Chapter IV

Such another sm all basin of thin gruel as his own was all that he could, with thorough self-approbation, recom m end; though he m ight constrain him self, while the ladies were com fortably clearing the nicer things, to say :

“Mrs. Bates, let m e propose y our venturing on one of these eggs. An egg boiled very soft is not unwholesom e. Serle understands boiling an egg better than any body. I would not recom m end an egg boiled by any body else; but y ou need not be afraid, they are very sm all, y ou see – one of our sm all eggs will not hurt y ou. Miss Bates, let Em m a help y ou to a little bit of tart – a very little bit.

Ours are all apple-tarts. You need not be afraid of unwholesom e preserves here. I do not advise the custard. Mrs. Goddard, what say y ou to half a glass of wine? A sm all half-glass, put into a tum bler of water? I do not think it could disagree with y ou.”

Em m a allowed her father to talk – but supplied her visitors in a m uch m ore satisfactory sty le, and on the present evening had particular pleasure in sending them away happy. The happiness of Miss Sm ith was quite equal to her intentions. Miss Woodhouse was so great a personage in Highbury, that the prospect of the introduction had given as m uch panic as pleasure; but the hum ble, grateful little girl went off with highly gratified feelings, delighted with the affability with which Miss Woodhouse had treated her all the evening, and actually shaken hands with her at last!

CHAPTER IV

Harriet Sm ith’s intim acy at Hartfield was soon a settled thing. Quick and decided in her way s, Em m a lost no tim e in inviting, encouraging, and telling her to com e very often; and as their acquaintance increased, so did their satisfaction in each other. As a walking com panion, Em m a had very early foreseen how useful she m ight find her. In that respect Mrs. Weston’s loss had been im portant.

Her father never went bey ond the shrubbery, where two divisions of the ground sufficed him for his long walk, or his short, as the y ear varied; and since Mrs.

Weston’s m arriage her exercise had been too m uch confined. She had ventured once alone to Randalls, but it was not pleasant; and a Harriet Sm ith, therefore, one whom she could sum m on at any tim e to a walk, would be a valuable addition to her privileges. But in every respect, as she saw m ore of her, she approved her, and was confirm ed in all her kind designs.

Harriet certainly was not clever, but she had a sweet, docile, grateful disposition, was totally free from conceit, and only desiring to be guided by any one she looked up to. Her early attachm ent to herself was very am iable; and her inclination for good com pany, and power of appreciating what was elegant and clever, shewed that there was no want of taste, though strength of understanding m ust not be expected. Altogether she was quite convinced of Harriet Sm ith’s being exactly the y oung friend she wanted – exactly the som ething which her hom e required. Such a friend as Mrs. Weston was out of the question. Two such could never be granted. Two such she did not want. It was quite a different sort of thing, a sentim ent distinct and independent. Mrs. Weston was the obj ect of a regard which had its basis in gratitude and esteem . Harriet would be loved as one to whom she could be useful. For Mrs. Weston there was nothing to be done; for Harriet every thing.

Her first attem pts at usefulness were in an endeavour to find out who were the parents, but Harriet could not tell. She was ready to tell every thing in her power, but on this subj ect questions were vain. Em m a was obliged to fancy what she liked – but she could never believe that in the sam e situation she should not have discovered the truth. Harriet had no penetration. She had been satisfied to hear and believe j ust what Mrs. Goddard chose to tell her; and looked no farther.

Mrs. Goddard, and the teachers, and the girls and the affairs of the school in general, form ed naturally a great part of the conversation – and but for her acquaintance with the Martins of Abbey -Mill Farm , it m ust have been the whole. But the Martins occupied her thoughts a good deal; she had spent two very happy m onths with them , and now loved to talk of the pleasures of her visit, and

describe the m any com forts and wonders of the place. Em m a encouraged her talkativeness – am used by such a picture of another set of beings, and enj oy ing the y outhful sim plicity which could speak with so m uch exultation of Mrs.

Martin’s having “two parlours, two very good parlours, indeed; one of them quite as large as Mrs. Goddard’s drawing-room ; and of her having an upper m aid who had lived five-and-twenty y ears with her; and of their having eight cows, two of them Alderney s, and one a little Welch cow, a very pretty little Welch cow indeed; and of Mrs. Martin’s say ing as she was so fond of it, it should be called her cow; and of their having a very handsom e sum m er-house in their garden, where som e day next y ear they were all to drink tea: – a very handsom e sum m er-house, large enough to hold a dozen people.”

