being used to itall her life. i can imagine your objection to harrietsmith. she is not the superior young woman whichemma's friend ought to be. but on the other hand, as emma wants to seeher better informed, it will be an
inducement to her to read more herself. they will read together.she means it, i know." "emma has been meaning to read more eversince she was twelve years old. i have seen a great many lists of herdrawing-up at various times of books that she meant to read regularly through--andvery good lists they were--very well chosen, and very neatly arranged--sometimes alphabetically, and sometimes by some otherrule. the list she drew up when only fourteen--iremember thinking it did her judgment so much credit, that i preserved it some time;and i dare say she may have made out a very
good list now. but i have done with expecting any courseof steady reading from emma. she will never submit to any thingrequiring industry and patience, and a subjection of the fancy to theunderstanding. where miss taylor failed to stimulate, imay safely affirm that harriet smith will do nothing.--you never could persuade herto read half so much as you wished.--you know you could not." "i dare say," replied mrs. weston, smiling,"that i thought so then;--but since we have parted, i can never remember emma'somitting to do any thing i wished."
"there is hardly any desiring to refreshsuch a memory as that,"--said mr. knightley, feelingly; and for a moment ortwo he had done. "but i," he soon added, "who have had nosuch charm thrown over my senses, must still see, hear, and remember.emma is spoiled by being the cleverest of her family. at ten years old, she had the misfortune ofbeing able to answer questions which puzzled her sister at seventeen.she was always quick and assured: isabella slow and diffident. and ever since she was twelve, emma hasbeen mistress of the house and of you all.
in her mother she lost the only person ableto cope with her. she inherits her mother's talents, and musthave been under subjection to her." "i should have been sorry, mr. knightley,to be dependent on your recommendation, had i quitted mr. woodhouse's family andwanted another situation; i do not think you would have spoken a good word for me toany body. i am sure you always thought me unfit forthe office i held." "yes," said he, smiling. "you are better placed here; very fit fora wife, but not at all for a governess. but you were preparing yourself to be anexcellent wife all the time you were at
hartfield. you might not give emma such a completeeducation as your powers would seem to promise; but you were receiving a very goodeducation from her, on the very material matrimonial point of submitting your own will, and doing as you were bid; and ifweston had asked me to recommend him a wife, i should certainly have named misstaylor." "thank you. there will be very little merit in making agood wife to such a man as mr. weston." "why, to own the truth, i am afraid you arerather thrown away, and that with every
disposition to bear, there will be nothingto be borne. we will not despair, however. weston may grow cross from the wantonnessof comfort, or his son may plague him." "i hope not that.--it is not likely.no, mr. knightley, do not foretell vexation from that quarter." "not i, indeed.i only name possibilities. i do not pretend to emma's genius forforetelling and guessing. i hope, with all my heart, the young manmay be a weston in merit, and a churchill in fortune.--but harriet smith--i have nothalf done about harriet smith.
i think her the very worst sort ofcompanion that emma could possibly have. she knows nothing herself, and looks uponemma as knowing every thing. she is a flatterer in all her ways; and somuch the worse, because undesigned. her ignorance is hourly flattery. how can emma imagine she has any thing tolearn herself, while harriet is presenting such a delightful inferiority?and as for harriet, i will venture to say that she cannot gain by the acquaintance. hartfield will only put her out of conceitwith all the other places she belongs to. she will grow just refined enough to beuncomfortable with those among whom birth
and circumstances have placed her home. i am much mistaken if emma's doctrines giveany strength of mind, or tend at all to make a girl adapt herself rationally to thevarieties of her situation in life.--they only give a little polish." "i either depend more upon emma's goodsense than you do, or am more anxious for her present comfort; for i cannot lamentthe acquaintance. how well she looked last night!" "oh! you would rather talk of her personthan her mind, would you? very well; i shall not attempt to denyemma's being pretty."
"pretty! say beautiful rather. can you imagine any thing nearer perfectbeauty than emma altogether--face and figure?" "i do not know what i could imagine, but iconfess that i have seldom seen a face or figure more pleasing to me than hers.but i am a partial old friend." "such an eye!--the true hazle eye--and sobrilliant! regular features, open countenance, with a complexion! oh! what abloom of full health, and such a pretty height and size; such a firm and uprightfigure! there is health, not merely in her bloom,but in her air, her head, her glance.
one hears sometimes of a child being 'thepicture of health;' now, emma always gives me the idea of being the complete pictureof grown-up health. she is loveliness itself. mr. knightley, is not she?""i have not a fault to find with her person," he replied."i think her all you describe. i love to look at her; and i will add thispraise, that i do not think her personally considering how very handsome she is, sheappears to be little occupied with it; her vanity lies another way. mrs. weston, i am not to be talked out ofmy dislike of harriet smith, or my dread of
its doing them both harm." "and i, mr. knightley, am equally stout inmy confidence of its not doing them any harm.with all dear emma's little faults, she is an excellent creature. where shall we see a better daughter, or akinder sister, or a truer friend? no, no; she has qualities which may betrusted; she will never lead any one really wrong; she will make no lasting blunder;where emma errs once, she is in the right a hundred times." "very well; i will not plague you any more.emma shall be an angel, and i will keep my
spleen to myself till christmas brings johnand isabella. john loves emma with a reasonable andtherefore not a blind affection, and isabella always thinks as he does; exceptwhen he is not quite frightened enough about the children. i am sure of having their opinions withme." "i know that you all love her really toowell to be unjust or unkind; but excuse me, mr. knightley, if i take the liberty (iconsider myself, you know, as having somewhat of the privilege of speech that emma's mother might have had) the libertyof hinting that i do not think any possible
good can arise from harriet smith'sintimacy being made a matter of much discussion among you. pray excuse me; but supposing any littleinconvenience may be apprehended from the intimacy, it cannot be expected that emma,accountable to nobody but her father, who perfectly approves the acquaintance, should put an end to it, so long as it is a sourceof pleasure to herself. it has been so many years my province togive advice, that you cannot be surprized, mr. knightley, at this little remains ofoffice." "not at all," cried he; "i am much obligedto you for it.
it is very good advice, and it shall have abetter fate than your advice has often found; for it shall be attended to." "mrs. john knightley is easily alarmed, andmight be made unhappy about her sister." "be satisfied," said he, "i will not raiseany outcry. i will keep my ill-humour to myself. i have a very sincere interest in emma.isabella does not seem more my sister; has never excited a greater interest; perhapshardly so great. there is an anxiety, a curiosity in whatone feels for emma. i wonder what will become of her!""so do i," said mrs. weston gently, "very
much." "she always declares she will never marry,which, of course, means just nothing at all.but i have no idea that she has yet ever seen a man she cared for. it would not be a bad thing for her to bevery much in love with a proper object. i should like to see emma in love, and insome doubt of a return; it would do her good. but there is nobody hereabouts to attachher; and she goes so seldom from home." "there does, indeed, seem as little totempt her to break her resolution at
present," said mrs. weston, "as can wellbe; and while she is so happy at hartfield, i cannot wish her to be forming any attachment which would be creating suchdifficulties on poor mr. woodhouse's account. i do not recommend matrimony at present toemma, though i mean no slight to the state, i assure you." part of her meaning was to conceal somefavourite thoughts of her own and mr. weston's on the subject, as much aspossible. there were wishes at randalls respectingemma's destiny, but it was not desirable to
have them suspected; and the quiettransition which mr. knightley soon afterwards made to "what does weston think of the weather; shall we have rain?"convinced her that he had nothing more to say or surmise about hartfield. chapter vi emma could not feel a doubt of having givenharriet's fancy a proper direction and raised the gratitude of her young vanity toa very good purpose, for she found her decidedly more sensible than before of mr. elton's being a remarkably handsome man,with most agreeable manners; and as she had
no hesitation in following up the assuranceof his admiration by agreeable hints, she was soon pretty confident of creating as much liking on harriet's side, as therecould be any occasion for. she was quite convinced of mr. elton'sbeing in the fairest way of falling in love, if not in love already. she had no scruple with regard to him.he talked of harriet, and praised her so warmly, that she could not suppose anything wanting which a little time would not add. his perception of the striking improvementof harriet's manner, since her introduction
at hartfield, was not one of the leastagreeable proofs of his growing attachment. "you have given miss smith all that sherequired," said he; "you have made her graceful and easy. she was a beautiful creature when she cameto you, but, in my opinion, the attractions you have added are infinitely superior towhat she received from nature." "i am glad you think i have been useful toher; but harriet only wanted drawing out, and receiving a few, very few hints.she had all the natural grace of sweetness of temper and artlessness in herself. i have done very little.""if it were admissible to contradict a
lady," said the gallant mr. elton-- "i have perhaps given her a little moredecision of character, have taught her to think on points which had not fallen in herway before." "exactly so; that is what principallystrikes me. so much superadded decision of character!skilful has been the hand!" "great has been the pleasure, i am sure. i never met with a disposition more trulyamiable." "i have no doubt of it." and it was spoken with a sort of sighinganimation, which had a vast deal of the
lover. she was not less pleased another day withthe manner in which he seconded a sudden wish of hers, to have harriet's picture. "did you ever have your likeness taken,harriet?" said she: "did you ever sit for your picture?" harriet was on the point of leaving theroom, and only stopt to say, with a very interesting naivete,"oh! dear, no, never." no sooner was she out of sight, than emmaexclaimed, "what an exquisite possession a goodpicture of her would be!
i would give any money for it. i almost long to attempt her likenessmyself. you do not know it i dare say, but two orthree years ago i had a great passion for taking likenesses, and attempted several ofmy friends, and was thought to have a tolerable eye in general. but from one cause or another, i gave it upin disgust. but really, i could almost venture, ifharriet would sit to me. it would be such a delight to have herpicture!" "let me entreat you," cried mr. elton; "itwould indeed be a delight!
let me entreat you, miss woodhouse, toexercise so charming a talent in favour of your friend.i know what your drawings are. how could you suppose me ignorant? is not this room rich in specimens of yourlandscapes and flowers; and has not mrs. weston some inimitable figure-pieces in herdrawing-room, at randalls?" yes, good man!--thought emma--but what hasall that to do with taking likenesses? you know nothing of drawing.don't pretend to be in raptures about mine. keep your raptures for harriet's face. "well, if you give me such kindencouragement, mr. elton, i believe i shall
try what i can do. harriet's features are very delicate, whichmakes a likeness difficult; and yet there is a peculiarity in the shape of the eyeand the lines about the mouth which one ought to catch." "exactly so--the shape of the eye and thelines about the mouth--i have not a doubt of your success.pray, pray attempt it. as you will do it, it will indeed, to useyour own words, be an exquisite possession.""but i am afraid, mr. elton, harriet will not like to sit.
she thinks so little of her own beauty.did not you observe her manner of answering me?how completely it meant, 'why should my picture be drawn?'" "oh! yes, i observed it, i assure you.it was not lost on me. but still i cannot imagine she would not bepersuaded." harriet was soon back again, and theproposal almost immediately made; and she had no scruples which could stand manyminutes against the earnest pressing of both the others. emma wished to go to work directly, andtherefore produced the portfolio containing
her various attempts at portraits, for notone of them had ever been finished, that they might decide together on the best sizefor harriet. her many beginnings were displayed. miniatures, half-lengths, whole-lengths,pencil, crayon, and water-colours had been all tried in turn. she had always wanted to do every thing,and had made more progress both in drawing and music than many might have done with solittle labour as she would ever submit to. she played and sang;--and drew in almostevery style; but steadiness had always been wanting; and in nothing had she approachedthe degree of excellence which she would
have been glad to command, and ought not tohave failed of. she was not much deceived as to her ownskill either as an artist or a musician, but she was not unwilling to have othersdeceived, or sorry to know her reputation for accomplishment often higher than itdeserved. there was merit in every drawing--in theleast finished, perhaps the most; her style was spirited; but had there been much less,or had there been ten times more, the delight and admiration of her twocompanions would have been the same. they were both in ecstasies.a likeness pleases every body; and miss woodhouse's performances must be capital.
"no great variety of faces for you," saidemma. "i had only my own family to study from. there is my father--another of my father--but the idea of sitting for his picture made him so nervous, that i could only takehim by stealth; neither of them very like therefore. mrs. weston again, and again, and again,you see. dear mrs. weston! always my kindest friendon every occasion. she would sit whenever i asked her. there is my sister; and really quite herown little elegant figure!--and the face
not unlike. i should have made a good likeness of her,if she would have sat longer, but she was in such a hurry to have me draw her fourchildren that she would not be quiet. then, here come all my attempts at three ofthose four children;--there they are, henry and john and bella, from one end of thesheet to the other, and any one of them might do for any one of the rest. she was so eager to have them drawn that icould not refuse; but there is no making children of three or four years old standstill you know; nor can it be very easy to take any likeness of them, beyond the air
and complexion, unless they are coarserfeatured than any of mama's children ever were.here is my sketch of the fourth, who was a baby. i took him as he was sleeping on the sofa,and it is as strong a likeness of his cockade as you would wish to see.he had nestled down his head most conveniently. that's very like.i am rather proud of little george. the corner of the sofa is very good. then here is my last,"--unclosing a prettysketch of a gentleman in small size, whole-
length--"my last and my best--my brother,mr. john knightley.--this did not want much of being finished, when i put it away in a pet, and vowed i would never take anotherlikeness. i could not help being provoked; for afterall my pains, and when i had really made a very good likeness of it--(mrs. weston andi were quite agreed in thinking it very like)--only too handsome--too flattering-- but that was a fault on the right side"--after all this, came poor dear isabella's cold approbation of--"yes, it was a littlelike--but to be sure it did not do him justice.
we had had a great deal of trouble inpersuading him to sit at all. it was made a great favour of; andaltogether it was more than i could bear; and so i never would finish it, to have itapologised over as an unfavourable likeness, to every morning visitor in brunswick square;--and, as i said, i didthen forswear ever drawing any body again. but for harriet's sake, or rather for myown, and as there are no husbands and wives in the case at present, i will break myresolution now." mr. elton seemed very properly struck anddelighted by the idea, and was repeating, "no husbands and wives in the case atpresent indeed, as you observe.
exactly so. no husbands and wives," with so interestinga consciousness, that emma began to consider whether she had not better leavethem together at once. but as she wanted to be drawing, thedeclaration must wait a little longer. she had soon fixed on the size and sort ofportrait. it was to be a whole-length in water-colours, like mr. john knightley's, and was destined, if she could please herself, tohold a very honourable station over the mantelpiece. the sitting began; and harriet, smiling andblushing, and afraid of not keeping her
attitude and countenance, presented a verysweet mixture of youthful expression to the steady eyes of the artist. but there was no doing any thing, with mr.elton fidgeting behind her and watching every touch. she gave him credit for stationing himselfwhere he might gaze and gaze again without offence; but was really obliged to put anend to it, and request him to place himself elsewhere. it then occurred to her to employ him inreading. "if he would be so good as to read to them,it would be a kindness indeed!
it would amuse away the difficulties of herpart, and lessen the irksomeness of miss smith's."mr. elton was only too happy. harriet listened, and emma drew in peace. she must allow him to be still frequentlycoming to look; any thing less would certainly have been too little in a lover;and he was ready at the smallest intermission of the pencil, to jump up and see the progress, and be charmed.--therewas no being displeased with such an encourager, for his admiration made himdiscern a likeness almost before it was she could not respect his eye, but his loveand his complaisance were unexceptionable.
the sitting was altogether verysatisfactory; she was quite enough pleased with the first day's sketch to wish to goon. there was no want of likeness, she had beenfortunate in the attitude, and as she meant to throw in a little improvement to thefigure, to give a little more height, and considerably more elegance, she had great confidence of its being in every way apretty drawing at last, and of its filling its destined place with credit to themboth--a standing memorial of the beauty of one, the skill of the other, and the friendship of both; with as many otheragreeable associations as mr. elton's very
promising attachment was likely to add. harriet was to sit again the next day; andmr. elton, just as he ought, entreated for the permission of attending and reading tothem again. "by all means. we shall be most happy to consider you asone of the party." the same civilities and courtesies, thesame success and satisfaction, took place on the morrow, and accompanied the wholeprogress of the picture, which was rapid and happy. every body who saw it was pleased, but mr.elton was in continual raptures, and
defended it through every criticism. "miss woodhouse has given her friend theonly beauty she wanted,"--observed mrs. weston to him--not in the least suspectingthat she was addressing a lover.--"the expression of the eye is most correct, but miss smith has not those eyebrows andeyelashes. it is the fault of her face that she hasthem not." "do you think so?" replied he. "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.
we must allow for the effect of shade, youknow." "you have made her too tall, emma," saidmr. knightley. emma knew that she had, but would not ownit; and mr. elton warmly added, "oh no! certainly not too tall; not in theleast too tall. consider, she is sitting down--whichnaturally presents a different--which in short gives exactly the idea--and theproportions must be preserved, you know. proportions, fore-shortening.--oh no! itgives one exactly the idea of such a height as miss smith's.exactly so indeed!" "it is very pretty," said mr. woodhouse.