For som e tim e she was am used, without thinking bey ond the im m ediate cause; but as she cam e to understand the fam ily better, other feelings arose. She had taken up a wrong idea, fancy ing it was a m other and daughter, a son and son’s wife, who all lived together; but when it appeared that the Mr. Martin, who bore a part in the narrative, and was alway s m entioned with approbation for his great good-nature in doing som ething or other, was a single m an; that there was no y oung Mrs. Martin, no wife in the case; she did suspect danger to her poor little friend from all this hospitality and kindness, and that, if she were not taken care of, she m ight be required to sink herself forever.

With this inspiriting notion, her questions increased in num ber and m eaning; and she particularly led Harriet to talk m ore of Mr. Martin, and there was evidently no dislike to it. Harriet was very ready to speak of the share he had had in their m oonlight walks and m erry evening gam es; and dwelt a good deal upon his being so very good-hum oured and obliging. He had gone three m iles round one day in order to bring her som e walnuts, because she had said how fond she was of them , and in every thing else he was so very obliging. He had his shepherd’s son into the parlour one night on purpose to sing to her. She was very fond of singing. He could sing a little him self. She believed he was very clever, and understood every thing. He had a very fine flock, and, while she was with them , he had been bid m ore for his wool than any body in the country. She believed every body spoke well of him . His m other and sisters were very fond of him . Mrs. Martin had told her one day (and there was a blush as she said it,) that it was im possible for any body to be a better son, and therefore she was sure, whenever he m arried, he would m ake a good husband. Not that she wanted him to m arry. She was in no hurry at all.

“Well done, Mrs. Martin!” thought Em m a. “You know what y ou are about.”

“And when she had com e away, Mrs. Martin was so very kind as to

send Mrs. Goddard a beautiful goose – the finest goose Mrs. Goddard had ever seen. Mrs. Goddard had dressed it on a Sunday, and asked all the three teachers, Miss Nash, and Miss Prince, and Miss Richardson, to sup with her.”

“Mr. Martin, I suppose, is not a m an of inform ation bey ond the line of his own business? He does not read?”

“Oh y es! – that is, no – I do not know – but I believe he has read a good deal – but not what y ou would think any thing of. He reads the Agricultural Reports, and som e other books that lay in one of the window seats – but he reads all them to him self. But som etim es of an evening, before we went to cards, he would read som ething aloud out of the Elegant Extracts, very entertaining. And I know he has read the Vicar of Wakefield. He never read the Rom ance of the Forest, nor The Children of the Abbey. He had never heard of such books before I m entioned them , but he is determ ined to get them now as soon as ever he can.”

The next question was –

“What sort of looking m an is Mr. Martin?”

“Oh! not handsom e – not at all handsom e. I thought him very plain at first, but I do not think him so plain now. One does not, y ou know, after a tim e. But did y ou never see him ? He is in Highbury every now and then, and he is sure to ride through every week in his way to Kingston. He has passed y ou very often.”

“That m ay be, and I m ay have seen him fifty tim es, but without having any idea of his nam e. A y oung farm er, whether on horseback or on foot, is the very last sort of person to raise m y curiosity. The y eom anry are precisely the order of people with whom I feel I can have nothing to do. A degree or two lower, and a creditable appearance m ight interest m e; I m ight hope to be useful to their fam ilies in som e way or other. But a farm er can need none of m y help, and is, therefore, in one sense, as m uch above m y notice as in every other he is below it.”

“To be sure. Oh y es! It is not likely y ou should ever have observed him ; but he knows y ou very well indeed – I m ean by sight.”

“I have no doubt of his being a very respectable y oung m an. I know, indeed, that he is so, and, as such, wish him well. What do y ou im agine his age to be?”

“He was four-and-twenty the 8th of last June, and m y birthday is the 23rd j ust a fortnight and a day ’s difference – which is very odd.”

“Only four-and-twenty. That is too y oung to settle. His m other is perfectly right not to be in a hurry. They seem very com fortable as they are, and

if she were to take any pains to m arry him , she would probably repent it. Six y ears hence, if he could m eet with a good sort of y oung wom an in the sam e rank as his own, with a little m oney, it m ight be very desirable.”

“Six y ears hence! Dear Miss Woodhouse, he would be thirty y ears old!”