"so prettily done!just as your drawings always are, my dear. i do not know any body who draws so well asyou do. the only thing i do not thoroughly like is,that she seems to be sitting out of doors, with only a little shawl over hershoulders--and it makes one think she must catch cold." "but, my dear papa, it is supposed to besummer; a warm day in summer. look at the tree.""but it is never safe to sit out of doors, my dear." "you, sir, may say any thing," cried mr.elton, "but i must confess that i regard it
as a most happy thought, the placing ofmiss smith out of doors; and the tree is touched with such inimitable spirit! any other situation would have been muchless in character. the naivete of miss smith's manners--andaltogether--oh, it is most admirable! i cannot keep my eyes from it. i never saw such a likeness."the next thing wanted was to get the picture framed; and here were a fewdifficulties. it must be done directly; it must be donein london; the order must go through the hands of some intelligent person whosetaste could be depended on; and isabella,
the usual doer of all commissions, must not be applied to, because it was december, andmr. woodhouse could not bear the idea of her stirring out of her house in the fogsof december. but no sooner was the distress known to mr.elton, than it was removed. his gallantry was always on the alert. "might he be trusted with the commission,what infinite pleasure should he have in executing it! he could ride to london atany time. it was impossible to say how much he shouldbe gratified by being employed on such an errand."
"he was too good!--she could not endure thethought!--she would not give him such a troublesome office for the world,"--broughton the desired repetition of entreaties and assurances,--and a very few minutes settledthe business. mr. elton was to take the drawing tolondon, chuse the frame, and give the directions; and emma thought she could sopack it as to ensure its safety without much incommoding him, while he seemed mostly fearful of not being incommodedenough. "what a precious deposit!" said he with atender sigh, as he received it. "this man is almost too gallant to be inlove," thought emma.
"i should say so, but that i suppose theremay be a hundred different ways of being in love. he is an excellent young man, and will suitharriet exactly; it will be an 'exactly so,' as he says himself; but he does sighand languish, and study for compliments rather more than i could endure as aprincipal. i come in for a pretty good share as asecond. but it is his gratitude on harriet'saccount." chapter vii the very day of mr. elton's going to londonproduced a fresh occasion for emma's
services towards her friend. harriet had been at hartfield, as usual,soon after breakfast; and, after a time, had gone home to return again to dinner:she returned, and sooner than had been talked of, and with an agitated, hurried look, announcing something extraordinary tohave happened which she was longing to tell.half a minute brought it all out. she had heard, as soon as she got back tomrs. goddard's, that mr. martin had been there an hour before, and finding she wasnot at home, nor particularly expected, had left a little parcel for her from one of
his sisters, and gone away; and on openingthis parcel, she had actually found, besides the two songs which she had lentelizabeth to copy, a letter to herself; and this letter was from him, from mr. martin, and contained a direct proposal ofmarriage. "who could have thought it?she was so surprized she did not know what yes, quite a proposal of marriage; and avery good letter, at least she thought so. and he wrote as if he really loved her verymuch--but she did not know--and so, she was come as fast as she could to ask misswoodhouse what she should do.--" emma was half-ashamed of her friend for seeming sopleased and so doubtful.
"upon my word," she cried, "the young manis determined not to lose any thing for want of asking. he will connect himself well if he can.""will you read the letter?" cried harriet. "pray do.i'd rather you would." emma was not sorry to be pressed. she read, and was surprized.the style of the letter was much above her expectation. there were not merely no grammaticalerrors, but as a composition it would not have disgraced a gentleman; the language,though plain, was strong and unaffected,
and the sentiments it conveyed very much tothe credit of the writer. it was short, but expressed good sense,warm attachment, liberality, propriety, even delicacy of feeling. she paused over it, while harriet stoodanxiously watching for her opinion, with a "well, well," and was at last forced toadd, "is it a good letter? or is it too short?" "yes, indeed, a very good letter," repliedemma rather slowly--"so good a letter, harriet, that every thing considered, ithink one of his sisters must have helped i can hardly imagine the young man whom isaw talking with you the other day could
express himself so well, if left quite tohis own powers, and yet it is not the style of a woman; no, certainly, it is too strong and concise; not diffuse enough for awoman. no doubt he is a sensible man, and isuppose may have a natural talent for-- thinks strongly and clearly--and when hetakes a pen in hand, his thoughts naturally find proper words. it is so with some men.yes, i understand the sort of mind. vigorous, decided, with sentiments to acertain point, not coarse. a better written letter, harriet (returningit,) than i had expected."
"well," said the still waiting harriet;--"well--and--and what shall i do?" "what shall you do! in what respect?do you mean with regard to this letter?" "yes.""but what are you in doubt of? you must answer it of course--andspeedily." "yes. but what shall i say?dear miss woodhouse, do advise me." "oh no, no! the letter had much better beall your own. you will express yourself very properly, iam sure. there is no danger of your not beingintelligible, which is the first thing.
your meaning must be unequivocal; no doubtsor demurs: and such expressions of gratitude and concern for the pain you areinflicting as propriety requires, will present themselves unbidden to your mind,i am persuaded. you need not be prompted to write with theappearance of sorrow for his disappointment." "you think i ought to refuse him then,"said harriet, looking down. "ought to refuse him!my dear harriet, what do you mean? are you in any doubt as to that? i thought--but i beg your pardon, perhaps ihave been under a mistake.
i certainly have been misunderstanding you,if you feel in doubt as to the purport of your answer. i had imagined you were consulting me onlyas to the wording of it." harriet was silent.with a little reserve of manner, emma continued: "you mean to return a favourable answer, icollect." "no, i do not; that is, i do not mean--whatshall i do? what would you advise me to do? pray, dear miss woodhouse, tell me what iought to do."
"i shall not give you any advice, harriet.i will have nothing to do with it. this is a point which you must settle withyour feelings." "i had no notion that he liked me so verymuch," said harriet, contemplating the letter. for a little while emma persevered in hersilence; but beginning to apprehend the bewitching flattery of that letter might betoo powerful, she thought it best to say, "i lay it down as a general rule, harriet,that if a woman doubts as to whether she should accept a man or not, she certainlyought to refuse him. if she can hesitate as to 'yes,' she oughtto say 'no' directly.
it is not a state to be safely entered intowith doubtful feelings, with half a heart. i thought it my duty as a friend, and olderthan yourself, to say thus much to you. but do not imagine that i want to influenceyou." "oh! no, i am sure you are a great deal tookind to--but if you would just advise me what i had best do--no, no, i do not meanthat--as you say, one's mind ought to be quite made up--one should not be hesitating--it is a very serious thing.--itwill be safer to say 'no,' perhaps.--do you think i had better say 'no?'""not for the world," said emma, smiling graciously, "would i advise you either way.
you must be the best judge of your ownhappiness. if you prefer mr. martin to every otherperson; if you think him the most agreeable man you have ever been in company with, whyshould you hesitate? you blush, harriet.--does any body elseoccur to you at this moment under such a definition? harriet, harriet, do not deceive yourself;do not be run away with by gratitude and compassion.at this moment whom are you thinking of?" the symptoms were favourable.--instead ofanswering, harriet turned away confused, and stood thoughtfully by the fire; andthough the letter was still in her hand, it
was now mechanically twisted about withoutregard. emma waited the result with impatience, butnot without strong hopes. at last, with some hesitation, harrietsaid-- "miss woodhouse, as you will not give meyour opinion, i must do as well as i can by myself; and i have now quite determined,and really almost made up my mind--to refuse mr. martin. do you think i am right?""perfectly, perfectly right, my dearest harriet; you are doing just what you ought. while you were at all in suspense i kept myfeelings to myself, but now that you are so
completely decided i have no hesitation inapproving. dear harriet, i give myself joy of this. it would have grieved me to lose youracquaintance, which must have been the consequence of your marrying mr. martin. while you were in the smallest degreewavering, i said nothing about it, because i would not influence; but it would havebeen the loss of a friend to me. i could not have visited mrs. robertmartin, of abbey-mill farm. now i am secure of you for ever."harriet had not surmised her own danger, but the idea of it struck her forcibly.
"you could not have visited me!" she cried,looking aghast. "no, to be sure you could not; but i neverthought of that before. that would have been too dreadful!--what anescape!--dear miss woodhouse, i would not give up the pleasure and honour of beingintimate with you for any thing in the world." "indeed, harriet, it would have been asevere pang to lose you; but it must have been.you would have thrown yourself out of all good society. i must have given you up.""dear me!--how should i ever have borne it!
it would have killed me never to come tohartfield any more!" "dear affectionate creature!--youbanished to abbey-mill farm!--you confined to the society of the illiterateand vulgar all your life! i wonder how the young man could have theassurance to ask it. he must have a pretty good opinion ofhimself." "i do not think he is conceited either, ingeneral," said harriet, her conscience opposing such censure; "at least, he isvery good natured, and i shall always feel much obliged to him, and have a great regard for--but that is quite a differentthing from--and you know, though he may
like me, it does not follow that i should--and certainly i must confess that since my visiting here i have seen people--and if one comes to compare them, person andmanners, there is no comparison at all, one is so very handsome and agreeable. however, i do really think mr. martin avery amiable young man, and have a great opinion of him; and his being so muchattached to me--and his writing such a letter--but as to leaving you, it is what iwould not do upon any consideration." "thank you, thank you, my own sweet littlefriend. we will not be parted.
a woman is not to marry a man merelybecause she is asked, or because he is attached to her, and can write a tolerableletter." "oh no;--and it is but a short letter too." emma felt the bad taste of her friend, butlet it pass with a "very true; and it would be a small consolation to her, for theclownish manner which might be offending her every hour of the day, to know that herhusband could write a good letter." "oh! yes, very.nobody cares for a letter; the thing is, to be always happy with pleasant companions. i am quite determined to refuse him.but how shall i do?
what shall i say?" emma assured her there would be nodifficulty in the answer, and advised its being written directly, which was agreedto, in the hope of her assistance; and though emma continued to protest against any assistance being wanted, it was in factgiven in the formation of every sentence. the looking over his letter again, inreplying to it, had such a softening tendency, that it was particularlynecessary to brace her up with a few decisive expressions; and she was so very much concerned at the idea of making himunhappy, and thought so much of what his
mother and sisters would think and say, andwas so anxious that they should not fancy her ungrateful, that emma believed if the young man had come in her way at thatmoment, he would have been accepted after all.this letter, however, was written, and sealed, and sent. the business was finished, and harrietsafe. she was rather low all the evening, butemma could allow for her amiable regrets, and sometimes relieved them by speaking ofher own affection, sometimes by bringing forward the idea of mr. elton.
"i shall never be invited to abbey-millagain," was said in rather a sorrowful tone."nor, if you were, could i ever bear to part with you, my harriet. you are a great deal too necessary athartfield to be spared to abbey-mill." "and i am sure i should never want to gothere; for i am never happy but at hartfield." some time afterwards it was, "i think mrs.goddard would be very much surprized if she knew what had happened. i am sure miss nash would--for miss nashthinks her own sister very well married,
and it is only a linen-draper." "one should be sorry to see greater prideor refinement in the teacher of a school, harriet.i dare say miss nash would envy you such an opportunity as this of being married. even this conquest would appear valuable inher eyes. as to any thing superior for you, i supposeshe is quite in the dark. the attentions of a certain person canhardly be among the tittle-tattle of highbury yet. hitherto i fancy you and i are the onlypeople to whom his looks and manners have
explained themselves." harriet blushed and smiled, and saidsomething about wondering that people should like her so much. the idea of mr. elton was certainlycheering; but still, after a time, she was tender-hearted again towards the rejectedmr. martin. "now he has got my letter," said shesoftly. "i wonder what they are all doing--whetherhis sisters know--if he is unhappy, they will be unhappy too. i hope he will not mind it so very much.""let us think of those among our absent
friends who are more cheerfully employed,"cried emma. "at this moment, perhaps, mr. elton isshewing your picture to his mother and sisters, telling how much more beautiful isthe original, and after being asked for it five or six times, allowing them to hearyour name, your own dear name." "my picture!--but he has left my picture inbond-street." "has he so!--then i know nothing of mr.elton. no, my dear little modest harriet, dependupon it the picture will not be in bond- street till just before he mounts his horseto-morrow. it is his companion all this evening, hissolace, his delight.
it opens his designs to his family, itintroduces you among them, it diffuses through the party those pleasantestfeelings of our nature, eager curiosity and warm prepossession. how cheerful, how animated, how suspicious,how busy their imaginations all are!" harriet smiled again, and her smiles grewstronger. chapter viii harriet slept at hartfield that night. for some weeks past she had been spendingmore than half her time there, and gradually getting to have a bed-roomappropriated to herself; and emma judged it
best in every respect, safest and kindest, to keep her with them as much as possiblejust at present. she was obliged to go the next morning foran hour or two to mrs. goddard's, but it was then to be settled that she shouldreturn to hartfield, to make a regular visit of some days. while she was gone, mr. knightley called,and sat some time with mr. woodhouse and emma, till mr. woodhouse, who hadpreviously made up his mind to walk out, was persuaded by his daughter not to defer it, and was induced by the entreaties ofboth, though against the scruples of his
own civility, to leave mr. knightley forthat purpose. mr. knightley, who had nothing of ceremonyabout him, was offering by his short, decided answers, an amusing contrast to theprotracted apologies and civil hesitations of the other. "well, i believe, if you will excuse me,mr. knightley, if you will not consider me as doing a very rude thing, i shall takeemma's advice and go out for a quarter of an hour. as the sun is out, i believe i had bettertake my three turns while i can. i treat you without ceremony, mr.knightley.
we invalids think we are privilegedpeople." "my dear sir, do not make a stranger ofme." "i leave an excellent substitute in mydaughter. emma will be happy to entertain you. and therefore i think i will beg yourexcuse and take my three turns--my winter walk.""you cannot do better, sir." "i would ask for the pleasure of yourcompany, mr. knightley, but i am a very slow walker, and my pace would be tediousto you; and, besides, you have another long walk before you, to donwell abbey."
"thank you, sir, thank you; i am going thismoment myself; and i think the sooner you go the better.i will fetch your greatcoat and open the garden door for you." mr. woodhouse at last was off; but mr.knightley, instead of being immediately off likewise, sat down again, seeminglyinclined for more chat. he began speaking of harriet, and speakingof her with more voluntary praise than emma had ever heard before. "i cannot rate her beauty as you do," saidhe; "but she is a pretty little creature, and i am inclined to think very well of herdisposition.
her character depends upon those she iswith; but in good hands she will turn out a valuable woman.""i am glad you think so; and the good hands, i hope, may not be wanting." "come," said he, "you are anxious for acompliment, so i will tell you that you have improved her.you have cured her of her school-girl's giggle; she really does you credit." "thank you.i should be mortified indeed if i did not believe i had been of some use; but it isnot every body who will bestow praise where they may.
you do not often overpower me with it.""you are expecting her again, you say, this morning?""almost every moment. she has been gone longer already than sheintended." "something has happened to delay her; somevisitors perhaps." "highbury gossips!--tiresome wretches!" "harriet may not consider every bodytiresome that you would." emma knew this was too true forcontradiction, and therefore said nothing. he presently added, with a smile, "i do not pretend to fix on times orplaces, but i must tell you that i have
good reason to believe your little friendwill soon hear of something to her advantage." "indeed! how so? of what sort?""a very serious sort, i assure you;" still smiling."very serious! i can think of but one thing--who is inlove with her? who makes you their confidant?"emma was more than half in hopes of mr. elton's having dropt a hint. mr. knightley was a sort of general friendand adviser, and she knew mr. elton looked up to him.
"i have reason to think," he replied, "thatharriet smith will soon have an offer of marriage, and from a most unexceptionablequarter:--robert martin is the man. her visit to abbey-mill, this summer, seemsto have done his business. he is desperately in love and means tomarry her." "he is very obliging," said emma; "but ishe sure that harriet means to marry him?" "well, well, means to make her an offerthen. will that do? he came to the abbey two evenings ago, onpurpose to consult me about it. he knows i have a thorough regard for himand all his family, and, i believe,
considers me as one of his best friends. he came to ask me whether i thought itwould be imprudent in him to settle so early; whether i thought her too young: inshort, whether i approved his choice altogether; having some apprehension perhaps of her being considered (especiallysince your making so much of her) as in a line of society above him.i was very much pleased with all that he said. i never hear better sense from any one thanrobert martin. he always speaks to the purpose; open,straightforward, and very well judging.
he told me every thing; his circumstancesand plans, and what they all proposed doing in the event of his marriage.he is an excellent young man, both as son and brother. i had no hesitation in advising him tomarry. he proved to me that he could afford it;and that being the case, i was convinced he could not do better. i praised the fair lady too, and altogethersent him away very happy. if he had never esteemed my opinion before,he would have thought highly of me then; and, i dare say, left the house thinking methe best friend and counsellor man ever
had. this happened the night before last. now, as we may fairly suppose, he would notallow much time to pass before he spoke to the lady, and as he does not appear to havespoken yesterday, it is not unlikely that he should be at mrs. goddard's to-day; and she may be detained by a visitor, withoutthinking him at all a tiresome wretch." "pray, mr. knightley," said emma, who hadbeen smiling to herself through a great part of this speech, "how do you know thatmr. martin did not speak yesterday?" "certainly," replied he, surprized, "i donot absolutely know it; but it may be
inferred.was not she the whole day with you?" "come," said she, "i will tell yousomething, in return for what you have told me.he did speak yesterday--that is, he wrote, and was refused." this was obliged to be repeated before itcould be believed; and mr. knightley actually looked red with surprize anddispleasure, as he stood up, in tall indignation, and said, "then she is a greater simpleton than iever believed her. what is the foolish girl about?"