“Well, and that is as early as m ost m en can afford to m arry, who are not born to an independence. Mr. Martin, I im agine, has his fortune entirely to m ake – cannot be at all beforehand with the world. Whatever m oney he m ight com e into when his father died, whatever his share of the fam ily property, it is, I dare say, all afloat, all em ploy ed in his stock, and so forth; and though, with diligence and good luck, he m ay be rich in tim e, it is next to im possible that he should have realised any thing y et.”

“To be sure, so it is. But they live very com fortably. They have no indoors m an, else they do not want for any thing; and Mrs. Martin talks of taking a boy another y ear.”

“I wish y ou m ay not get into a scrape, Harriet, whenever he does m arry ; – I m ean, as to being acquainted with his wife – for though his sisters, from a superior education, are not to be altogether obj ected to, it does not follow that he m ight m arry any body at all fit for y ou to notice. The m isfortune of y our birth ought to m ake y ou particularly careful as to y our associates. There can be no doubt of y our being a gentlem an’s daughter, and y ou m ust support y our claim to that station by every thing within y our own power, or there will be plenty of people who would take pleasure in degrading y ou.”

“Yes, to be sure, I suppose there are. But while I visit at Hartfield, and y ou are so kind to m e, Miss Woodhouse, I am not afraid of what any body can do.”

“You understand the force of influence pretty well, Harriet; but I would have y ou so firm ly established in good society, as to be independent even of Hartfield and Miss Woodhouse. I want to see y ou perm anently well connected, and to that end it will be advisable to have as few odd acquaintance as m ay be; and, therefore, I say that if y ou should still be in this country when Mr. Martin m arries, I wish y ou m ay not be drawn in by y our intim acy with the sisters, to be acquainted with the wife, who will probably be som e m ere farm er’s daughter, without education.”

“To be sure. Yes. Not that I think Mr. Martin would ever m arry any body but what had had som e education – and been very well brought up.

However, I do not m ean to set up m y opinion against y ours – and I am sure I

shall not wish for the acquaintance of his wife. I shall alway s have a great regard for the Miss Martins, especially Elizabeth, and should be very sorry to give them up, for they are quite as well educated as m e. But if he m arries a very ignorant, vulgar wom an, certainly I had better not visit her, if I can help it.”

Em m a watched her through the fluctuations of this speech, and saw no alarm ing sy m ptom s of love. The y oung m an had been the first adm irer, but she trusted there was no other hold, and that there would be no serious difficulty, on Harriet’s side, to oppose any friendly arrangem ent of her own.

They m et Mr. Martin the very next day, as they were walking on the Donwell road. He was on foot, and after looking very respectfully at her, looked with m ost unfeigned satisfaction at her com panion. Em m a was not sorry to have such an opportunity of survey ; and walking a few y ards forward, while they talked together, soon m ade her quick ey e sufficiently acquainted with Mr. Robert Martin. His appearance was very neat, and he looked like a sensible y oung m an, but his person had no other advantage; and when he cam e to be contrasted with gentlem en, she thought he m ust lose all the ground he had gained in Harriet’s inclination. Harriet was not insensible of m anner; she had voluntarily noticed her father’s gentleness with adm iration as well as wonder. Mr. Martin looked as if he did not know what m anner was.

They rem ained but a few m inutes together, as Miss Woodhouse m ust not be kept waiting; and Harriet then cam e running to her with a sm iling face, and in a flutter of spirits, which Miss Woodhouse hoped very soon to com pose.

“Only think of our happening to m eet him ! – How very odd! It was quite a chance, he said, that he had not gone round by Randalls. He did not think we ever walked this road. He thought we walked towards Randalls m ost day s. He has not been able to get the Rom ance of the Forest y et. He was so busy the last tim e he was at Kingston that he quite forgot it, but he goes again to-m orrow. So very odd we should happen to m eet! Well, Miss Woodhouse, is he like what y ou expected? What do y ou think of him ? Do y ou think him so very plain?”

“He is very plain, undoubtedly – rem arkably plain: – but that is nothing com pared with his entire want of gentility. I had no right to expect m uch, and I did not expect m uch; but I had no idea that he could be so very clownish, so totally without air. I had im agined him , I confess, a degree or two nearer gentility.”

“To be sure,” said Harriet, in a m ortified voice, “he is not so genteel as real gentlem en.”