"oh! to be sure," cried emma, "it is alwaysincomprehensible to a man that a woman should ever refuse an offer of marriage.a man always imagines a woman to be ready for any body who asks her." "nonsense! a man does not imagine any suchthing. but what is the meaning of this? harriet smith refuse robert martin?madness, if it is so; but i hope you are mistaken.""i saw her answer!--nothing could be clearer." "you saw her answer!--you wrote her answertoo.
emma, this is your doing.you persuaded her to refuse him." "and if i did, (which, however, i am farfrom allowing) i should not feel that i had done wrong. mr. martin is a very respectable young man,but i cannot admit him to be harriet's equal; and am rather surprized indeed thathe should have ventured to address her. by your account, he does seem to have hadsome scruples. it is a pity that they were ever got over." "not harriet's equal!" exclaimed mr.knightley loudly and warmly; and with calmer asperity, added, a few momentsafterwards, "no, he is not her equal
indeed, for he is as much her superior insense as in situation. emma, your infatuation about that girlblinds you. what are harriet smith's claims, either ofbirth, nature or education, to any connexion higher than robert martin? she is the natural daughter of nobody knowswhom, with probably no settled provision at all, and certainly no respectablerelations. she is known only as parlour-boarder at acommon school. she is not a sensible girl, nor a girl ofany information. she has been taught nothing useful, and istoo young and too simple to have acquired
any thing herself. at her age she can have no experience, andwith her little wit, is not very likely ever to have any that can avail her.she is pretty, and she is good tempered, and that is all. my only scruple in advising the match wason his account, as being beneath his deserts, and a bad connexion for him. i felt that, as to fortune, in allprobability he might do much better; and that as to a rational companion or usefulhelpmate, he could not do worse. but i could not reason so to a man in love,and was willing to trust to there being no
harm in her, to her having that sort ofdisposition, which, in good hands, like his, might be easily led aright and turnout very well. the advantage of the match i felt to be allon her side; and had not the smallest doubt (nor have i now) that there would be ageneral cry-out upon her extreme good luck. even your satisfaction i made sure of. it crossed my mind immediately that youwould not regret your friend's leaving highbury, for the sake of her being settledso well. i remember saying to myself, 'even emma,with all her partiality for harriet, will think this a good match.'""i cannot help wondering at your knowing so
little of emma as to say any such thing. what! think a farmer, (and with all hissense and all his merit mr. martin is nothing more,) a good match for my intimatefriend! not regret her leaving highbury for thesake of marrying a man whom i could never admit as an acquaintance of my own!i wonder you should think it possible for me to have such feelings. i assure you mine are very different.i must think your statement by no means fair.you are not just to harriet's claims. they would be estimated very differently byothers as well as myself; mr. martin may be
the richest of the two, but he isundoubtedly her inferior as to rank in society.--the sphere in which she moves is much above his.--it would be adegradation." "a degradation to illegitimacy andignorance, to be married to a respectable, intelligent gentleman-farmer!" "as to the circumstances of her birth,though in a legal sense she may be called nobody, it will not hold in common sense. she is not to pay for the offence ofothers, by being held below the level of those with whom she is brought up.--therecan scarcely be a doubt that her father is
a gentleman--and a gentleman of fortune.-- her allowance is very liberal; nothing hasever been grudged for her improvement or comfort.--that she is a gentleman'sdaughter, is indubitable to me; that she associates with gentlemen's daughters, no one, i apprehend, will deny.--she issuperior to mr. robert martin." "whoever might be her parents," said mr.knightley, "whoever may have had the charge of her, it does not appear to have been anypart of their plan to introduce her into what you would call good society. after receiving a very indifferenteducation she is left in mrs. goddard's
hands to shift as she can;--to move, inshort, in mrs. goddard's line, to have mrs. goddard's acquaintance. her friends evidently thought this goodenough for her; and it was good enough. she desired nothing better herself. till you chose to turn her into a friend,her mind had no distaste for her own set, nor any ambition beyond it.she was as happy as possible with the martins in the summer. she had no sense of superiority then.if she has it now, you have given it. you have been no friend to harriet smith,emma.
robert martin would never have proceeded sofar, if he had not felt persuaded of her not being disinclined to him.i know him well. he has too much real feeling to address anywoman on the haphazard of selfish passion. and as to conceit, he is the farthest fromit of any man i know. depend upon it he had encouragement." it was most convenient to emma not to makea direct reply to this assertion; she chose rather to take up her own line of thesubject again. "you are a very warm friend to mr. martin;but, as i said before, are unjust to harriet.harriet's claims to marry well are not so
contemptible as you represent them. she is not a clever girl, but she hasbetter sense than you are aware of, and does not deserve to have her understandingspoken of so slightingly. waiving that point, however, and supposingher to be, as you describe her, only pretty and good-natured, let me tell you, that inthe degree she possesses them, they are not trivial recommendations to the world in general, for she is, in fact, a beautifulgirl, and must be thought so by ninety-nine people out of an hundred; and till itappears that men are much more philosophic on the subject of beauty than they are
generally supposed; till they do fall inlove with well-informed minds instead of handsome faces, a girl, with suchloveliness as harriet, has a certainty of being admired and sought after, of having the power of chusing from among many,consequently a claim to be nice. her good-nature, too, is not so very slighta claim, comprehending, as it does, real, thorough sweetness of temper and manner, avery humble opinion of herself, and a great readiness to be pleased with other people. i am very much mistaken if your sex ingeneral would not think such beauty, and such temper, the highest claims a womancould possess."
"upon my word, emma, to hear you abusingthe reason you have, is almost enough to make me think so too.better be without sense, than misapply it as you do." "to be sure!" cried she playfully."i know that is the feeling of you all. i know that such a girl as harriet isexactly what every man delights in--what at once bewitches his senses and satisfies hisjudgment. oh! harriet may pick and chuse. were you, yourself, ever to marry, she isthe very woman for you. and is she, at seventeen, just enteringinto life, just beginning to be known, to
be wondered at because she does not acceptthe first offer she receives? no--pray let her have time to look abouther." "i have always thought it a very foolishintimacy," said mr. knightley presently, "though i have kept my thoughts to myself;but i now perceive that it will be a very unfortunate one for harriet. you will puff her up with such ideas of herown beauty, and of what she has a claim to, that, in a little while, nobody within herreach will be good enough for her. vanity working on a weak head, producesevery sort of mischief. nothing so easy as for a young lady toraise her expectations too high.
miss harriet smith may not find offers ofmarriage flow in so fast, though she is a very pretty girl.men of sense, whatever you may chuse to say, do not want silly wives. men of family would not be very fond ofconnecting themselves with a girl of such obscurity--and most prudent men would beafraid of the inconvenience and disgrace they might be involved in, when the mysteryof her parentage came to be revealed. let her marry robert martin, and she issafe, respectable, and happy for ever; but if you encourage her to expect to marrygreatly, and teach her to be satisfied with nothing less than a man of consequence and
large fortune, she may be a parlour-boarderat mrs. goddard's all the rest of her life- -or, at least, (for harriet smith is a girlwho will marry somebody or other,) till she grow desperate, and is glad to catch at theold writing-master's son." "we think so very differently on thispoint, mr. knightley, that there can be no use in canvassing it. we shall only be making each other moreangry. but as to my letting her marry robertmartin, it is impossible; she has refused him, and so decidedly, i think, as mustprevent any second application. she must abide by the evil of havingrefused him, whatever it may be; and as to
the refusal itself, i will not pretend tosay that i might not influence her a little; but i assure you there was verylittle for me or for any body to do. his appearance is so much against him, andhis manner so bad, that if she ever were disposed to favour him, she is not now. i can imagine, that before she had seen anybody superior, she might tolerate him. he was the brother of her friends, and hetook pains to please her; and altogether, having seen nobody better (that must havebeen his great assistant) she might not, while she was at abbey-mill, find himdisagreeable. but the case is altered now.