“I think, Harriet, since y our acquaintance with us, y ou have been

repeatedly in the com pany of som e such very real gentlem en, that y ou m ust y ourself be struck with the difference in Mr. Martin. At Hartfield, y ou have had very good specim ens of well educated, well bred m en. I should be surprized if, after seeing them , y ou could be in com pany with Mr. Martin again without perceiving him to be a very inferior creature – and rather wondering at y ourself for having ever thought him at all agreeable before. Do not y ou begin to feel that now? Were not y ou struck? I am sure y ou m ust have been struck by his awkward look and abrupt m anner, and the uncouthness of a voice which I heard to be wholly unm odulated as I stood here.”

“Certainly, he is not like Mr. Knightley. He has not such a fine air and way of walking as Mr. Knightley. I see the difference plain enough.

But Mr.

Knightley is so very fine a m an!”

“Mr. Knightley ’s air is so rem arkably good that it is not fair to com pare Mr. Martin with him . You m ight not see one in a hundred with gentlem an so plainly written as in Mr. Knightley. But he is not the only gentlem an y ou have been lately used to. What say y ou to Mr. Weston and Mr. Elton? Com pare Mr.

Martin with either of them . Com pare their m anner of carry ing them selves; of walking; of speaking; of being silent. You m ust see the difference.”

“Oh y es! – there is a great difference. But Mr. Weston is alm ost an old m an. Mr. Weston m ust be between forty and fifty.”

“Which m akes his good m anners the m ore valuable. The older a person grows, Harriet, the m ore im portant it is that their m anners should not be bad; the m ore glaring and disgusting any loudness, or coarseness, or awkwardness becom es. What is passable in y outh is detestable in later age. Mr. Martin is now awkward and abrupt; what will he be at Mr. Weston’s tim e of life?”

“There is no say ing, indeed,” replied Harriet rather solem nly.

“But there m ay be pretty good guessing. He will be a com pletely gross, vulgar farm er, totally inattentive to appearances, and thinking of nothing but profit and loss.”

“Will he, indeed? That will be very bad.”

“How m uch his business engrosses him already is very plain from the circum stance of his forgetting to inquire for the book y ou recom m ended. He was a great deal too full of the m arket to think of any thing else – which is j ust as it should be, for a thriving m an. What has he to do with books? And I have no doubt that he will thrive, and be a very rich m an in tim e – and his being illiterate and coarse need not disturb us.”

“I wonder he did not rem em ber the book” – was all Harriet’s answer, and spoken with a degree of grave displeasure which Em m a thought m ight be safely left to itself. She, therefore, said no m ore for som e tim e. Her next beginning was,

“In one respect, perhaps, Mr. Elton’s m anners are superior to Mr.

Knightley ’s or Mr. Weston’s. They have m ore gentleness. They m ight be m ore safely held up as a pattern. There is an openness, a quickness, alm ost a bluntness in Mr. Weston, which every body likes in him , because there is so m uch goodhum our with it – but that would not do to be copied. Neither would Mr. Knightley ’s downright, decided, com m anding sort of m anner, though it suits him very well; his figure, and look, and situation in life seem to allow it; but if any y oung m an were to set about copy ing him , he would not be sufferable. On the contrary, I think a y oung m an m ight be very safely recom m ended to take Mr. Elton as a m odel. Mr. Elton is good-hum oured, cheerful, obliging, and gentle. He seem s to m e to be grown particularly gentle of late. I do not know whether he has any design of ingratiating him self with either of us, Harriet, by additional softness, but it strikes m e that his m anners are softer than they used to be. If he m eans any thing, it m ust be to please y ou. Did not I tell y ou what he said of y ou the other day ?”

She then repeated som e warm personal praise which she had drawn from Mr. Elton, and now did full j ustice to; and Harriet blushed and sm iled, and said she had alway s thought Mr. Elton very agreeable.

Mr. Elton was the very person fixed on by Em m a for driving the y oung farm er out of Harriet’s head. She thought it would be an excellent m atch; and only too palpably desirable, natural, and probable, for her to have m uch m erit in planning it. She feared it was what every body else m ust think of and predict. It was not likely, however, that any body should have equalled her in the date of the plan, as it had entered her brain during the very first evening of Harriet’s com ing to Hartfield. The longer she considered it, the greater was her sense of its expediency. Mr. Elton’s situation was m ost suitable, quite the gentlem an him self, and without low connexions; at the sam e tim e, not of any fam ily that could fairly obj ect to the doubtful birth of Harriet. He had a com fortable hom e for her, and Em m a im agined a very sufficient incom e; for though the vicarage of Highbury was not large, he was known to have som e independent property ; and she thought very highly of him as a good-hum oured, well-m eaning, respectable y oung m an, without any deficiency of useful understanding or knowledge of the world.