she knows now what gentlemen are; andnothing but a gentleman in education and manner has any chance with harriet." "nonsense, errant nonsense, as ever wastalked!" cried mr. knightley.--"robert martin's manners have sense, sincerity, andgood-humour to recommend them; and his mind has more true gentility than harriet smithcould understand." emma made no answer, and tried to lookcheerfully unconcerned, but was really feeling uncomfortable and wanting him verymuch to be gone. she did not repent what she had done; shestill thought herself a better judge of such a point of female right and refinementthan he could be; but yet she had a sort of
habitual respect for his judgment in general, which made her dislike having itso loudly against her; and to have him sitting just opposite to her in angrystate, was very disagreeable. some minutes passed in this unpleasantsilence, with only one attempt on emma's side to talk of the weather, but he made noanswer. he was thinking. the result of his thoughts appeared at lastin these words. "robert martin has no great loss--if he canbut think so; and i hope it will not be long before he does.
your views for harriet are best known toyourself; but as you make no secret of your love of match-making, it is fair to supposethat views, and plans, and projects you have;--and as a friend i shall just hint to you that if elton is the man, i think itwill be all labour in vain." emma laughed and disclaimed.he continued, "depend upon it, elton will not do. elton is a very good sort of man, and avery respectable vicar of highbury, but not at all likely to make an imprudent match.he knows the value of a good income as well as any body.
elton may talk sentimentally, but he willact rationally. he is as well acquainted with his ownclaims, as you can be with harriet's. he knows that he is a very handsome youngman, and a great favourite wherever he goes; and from his general way of talkingin unreserved moments, when there are only men present, i am convinced that he doesnot mean to throw himself away. i have heard him speak with great animationof a large family of young ladies that his sisters are intimate with, who have alltwenty thousand pounds apiece." "i am very much obliged to you," said emma,laughing again. "if i had set my heart on mr. elton'smarrying harriet, it would have been very
kind to open my eyes; but at present i onlywant to keep harriet to myself. i have done with match-making indeed. i could never hope to equal my own doingsat randalls. i shall leave off while i am well.""good morning to you,"--said he, rising and walking off abruptly. he was very much vexed. he felt the disappointment of the youngman, and was mortified to have been the means of promoting it, by the sanction hehad given; and the part which he was persuaded emma had taken in the affair, wasprovoking him exceedingly.
emma remained in a state of vexation too;but there was more indistinctness in the causes of her's, than in his. she did not always feel so absolutelysatisfied with herself, so entirely convinced that her opinions were right andher adversary's wrong, as mr. knightley. he walked off in more complete self-approbation than he left for her. she was not so materially cast down,however, but that a little time and the return of harriet were very adequaterestoratives. harriet's staying away so long wasbeginning to make her uneasy. the possibility of the young man's comingto mrs. goddard's that morning, and meeting
with harriet and pleading his own cause,gave alarming ideas. the dread of such a failure after allbecame the prominent uneasiness; and when harriet appeared, and in very good spirits,and without having any such reason to give for her long absence, she felt a satisfaction which settled her with her ownmind, and convinced her, that let mr. knightley think or say what he would, shehad done nothing which woman's friendship and woman's feelings would not justify. he had frightened her a little about mr.elton; but when she considered that mr. knightley could not have observed him asshe had done, neither with the interest,
nor (she must be allowed to tell herself, in spite of mr. knightley's pretensions)with the skill of such an observer on such a question as herself, that he had spokenit hastily and in anger, she was able to believe, that he had rather said what he wished resentfully to be true, than what heknew any thing about. he certainly might have heard mr. eltonspeak with more unreserve than she had ever done, and mr. elton might not be of animprudent, inconsiderate disposition as to money matters; he might naturally be rather attentive than otherwise to them; but then,mr. knightley did not make due allowance
for the influence of a strong passion atwar with all interested motives. mr. knightley saw no such passion, and ofcourse thought nothing of its effects; but she saw too much of it to feel a doubt ofits overcoming any hesitations that a reasonable prudence might originally suggest; and more than a reasonable,becoming degree of prudence, she was very sure did not belong to mr. elton. harriet's cheerful look and mannerestablished hers: she came back, not to think of mr. martin, but to talk of mr.elton. miss nash had been telling her something,which she repeated immediately with great
delight. mr. perry had been to mrs. goddard's toattend a sick child, and miss nash had seen him, and he had told miss nash, that as hewas coming back yesterday from clayton park, he had met mr. elton, and found to his great surprize, that mr. elton wasactually on his road to london, and not meaning to return till the morrow, thoughit was the whist-club night, which he had been never known to miss before; and mr. perry had remonstrated with him about it,and told him how shabby it was in him, their best player, to absent himself, andtried very much to persuade him to put off
his journey only one day; but it would not do; mr. elton had been determined to go on,and had said in a very particular way indeed, that he was going on business whichhe would not put off for any inducement in the world; and something about a very enviable commission, and being the bearerof something exceedingly precious. mr. perry could not quite understand him,but he was very sure there must be a lady in the case, and he told him so; and mr.elton only looked very conscious and smiling, and rode off in great spirits. miss nash had told her all this, and hadtalked a great deal more about mr. elton;
and said, looking so very significantly ather, "that she did not pretend to understand what his business might be, but she only knew that any woman whom mr. eltoncould prefer, she should think the luckiest woman in the world; for, beyond a doubt,mr. elton had not his equal for beauty or agreeableness." chapter ix mr. knightley might quarrel with her, butemma could not quarrel with herself. he was so much displeased, that it waslonger than usual before he came to hartfield again; and when they did meet,his grave looks shewed that she was not
forgiven. she was sorry, but could not repent.on the contrary, her plans and proceedings were more and more justified and endearedto her by the general appearances of the next few days. the picture, elegantly framed, came safelyto hand soon after mr. elton's return, and being hung over the mantelpiece of thecommon sitting-room, he got up to look at it, and sighed out his half sentences of admiration just as he ought; and as forharriet's feelings, they were visibly forming themselves into as strong andsteady an attachment as her youth and sort
of mind admitted. emma was soon perfectly satisfied of mr.martin's being no otherwise remembered, than as he furnished a contrast with mr.elton, of the utmost advantage to the latter. her views of improving her little friend'smind, by a great deal of useful reading and conversation, had never yet led to morethan a few first chapters, and the intention of going on to-morrow. it was much easier to chat than to study;much pleasanter to let her imagination range and work at harriet's fortune, thanto be labouring to enlarge her
comprehension or exercise it on sober facts; and the only literary pursuit whichengaged harriet at present, the only mental provision she was making for the evening oflife, was the collecting and transcribing all the riddles of every sort that she could meet with, into a thin quarto of hot-pressed paper, made up by her friend, and ornamented with ciphers and trophies.in this age of literature, such collections on a very grand scale are not uncommon. miss nash, head-teacher at mrs. goddard's,had written out at least three hundred; and harriet, who had taken the first hint of itfrom her, hoped, with miss woodhouse's
help, to get a great many more. emma assisted with her invention, memoryand taste; and as harriet wrote a very pretty hand, it was likely to be anarrangement of the first order, in form as well as quantity. mr. woodhouse was almost as much interestedin the business as the girls, and tried very often to recollect something worththeir putting in. "so many clever riddles as there used to bewhen he was young--he wondered he could not remember them! but he hoped he should intime." and it always ended in "kitty, a fair butfrozen maid."
his good friend perry, too, whom he hadspoken to on the subject, did not at present recollect any thing of the riddlekind; but he had desired perry to be upon the watch, and as he went about so much, something, he thought, might come from thatquarter. it was by no means his daughter's wish thatthe intellects of highbury in general should be put under requisition. mr. elton was the only one whose assistanceshe asked. he was invited to contribute any reallygood enigmas, charades, or conundrums that he might recollect; and she had thepleasure of seeing him most intently at
work with his recollections; and at the same time, as she could perceive, mostearnestly careful that nothing ungallant, nothing that did not breathe a complimentto the sex should pass his lips. they owed to him their two or threepolitest puzzles; and the joy and exultation with which at last he recalled,and rather sentimentally recited, that well-known charade, my first doth affliction denote,which my second is destin'd to feel and my whole is the best antidotethat affliction to soften and heal.-- made her quite sorry to acknowledge thatthey had transcribed it some pages ago
already. "why will not you write one yourself forus, mr. elton?" said she; "that is the only security for its freshness; and nothingcould be easier to you." "oh no! he had never written, hardly ever,any thing of the kind in his life. the stupidest fellow! he was afraid not even miss woodhouse"--hestopt a moment--"or miss smith could inspire him."the very next day however produced some proof of inspiration. he called for a few moments, just to leavea piece of paper on the table containing,
as he said, a charade, which a friend ofhis had addressed to a young lady, the object of his admiration, but which, from his manner, emma was immediately convincedmust be his own. "i do not offer it for miss smith'scollection," said he. "being my friend's, i have no right toexpose it in any degree to the public eye, but perhaps you may not dislike looking atit." the speech was more to emma than toharriet, which emma could understand. there was deep consciousness about him, andhe found it easier to meet her eye than her friend's.
he was gone the next moment:--after anothermoment's pause, "take it," said emma, smiling, and pushingthe paper towards harriet--"it is for you. take your own." but harriet was in a tremor, and could nottouch it; and emma, never loth to be first, was obliged to examine it herself. to miss--charade.my first displays the wealth and pomp of kings,lords of the earth! their luxury and ease. another view of man,my second brings,
behold him there,the monarch of the seas! but ah! united,what reverse we have! man's boasted power and freedom,all are flown; lord of the earth and sea,he bends a slave, and woman, lovely woman,reigns alone. thy ready witthe word will soon supply, may its approval beamin that soft eye! she cast her eye over it, pondered, caughtthe meaning, read it through again to be quite certain, and quite mistress of thelines, and then passing it to harriet, sat
happily smiling, and saying to herself, while harriet was puzzling over the paperin all the confusion of hope and dulness, "very well, mr. elton, very well indeed.i have read worse charades. courtship--a very good hint. i give you credit for it.this is feeling your way. this is saying very plainly--'pray, misssmith, give me leave to pay my addresses to you. approve my charade and my intentions in thesame glance.' may its approval beam in that soft eye!harriet exactly.
soft is the very word for her eye--of allepithets, the justest that could be given. thy ready wit the word will soon supply.humph--harriet's ready wit! all the better. a man must be very much in love, indeed, todescribe her so. ah! mr. knightley, i wish you had thebenefit of this; i think this would convince you. for once in your life you would be obligedto own yourself mistaken. an excellent charade indeed! and very muchto the purpose. things must come to a crisis soon now."
she was obliged to break off from thesevery pleasant observations, which were otherwise of a sort to run into greatlength, by the eagerness of harriet's wondering questions. "what can it be, miss woodhouse?--what canit be? i have not an idea--i cannot guess it inthe least. what can it possibly be? do try to find it out, miss woodhouse.do help me. i never saw any thing so hard.is it kingdom? i wonder who the friend was--and who couldbe the young lady.
do you think it is a good one?can it be woman? and woman, lovely woman, reigns alone. can it be neptune?behold him there, the monarch of the seas! or a trident? or a mermaid? or a shark?oh, no! shark is only one syllable. it must be very clever, or he would nothave brought it. oh! miss woodhouse, do you think we shallever find it out?" "mermaids and sharks! nonsense!my dear harriet, what are you thinking of? where would be the use of his bringing us acharade made by a friend upon a mermaid or
a shark? give me the paper and listen. for miss ------, read miss smith.my first displays that is court.another view of man, my second brings;behold him there, the monarch of the seas! that is ship;--plain as it can be.--nowfor the cream. but ah! united, (courtship, you know,)what reverse we have! man's boasted power and freedom,all are flown.
a very proper compliment!--and then followsthe application, which i think, my dear harriet, you cannot find much difficulty incomprehending. read it in comfort to yourself. there can be no doubt of its being writtenfor you and to you." harriet could not long resist so delightfula persuasion. she read the concluding lines, and was allflutter and happiness. she could not speak.but she was not wanted to speak. it was enough for her to feel. emma spoke for her."there is so pointed, and so particular a
meaning in this compliment," said she,"that i cannot have a doubt as to mr. elton's intentions. you are his object--and you will soonreceive the completest proof of it. i thought it must be so. i thought i could not be so deceived; butnow, it is clear; the state of his mind is as clear and decided, as my wishes on thesubject have been ever since i knew you. yes, harriet, just so long have i beenwanting the very circumstance to happen what has happened. i could never tell whether an attachmentbetween you and mr. elton were most
desirable or most natural.its probability and its eligibility have really so equalled each other! i am very happy.i congratulate you, my dear harriet, with all my heart.this is an attachment which a woman may well feel pride in creating. this is a connexion which offers nothingbut good. it will give you every thing that you want--consideration, independence, a proper home--it will fix you in the centre of allyour real friends, close to hartfield and to me, and confirm our intimacy for ever.
this, harriet, is an alliance which cannever raise a blush in either of us." "dear miss woodhouse!"--and "dear misswoodhouse," was all that harriet, with many tender embraces could articulate at first;but when they did arrive at something more like conversation, it was sufficiently clear to her friend that she saw, felt,anticipated, and remembered just as she ought.mr. elton's superiority had very ample acknowledgment. "whatever you say is always right," criedharriet, "and therefore i suppose, and believe, and hope it must be so; butotherwise i could not have imagined it.
it is so much beyond any thing i deserve. mr. elton, who might marry any body!there cannot be two opinions about him. he is so very superior.only think of those sweet verses--'to miss ------.' dear me, how clever!--could it really bemeant for me?" "i cannot make a question, or listen to aquestion about that. it is a certainty. receive it on my judgment.it is a sort of prologue to the play, a motto to the chapter; and will be soonfollowed by matter-of-fact prose."
"it is a sort of thing which nobody couldhave expected. i am sure, a month ago, i had no more ideamyself!--the strangest things do take place!" "when miss smiths and mr. eltons getacquainted--they do indeed--and really it is strange; it is out of the common coursethat what is so evidently, so palpably desirable--what courts the pre-arrangement of other people, should so immediatelyshape itself into the proper form. you and mr. elton are by situation calledtogether; you belong to one another by every circumstance of your respectivehomes.
your marrying will be equal to the match atrandalls. there does seem to be a something in theair of hartfield which gives love exactly the right direction, and sends it into thevery channel where it ought to flow. the course of true love never did runsmooth-- a hartfield edition of shakespeare wouldhave a long note on that passage." "that mr. elton should really be in lovewith me,--me, of all people, who did not know him, to speak to him, at michaelmas! and he, the very handsomest man that everwas, and a man that every body looks up to, quite like mr. knightley!
his company so sought after, that everybody says he need not eat a single meal by himself if he does not chuse it; that hehas more invitations than there are days in the week. and so excellent in the church!miss nash has put down all the texts he has ever preached from since he came tohighbury. dear me! when i look back to the first time i sawhim! how little did i think!--the two abbots andi ran into the front room and peeped through the blind when we heard he wasgoing by, and miss nash came and scolded us
away, and staid to look through herself; however, she called me back presently, andlet me look too, which was very good- natured.and how beautiful we thought he looked! he was arm-in-arm with mr. cole." "this is an alliance which, whoever--whatever your friends may be, must be agreeable to them, provided at least theyhave common sense; and we are not to be addressing our conduct to fools. if they are anxious to see you happilymarried, here is a man whose amiable character gives every assurance of it;--ifthey wish to have you settled in the same
country and circle which they have chosen to place you in, here it will beaccomplished; and if their only object is that you should, in the common phrase, bewell married, here is the comfortable fortune, the respectable establishment, therise in the world which must satisfy them." "yes, very true.how nicely you talk; i love to hear you. you understand every thing. you and mr. elton are one as clever as theother. this charade!--if i had studied atwelvemonth, i could never have made any thing like it."
"i thought he meant to try his skill, byhis manner of declining it yesterday." "i do think it is, without exception, thebest charade i ever read." "i never read one more to the purpose,certainly." "it is as long again as almost all we havehad before." "i do not consider its length asparticularly in its favour. such things in general cannot be tooshort." harriet was too intent on the lines tohear. the most satisfactory comparisons wererising in her mind. "it is one thing," said she, presently--hercheeks in a glow--"to have very good sense
in a common way, like every body else, andif there is any thing to say, to sit down and write a letter, and say just what you must, in a short way; and another, to writeverses and charades like this." emma could not have desired a more spiritedrejection of mr. martin's prose. "such sweet lines!" continued harriet--"these two last!--but how shall i ever be able to return the paper, or say i havefound it out?--oh! miss woodhouse, what can we do about that?" "leave it to me.you do nothing. he will be here this evening, i dare say,and then i will give it him back, and some
nonsense or other will pass between us, andyou shall not be committed.--your soft eyes shall chuse their own time for beaming. trust to me.""oh! miss woodhouse, what a pity that i must not write this beautiful charade intomy book! i am sure i have not got one half so good." "leave out the two last lines, and there isno reason why you should not write it into your book.""oh! but those two lines are"-- --"the best of all. granted;--for private enjoyment; and forprivate enjoyment keep them.
they are not at all the less written youknow, because you divide them. the couplet does not cease to be, nor doesits meaning change. but take it away, and all appropriationceases, and a very pretty gallant charade remains, fit for any collection. depend upon it, he would not like to havehis charade slighted, much better than his passion.a poet in love must be encouraged in both capacities, or neither. give me the book, i will write it down, andthen there can be no possible reflection on you."
harriet submitted, though her mind couldhardly separate the parts, so as to feel quite sure that her friend were not writingdown a declaration of love. it seemed too precious an offering for anydegree of publicity. "i shall never let that book go out of myown hands," said she. "very well," replied emma; "a most naturalfeeling; and the longer it lasts, the better i shall be pleased.but here is my father coming: you will not object to my reading the charade to him. it will be giving him so much pleasure!he loves any thing of the sort, and especially any thing that pays woman acompliment.
he has the tenderest spirit of gallantrytowards us all!--you must let me read it to him."harriet looked grave. "my dear harriet, you must not refine toomuch upon this charade.--you will betray your feelings improperly, if you are tooconscious and too quick, and appear to affix more meaning, or even quite all themeaning which may be affixed to it. do not be overpowered by such a littletribute of admiration. if he had been anxious for secrecy, hewould not have left the paper while i was by; but he rather pushed it towards me thantowards you. do not let us be too solemn on thebusiness.
he has encouragement enough to proceed,without our sighing out our souls over this charade." "oh! no--i hope i shall not be ridiculousabout it. do as you please." mr. woodhouse came in, and very soon led tothe subject again, by the recurrence of his very frequent inquiry of "well, my dears,how does your book go on?--have you got any thing fresh?" "yes, papa; we have something to read you,something quite fresh. a piece of paper was found on the tablethis morning--(dropt, we suppose, by a
fairy)--containing a very pretty charade,and we have just copied it in." she read it to him, just as he liked tohave any thing read, slowly and distinctly, and two or three times over, withexplanations of every part as she proceeded--and he was very much pleased, and, as she had foreseen, especially struckwith the complimentary conclusion. "aye, that's very just, indeed, that's veryproperly said. very true. 'woman, lovely woman.'it is such a pretty charade, my dear, that i can easily guess what fairy brought it.--nobody could have written so prettily, but
you, emma." emma only nodded, and smiled.--after alittle thinking, and a very tender sigh, he added,"ah! it is no difficulty to see who you take after! your dear mother was so clever at all thosethings! if i had but her memory! but i can remember nothing;--not even thatparticular riddle which you have heard me mention; i can only recollect the firststanza; and there are several. kitty, a fair but frozen maid,kindled a flame i yet deplore,
the hood-wink'd boy i called to aid,though of his near approach afraid, so fatal to my suit before. and that is all that i can recollect of it--but it is very clever all the way through. but i think, my dear, you said you had gotit." "yes, papa, it is written out in our secondpage. we copied it from the elegant extracts.it was garrick's, you know." "aye, very true.--i wish i could recollectmore of it. kitty, a fair but frozen maid. the name makes me think of poor isabella;for she was very near being christened
catherine after her grandmama.i hope we shall have her here next week. have you thought, my dear, where you shallput her--and what room there will be for the children?" "oh! yes--she will have her own room, ofcourse; the room she always has;--and there is the nursery for the children,--just asusual, you know. why should there be any change?" "i do not know, my dear--but it is so longsince she was here!--not since last easter, and then only for a few days.--mr. johnknightley's being a lawyer is very inconvenient.--poor isabella!--she is sadly
taken away from us all!--and how sorry shewill be when she comes, not to see miss taylor here!""she will not be surprized, papa, at least." "i do not know, my dear.i am sure i was very much surprized when i first heard she was going to be married.""we must ask mr. and mrs. weston to dine with us, while isabella is here." "yes, my dear, if there is time.--but--(ina very depressed tone)--she is coming for only one week.there will not be time for any thing." "it is unfortunate that they cannot staylonger--but it seems a case of necessity.
mr. john knightley must be in town again onthe 28th, and we ought to be thankful, papa, that we are to have the whole of thetime they can give to the country, that two or three days are not to be taken out forthe abbey. mr. knightley promises to give up his claimthis christmas--though you know it is longer since they were with him, than withus." "it would be very hard, indeed, my dear, ifpoor isabella were to be anywhere but at mr. woodhouse could never allow for mr.knightley's claims on his brother, or any body's claims on isabella, except his own.he sat musing a little while, and then said,
"but i do not see why poor isabella shouldbe 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 youever will. isabella cannot bear to stay behind herhusband." this was too true for contradiction. unwelcome as it was, mr. woodhouse couldonly give a submissive sigh; and as emma saw his spirits affected by the idea of hisdaughter's attachment to her husband, she
immediately led to such a branch of thesubject as must raise them. "harriet must give us as much of hercompany as she can while my brother and sister are here. i am sure she will be pleased with thechildren. we are very proud of the children, are notwe, papa? i wonder which she will think thehandsomest, 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 likehis mama. henry is the eldest, he was named after me,not after his father. john, the second, is named after hisfather. some people are surprized, i believe, thatthe eldest was not, but isabella would have him called henry, which i thought verypretty of her. and he is a very clever boy, indeed. they are all remarkably clever; and theyhave so many pretty ways. they will come and stand by my chair, andsay, 'grandpapa, can you give me a bit of
string?' and once henry asked me for aknife, but i told him knives were only made for grandpapas. i think their father is too rough with themvery often." "he appears rough to you," said emma,"because you are so very gentle yourself; but if you could compare him with otherpapas, you would not think him rough. he wishes his boys to be active and hardy;and if they misbehave, can give them a sharp word now and then; but he is anaffectionate father--certainly mr. john knightley is an affectionate father. the children are all fond of him.""and then their uncle comes in, and tosses
them up to the ceiling in a very frightfulway!" "but they like it, papa; there is nothingthey like so much. it is such enjoyment to them, that if theiruncle did not lay down the rule of their taking turns, whichever began would nevergive way to the other." "well, i cannot understand it." "that is the case with us all, papa.one half of the world cannot understand the pleasures of the other." later in the morning, and just as the girlswere going to separate in preparation for the regular four o'clock dinner, the heroof this inimitable charade walked in again.
harriet turned away; but emma could receivehim with the usual smile, and her quick eye soon discerned in his the consciousness ofhaving made a push--of having thrown a die; and she imagined he was come to see how itmight turn up. his ostensible reason, however, was to askwhether mr. woodhouse's party could be made up in the evening without him, or whetherhe should be in the smallest degree necessary at hartfield. if he were, every thing else must give way;but otherwise his friend cole had been saying so much about his dining with him--had made such a point of it, that he had promised him conditionally to come.
emma thanked him, but could not allow ofhis disappointing his friend on their account; her father was sure of his rubber. he re-urged--she re-declined; and he seemedthen about to make his bow, when taking the paper from the table, she returned it-- "oh! here is the charade you were soobliging as to leave with us; thank you for the sight of it.we admired it so much, that i have ventured to write it into miss smith's collection. your friend will not take it amiss i hope.of course i have not transcribed beyond the first eight lines."mr. elton certainly did not very well know
what to say. he looked rather doubtingly--ratherconfused; said something about "honour,"-- glanced at emma and at harriet, and thenseeing the book open on the table, took it up, and examined it very attentively. with the view of passing off an awkwardmoment, emma smilingly said, "you must make my apologies to your friend;but so good a charade must not be confined to one or two. he may be sure of every woman's approbationwhile he writes with such gallantry." "i have no hesitation in saying," repliedmr. elton, though hesitating a good deal
while he spoke; "i have no hesitation insaying--at least if my friend feels at all as i do--i have not the smallest doubt that, could he see his little effusionhonoured as i see it, (looking at the book again, and replacing it on the table),he would consider it as the proudest moment of his life." after this speech he was gone as soon aspossible. emma could not think it too soon; for withall his good and agreeable qualities, there was a sort of parade in his speeches whichwas very apt to incline her to laugh. she ran away to indulge the inclination,leaving the tender and the sublime of
pleasure to harriet's share.
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